‘I have no right to ask you to stay.’

Dylan’s words still echo in my ears as I step outside my apartment on Monday morning. Inside my heart feels broken, its pieces jabbing into my chest, but outward I lift my chin and step into the elevator, ready to face the day.

Ready to descend into hell.

I lived in a bubble for a long time—a bubble where Dylan loved me. Stuck in limbo, I waited for him to make a move. For my parents to accept me. For my memories to heal.

I know now this will never happen. It’s up to me to make my move—and the first one is to confront my parents. No matter what the outcome is. No matter if they’re displeased and angry, and if they threaten to stop supporting me. All I ever wanted was their approval, and it’s obvious I’m never getting it. I wonder if whoring myself out to Sean would have made a difference, and I realize it wouldn’t.

But it’d make a difference to me. It’d take away the last shred of self-esteem I still possess, and if that goes, then I’m gone, too. There will be nothing left of me.

As I climb into my car, I think of Dylan’s expression when he thought I was leaving. How he asked me not to go.

Right before he walked out of my life once more.

I frown as I roll out of the underground parking lot and into the gray, overcast day. He’s such a contradiction. Hot and cold.

Although yesterday he was mostly hot…

I remember our lovemaking, the way he touched me and kissed me and moved inside me, and I swallow hard, my mouth going dry. A dull, pleasurable ache begins low in my belly. It’s as if I can still feel his taut body under my fingertips, silky skin wrapped over sinew and hard muscle, as if I can see the heat in his blue eyes. Nothing brotherly about the way he held and possessed me.

But I know now that nothing more can ever happen. Nothing has changed. It was just sex, and then he left once again.

A glossy black Porsche catches my eye as I drive past my building. Sean owns such a car. Unease stirs in me, and I can’t help a small shiver of fear. I make a mental note to check the pepper spray in my bag when I pull over later. Sean has never stalked me. He gave me nightmares, for sure, but never came around looking for me.

Maybe it’s not his car. And if it is, maybe it has nothing to do with me.

The bad feeling persists, though, as I drive to the new office of Leon & Perez in the center of town, looking for my dad, and later, as I ride up to the sixth floor and enter their offices.

I inform the secretary that I’m going in, and ignore her protests that I have no appointment, and that Mr. Leon isn’t available.

Whatever.

I enter his office and find him at his usual spot, behind his massive mahogany desk, his dark hair slicked back, his suit immaculate as always.

“Dad.”

“What are you doing here?” he snaps, and I fight a flinch. “Can’t believe you have the gall to show up here after messing up business on Saturday.”

Business.

“Where’s Mom?” She’s nowhere to be seen. “Why wasn’t she at the gala on Saturday? What’s going on?”

“No idea what your point is.” My father scowls, but a flicker in his eyes tells me something’s off.

“My point is…” I stop when a young woman enters the office from a side door, holding a folder. She can’t be much older than me. I think I’ve seen her around before but never thought much about it. Now I take in the super short skirt, the cleavage, and the hickey on her neck, I see the way she looks at my dad, and things click into place.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, even though it’s clear as day.

As she looks up smiling and freezes in the process, I realize I’ve caught my father off guard—maybe for the first time, ever.

“It’s not…” The woman’s eyes flick to my father and then back to me. “I’m...”

“Tessa, enough.” My father stands, his face a thundercloud. “Get out of this office right now.”

“Why, so you can keep screwing behind Mom’s back?”

“You think she doesn’t know?” He gives a dry laugh that sounds painful. “What do you want?”

“Jesus.” I wipe a hand over my mouth, trying to process all this.

My perfect parents, who wouldn’t accept anything less than a perfect daughter. Who want to control my career as well as my personal life, who chose Sean for me and don’t care how much I suffered with him.

“What I want,” I say, slowly and deliberately, “is for you to back out of my life.”

He snorts and sits back down. “Another tantrum? Really, Tessa.”

“You sold me to get your deal with the Anholts.”

He rolls his eyes. “So melodramatic. I didn’t sell you. I only wanted you to talk to Sean. He’s heartbroken over your reaction. He’s a good man.”

“No, he isn’t.” Anger makes me bold, bolder than I’ve ever been with him, and I cling to the heat it brings. “He hurt me. He forced me to do things…” I bite my lip, try to steady my voice. “He’s an asshole.”

