My lungs work so hard they shake my whole body.

Still not enough to stop the world from spinning while I press my back into the bed, knees trembling together, staring at the haunted man in front of me.

“Presh? You okay? That's the long and short of it. You can pretty much guess what happened next, and fill in the gaps on your end.”

Oh, I can fill in the blanks, all right.

My heartbeat quickens to a sickly thump against my ribs, dark memories coming in threes.

It started with the visit from the cops the next morning, not long after my parents came home. They questioned all of us, except for Jace. Dad wouldn't let him talk without a lawyer.

I knew he was guilty. Knew it the instant I saw him with his busted lip and bloodshot eyes, not to mention the huge scratch across his head he tried to hide, angling his face up unnaturally.

He also did the unexpected. He poured his heart out.

My rock solid asshole brother actually broke down in a whimpering mess.

How could I not believe him? Show him no sympathy?

I'd never seen anything like it, him regressing to a little boy. A scared little boy at that.

Usher's fault, he said.

Two words I've staked the last six years of my life on. Two words I never wanted to believe.

Two words I now know were planted by a liar, a hypocrite, and a coward.

I press my face into my hands, wishing I could make Trent go away. It's not his fault the truth hurts so bad, sure. But him watching it sink in, seeing my misery...what the holy hell took him so long?

My mind scatters in a dozen directions, stuck in the past.

I see Jace shaking, walking with dad's lawyer, after he delivered his statement where he called Trent a drug dealer, a mastermind, a schemer who needed a dim-witted accomplice. He told the district judge it was Trent who hijacked my car, filled it full of the drugs he tried to bring to the police, and then crashed it on an isolated stretch through the woods just south of Olympia.

We believed him.

Even though the car burned too badly to positively ID any drugs, all the signs were there.

We believed.

Oh my God, we believed.

Then the media blowup three days later, when my poor totaled convertible became the talk of the Seattle press. A 'troubling' incident involving the daughter of a frontrunner for US Senate, they said. Dad huddled with his lawyer. Donors pulled their money. Local party hacks backed off.

He dropped out of the primary the next day, giving a quick, tearful concession speech.

We sat in the library that night, just him and I. Mom was too sick to even get out of bed after the speech. I asked him what he'd do to Trent, secretly wondered if I'd have to watch the man who raised me annihilate the man I loved, however much he might deserve it.

Dad surprised me then. He refused to release the hounds.

“Move on,” he said. We had to. He said Usher, wherever he is, would pay for this hell in his own way.

Now I know he did.

He paid for a crime he never fucking did, trying to save me.

I look up through bleary eyes, studying the eerily cool, older face of the boy I knew I wanted to marry after our night in this very room so many years ago. One word hangs on my lips, so heavy it hurts. “Trent, why?”

Why? His blue eyes pierce my soul, his head tilts slightly, almost like he doesn't understand what I'm asking.

“Isn't it obvious, Precious?” he says softly. “I didn't have a clue what your old man had in store if I ever popped up again. Neither did my parents. Ma, it ripped her heart out walking away from her dogs, her garden. She couldn't bear to lose me, too. Neither could Pops. He gave up his home, his late night TV, his fucking fly fishing for me...and it tore me up, you want to know the truth. This clusterfuck was Jace's mistake. No one else's. I got caught in the middle and panicked like the scared, clueless kid I was. Couldn't breathe a word to you. If I'd written, if I'd called, if I'd shown up on your doorstep, we'd have lost it all. Your family would've suffered more. DEA raids and six figure legal bills. And I'd be in jail. I had to stay fucking mum.”

“Wrong, Trent. You chose to. Dad never would've had you arrested. You left me alone to suffer, to wonder, to think I was losing my mind!” The last words slur together. “What else is a lie? Was it the note you left that morning, where you said...”

I can't even force the words. I just remember his messy signature beneath three crabbed words: love you, Presh.

“You sent me a letter, too,” he says, a wry smile on his handsome lips. “Real life's not always like it is on paper. Never easy. We say shit we don't mean all the time.”

My eyebrows bore into my head. His gaze intensifies. “Other times, we mean it more than our own life. But the crap that happens off the pages doesn't care, does it? The script keeps moving, Presh. Always. No matter what we say or how we say it or who we say it to.”

