I'm too shaken the rest of the evening to do anything.

There's a fugue hanging over my head when I wake up Holden, kiss him goodbye, and hand him off to my brother, who's comes by to collect his little boy sometime around ten.

I don't know where Reg is. Again.

Working late again. Ask me about the chat with Dr. Evans later.

That's what his text reads, anyway. I shrug, instead of getting angry. There isn't any point. I don't think it's possible to know rage after seeing Ryan. There's too much confusion numbing my nerves. The cloudy, maddening blur sends me back through time and space, making me think about the bastard all over again.

He's just as mysterious as the day he disappeared. Getting him to leave was my only concern when we were standing face-to-face. Now that he's gone, I'm able to sit and wonder about the fancy suit clinging to every inch of him, plus the high end black car I watched him climb into through the window.

Did he come here dressed to impress me? Or is it just one more part of who he is – someone who's a total stranger?

Of course, he was gorgeous. More handsome than any heartbreaker with blood on his hands has any business being.

The years have been good to him. The muscular, sexy boy became a man. Full bodied, broad shouldered, his trousers tucked around hips that look like they could slam a woman into the next century.

It's hard to remember he's probably a killer. Probably.

I'm not going to get my hopes up about anything daddy whispered an hour before he left this world for good. Secrets almost killed me once. They'll do it again if I give them a chance.

I hate this. But damn, it's hard not to get wet when I picture what that body looks like underneath the suit, or whenever I remember how his hands didn't hesitate when he backed me against the wall.

His touch stopped me in my tracks. Owned me the way he used to during our brief, beautiful nights together. Reg never touches my face. I'd forgotten how good it is to have a man's hand there. Raw, masculine strength that can be as rough or as gentle as I want it to be.

God. Did I mention I'm shaken?

Nothing will take the edge off. I'm going to get sick if I resort to wine.

I settle in on the balcony, wrapped in my robe, a steaming cup of black tea in my hands. It's my fault I wouldn't let him speak, but I couldn't let him give me a mental breakdown.

I don't know what kind of game he's playing. If he really killed Nelson that night five years ago, then there's a good chance I'm dealing with a genuine psychopath.

There should be no sympathy. It shouldn't hurt to touch my phone every time I think about reporting him. One quick call to the sheriff's office, letting them know Split Harbor's most notorious fugitive is back, and I won't have to worry anymore.

He's not who you think he is. Ryan's words stick. They're death threats if they're right. Every one of them promises to detonate everything I think I know.

I couldn't survive it from any man, but hearing it from him? From the strange, heartless bastard who lost his mind, killed a man, and threw my heart in the trash half a decade ago?

No, I can't. I won't listen.

I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't.

I'm about to throw my mug three floors down to the parking lot when I hear someone behind me. Whipping around, pulling my robe tight, there's Reg standing at the door with a glass of wine, a worried look on his face.

“You're out here awfully late, Kara-bell. Come in and warm up. I just turned on the fireplace.”

“It's almost eleven. You didn't call.” Yes, he's taking the brunt of everything Ryan stirred up earlier, but I don't care. I really need to know where he was, especially after hearing he's not who you think he is.

“Babe, what's wrong? I sent you a text. Had a pleasant conversation with our doctor this morning. I told him about last night, with the party. You know what he said?”

“I don't care. You're deflecting my question,” I step inside, resisting the urge to throw my mug again, this time at his face.

“He said we did good, Kara.” Reg stops, sips his wine, and waits until I look at him before he goes on. “We're making real progress. Sure, there's a long way to go, and we're going to keep stepping on each other by accident once in awhile. Every couple does it. He said so himself.”

His wine glass goes down. Hits the counter with a resounding clink, and then he's coming toward me, holding out his arms. His embrace is just about the last place in the world I want to be today.

But as soon as his lean, firm arms are around me, I fold. I'm only human. There's no resisting comfort right now. I think I'd accept it if a grizzly bear walked into the room offering a hug.

Desperation sucks.

“I have to ask you something,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him weakly. “You can't get mad. Just be honest.”

“Anything, babe.” He pushes his fingers through my hair, wearing a smile as soft as the sun.

I don't remember the last time I felt this much at peace with him. Shame it's going to go up in smoke as soon as I drop my question.

“Are you having an affair?”

His fingers slip through my hair a little more quickly, tangling the ends of my locks. He's extra fluid when his eyes find mine, every part of him animated at once. Just like the way he used to get when we'd stay up half the night, talking about the places we're going to see after we're married, trekking the globe together as husband and wife.

“No. That's crazy, babe, and not something you'll ever need to worry about.” He leans down, his voice strangely soft. His warm lips touch my forehead. “I'm not mad, but I'm going to ask you where the hell you got the idea?”

“You're late all the time, and you won't say why. Is it really all work, or is there something else going on?” My eyes scan his, searching for dishonesty, however faint. I can't tell. “If it's not another woman...then what? Are you drinking too much? Wrapped up in something illegal?”