“Now, Tessa, don’t exaggerate.”

“Exaggerate? You don’t know him.”

He shifts, his leather seat creaking. “No. But he comes from a good family. He’s young. He’ll mature.”

“He hurt me on Saturday. He hit me. He told me I’m a slut.”

Dad lifts a brow. “Told you that if you behave like one, you’ll be treated like one.”

I step back, the air leaving my lungs. I want to slap him and kick him and scream like a banshee. “You…” The words desert me. How can he say such a thing to me?

He doesn’t care. Sean has his blessing to do what he will with me.

“Are you done?” He nods at the young woman who flees the room. “Have we made enough of a spectacle of ourselves?”

No, we haven’t, I want to say. You’re an asshole, as much as Sean. You should sit behind bars. I should curse you to hell.

My hands clench at my sides. I try to think rationally. To decide what to do. This scene isn’t what I’d expected coming here. These revelations. This coldness in the face of the truth.

What, you thought he’d break when you told him Sean hurt you? That he’d apologize and open his arms for you?

Christ.

“I want to talk to you about the future,” I manage through gritted teeth.

“The future. Seriously?” He pretends to be bored, flipping through a file.

My fists tighten until my nails bite into my palms. “I want to take a break from college, and those clubs you made me join.” Sweat trickles down my back. I ignore it. “I need some time out. Need to find myself, decide what I want to do with my life.”

“We’ve had this conversation before. You don’t get to…” he pitches his voice high, “take some time off to find yourself.”

“I’m not asking for your permission,” I bite out.

“And who do you think will pay you to sit and do nothing?”

“Christ, Dad. I don’t want your money. I’ll work.”

“You? You will work?” He laughs, and I can’t stand it anymore.

“I don’t want anything more to do with you,” I say and turn to go.

“You think you can just walk out like that?” I hear his chair scraping on the floor. “Your car, your apartment, you think you can keep them without my say so?”

“I’ll move out,” I shout at him, turning and walking backward. “Go on, show me how powerful you are. Take it all, take everything I own. You don’t own me, and you can’t sell me to the higher bidder. If Sean comes near me again, I’m asking for a restraining order.”

My father stares at me, his eyes narrow and cold, and I feel a small flare of pride at his obvious shock and discomfort.

But then he shakes his head and laughs again, loud and theatrical. “Let’s see how long this little rebellion will last.”

He doesn’t get it. “It’s over,” I say and leave, shaking with adrenaline and sorrow.

Your dominion over me is over.

An hour later, I’m sitting in a café on campus, waiting for Erin to meet me, and I’m still shaking. Indoors, hunched over in an armchair, I should feel warm. The heaters are on and everyone is down to their T-shirts—but I’m still wrapped in my long coat and scarf.

I don’t feel warm. I don’t feel good. Don’t know if I’ll ever feel good again. Right now it doesn’t seem like it, although I know time changes everything.

Almost everything.

Dylan…

I shake my head at myself, for still wanting and hoping.

Megan wanders by, Zane’s friend. He never told me how they met. She’s carrying a tray with dirty cups and glasses. She shoots me a smile, and I try to smile back, but my face feels numb.

She stops, puts the tray down, and sits across from me. “Tessa, right? Are you okay?”

I press my lips together and give a jerky nod.

“You look like you need something warm and sweet. Wait here.”

As if I have the energy to move. It seems only seconds before she returns with a tall, steaming mug and sets it in front of me.

“Try this,” she says.

It smells and looks like chocolate, and I’m a sucker for chocolate in any form, so I take a sip.

“Good?” she asks, and I give her the first real smile I’ve managed all day.

“Good.” It has spices in it and alcohol, and it warms my chest. “Delicious.”

Megan sits and observes me, as if waiting for me to say more. Her dark hair is long and glossy, falling in smooth waves over her shoulders. Her eyes are the same color as the hot chocolate I’m sipping, deep and shadowed. Pretty.

When it becomes obvious she won’t give up and go without me saying something first, I put down the mug.

“I’ve just had a really bad weekend,” I say, although parts of it were hot and amazing, and I should forget about them, “and a really bad morning.”

“Boy trouble?” she asks.

