Warm light drifted through the slats in my blinds and woke me up. Like the last few mornings, it took me a second to figure out where I was, confused by the unfamiliar room. Though, unlike the previous mornings, I didn’t find myself consumed by determination. Instead, a deep sense of sadness filled me. A move originally meant to show Holden that I wasn’t a pushover and couldn’t be easily controlled ended up blowing up in my face. By telling him Connor had been there, I’d hoped it would’ve pushed his buttons, but not once did I think he’d get back at me by having a woman in his bed while I slept under the same roof.

I groaned and rolled off my mattress, realizing how pathetic I sounded—even to myself. I shouldn’t care who he had in his room or what they did behind closed doors. It had nothing to do with me. But that didn’t stop the pang of jealousy from forming within my chest. Veronica was gorgeous. Everything any sane woman wishes to be. I was sure I could’ve looked at her under a microscope and still not found a single flaw. Even her voice was the perfect pitch of sexy. Which made it so much worse. The least I could’ve hoped for was that she sounded nasally or whiny; that way, her sex noises would’ve offset everything else. But I was sure—even without hearing them—that her moans were symphonic.

While standing in front of the mirror hanging over my dresser, an idea smacked into me and left me winded, like the thought literally knocked the air out of my lungs. I remembered he had checked me out yesterday morning in the kitchen. I had no idea if Miss Perfection was still here or not, but I didn’t really care. Legally speaking, she was in bed with my husband. So really, she had no right to say anything…and if she had a problem with it, maybe it would push Holden to give in and sign the papers.

Not wasting a second, I shimmied out of my cotton shorts and exchanged my everyday panties for the cheeky pair no guy could resist. No matter what brand, this style made every shape of ass look good. And instead of the loose T-shirt, I settled on a cami—the kind without the built-in shelf-bra. I made sure my hair was brushed, but I still piled it on top of my head, giving it that “I don’t care” look. After one final glance in the mirror, I approved and set out to win this war.

I stepped out of my room and took the hallway like the New York Fashion Show runway. Ignoring the chill on the insides of my thighs normally covered by clothes, I put one foot in front of the other. And I didn’t stop until I made it into the living room, where Holden sat on the loveseat, his cell phone in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

Taking a seat on the couch next to him, I propped one foot on the coffee table and arched my back into the oversized pillows, reclining as though I were under the hot sun on a beach in a bathing suit. He glanced over at me and then turned back to whatever he had on his phone, but in a split second, as if my presence just registered to him, his body turned rigid and he slowly brought his attention back to me. It started with my exposed leg, where I watched him trace it with his eyes. His focus then settled briefly at the apex of my thighs before traveling north, taking a break to admire the obvious peaks on my chest due to the cool temperature he kept his thermostat set to. But rather than meet my gaze, he cleared his throat and took a sip of coffee, his attention back on his phone.

Taking matters into my own hands, I asked, “Veronica didn’t stay for breakfast?”

“Nah,” he answered without glancing up again. “She left about an hour ago.”

Well, that wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. I wanted to hear him tell me how he’d kicked her out last night after our meeting in the kitchen. Then again, I wasn’t sure why I wanted to hear him say that. Nor did I understand the sense of jealousy I couldn’t shake. I told myself I wasn’t green with envy over them being together.

I didn’t want to be her because she had Holden.

No. I wanted to be her because she was perfect.

Holden got up from the couch and took his mug to the kitchen, and I inwardly cursed myself. He had Veronica in his bed last night. I was an idiot to think I could prance out here in panties and a tank top and make him turn his head. Yeah, right. His thirst was more than quenched last night. I had more of a chance to convince a vegetarian to try filet mignon than I did getting Holden’s attention after a night with Miss Sex in Heels.

Even so, I watched him move around the kitchen, while taking note of his T-shirt, gym shorts, and sneakers. They looked so good on him. The way the silky material hung on his hips and hit him just below the knees made me pant with desperation. I’d seen my share of hot guys on campus, but nothing compared to Holden first thing in the morning. That’s a lie. Nothing compared to him right after a shower.

Holy I’ve-seen-you-naked, Batman.

Every time I saw him with his hair wet, I couldn’t help but call upon the single memory I had of when we were in the shower together, before I ruined everything. The one glimpse I’d had of his man meat. I was sure my imagination had embellished it over the years, because there was no way he truly was that big. But in my mind, he was. And it was glorious. And as I stared at him in basketball shorts, it was all I could think of.

“Need a napkin?” His voice brought me back to reality, and his smirk let me know he’d caught me checking him out. Thank God he didn’t know exactly what I was thinking. “You got some drool there.” He pointed to his chin, which brought my attention to the dark spatter of hair along his jaw.