For a second, he hesitates. But his eyes aren't lying. He smiles, letting out a lengthy sigh.

“I wanted it to be a big surprise. I've been spending a lot of time down in Drayton Financial's marketing firm, Kara-bell. You won't accept any help from me with your business, I know. I get it. Hell, I respect it.” His fingers move through my hair again, softer than before.

“Marketing? What are you talking –“

“Since you won't let me give you the money you need to run proper ads for tourists, I was going to do it myself.” He holds a finger up with his free hand, and pushes it gently against my lips as soon as they open. “Don't say anything yet. I'm not building your business for you. I'm simply promoting my favorite coffeehouse. And since my family runs so much of the tourism here, it only makes sense the good people from out-of-town ought to have the best recommendation for their morning cup.”

I'm melting. There's nothing in his voice that says he's full of it, even though a voice deep down inside is telling me it's too good to be true.

Too convenient, perhaps. But the alternative to continuing to dig into him, insinuating he's full of it, is recognizing my own creeping cynicism. That's the last place I want to go.

So, I don't say anything. I'm satisfied for now.

He holds me gently, swaying in the middle of the kitchen, rocking me. I let him because I'd better get used to feeling the earth moving beneath my feet.

Ryan's reappearance is proof the earthquakes aren't going to stop anytime soon. They're going to get worse, and someone is bound to collapse before it's over.

* * *

It's an uneventful week. We go our separate ways, have our weekly session with Dr. Evans, and talk to his parents a few more times about food options for the wedding. I try my damnedest to get back to my normal life and forget I ever saw a ghost from my past.

One morning, I'm at Grounded like usual. Working my tail off to make sure there's enough beans roasted for a media drop-in scheduled this afternoon. It's something to do with breakfast and coffee recommendations for the new Punch employees on the edge of town, and I'm eager to make a lovely first impression.

I'm still in the back, barking orders to the half dozen kids I manage, plus one single mom picking up part-time hours. The second I hear the chime for the front door ring, I'm flying out to the register, a huge smile on my face, carrying two steaming sampler mugs of our best coffee to the man waiting there to greet me.

“It's a pleasure, Ms. Lilydale.” His voice stops me dead in my tracks before I even see his face.

It's Ryan. Standing there with the world's smuggest smile, extending a hand, surrounded by at least three men from the Harbor Gazette priming their cameras.

“Welcome to Grounded.” My voice threatens to crack, but I won't let it. If he's here as some kind of sick joke to throw me off on a big day for my cafe, he's wrong. I'm not giving him the satisfaction.

“Have to say, I think I'm already in love with this little place.” Of course, the bastard beams his ocean blue eyes into mine when he says the dreadful L-word. “Give me your best. Black, please. Before I leave, I'd like you to know I've dropped a check in your donation box for the cancer foundation you're advertising. It's wonderful to see business being charitable.”

He motions to the big pink banner hanging up above our charity billboard.

Charitable? Really? Is that what you call it when you left me behind to watch daddy suffer? When you weren't around for daddy's funeral, the whole fucking reason I'm hawking cancer research here in the first place?

I'm so caught up on wondering how I can punch him in the face and get away with it, that I barely stop to wonder why he's here with all these cameras. He can't be Punch Corp's marketing rep...can he?

No, I never saw Ryan working a corporate job. But we've lost a lot of years, become different people, and I can't rule out anything.

There's nothing I know about the pompous ass in front of me except that I hate him. He looks at me while I order up his drink – a premium cup of steaming get-the-hell-out.

“Can I have a look around?” I nod quickly, once, and he smiles. “Good. I think the press with me here today have a few questions of their own. This is your spotlight, Ms. Lilydale. The last thing I want to do is get in the way.”

“It's Mrs. Drayton soon,” I snap, a sinister satisfaction lighting up my blood when I see jealous storms rolling through his eyes. “Just a friendly correction.”

He turns, a fake diplomatic smile on his face, and starts strolling around my cafe like he's fascinated with everything I've built. I order coffees and donuts for the media people, letting them know I'm happy to sit down anytime for an interview.

A tall journalist named Tom guides me over to the nearest table. He's shaking his head by the time we sit down with our coffee.

“Before our interview, I just want to say, you're doing a hell of a job handling yourself in front of a celebrity, Ms. Lilydale.” I don't bother to correct him on the name because it won't get under his skin, like it will Ryan's. “Did you ever dream you'd have this little place getting so much attention?”

It's my turn to shake my head. I'm not understanding.

Celebrity? What the hell is he talking about?

I look up, my eyes shifting over to Ryan, who's standing in the corner, staring up at the huge oil painting of old ships coming into Split Harbor, hauling ore and grain across the Great Lakes.

“Who, him?” I nod toward the asshole in the suit who's come back to ruin my life after I worked so hard to undo his damage.