“Life trouble.” I think of my dad cheating on my mom and the fact she knows about it—is it considered cheating if both parties know what’s going on?—of the control they have over me, of what I want to do with my life. Of Dylan. “I think I lost my way.”

“We all have, at some point.” Her mouth twists, and she leans back, smoothing her hands over her black apron. Her hands are small and long-fingered, her skin like coffee with milk. “Hard to tell where you’re heading when you’re still walking down that road.”

That makes me smile again. “You sound like you’ve been there.”

She looks up, something flashing through her dark eyes. “I’m still there.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Still trying to figure out where I’m heading. How to escape my past. What to do about the future. Isn’t that what you meant?”

“Thereabouts.”

She grins at me, her teeth very white in her nut-brown face. “And I know all about boy trouble.”

Right. Megan likes Rafe, but Rafe is hard to read, and nobody knows if he’s interested. Lately, he’s gone off the radar altogether, and Zane is worried. Hell, we all are, but Zane seems to know more about Rafe’s past than any of us.

“It’s more than that.” I pick up my mug again and stare into the swirling chocolate. “It’s also family trouble, and life-turn-about trouble… As for the boy, that’s ancient history.”

Or should be.

“Are we talking about Dylan? Because he looks very much present, to me.” Megan scrunches up her pretty face, and I bite my tongue.

Of course. She knows the whole Inked Brotherhood. Comes with the territory of being friends with Zane. And of course she knows I love Dylan.

Not love. Loved. Past tense. It’s over now.

Or should be.

The memory of his strong arms around me, his lips on me, his body moving against mine… Why the heck did I ever think having sex with him would be a good idea?

… Oh, right. I wasn’t thinking. Yesterday I refused to think, because I wanted it so much. And now…

“You want to talk boys?” I mutter irritably, pissed at myself. “Then let’s talk about Rafe.”

A blush colors her cheeks. “Let’s not.” She rises from her seat. “I should be working.”

Crap. “God, Megan.” I rub my face with both hands. “Please ignore me today, okay? I’m in a bad mood.”

“No worries.” She flashes me a quick smile and turns away, but not before I see pain flicker through her eyes.

Good job, Tessa. Misery loves company, but that doesn’t mean you get to inflict pain on others just because you’re miserable. Not fair.

Guilt, my constant companion, returns in a rush, and I bow my head. Dammit. Where is Erin? What am I doing here?

What am I going to do?

The downward spiral of my thoughts is broken by the ringing of my cell. I draw it out of my bag and hit the connect button.

“Erin. Is everything okay? Where are you?”

“Tess, sorry!” She sounds out of breath. “I completely forgot we were meeting for coffee, and when Dylan told us what happened, I said I’d take Miles home to shower and change and then take him to school, and now I’m too late to meet you.”

What is she talking about? Did Dylan tell them what happened between us?

“That’s okay. Hey, Erin…” I open my mouth, close it, and try again. “What do you mean about Dylan? What’s going on?”

“Teo was sick again yesterday, so Dylan took him to the ER, and it turns out it’s more serious than they thought. Lyme disease, and they’re keeping the boy in until they’ve run a full battery of tests, and Dylan is staying by his side. But Miles needs to go to school, and Dylan doesn’t even have a car, so today he called again and asked us if we could help.”

“I see.” He didn’t call me yesterday to ask for help. Of course he didn’t. I’m the last person he wants to see. “No problem.”

“Hey.” She sounds distracted. I wonder if she’s driving. “I told Dylan I could pick Miles up from school, but I just realized I’m teaching a new student at that time. Could you pick him up? If you don’t have classes. And if you don’t mind. I mean…”

“I’m not going to class,” I mutter.

“Why not?”

Damn. “I… I’m thinking of dropping out of college. Listen,” I rush to say when Erin gasps in the phone, “I’ll pick Miles up. Just tell me the time.”

“Tess…”

“Please, Erin. Don’t wanna talk about college now.”

With a sigh, she rattles the address and time off. “After you pick him up, take him to Dylan’s neighbors. Miles will spend the night there. Gotta go now. Talk to you later, and thanks a bunch!”

She disconnects, and I stare at my cell.

So much for Dylan being ancient history. So much for keeping away. For deciding I shouldn’t care. One word of trouble about him, and I’ll drop everything to help.