“Very funny.” I offered a fake laugh and pulled myself from the couch. I made a beeline for the fridge where my morning caffeine resided. “Where are you headed off to this morning? And are you planning on going to my parents’ this afternoon for dinner?”

“I’m going for my jog. Wanna join me?”

I scowled in his direction. “No. Unless someone is chasing me, you won’t see me run.”

“Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Bouncing boobs, sore thighs, cleavage sweat, swamp ass…I’m well aware of what I’m missing. Back to dinner. Are you going to my parents’?”

“I go every week. I’m not suddenly going to stop now that you’re here. I didn’t make this arrangement for you to take my place at the family table.” For whatever reason, his answer got to me, and I didn’t like it. He must’ve recognized it on my face, because his shoulders relaxed, and he tried again. “Yes, Janelle. I’ll be there. Did you want to ride together?”

My heartbeats tripped over each other at his offer. “Sure.” I added a shrug for good measure, hoping he hadn’t noticed the palpitations he caused. “Save on gas and whatnot. Good for the environment. Eco-friendly and everything. It’s a good idea. Ozone layer. Carbon dioxide.” I poured cold, carbonated soda down my throat to keep me from spouting out more random words as if they somehow made sense and gave cause for us riding in the same vehicle together.

Still, it hadn’t stopped him from laughing at me. But at least he tried to be polite and keep it under his breath. Although it didn’t matter to the burn in my cheeks over the absolute humiliation that covered me like a blanket. I had no idea what had happened to me over the last twenty-four hours, but I needed it to stop. Apparently, finding out Holden had sex with a goddess stole every last brain cell I had in my head and left me acting like a bumbling idiot.

“You sure you don’t want to jog with me? The fresh air might do you some good.”

I quirked a brow at him and finished swallowing my drink. “I’m positive.”

“Suit yourself,” he called out over his shoulder.

I didn’t wait until I heard the door close before running back to my room to put clothes on. What seemed like a fantastic idea had turned out to be the worst thing I’d ever come up with. I was confident in my body, knew I didn’t have anything to be ashamed of, but I was no Veronica. And had I shared a bed with her last night, I wouldn’t have wanted to see me, either. I wanted to hang my head in shame and disappear, but I couldn’t. I had to march on. Keep my head up. Eyes on the prize.

After collapsing on the couch, I learned the batteries in the remote had died. So I helped myself to every nook and cranny in his house looking for extras. I gave up when in what seemed to be a very organized junk drawer in the kitchen, I found an old photo of Holden and Matt. They couldn’t have been older than twelve since that was the cutoff for trick or treating. Both of them were dressed head to toe in a costume—Matt was Superman, and Holden was Batman.

I had basically no memory of my life before Holden. He’d come into it at such an early age for me that it was easy to believe he’d been there since day one. Not to mention, he’d spent nearly every day at our house from the moment he’d met Matthew until…well, it seemed he still spent time at my parents’ house. So there weren’t many aspects of my life he wasn’t there for. When I closed my eyes and thought about Holden, a lot came to mind. However, in everything I could conjure up about him and our past together, the bad times were never the ones that came to me easily. Those were the moments I had to consciously bring to the surface. They weren’t the defining moments of him or how I felt about him—then or now.

The parts of him that had lingered over the years, even when I didn’t want them to, was the way he’d hang his arm over my shoulders and tuck me protectively into his side. Or how calming it was to feel the pad of his thumb wipe away an errant tear. Every important male figure in my life had a role: Dad was the gatekeeper, the lawmaker, and overall police. Matthew was my bodyguard. But Holden…he was my Batman.

“In a fight between Batman and Superman, Superman would win every time.” This seemed to be a constant debate between Matthew and Holden. And no matter how many times it was discussed, neither person changed their views. My brother defended the flying superhero as if he had a personal interest in him, and Holden argued his case for the dark knight with equal enthusiasm.

“Take away his superpowers and he wouldn’t,” Holden argued with a smug grin on his boyish face. He’d just started to shave and thought he looked like a man; we all had a good laugh at that one.

“You can’t take away his powers, that defeats the whole ‘superhero’ aspect.”

“Then it’s not a fair fight. Superman is only a hero because he’s from another planet and has powers. He doesn’t bravely fight against crime. He just does what his body allows him to do, what his powers allow him to do. Whereas Batman protects people without a single superhuman strength.” I’d heard these points so many times before I could’ve recited them, but I loved to hear Holden make them. The determination behind his arguments could’ve made anyone a believer in his opinion. “He could get hurt, shot, he could die, but that doesn’t stop him. He wasn’t infected with some mutated venom or born on another planet. He wasn’t created in a lab or pumped with chemicals. He’s a normal person. And there’s not a single superhero worth believing in more than Batman.”

“What about you, Jelly?” Matthew turned to me, probably hoping I would weigh in instead of just sit there, listening to their arguments. “If you were in trouble and needed to be rescued, who would you want? Which hero would you call for help…Batman or Superman?”