I quietly chew on his words. They're as smooth as ever, quintessentially Trent Usher, but this isn't the time for platitudes.

Tears can't be quelled forever.

“You're an asshole! This whole time, if you'd just come back, if you'd just written, if you'd just –” I leap toward him, slapping his face. Trying.

He catches my wrists, grips them tight, pulls me into him almost effortlessly. My forehead crumples into the nook below his chin. Every breath is a sweet torture, inhaling this gorgeous man who lied to me by omission, and damn it, I want to forgive him.

“Presh,” he whispers, a low rumble in his throat. “When you think you'll behave, look at me.”

I look up, glaring. His eyes are soft blue stars. Whirlpools drawing me into the same dark memories he's made me re-live, no thanks to a truth that's just as ruthless. “No. I can't just let this go, pretend it never happened. You came here for freaking closure, Trent?”

He nods sagely.

“What the hell were you thinking? Spilling this, ripping open old wounds, showing me who Jace really is...God. It's too much.” Okay, so he can't be blamed for the last part. Nothing about the lows my brother stooped to are surprising after seeing his recent screw ups.

But that was Trent too, wasn't it? Exposing him?

Jesus.

If he'd never come to Seattle, and just stayed in Portland...

I close my eyes, seeing a blissful ignorance. Jace was bound to do something stupid in the clear light of day sooner or later. Embezzling money, screwing around on Lindsey, finding more friends in the underworld, even.

Trent may have just saved our family again. As sickeningly hard as that is to admit.

“Gave you what you needed, Presh. What I needed. Don't you see? Once I'm done settling scores, we can move the fuck on. Finally.” He speaks like he's so sure. Madness. “We've got something valuable, darling: closure. When you fly home to Spokane, leaving this mess behind, you won't have to wonder what might've been anymore, or why it couldn't be.”

He's trying to console me in his own clueless asshole way. It just sends my fists into his chest. I swallow a muffled whimper.

How can a man so intelligent, so calculating, completely miss the point?

These aren't the words I want. Everything spoken in the past tense, one eye on the future, and nothing in the present. I'm an emotional wreck.

“Hey, Presh? Amy Kay?” He shakes me gently, and then a little harder after a solid twenty seconds not responding.

I'm limp in his arms. Defeated. So fucking done.

Growling slightly, he stands, lifting me gently with him. I'm in his arms, being put to bed like some kind of messed up sleeping beauty. He calls to me a few more times, but I can't handle more. If he won't face the demons he's turned loose head-on, I just want him to leave.

That's what I'm expecting when he turns his back. Can't say I blame him, considering every second spent in this house risks a whole new shit storm if my parents or Jace find out I'm not alone.

It seems like minutes pass. I lay crumpled up on the bed, my eyes only opening when I feel a huge, heavy weight next to me.

“You're too tired. This'll all make more sense in the morning. Promise.” His arm hugs my waist. His body eclipses mine, big and Herculean and weirdly reassuring through the confusion.

There's a warmth from his sleepy breath against my neck. It's nothing compared to the heat of his flesh on mine, or near enough. A snug, calming sea telling me it's okay to let go. Drift away.

That's what I do. Eventually.

But before I let the sandman stake his claim, I remember Trent's last words, and know this is just one more reassuring lie.

How can anything about this ever make sense?

I'm sleeping in the same bed with my ex, where he deflowered me years ago. I'm so ruined I let him.

Hell, maybe I encouraged it, settling back against him.

There's sanctuary in his heat, his strength, his wicked familiarity.

He knows it, too.

Trent's breathing picks up, his lungs work a little harder, every time I shift against him ever so slightly. There's a hardness against my butt. One more artifact from a time gone by, ruined by everything that's happened since, but I can't deny how good, how right, how nice it feels.

I shift against him harder. His breath catches in his tired throat. My core ignites, rushing heat to my thighs, my nipples, my pussy. My hand tightens on the edge of the pillow, clutching for dear life, considering whether or not I have the energy and the courage to turn around and stare into his eyes.

But I'm no fool.

We've faced too many hard truths tonight. Too many roller coaster rides down that unforgiving bitch called Memory Lane.