No. It’s not the same. I’m just going to help with his brother. Nothing more. Just today.

Worried and distracted, I grab my bag and go.

My discovery of the day is that Miles looks a lot like Dylan. He’s a real miniature of his brother. He stops when he sees me waiting at the school gate and scowls.

I wave and smile. It’s hard not to, in spite of his scowl. He’s frigging cute. He’ll break hearts when he grows up.

Just like his older brother…

“Hi, Miles,” I say when he approaches enough to hear me. “I’m here to take you home.”

“Where’s Dylan?” he asks, still hostile.

“At the hospital with your brother.”

“And Erin? She was supposed to pick me up.”

“Well, she has to work and asked me to do it.” I study his small face and say on impulse, “and I’m happy she did.”

He eyes me skeptically as I lead the way to my jeep. “You are?” he finally mutters, as he climbs into the car.

“Yeah. Why?”

He says nothing for a while. He buckles himself in and clutches his backpack to him. “I thought you don’t like us,” he says as we drive away.

That brings me up short. “What? Why would you think that?”

“You never visit. Not like Dylan’s other friends.”

I chew on my lower lip. “I would visit, if Dylan invited me.”

He shoots me a wide-eyed look. “Why hasn’t he?”

Oh man. “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

“He likes you,” Miles says quietly, looking out the window. “He’s just stupid.”

A snort escapes me. “You are something, aren’t you? That wasn’t nice to your brother.”

“I mean he’s stupid if he told you he doesn’t like you.”

“Why’s that?”

“He has a photo of you on his bedroom wall. He sits and stares at it sometimes, and looks sad. I’ve seen him. Not that,” he hurries to add, “that I…”

“That you spy on him?” I supply, stunned at what he’s telling me. Dylan has a photo of me on his wall? And he sits and stares at it?

“Yeah, not that.” Miles still isn’t looking at me. “But I pass outside his door sometimes. You know.”

I nod. This kid sounds like a grown-up. How is that possible? Is this what happens when your parents leave and your older brother raises you?

But then he goes and spoils the illusion when he says, “Can we get chocolate ice cream before we go home?”

How can I say no? So I drive Miles to an ice cream parlor—he gives me directions—and we settle back into the jeep as he licks his towering cone. Suddenly I wonder if he’ll get stomachache from this much ice cream, or…

“Have you had lunch?”

He shrugs. “Not yet.”

Shit. “You tricked me, didn’t you?”

“You’re an adult. You should know better.” He winks, and again he’s so much like Dylan my chest aches.

“Fool me once…” I mutter as I start the engine.

“Does that mean you’ll be picking me up from school again?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

I freeze. Does it? “I don’t know. Maybe until your brother gets better, and Dylan has time.”

“Dylan doesn’t have a car. I ride home on the bus.”

“And why not today?”

He says nothing for a while, eating his ice cream, and I think he won’t answer. But then he says, “There are these kids from a few streets up who like to beat me up sometimes.”

“Why?”

“They called me an orphan once, and I beat them up. So they brought their friends, and now they wait for me.”

Jesus.

“Dylan wants to be there, but he has to work, so…” He shrugs again, and my chest now aches for a whole new different reason.

“I’m sorry, Miles.”

“It’s not so bad,” he says, and I clench my teeth.

“Dylan wouldn’t be worried if it wasn’t bad.”

He says nothing.

We reach the house and stop at the gate. God, the place looks terrible, run-down, the yard taken over my tall weeds. I haven’t been here in years.

Miles glances at me, then starts working on his cone. It doesn’t look like he wants to get out. “It’s not so bad,” he says after a moment.

“No?”

“Dylan does all he can.” His face is serious when he says this. “Sometimes I’m mad with him. I think he forgets about me. But I think he’s just tired.”

Tired. Taking care of two kids with problems and working would do that to anyone. No wonder he dropped out of college. “And your dad?”

“He’s never here anymore.”

I want to hug the boy but don’t dare, not when his gaze is still full of suspicion. He barely knows me. “Dylan loves you very much.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. “He told me.”

Something he told me back when we were together at fourteen and I believed him. What a fool I’ve been.