I looked right at Holden and said, “Batman.”

The entire way to my parents’ house, I couldn’t stop thinking about Holden in his little costume with his cape hanging behind him. It made me curious if he still had the same opinions as he did back then. If he still cared as much, or if he looked back on it and thought it was ridiculous and childish.

I stared at his profile while he drove, mumbling about something I wasn’t paying attention to, and mentally compared him to the memories I had of him. He was no longer the boy who used to apologize for teasing me. Nor was he the sweet teenager who hated to see me cry. But I knew that boy wasn’t lost. He wasn’t gone forever. I’d only lived with him for five days so far, but it was enough to see glimpses of him. I saw it yesterday when he came home, after I questioned him about the delivery. Regret narrowed his eyes. And again last night, after his shower when I reminded him of our agreement. He seemed rather high and mighty until I explained my “relationship” with Connor to him. Then guilt weighted his tone and darkened his aura.

I started to think I was wearing him down. I grew closer to getting him where I wanted him. But then I stopped and wondered if things had changed. Rather than play him the way I was, I wondered if things could be different. I couldn’t help but think about how the next six months would play out if I stopped fighting him and gave in. Mended our broken friendship and found our way back to one another. And again, it made me question if that was truly what I wanted. The money would still be there at the end of this. He’d given me a free place to stay. I didn’t have any real rush, and I found myself more tolerant of the idea of waiting.

When we pulled into my parents’ driveway, he shifted the car into park and turned to look at me. “Did you hear anything I said?”

“Nope.” I dramatically popped the P. “Not a word. So, Cliff, give me your notes. What did I miss?”

He closed his eyes and huffed a chuckle. It was so sexy I nearly missed the condensed version of whatever he said on the ride over. “Just remember, you promised to not bring anything up. Don’t pry. If anything comes up in conversation that you’re confused about, then by all means, ask about it. But don’t throw me under the bus by acting all weird and asking random questions.”

“I still think you’re making all this up. But don’t worry, I won’t ask anything unless it’s warranted.”

“I’m not fabricating anything, Janelle.” His wit quickly evaporated, and his irritation became known when he jammed his finger into the ignition button, swiftly shutting off the car, and forcefully throwing his car door open.

In a panic, I grabbed his forearm and waited until his stormy eyes found mine. “If you’re not making it up, then that means it’s real. It means it’s true. And without anything to go on, my mind resorts to the worst-case scenarios. Meaning…someone in that house is about to die, someone is on dialysis for kidney failure, and there’s a good chance three more have some infectious disease they aren’t aware of. But in reality, you could just mean someone has lice and someone else has a rash—a non-life threatening rash. So I’m not accusing you of making anything up. I’m telling myself you are because if I don’t, I’ll go crazy wondering what’s wrong with who and why no one told me.”

His eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed when he pulled in a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s go inside,” he whispered and climbed from the car.

It only took about thirty seconds to see how much my entire family loved Holden. Not that I had any doubts or couldn’t remember it from before. But now, I almost felt like an outsider, like I was Holden’s dinner guest or something. It was extremely awkward, and I wasn’t sure how to handle myself. Since moving in with Holden, I’d seen my mom once, and my dad briefly at the same time. But that was it. I hadn’t seen my sisters in a year and a half since I didn’t make it home this past Christmas. That was the last time I’d seen Matthew too, but at least I talked to him on the phone from time to time. Now, walking inside behind Holden, watching my sisters greet him with smiles and excitement, made it hurt that much worse when they turned their attention to me and it lacked the same enthusiasm.

What hurt even more was when I headed toward the kitchen for a drink and stopped short of the entryway when I heard Stacey and Rachel talking in low tones, hushed, as if holding a surreptitious conversation. I paused, leaned against the wall, and waited a moment to figure out what they were talking about, hoping to get some kind of insight into these family secrets Holden kept hinting at.

“It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be here, so I don’t know why she is.”

“Just give her a chance, Stacey. We’re a rather intimidating bunch, and walking back into this can’t be easy. I’ll admit, it would’ve been nice if Mom had told us she was coming. Or better yet, it would’ve been nice to know she was coming with Holden. Or living with him. We were a little blindsided, I’ll give you that.”

I held my breath and blinked, willing my tears to stay put.

“She wants something. That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Stacey continued.

“You don’t know that.”

“Why else is she here? I asked Mom if she got a job in town, thinking maybe that was her reason for coming back, and she said as far as she knew, Janelle was still looking for one. Which means she’s not here for work. What other reason would she have to move back?”

There was a long pause before Rachel, my youngest sister—who was nine years older than me—spoke again. “Are her and Holden together? They used to be close before she left. Maybe they have a thing and she came back to see where it’d go.”