Tom cracks a grin. “Excuse me? Are you saying you've never heard of Tanner Brooks?”

“Wait...you're telling me that's him? The Mr. Brooks?” My mouth hangs open a little.

The reporter just laughs. “I'm blown away. You really didn't know? I may be a small town journalist, Ms. Lilydale, but I know bait. Nobody can be that ignorant. Listen, I'm not going to walk into whatever PR surprise trap you've set with him.”

Holy shit.

It finally makes sense. The reason a corporate Goliath magically decided to set up shop in our little town...it's to bring him home, closer to me.

“There's no trap, Tom, let me assure you.” Ryan – or Tanner's – hand hits my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “We've never met before this morning. All the contacts to set this up were through my chief of executive support, Becky Grahmer.”

I look between the two of them. The old, balding reporter pushes up his glasses, his eyes suspicious.

“Why don't we get on with talking about coffee, rather than badgering the poor woman over putting names to faces?” Ryan smiles, pausing for another long sip of rich black brew. “To get things rolling, I think this coffee is goddamned incredible – and you can quote me on that.”

I stare up at him, my blood running hot. Every instinct I have wants me to shove his hand away, but I can't when I'm sitting in front of this reporter.

He's actually trying to help me. Somehow, that makes him a bigger bastard than before.

I can't let him know it. Better to keep my hostility in check, rather than give the local gossip mill something to really talk about.

The tone shifts after that. Tom seems content to ask me about the boring stuff. Everything about the cafe's hours, its goods, its ability to serve the new arrivals quality coffee, which of course they're expecting since many of the managers are from the West Coast.

Tanner the fake does more talking than I do. It unnerves me how easily he's got the reporter wrapped around his finger by the end.

“So, Mr. Brooks, what can we expect next from you? Not the company, but the man who's in its beating heart.”

He pauses a moment. Pulling out the chair next to me, he sits down, and gives me a hard look before he answers. “I'm going to keep building the greatest automotive tech company this country's ever seen, no doubt about it. Then I'm asking for more.”

“More?” I say it before reporter Tom, turning up my nose.

“I've never been satisfied with half-assing anything, Ms. Lilydale.” He stresses my soon-to-be maiden name, ignoring my earlier request, which only sharpens the needles in my blood. “I know what the tabloids and the blogs say when they name drop me. They're always calling the latest girl I've brought to my big events the one. They're always wrong, but one day, that's going to change. I'm getting to the point where I want to settle down, have a family, and do what people are meant to, regardless of billion dollar empires to run.”

“Very touching, sir.” Tom scribbles a few more notes, nodding along.

I'm ready to get up, walk out back, and hope the cool air will put out the fires roiling my center. He isn't helping himself, talking about other women, or the grand old future he's planning for his arrogant self.

Christ, why am I jealous? I don't give a damn what Fake Tanner does with his time, or who he's with, as long as he stays the hell away from me.

That's what I try to tell myself. Never mind that it's an obvious lie.

“Thank you both very kindly for your time,” the reporter says, standing and grabbing his coffee. “I'll be sure this gets printed in our next issue. This place should be a lot more crowded soon, Ms. Lilydale. I'd better swing by a little early for my morning cup.”

“We'll be ready,” I tell him, ignoring the way the bastard at my side decides to shift his knee into mine just then. “Thank you for the thorough interview today, Tom.”

He's gone. The second I see the journalist open the door and step outside, Ryan's hand moves against my wrist. It's a gentle stroke, but it's also a movement that tells me he can grab me anytime if he chooses.

If he does, I'm going to scream. I don't care how many people hear me. I'll tell them everything.

“No thanks for me?” he asks, the same annoying smoothness in his voice as the kind that disarmed the reporter. Well, it won't work on me.

“If you're smart, you'll pick yourself up and walk away now.” I snatch my hand away, glaring. He's bigger, stronger, older, and clearly a lot richer.

One thing hasn't changed: his eyes are so familiar it hurts. They confuse me, and that's very, very dangerous.

“Not like this. We can't say our goodbyes just yet, Kara-bou. I want to talk. Come out tonight, around nine, and meet me at the lighthouse. We'll go up it like old times, and catch up properly.”

“I can get that out of your way if you're finished, Mr. Brooks?” Karen has the worst timing in the world.

The seventeen year old kid chooses the very second I'm about to tell him to fuck off forever to stop by our table, collect our cups, and flashes her awkward smile.

“Actually, I'd love a refill,” Ryan says, leaning back in his chair. Karen nods, grabs the fresh pot behind her, and returns a few seconds later to pour more in his cup.

I'm about to explode. The bastard probably wants me to spill blood all over my business. Some kind of sick satisfaction because he obviously has the control to create something a thousand times bigger than my little shop will ever be.

When she's gone, I turn to him, keeping my composure. “You're insane if you think we have anything left to talk about.”