I can't. I won't throw my body at his. I'm not inviting more heartbreak, more hell, more agony.

Animal lust is an easier thing to suppress than other emotions. When sleep finds me, it's peaceful.

I'm not even surprised when I wake up the next morning and find him gone.

* * *

A quick shower gives me the strength to face the day. My stomach growls. Amazingly, I have an appetite, which I didn't expect after last night's insanity.

I head downstairs, wondering if mom still picks up duck eggs, even if her arthritis doesn't let her get out as much as she used to. I'm half-expecting my parents at the breakfast table, even though it's late, but they're already in the sunken living area adjacent to the kitchen.

Sighing, I decide to go simple, fixing myself some toast and tea. The locally sourced strawberry jam has the perfect sweetness. I chew a few crisp mouthfuls before joining them.

“It's so good to see you again, Amy Kay.” Mom holds her arms out for a hug. I set my food down on the tray and walk over, minimizing any need for her to hobble over.

“Sorry I didn't come sooner. Important business.”

“Oh, I heard. You're so kind to help out, dearie. I'm sure Jace appreciates it even more, considering his tough times.” Her smile fades.

I feel a knife in my chest. Looking across the room, I see dad, a strained expression on his face.

He hasn't told her anything. Not about the embezzlement, or the divorce, or oh my God I hope he isn't planning to dump it all at once. She won't take it well.

“That's what family's for, right?”

“Eat your breakfast and then let's plan a night out. It's been so long since we've had both our kids at the same table.” She beams at dad. “A nice dinner downtown, perhaps. A movie. If we can get Jace to join us –”

Dad clears his throat, trying to brush aside the question. “He's very sensitive at the moment.”

Mom shakes her head. “Of course. How silly. We'd best handle him gently, then, until he's able to sort out his woes with our lovely daughter-in-law. I just know they'll patch things up. Time works miracles.”

Not in this lifetime. I crunch my toast, trying not to make my anger obvious.

Hearing my poor, innocent mother still talking about Jace like he's her lost little boy sends hellfire through my veins. Even dad doesn't know the truth, about why he was humiliated in front of the entire state, and who's really responsible.

“Sis?” Hello, Satan. I turn, facing my brother, an equally cold look on his face. “Sorry to intrude. I need to talk to Amy Kay.”

I don't answer. Not until mom gives me a worried look and opens her mouth. “You don't need my permission!” she says cheerfully. “You two catch up. I'm sure we'll lock down a nice place for tonight, won't we, Maxwell?”

Dad nods. I feel his eyes on me as I sigh, leaving a bread crust and my almost empty plate on the counter, before I let Jace lead us out the front.

He keeps going, past the trees, their buds just peaking out for spring. I wait until we're a comfortable distance at the side of the house. Then I stand my ground, folding my arms, digging my feet into the soggy ground. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Had a visitor last night, didn't you, bitch?” His eyes seethe, never wavering as my mouth drops, wondering how he could possibly know.

Then he holds up a sheet of paper covered in a familiar hurried writing.

Another note.

Does Trent have a death wish? I really wonder as I reach for it, but my brother snatches it away at the last second, balling it up in his hand, then letting it fall. “You were in on it the whole fucking time, weren't you?”

“In on...what, exactly?” The words taste sour because I can't believe what's happening. I'm standing here being accused of ruining his life, after what he did... “Your drug deal? Setting up Trent to save your own skin? Screwing over dad, mom, and then the whole company years later?”

He doesn't want to hear it. Predictable. But I don't expect him to lunge forward, slam me into the wall, push his thumbs into my clavicles.

“Shut. Up.” His eyes are insane. “You fucking did this to me, Amy? With him? I thought as much, but goddamn, to hear it from your own mouth.”

“I didn't do anything. Trent came here on his own. I tried to ignore him. But he wanted to talk, wanted to give the truth, told me everything that happened years ago.” Tears come fast and searing. I'm starting to miss the days I didn't cry. “Drugs, Jace? Were you out of your goddamn mind?”

His grip loosens, freeing a subtler pain that makes me wince. “That was a long time ago, Amy Kay. Should I be punished for the rest of my life?” Growling, he turns his back, kicking angrily at a dead branch on the ground. The snap is like a gunshot.