Silence stretched out before the sound of a smack filled the room, followed by Stacey gasping, “Ouch.” After a few hushed giggles, Stacey finally said, “I highly doubt that. For several reasons. One…if they had something before she left, that would’ve put her at seventeen or eighteen, and he would’ve been twenty-one or twenty-two. I doubt at that age, in or fresh out of college, he would’ve found anything in common with a girl in high school.”

“You never know. I met Steve when I was a senior and he was in college.”

“I guess it’s not impossible, but I just don’t see it. She’s too immature. He runs a private accounting firm with Matt—who’s married and very much an adult. He’s got far too much going for him to waste his time with Janelle.”

The burning behind my eyes grew more intense, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop it.

“Why are you hating on her so much?”

Stacey huffed, and even without seeing her, I knew exactly what she looked like—head thrown back, eyes rolling, and mouth agape. Her typical frustration tantrum. “I don’t mean to hate on her. She’s my sister, and I obviously love her. But it’s irritating how she gets away with everything. It’s like we’re all held accountable to such impossibly high standards, and she gets to do whatever the hell she wants.” The more she talked, the louder her voice became until Rachel quieted her down. “I know you see it, too. You feel it, too. I’m not the only one. We’re all here—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But where is she?”

“Being young, Stacey. She’s in her early twenties. She just finished college.”

“That’s not an excuse. When we were her age, we had jobs—full-blown careers. When Nikki was twenty-three, she was a mom. She had a baby, and a husband, who was still in school. She had a family to take care of. Look at Matty. He was already married to Christine when he was fresh out of college, getting ready to get his CPA license. Making preparations to open his own accounting firm…with Holden. So no, her being in her early twenties, just out of college isn’t an excuse to be so flighty.”

I couldn’t take any more. For all I knew, they continued their conversation. Maybe Rachel agreed with her. Maybe she didn’t and actually stuck up for me. I would never know, because I refused to stick around and hear the rest. I ran away from the kitchen, down the hall, and didn’t stop until I twisted the doorknob to the bathroom and pushed it open.

Only to run face-first into a very hard wall of muscle.

I glanced up, tears streaming down my cheeks and blurring my sight, but they didn’t stop me from recognizing Holden as I held onto him, steadying myself after the harsh impact. Without hesitation, he pulled me into the newly remodeled bathroom and set me up on the fancy vanity. Once the door was closed, the latch clicking in place, he situated himself between my legs and held my face in his hands.

Tears came for many different reasons, and people reacted to them in many different ways. For me, if I cried, there was a good chance it was because I’d found myself in that tight space between rage and frustration. The point when the anger implodes and you don’t know if you want to punch a brick wall with your bare knuckles or drink your weight in tequila, because you know once you get the anger out, you’ll feel better. For me, that’s the moment I break down in tears. That’s how I got the anger out. When I got sad, I became quiet and withdrawn, so my friends always said if I had tears in my eyes, it was time to run.

Unfortunately for Holden, he never got that memo.

He shushed me softly, his entire demeanor full of immense sympathy. However, that only made things worse. Not only did I despise being hushed, I also couldn’t stand pity. It only served to make me angrier, which made me cry harder, all of which Holden had no idea how to handle.

Aside from the typical tears of a child, the only time he’d ever seen me lose it like this was after my breakup with Justin. Even then, there was enough separation between the physical breakup and finding myself crying on his couch. He never witnessed the blinding rage that poured out of me in the form of saltwater coating my cheeks.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” The level of concern in his tone was noted, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm. It wasn’t until the pads of his thumbs traced over my cheek bones, wiping away my liquefied frustration, that I finally stilled. With my hands fisted in his shirt, our gazes locked together, I was reminded of him being my hero. And rather than fight him like I had been since coming back, I gave in and let him rescue me. “Babe…what happened? Talk to me.”

Ignoring the term of endearment, because I didn’t have anywhere near the right amount of headspace to analyze that blunder, I sniffled and tucked my chin, prepared to explain to him what I’d heard before running into him. “I overheard Stacey and Rachel in the kitchen. Stacey doesn’t want me here.”

“That’s not true. I’m sure she wants you here very much. I know she’s missed you a lot over the years.”

“You’re a horrible liar.” I tried to laugh, but it just sounded pathetic and made me cringe. “She said I get away with everything, and I’m too immature. Oh, and you’d never be interested in me because you’re far too good for someone flighty like me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t say that. And if she did, she’s probably taking her stress out on you. It’s not right, and she shouldn’t have said any of that, but if they were talking in the kitchen, behind your back, you were never really meant to hear it.”

I peered up at him and blinked slowly, as if I’d misunderstood him, like the more I stared and the slower I blinked, I could rewind time and hear the words he really said. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry, what?”