“Better to be insane than delusional. I'm afraid the second one's what you're flirting with if you keep ignoring me, Kara. You're going to make a terrible mistake with him. I want to stop it.”

“You don't have to stop anything!” I catch my voice rising above a harsh whisper, and close my eyes, remembering to breathe. “You're not part of my life anymore, Ryan. I told you to butt the hell out.”

“Kara, it's Tanner. Whenever we're in public like this –“

“Oh, you're nervous, Mr. Caspian?” I lean toward him, using his real last name, until our faces are only inches apart. “Good. Now you know how you've made me feel since the second you showed up at my door yesterday.”

“Wait,” he growls, going for my wrist.

His fingers catch me, tug me backward. His touch keeps me sitting, even though I've pushed my chair out, screeching across the wooden floor. I hate having his skin on mine. There's too many memories every time we touch. Far too many I fought to kill, bury, and forget.

But I'll never forget the first time we spent a night together. Naked, young, blissfully ignorant. He held my hand half the night, even when he was inside me. He pinned me down and didn't let go, nestling my fingers between his, feeling them twitch every time he caused me to come all over his cock.

I've never had sex that good since. Reg's fetish has something to do with that, but it's also the spark that's missing.

We had chemistry, and it makes me sick that it's lost forever. It's gone, G-O-N-E, because I'm not going to let this asshole seduce me a second time with those cold, beautiful blue eyes.

I don't know what to do. Then the sick realization hits me that there's only one way to make him leave.

“If I come out there tonight, my friends will know.” Telling him that I'm considering it makes me want to bite my tongue, but I need to get away from him. Now. “They're going to know exactly where I am, and who I'm with. I don't care what name I use. They're going to know it's you, and you're not getting away a second time if I don't check in when I should.”

He smiles, softening his grip. “I'm not a murderer, Kara. I would never, ever hurt you. That's everything I'm trying to prevent.”

“I don't know that. I don't know you anymore. I'm not interested in whatever it is you want, Tanner.” Ugh, that name sounds so strange on my lips. “I'm agreeing to meet with you tonight because I want you to go away. Ten minutes. That's all I'm giving you, and then we're done meeting forever. If there's anything else you want with Grounded and Punch Corp, you can send one of your thousand employees to do your bidding.”

“There's only three hundred between here and Seattle. I run a lean machine, babe, and I'm proud of it.”

No more. The chair screeches again as I stand up, whipping my head around to see if anyone is paying attention to us. Thankfully, my employees are too busy, ringing up a few new drive through orders, and cleaning up the tables in the back for the lunch hour rush.

I look at him one more time, making my voice like ice. “Stop calling me babe. No darling, no baby, no boo, no Kara-bou.”

Slowly, he gets up after me, picking up his coffee cup. He takes a long pull, giving me more than enough time to drink in the huge, powerful, infuriatingly handsome edges he's hiding underneath his five thousand dollar suit. “I'll see you tonight.”

I'm not impressed by his wealth. I have that with Reg, and I'm not doing too badly on my own with the earnings from this place. His body, on the other hand...

The jackass never responds to my only condition, not to call me those names. I should run after him, snatch the cup from his hand, and throw it in his face. Then I should tell him there won't be any meeting tonight, and I'm going to file a restraining order if he gets in my face again.

No, I don't care if he pulls his business from mine – I don't fucking need it to make this place a success.

I don't do any of those things. I stand there, staring out the window at the ghost who's decided to haunt me after a five year absence.

Why can't I just let go? Why can't I give him the same respect he gave me – none?

My stomach sinks, watching him through the window. I know what's going to happen tonight. He'll try to ruin another engagement after he demolished my first chance at happiness because he took himself out of the equation.

I'm a fool for letting him back in. But I'll be a bigger fool if I ignore his claims about Reg.

My heart can't take another betrayal. If he's going to give me the truth, with proof to back it up, I have to listen.

I'll deal with the devil himself if it saves me from another heartbreak. And as far as I'm concerned, Ryan is close enough to Lucifer thanks to the strange, intoxicating power he has over me after all these years.

* * *

Later, I'm sitting with Reg and Amy, our wedding planner. We've been going over our floral arrangements again. Now, it's time to talk about chefs and caterers.

He wants fine wines, champagne, pate and oysters, plus a list of fancy duck entrees I need to draw on my rusty French to pronounce. It doesn't help much, considering the fact that I've barely sampled any of these things.

Fancy cuisine doesn't appeal to me anyway. I want barbecue, something that will go over well with my guests. I'm telling him Eddie's will bring us the best from several towns over, and there'll be more than enough to go around so no one will go home hungry, picking at their million dollar bird food.

“Kara, I'm not dismissing your suggestion, but it's very unusual. The food you're suggesting would be out of step with the overall atmosphere we're working to create.” Amy flashes her huge grin. She's roughly my age, and still in braces.