“No, idiot. But after finding out why Trent wants to bring you down, maybe you deserve it. Some of it, I mean. It's not like you were an angel to Lindsey, or the firm. You clearly didn't learn a damn thing from what happened years ago. A situation you caused, Jace.”

He turns, new daggers in his eyes. “What's it to you, little miss perfect? Fuck, I wish dad had found out you were fucking that prick years back. He'd have turned you both out on your asses, rather than let that orphan piece of shit drag down this family. I never would've hooked up doing dirty deals in the first place if he hadn't busted my balls so hard over how bad we needed money.”

I gasp and stop rubbing my aching shoulder. “You're serious? Jesus Christ. Can't you man up and take responsibility just this once? If I heard an apology, a confession, a little honesty, maybe I'd still think there's hope.”

“You don't anymore, do you?” he says quietly. He steps on the crunched up note on the ground. “I wouldn't believe this shit if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes. This turncoat fucking family...” He pauses, closes his eyes, exhaling a long breath. “Even when I told you what happened, it wasn't enough. You still fucking blame me.”

The fabricated story, he means. I try not to grit my teeth.

“Dad let him off with a slap on the wrist. You couldn't keep your hands off him, all ready to throw me under the goddamn bus and let him take my place. Shit, maybe you still want it, after everything that's happened. You're that much of a desperate little whore, trapped in yesterday.”

No more.

It's my turn to catch him off guard. I jerk forward, reach up, and lay a satisfying palm-burning smack across his cheek.

“Shut the hell up. This is your fault, Jace. All of it. I'm just clearing the air with mom and dad, whatever else you think is happening. That's what this is, isn't it? Clearing the air,” I say, tapping the mystery letter with my toe. “Trent didn't just come by to spill the beans to me. He wanted everyone to know, to find out who you really are.”

I think I get it now. He's more interested in clearing his conscience, his name, than precision revenge.

I'm ready to throw my hands up defensively. Finding out what a huge creep my brother is makes me feel less secure than ever. If he hurts me, if he puts his hands on me again, I'll fight him with everything I've got, and then I'll scream and scream until the servants hear. I saw old Jorge this morning, the longtime gardener, and on a nice spring day like this he'll surely keep making the rounds.

I think Jace knows the same thing. It doesn't stop an eerie chill from sweeping up my back, wondering if the only reason he doesn't throw his hands around my throat is because he's afraid of getting caught.

“You've had your chances, Jace. So many.” It hurts to count the litany of second chances he's had in my head. Worse when I open my eyes, and see a brief flicker of that scared, lying young man who scorched Trent years ago, and seemingly never thought twice about it. “I love you, even after all this, but you're a disgrace.”

Anger lights up his eyes.

He opens his mouth, but I cut him off, raising a hand. “I'm not finished, Jace. You can fix this, own up to your mistakes, and start to undo them. Easier said than done. I know. It'll take years, probably. You'll do a lot of explaining. You'll have to make a lot of apologies. But it's the right thing. If you want more chances, this time you have to work for them.”

There's a long silence.

I hold my breath, hoping he'll come back with something sane. Something reasonable.

“Fuck you, sis,” he snarls, putting more distance between us like a cougar losing a fight.

I should've known.

“Didn't waste my time with you to get a lecture. Just do whatever the hell you want. I knew as soon as I read the bullshit that asshole left behind there's only one solution. He wants to demolish what's left of my life? Fine. I won't make it easy.”

He stomps away, leaving me biting my lip, dreading whatever he's planning. I reach for the crumpled note, unfold it, wiping away the dirt. It's addressed to my parents.

Maxwell and Ophelia,

It's been forever. I should have written this years ago. It's taken an odd reunion of sorts with Amy Kay to convince me to stop dragging my feet, but here goes. My version of everything that's damaged our lives...

My eyes skim the next half quickly. It's the same nightmare he whispered last night, a blow-by-blow recount. I know how it ends with the frantic car ride through the woods, the crash, the painful retreat. I can't bear to read the end.

What do I do?

I could just carry this in the house, show it to dad, and let him decide where we go from here. But is he ready to find out what a wretched worm his own son really is? Ready to learn Trent didn't actually screw us?

