Precisely at four, I climbed the steps of the modest, two-story brick house.

“What are you doing here? an inner voice demanded, as if the question might get me to turn tail and run. Just like I had this afternoon when I sat in front of my sister’s building, gazing up at her window from the driver’s seat of Tori’s Shelby.

Instead of going inside and facing my real family, I’d sped off. And now I was here, dressed like an imposter in my best jeans and a long-sleeved button-down, holding the bouquet of flowers I’d bought to impress Tori’s mother.

It would take more than roses if the woman was anything like her daughter.

Blowing out a breath, I rang the bell before I lost my nerve.

A moment later, the door swung open, and I met Tori’s smile. “You made it.”

That scent I loved so well, the sugar and spice that clung to her skin, wafted to my nose, chasing away the doubts I had about coming.

“Yeah, I would’ve made it sooner, but you told me to keep it under ninety,” I said as I stepped over the threshold and into her space.

She peered up at me with a bemused smile. “How about you leave five minutes earlier so you don’t have to go ninety?”

Dipping my head, I pressed a feather light kiss to the corner of her mouth and whispered, “What fun would that be?”

Her pretty pink tongue darted out, slicking her bottom lip, like she was daring me to taste her. I leaned in again, only to be interrupted by thundering footsteps on the stairs.

“Is that Logan?” Zoe asked as she bounded into the room. Shouldering her way past her sister, she smiled up at me. “I knew it was you.”

They may not have shared DNA, but the sisters had the same furrowed brow when something didn’t sit well with them. And it was on full display when Zoe noticed the bouquet. “You brought flowers?” she asked, wrinkling her nose for good measure. “That’s kind of lame.”

Jabbing her sister in the ribs, Tori hissed, “Zoe, what’s the matter with you?”

The kid didn’t flinch, just assessed me with pursed lips like I’d committed the unforgivable crime of being uncool.

Fishing the velvet bag out of my pocket, I bounced it in my hand, which immediately caught Zoe’s attention. Her blue eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the little pouch. “What’s that?”

“Something I picked up for you at one of the shops at the Arboretum.” Tossing the bag high, I snatched it out of the air. “It’s probably lame though.”

Shifting my focus to Tori, I found her smiling. Not her regular smile. But the one that softened her features and melted my heart.

“You bought me something?” Zoe asked, all her bravado gone. “Like a present?”

Pressing the bag into her waiting palm, I smiled at the kid. “Don’t get too excited. It’s not much.”

Zoe loosened the drawstrings while I rocked back on my heels, waiting for her reaction. Lifting the rose gold and leather bracelet, her eyes widened. “Oh my God!” She ran her finger over the sterling silver heart engraved with the Z in the center. “Look, Tor. It’s got my initial.”

Leaning over Zoe’s slender shoulder, Tori examined the trinket like it was fine jewelry. “It’s beautiful. Let me help you put it on.”

After securing the bracelet to Zoe’s wrist, Tori said to the kid, “That’s really cool.”

Zoe glanced at the bouquet. “Better than your flowers.” Blinking up at me, her mouth opened and closed like a guppy. “Sorry.”

But she wasn’t, and that’s why I laughed. “These are for your mom.”

Zoe’s pale brows drew together. “So you didn’t get anything for my sister?”

“Oh … I did.” Shifting my focus to Tori, I winked. “I’ll give it to you later, ’kay?”

A flush spread from Tori’s chest, crept north and settled in her cheeks. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

Zoe looked between us and feigned a gag. “Gross. I’m going to tell Mom.”

And off she went, blond ponytail swinging behind her with Tori in hot pursuit.

My girl was right. This house was filled with love. Affection lingered in the space like a living thing. Warm. Inviting.

Following the laughter, a smile ticked up the corners of my lips. But as I ambled down the hallway, another feeling took hold—dread—and my feet stopped moving. I’d experienced déjà vu before. Everyone had. But this was different. In another life, or another time, I’d been here. In this exact space.

My head swiveled to the right, my chest constricting when I found the photo of the woman I’d met on the worst night of my life. I knew it would be there. Because when my father had come to collect us the morning after, I’d stood in this very spot. That’s what the lady in the fluffy robe with the kind eyes and the soft voice had told me to do.

“Don’t move, sugar. Everything will be okay.” I forgave her that lie. Because she’d believed it. So much that she’d stood up to my father. And the policeman he’d had with him. And all the while, I’d stood there, here, memorizing her photo. Because I knew my dad would win. He always won. And when he did, I didn’t want to forget the lady. What she looked like.

Back then, I wasn’t tall enough to reach the picture. And there was a glare that bounced off the glass from the single bulb in the hallway. Maybe that’s why I’d always believed her to be an angel.

But now, I had to look down to see the familiar amber eyes staring back at me from the photo. It wasn’t Tori. But the resemblance was uncanny. Same raven hair. Same straight nose. The mouth was a little different, and the eyes more cognac than honey. But still, why didn’t I see it before? A door slammed, catapulting me into the present. Only I didn’t feel present. My knees were weak, my palms sweaty, and the pain in my chest threatened to break me in half.

Stumbling forward a couple of steps, I braced my hand on the table and tried to catch my breath. But I couldn’t. It was like my lungs were reduced to the size of walnuts, so small no air could get in.

“Logan?”

That soft voice from long ago and a warm hand on my arm. Only it was now. And when I turned to the sound, she was there. Older, yes. Twenty-one years older. But the face was the same. And the smile. Full of sadness and pity.

I took it then, that smile. Because at eight, I didn’t know what pity was. I only knew that the lady was kind. And her house smelled like cookies. And she made me macaroni and cheese and let me cry silent tears for my dead mother at her kitchen table.

I pulled my shoulders back. Somehow, I did it. And unlike then, I looked down at her. Because she was small, like her daughter.

“What’s your name?” I heard myself ask.

“Tessa.”

I really appreciate this, Tessa.

Blocking out the officer’s voice, I swallowed around the thick lump in my throat. “Do you know who I am?”

My voice was rough, my questions rudimentary, because I couldn’t hold a thought. My mind was too consumed with images of that night.

Tessa’s thumb swept back and forth over my arm, a soothing touch I could feel through the fabric of my shirt. “Yes, honey. I do.”

“And Victoria …?” My voice cracked, the rest of my words falling into shards at my feet.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s your private business.”

There was so much I wanted to ask. But then the door slammed again, and I heard Tori’s voice. And I realized, I couldn’t be here. Not like this, with my stomach turned inside out and my guts exposed.

“I have to go.” The thought raced from my lips at lightning speed.

Tessa blinked at me, brow pinched with concern. But she didn’t protest.

She simply nodded, that smile frozen on her lips. “Okay.”

I headed for the door. “Tell Victoria …”

The rest of the sentiment was lost to the humid summer evening when I stumbled onto the porch. Adrenaline flooded my veins, and though I’d never run from anything in my life, that’s exactly what I did now. I ran. From Victoria. And the house that smelled like cookies but reminded me of nothing but death.