I despise meeting with her. Her family's close to Reg's, part of the same class, and almost as stuck up. She always shoots down more than half of what I want, siding with him.

“It's my wedding,” I remind them both.

“Ours,” he corrects, stabbing his pointer finger down on the list of recommended caterers in front of him. “Look, Kara, we can do barbecue for practically anything else. The people we're trying to impress, they're not going to be satisfied with ribs and baked beans. They want something on par with the best in Minneapolis, Detroit, or Chicago.”

“Of course. It's only impressing your relatives and jackass business associates that matters. I should've known.”

Amy holds her hands up defensively. Her and Reg share a look, and I'm left feeling like the odd bitch out for the millionth time. I want to stand up, sweep the papers off the table, and tell them the whole fucking thing is on hold until we fix our relationship.

But his parents are paying for the entire thing, and they want answers. We already have a date, and unfortunately, it's coming fast.

I can't buckle, or give up, or let several hundred people down. Biting my tongue is what I do best in this relationship. Too bad there's more incentive to do it because he's actually trying to fix us. I have to honor that.

“Kara, babe, why don't you pick out the drinks?” he asks, softening his gaze. “I don't want to fight about this. If you're wanting to put whiskey or cocktails on the menu along with the wine and champagne I know everybody will be after, go right ahead. I won't get in the way.”

It's a small consolation. Just enough to prevent me from chewing his head off in front of the uptight bitch grinning across the table.

“I love that idea. Here, I was just about to go over this list of vineyards we're able to work with, if you'd like to do something domestic. We'll have the usual European selections, of course.” Amy slides yet another piece of paper over to me.

One thing jumps out right away. “Nothing local?”

She looks at me, baffled, just like I'm asking about a ten foot rabbit standing over her shoulder. “Well, I could check with several places in Door County if you really want a cherry wine from Wisconsin, but I'm afraid Michigan isn't really known for its –“

“Forget the local crap,” Reg cuts in, eyeballing me with even more contempt than our planner. “Jesus, babe. When I told you I was fine with whatever, I didn't mean go crazy. We're trying to plan a wedding here – not a circus. If you want something to make your brother and his buddies happy with the local stuff, why don't we look at beer? I'm sure we can manage a few cases of craft brewed swill to keep our guests with simpler tastes satisfied.”

Amy clears her throat. I'm about two seconds from getting up and walking out the door. The meeting with Ryan tonight, just a few hours away, is the only thing that makes me hesitate. I don't want to drag myself out of here on bad terms with my fiance.

Reg deserves a fair trial, and an objective eye on whatever the bastard is going to drop on my head. If I walk out of here pissed off, hating him, knowing this entire thing is wrong, then there's a scary chance I'll lap up anything Ryan gives me without scrutinizing it like I should.

The asshole across the table is the one I'm supposed to marry, after all. Not the ass who left me.

I have to repeat my mantra.

Keep it together.

Keep believing. Because thinking about the alternative – another heartrending loss – turns my stomach a hundred degrees.

“Fine. We'll do the beer,” I say, leaning over to whisper the rest in his ear. “But don't you ever imply Matt's just a stupid peasant drinking cheap beer. He's taken more risks than you ever will, honey.”

When I pull away, he's glaring. I couldn't help it.

Amy clears her throat yet again, shuffling through several more papers. She looks up with a smile after the clip holding all her stuff together snaps in place.

“I think we can leave off here for today. We're making progress!” She gets up without either of us saying anything.

Her tall, black heels sound like horse hoofs on the ceramic floor. When I look at Reg again, his eyes are fixed on her feet, giving me one more sickening thought I don't need.

I need to get out of here. “I'm catching up with Courtney tonight, so don't wait up for me. She's only staying in Marquette tonight, and it's been awhile since we've seen each other.”

He nods, something like relief flowing into his expression. “Okay, good. I was just going to tell you, I'll be out for a few hours myself. I'm glad there's a few things we're still on the same page about.”

Nodding, I ignore his last jab. We get up and walk to our cars together. It's silent, awkward, filled with tension rippling beneath the surface.

“You're going to be here Friday, right? We're supposed to see Dr. Evans again. I'm sure he'll want to go over everything you've talked about by yourself in person. I'm looking forward to his take on the past week.”

For a micro-second, his face twists. I wonder if I've caught him in a lie, maybe several. Has he been talking to our counselor on the side at all? Or am I letting the paranoia injected into me by Ryan take over?

“I'll certainly be there,” he says, forcing a smile as he splits off and heads for his car. “Did everything go well today with the Gazette's interview?”

Now, I'm the one twisting my face, keeping my back turned to him until I'm ready to climb into the driver's seat. We sat together for almost twenty minutes before Amy came to meet us. He could've asked me about my day any time.

He didn't. He doesn't really care, except as an afterthought. No different than the rest of our relationship, including the wedding planning.