It's just a matter of time, I suppose. Also, sooner or later, there'll be no hiding any of this from mom. And Jace's very present screw ups are a mystery to her.

I hang my head, wracking my brain for answers. The soft Seattle sun retreats behind the clouds.

A car's engine roars, banishing my funk. I cross the path to the house quickly, careful to avoid the freshly tilled soil for the ornamental flowers Jorge has probably just planted this morning. I'm just in time to see Jace's polished black Tesla darting out of the garage like an ugly eel leaving its cave.

He gives me the finger, tearing down the long path leading to the gate without stopping. I want to say good riddance.

But I can't shake the persistent, ugly promise in my brother's eyes.

Jace is a loose cannon. He lost his morals a long time ago, if he ever had them.

Breaking my paralysis, I head to my room, stuff the note under a book on my dresser, and high tail it to my car. Later, I'll deal with the truth, my parents, and the massive fallout it's bound to bring. Right now, there's something more important.

I can't let him go after Trent.

* * *

I'm driving like a crazy woman through rush hour traffic downtown. I'm in such a rush I don't even care about crashing the rental.

Jace could be anywhere. He might even beat me to the tall posh hotel. I've got the local news on the radio, and so far, I haven't heard any disturbances, brawls, or shootings. Small comfort.

After an eternity fighting traffic, I pull the car to the curb by the entrance and shove an eye popping wad of cash at the valet. “Just park. I won't be long.”

I hope, I add mentally, running through the circular doors.

The well manicured man at the front desk looks at me suspiciously. I know how out of place I look: badly out of breath, hair tossed everywhere, fist in my purse digging for that stupid piece of paper.

“Miss, can I assist you?” he asks for the third time.

Finally. I slap the paper on the marble counter, looking for the tidbit I've forgotten. “Trent Usher. Room 313. Will you let him know we need to talk?” I also want to ask if there's anyone else who's come by looking for Trent, but I hold it at the tip of my tongue.

“One moment,” he says, professionalism winning out, fingers working the keyboards. “Ah. It appears Mr. Usher checked out early this morning.”

Damn! On second thought, I'm not sure whether I'm upset or relieved.

If he's gone virtually anywhere else, he's probably safe from Jace. But if he left without a goodbye...

“Did he leave a contact? A message? A destination?”

The man strokes his chin. “I recall helping him myself, yes. Believe he said he's heading home. Portland, if I recall. Had one of our drivers collect his luggage for the airport.”

“Thanks.” I grab the slip of paper with his room and number, wheeling around, a little less urgency in my step than before. But before I do, I turn one last time. “This might sound weird...hope I'm not overstepping any bounds...but can you tell me if anyone else was here looking for him?”

The man pauses, hardens his eyes, wondering if he should tell me anything. My heart sinks because I think I already know the answer. “As a matter of fact, there was a visitor. A tall, rather flustered man who, frankly, left a very unpleasant impression. About an hour ago, well after Mr. Usher had checked out.”

“Thank you!” I don't give him any time to cross-interrogate. I almost crash headfirst into the valet, asking for my car.

I need to get home.

While I'm waiting, I dial the only number I have for Trent. Predictably, it belongs to the room, redirecting my call to the same bewildered man at the front desk I just left in the dust.

Hanging up, my heart sinks. Wherever he's gone, I still need to warn him.

There's a decent chance my brother isn't so insane he'll do anything in an airport. Still, it would take him no time to book a flight to Portland, or God forbid, drive.

The ride to my parents place is a little less insane. Too bad I can't shake the sick feeling in my stomach this is far from over.

Then I see Jace's car in the driveway. He hasn't bothered pulling into the garage. I hold my breath all the way inside the house.

Just because he has no immediate plans to follow up on chasing Trent doesn't calm my nerves.

I close the door behind me and hear...laughter?

Steeling myself, I push through the door, into the house. I can't stand what I see next.

Jace is in the living room with mom. They're reminiscing over some mundane thing from the past I hear in quick bursts. I'm so livid my ears blaze red.

My brother isn't just screwed up and out for revenge. He's a complete sociopath. Nobody else would go after a man in broad daylight looking for a fight, and then laugh it off over tea in less than an hour.

There's a dull, painful roar in my head. I barely make it past without them noticing.