Numb, I watch as the neighbor comes out and waves at us. Miles thanks me and says something about the ice cream, and I wave back distractedly. I watch him go, watch the guy from next door grab Miles around the shoulders and walk him into his house.

Then I do a U-turn and start back toward my apartment—toward the decisions I have to make about my life.

Mom calls me as I drive, and I debate not answering, but in the end I decide I should.

“Honey,” she says, her voice barely audible over the phone. “Your father said you passed by the office today.”

Was it only this morning? It feels like years have passed. “What do you want, Mom? If you’re calling to change my mind about anything, forget it.”

There’s a long pause, and I swallow my irritation. Mom has always been my father’s puppet, his mouthpiece, and I’m not in the mood, not after what I heard today.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, and for some reason that makes me snap.

“For what? For manipulating me into accepting to go to the gala so that Dad could pass me on to Sean?”

“Did Sean treat you badly?”

God, how often have I told them this? “Yes, he did.”

“I’m so sorry, Tessa.”

The hell she is. “Is it true you know about Dad having an affair?” She doesn’t answer, and I don’t know how I feel about this. “How long has this been going on?”

“A while,” she says quietly.

“And you’re okay with it? I thought you loved Dad.”

“No, honey. I’m not sure I ever did.” And then she says, her voice shaking, “I have to go now.”

She disconnects, leaving me shocked, wiser, angry and sad. How can you live with someone you don’t love for twenty years?

Well… Maybe like I lived for nineteen years trying to please people who can’t be pleased. Maybe my mom and I aren’t so different after all, and the realization is damn scary.

As I pass in front of my building, I check, and the car that looked like Sean’s is gone. Reassured, I drive into the underground parking lot. I’m preparing to park, when my cell rings again, and I connect the call.

“What now, Mom?” I say as I turn off the engine. “You don’t love Dad, we established that. Or are you going to tell me again how sorry you are?”

A silence follows, and I frown.

Then a very male and familiar voice says, “Tessa?”

I grapple for words. “Dylan? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Is this a bad time?”

“No. Not at all.” Can’t remember the last time Dylan called me. I didn’t even know he had my number. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah. Listen…” He moves away from the phone, speaking to someone in the background, then returns. “Thanks for picking Miles up from school. That’s really nice of you.”

My heart skips a beat. “You’re welcome. He’s a nice little man.”

“He is.” I can hear a faint smile in Dylan’s voice but also a whole lot of exhaustion. “He says he forgot his favorite pen in your car.”

“He did?” I don’t remember Miles taking anything out of his backpack, but I can’t swear he didn’t. “I’ll have a look.”

“Awesome. You know how kids are with things like that.”

Actually, I don’t, but I don’t say it. “Hey, Miles said there are some street kids that beat him up sometimes?”

“He told you that? Damn.” He sighs. “Yeah. It’s a tough neighborhood.”

Poor kid. I don’t want him to get bullied again, but what can I do?

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Are you going home soon? How’s Teo?”

“Uh, we’re not going home yet.” The exhaustion is back, thinning his voice. “The doctors say he’s got Lyme disease. Transmitted by ticks. From the garden weeds. He liked to play there in the summer, said it was his jungle. I didn’t know…” His voice cracks, and my chest gives a funny little twinge. “An infected tick bit him. It’s my fault he’s sick.”

Guilt. I know a lot about guilt. I could write a book about it. “You couldn’t know, Dyl. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter. His fever’s down, but they’re keeping him another day. He got off easy. No long-term side effects, it seems, though he has to take antibiotics for a month.”

Thank God. I heave a sigh of relief. “That’s great. You did good, Dyl. You took care of him, and he’ll be fine.”

“I wish I knew what the hell I’m doing,” he mutters, and he sounds bad. He sounds defeated. “Since Dad left, I feel like… I can’t catch up.”

“You’re doing great,” I say, my chest too tight.

“I don’t know. Since Teo started getting sick, and Miles bullied, and I lost my scholarship… It’s all going to hell.”

God, this is dangerous ground. He’s just venting his frustration, and I’m falling for him all over again.

Don’t go there, Tessa.

“I can help out tomorrow. I can take Miles to school and pick him up again when he’s done.”

“Really?” Relief colors his voice now. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Tess, I…” He clears his throat. “I’ll see you around.”