“It was fine,” I tell him.

Yes, just dandy, considering I'm about to meet the man I used to be engaged to at the place where he first proposed. All to bad mouth the man I just finished talking marriage with.

Reg waves half-heartedly when he pulls out of the lot. I slide into my car and watch his tail lights disappear. The steering wheel feels so cold I reach into my glove compartment and grab my gloves for the first time this fall.

Who am I? My faint reflection in the mirror doesn't hold any answers. What am I doing here?

Deep down, I think I know.

I'm scorned. Frightened. Sick of being yesterday's news.

But like I told myself earlier, I'm nobody's fool. The Kara Lilydale who lost years off her life going to pieces for a man is dead. She died the second she moved in with Reg. I tell myself again I'm not going to let myself be used by either of these men, especially the one who almost seems easier to deal with, after the hideous session that just went down with my fiance.

That doesn't mean I'm lowering my guard. With Ryan – new, gorgeous billionaire Ryan – I know that's a fatal mistake.

I also know, after all these years, I'm not over him. And that tears me up more than anything tonight, warming my face a hundred degrees, makes it so hot I don't even need to turn on the car's heater.

* * *

There's at least a little truth to talking to Courtney tonight. I've had a long lasting bond with my old roommate from the first and only semester I spent at Ann Arbor. She gladly accepts my texts about the strange meeting I'm about to have, promising she'll contact the police if I haven't checked in by ten.

It's the last thing I do before I get out of my car, eyeing Ryan's empty vehicle, and head into the lighthouse. He's upstairs. Something so predictable and ironic it makes me want to either laugh or vomit.

When I walk to the upper floor, beneath the historic glass, he's dressed casually. He has his back turned to me, wearing a tight navy blue shirt and grey jeans hugging his hips. Like I need more temptation.

“Five years since we had happier times here,” he says, without turning around to face me. “Where does the time go?”

“Goes by pretty fast when you're left without any answers.” I walk up next to him, sighing because I want to get this over with. “I'm not here to rehash you and me. That's over with. Done. If you've got something to tell me about Reg, then do it.”

His body pivots to face me. I'm trapped in his eyes again. They're deep and furious as oceans tonight. I should know ordering this man to cut straight to the point is hopeless.

“We'll get to that,” he says, looking me up and down. “I know you think you're going to be a married woman. After tonight, I hope that won't be the case. Before I say anything else, I need you to tell me one thing – does he tell you you're beautiful, Kara? Because you look fucking stunning. If we hadn't lost five years, I'd have you bent over right now, begging for every inch of me.”

Begging?

I'm lava. I look down awkwardly, trying to put more space between us, the heat on my cheeks betraying me.

No. I can't let chemistry take over.

One rough compliment from Mr. Disappearing Act doesn't erase the anguish he caused. I need to remember why I'm here. I have to keep him on my leash, and do the same with myself.

“Reg.” His name comes out of my mouth so loud, it echoes. “Why don't you want me to marry him? What has he done?”

Ryan reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a tiny black thumb drive, and holds it out to me. “He's cheating on you. I don't know how long it's been happening, or who the other woman is, but it's all there. Data from the GPS tracker I put on his car, photos of the two of them together, even hotel receipts. Trust me, those were an utter bitch to get, but I did it. I'd chase my tail across Superior if it kept you from tying the knot with the wrong jackass.”

It's worse than I thought.

My stomach sinks into the pit opening up inside it. “Don't bother. You already did that once.”

He clenches his jaw. My hurt spreads to his face, and soon he's coming toward me, offering those arms I've dreamed about. Always a joy in my mind, before they turn to ash and disappear, making my dreams into nightmares.

“Take the drive, Kara. Sit down with it when you get a chance, whenever you're good and ready. I know this is hard.” He pauses, lifts me into his embrace, and pushes his fingers through my hair. When my cheek hits his rock hard chest, it becomes very real. This is no dream, however surreal it feels, and he isn't going to disappear. “Your fiance's a demon. I know a lot, but I don't have every detail. I think he's marrying you for a PR stunt. He wants a good wife who will take his name, smile, put up, and shut up. He doesn't love you. Hell, he's barely one step below his pig of a great uncle.”

Enough. My hand flies up as I'm squirming away from him and hits his cheek. The resounding slap resonates around us.

Neither of us know what to do. The sting on my palm matches the red mark blossoming on his face.

Tears are coming now, hot and sudden. I don't want to look at him. I'm struggling to hold onto the small black coffin he's pushed into my hand, the data inside it as grim as a corpse.

It's the final splash of kerosene that's going to burn my world alive, more than even his words damning my marriage.

I already know they're true, unless he's truly insane. But this can't be madness.

He couldn't look at me the way he does, speak with this much conviction, if they were lies.