I don't breathe again until I'm in my room, hoping to God almighty she's forgotten her dinner plans.

* * *

It's later, after dusk, when I finally creep downstairs. I didn't mean to sleep so long, but the past twenty-four hours has left me drained.

The house is weirdly quiet. So still I think I'm alone when I step into the kitchen.

Then I see his dark silhouette reclining in dad's favorite chair, inert in the darkness. It's too soon. A half-muffled scream bellows out before I get my hands over my mouth.

Jace just chuckles, long and low and nasty. He's been expecting me.

“Calm the fuck down, sis. Our folks are downstairs, working out last minute reservations.” He smiles, stands up, and crosses the space between us, stopping on the other side of the counter. It's hard not to jump again as his hands slap the surface.

“Listen.” He leans toward me, leering. “I've thought an awful lot about our little disagreement this afternoon. Decided we're still family. Everybody in this house, including you. My beef isn't with my baby sister.”

Shaking my head, I feel the anger hit my blood. “Leave him alone, Jace. I went to the hotel, heard you went looking.”

“And what if I did?” he bites out. “That's my fucking business, Amy Kay. Whether he was justified or not, Usher threw the first punch, dragging my skeletons out of the closet. Then the bastard scuttled like a rat when I came to settle like a man.”

He's delusional.

That isn't at all why I think he left. But of course I don't say it. “Jace –”

“Amy Kay.” He nods curtly. “Listen to your big brother for once – stay the fuck out of this and we won't have problems. It's not your fight. Judging by the warm welcome our folks gave me this afternoon, I'm guessing you didn't drop this bomb on them?”

“You went in my room?” One more crime shouldn't shock me. Doesn't change the need to stare him down as he holds up the crumpled note I tucked away, and lets it hit the counter with a crisp plop.

“You'll get over it. Same thing you'll do after I burn this fucking thing tonight, and we try to put this whole ugly fever behind us.” I lunge for the ball of paper, but he's too fast, snatching it up and stuffing it back in his pocket. “Rude. Finders, keepers, Amy Kay.”

“Asshole,” I whisper back. “Why the game, Jace? You're crazier than I thought if you think this is something I'll just forget. Not after you went after Trent, trying to do God only knows.”

He smiles. “Usher's a sad little man if he needs your protection. I'm not psychotic, sis.” He pauses, as if he can sense how much I don't believe it. “I just wanted to convince my old buddy. Get him to see things my way, or at least lay off springing any other fun surprises.”

My lips thin. He deserves what's coming, and probably more, but I don't like the idea of Trent running around with more hit-and-run attacks. Cooler heads have to prevail eventually, right?

“That's my sis,” he says, patting my arm twice before I rip it away. “Fine. Be that way. Rest assured, whatever beef I have with Usher won't get violent or out of hand.”

“I don't know why I should believe anything you say.”

“Because, sis, I've got nothing left to lose. If I'm so fucked up, so crazy, I decide to jack a flight to Portland and pay him a visit on his home turf, what will you do? Squeal to dad? Break mom's heart? Force our parents to lock me up like a mad fucking dog?”

I don't say anything. He's got me there.

Of course, I'll consider it if I think my brother could be a murderer, but Jesus, I don't want to.

“Exactly.” His eyes brighten, making my skin crawl. “I know being under the same roof's fucking torture for us both. Don't you worry, sis. I'll be out of your hair real soon. I was already planning to tell everybody I've got a new place lined up over dinner tonight. Need some time to myself to think about this, how I'll un-fuck my life. Lindsey's lawyer's already up my ass, and dad wants me with his guy on Monday. Won't have much time for retaliation against the asshole who did this. Not for a while.”

I say nothing. We stare at each other for a minute longer. Then he turns, marches past me, and disappears into the next room.

I can't trust a word from this chronic liar, but one word wasn't lost on me: time.

Trent, in all his wisdom, didn't leave me a Portland contact. Every hour Jace stays here buys precious time for a proper warning.

Sighing, I know what's ahead: I'll play this cat and mouse game as long as it takes to make things less crazy. I'll warn Trent. And the second Jace steps out of line, I'll make sure mom and dad know everything.

Then, sometime in the next century, I'll wash my hands of this nightmare circus and figure out how to live a normal life.