“Why did you come back, Ryan? Why?” My voice cracks on the last word. “I never thought I'd say this...but all I want is to be left alone.”

He starts coming toward me again, but I hold out both hands. I'm ready to fight him if he tries to tangle me up in those arms again, an embrace I don't know I'll ever be ready for, however much part of me wants it.

“I'm back because I love you, Kara-bou. I'm going to make things right.”

Love? He can't be serious.

I've lost years of my life just waiting for those words from him.

Waiting, wanting, and fearing them.

“Who do you think you are?” I ask, watching his handsome features blur as more tears cloud my eyes. “It's been too fucking long! You can't come back and say things like that. You can't just barge into my life, pretend nothing happened, and tell me I'm getting screwed over by the man I love.”

For the first time tonight, Ryan's face darkens. He stops, several feet away, and tilts his head. “You love him?”

I don't say anything. It's like I'm in front of a firing squad, too stunned for last words. Every sane part of me says I should say yes, should spit it in his face, and then walk the hell away.

“I don't know anymore.” Honesty hurts. Each uncertain word claws its way out of me, scratching my throat.

I roll my shoulders, stretching out the aches and pains invading my bones. This doubt and confusion is making me physically ill.

Turning away from him, I walk to the nearby banister, and lean against it, staring out across the cool dark sea.

“You're not happy, Kara,” he tells me, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Look at me.”

The second I comply, my eyes burn hot again. Reaching up to wipe the tears, he stops me, grabs my wrist and pulls it down. His arms are around me, and his strong hand grazes my face, brushing away the agony streaming down my cheeks.

“You really want to know why I came back? I'm here to prevent this. No man should make you cry.”

“Well, you're doing a shitty job.” Pain twists my tongue. I can't believe he doesn't know he's the only reason I'm standing here in the cold, dark night, mourning another marriage going to ruin. “I didn't ask for you to play truth teller, Ryan. I would've found out myself, if what you're telling me is accurate.”

“Yeah, you would have. You were always the smarter one. Unfortunately, there was a risk he'd pull one over long enough to do more damage.”

“More?” I repeat numbly. How could Reg possibly do more than shredding what's left of my fragile heart?

“It's easier to break it off now, when you're sharing a home. It's a hell of a lot harder with a few kids, after being in the town's eye forever. Trust me, I know something about celebrity. The camera eye changes you the longer it's on. Makes it harder to escape.”

“Like I care about any of that. If he's done wrong, I'll leave. Whether that's tomorrow, or ten years from now, I won't waste time with the wrong person. Nothing's going to keep me with a man who's screwing around behind my back.”

He smiles, slowly running his hand up and down my back. I'm burning up despite the chill in the air. Ready to overload on hot, conflicted emotion, churning in my blood like magma.

“You deserve better, babe. You'd have it, too, if I hadn't left like I did.”

“Better?” I turn my head to face him, my lips twisted sourly. “I'm guessing you mean I should be with you?”

He shakes his head. “I'm here to set you free, Kara. Nothing in this universe would make me happier than having a second chance, shoving your lips on mine, sharing my bed. I'm a realist, though. I can't imagine the kind of hell you've been through the last five years.”

“No, you can't.”

“If I can save you from five more fucked up years, that's reward enough. I'm not here to twist your arm into loving me again if your heart says something different. All I want is to see you happy, and that's not possible with the bastard who's got a gold stick so far up his ass he thinks he's entitled to thieving more years off your life. I won't let you marry a liar.”

It's not really up to you, I want to say. But the way he growls the last part – I won't let you – makes me feel strangely secure.

That's one thing Reg never did. He never laid claim to me like Ryan does every time he looks at me, his blue eyes blazing, ready to sink into me. Every part of him, too.

His words, his hands, his tongue, the bulge between his legs I feel every time I twist against him the wrong way.

I'm wet, and I shouldn't be. Sex should be the last thing on my mind when I'm caught between two men I hate, the only two responsible for casting me down to hell, several times over.

But the body does strange things when it hasn't been fucked good and proper for a long time.

No, I won't jump into bed with him tonight. It's a one-way ticket to more insanity.

I haven't even seen the evidence condemning my fiance, though I know it's true.

Walk away. That's all I want to do, and never look back. But I can't deny the attraction I've tried to snuff out and forget for five years is still lightning hot.

It burns, taunts, and draws me into him like a magnet.

So, I'll let myself wrap my hands around his neck, remember how good his skin feels against mine, and push my face into the protective nook of his shoulder, where his masculine scent says everything will be all right, damn it.

“Why did you leave?” I ask. He's in a giving mood, isn't he? I wonder if he'll tell me the truth about the night that ripped us apart. “Did you really kill Nelson Drayton?”

He pulls away, staring into my eyes. “I can't talk about that, Kara. Not yet. You need to deal with Reg without more distractions.”

The Superior chill sweeping up my back has nothing on the one he's just sent through me. I untangle myself from his arms, wondering if I should trust anything he says.

It's so quiet, I jump when my phone pings. It's Courtney, checking in on me. I'd lost track of the time.

I quickly pull it out and fire off a message, shielding my phone when he walks up behind me. I tell my friend everything is fine. Technically a lie, but she can't exactly call the police over my heart being pulled in two directions at a hundred miles an hour.

Ryan's firm hand goes around my waist before I can protest.

“I don't want to lie to you, Kara-bou. That night, it's a fucked up story. We need to sit down and talk about it. This isn't the place or town.”

“Tell me what is,” I say. My hand goes to his face.

I cup his cheek, running my fingers across his dark stubble. His coarseness excites me because it's a reminder of who he is.

This man can save me, or destroy me. It's like he thrives on secrets, and I want to know them all. Just so I can finally figure out which side of his sword I'm on.

“I need the truth tonight, Ryan. I told Reg I'd be home late tonight.”

He ponders it for a second, then gives me the sly smile that makes my knees tremble. “I read the draft of the interview this evening. Grounded's supposed to have the best cherry pie in the whole U.P., isn't it?”

“Mom's old recipe,” I whisper. “Same one you always loved at Thanksgiving. I can't do her pumpkin any justice, so I'm all in on what I do best.”

“Let's go.” He pulls me along, offering me his hand to help lead us down the steep, winding staircase. “How is she, anyway?”

“Struggling to make ends meet on what dad left her after the cancer treatment.” He doesn't look back when I drop the bad news, but I'm not holding anything back, assuming he really wants to know. “Otherwise, she loves being grandma. She gets Holden a lot on his days with us. The bitch allows it when Matt's on tour, but rarely when he comes home.”

“You're talking about his ex?”

I nod, following as we head for the parking lot. My hand blazes in his, warmer and happier than it's been in eons. I pull my fingers away before we get to our cars.

I'm playing with fire. This is happening too fast. I haven't found out what's going on, much less forgiven him, and everything about the way this insane attraction is reigniting screams wrong.

“I'm sorry it didn't work out for him,” Ryan says, stopping next to my car. “Shit, I regret everything that's gone sour for your folks since I left. You guys were like family. Could've been my own flesh and blood when I was that miserable orphan kid, trying to find my place. They'll always be my parents, and my brother. Kin by choice. Everyone except you.”

His hands goes to my face. I'm already blushing because I know he's always seen me as something more than a little sister.

I was the love of his life. His expression tells me I still am.

“I'll meet you at the store. Give me a minute's head start. Should have the doors unlocked and the lights on by the time you pull up.” I turn away, opening my door, but I stop to reach out, pulling on his shoulder. “No more games, Ryan. If you're going to be honest with me, I need the truth tonight. I have to know I'm not dealing with a killer.”

Please, I think. Please tell me I'm not making another mistake, destroying my pending marriage because I have a lingering crush on a disappearing murderer.

He doesn't say anything, just smiles and heads for his sleek black Tesla. I drive on through the night, making the ten minute trip to my cafe in silence, hoping the chasm in my stomach that keeps growing tonight doesn't swallow me up.

The truth that's on the thumb drive he gave me should cause more dread than whatever secrets are rattling around in his head. But he never denies it when I ask about Nelson's murder.

Something awful and completely out of place happened that night. Too bad I've been let down too many times, by too many people, to assume the best anymore.

I'm going to pry it out of him. I have to know what happened that fateful night was a mistake, he was framed, or the blood on his hands is only there for a damned good reason.

* * *

He's at the counter with his hands folded, a steaming cup of coffee at his side. I carve out two big pieces of my best cherry pie with the crumble crust for us.

He digs his fork in and takes a big bite as soon as I slide it across, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Ryan closes his eyes, savoring the taste, not caring about the tiny crumbs rolling down his muscular chest.

“Christ, that's delicious. They can't get the tartness right out west. I've missed a lot in this town, and Lilydale cooking is definitely near the top of the list,” he says, reaching for his coffee.

I sit next to him, toying with mine less enthusiastically. It's hard to eat with the elephant standing over us, the one who's threatening to bitch slap this happy moment away if I find out the truth about Nelson.

“I'm glad you're enjoying it, but now I need something from you.”

He gives me a knowing expression, the satisfaction on his face melting as he chews another bite, and slowly swallows. “It's too soon for that, Kara-bou. I'm not throwing you down in the sheets before your engagement's off.”

“Ass!” I punch him in the arm, catching myself laughing.

He is, too. For a second, it's like we're both in our teens again, and the last five hellish years are nothing worse than a long nightmare.

He turns on his stool, quickly finishing up his pie. I give him a few more minutes, hoping he'll be ready once he's had his fill. I tell him about the situation with Matt and his ex, Maggie, who twisted the knife deep when he found out she was cheating.

“Does he ever think about leaving the Marines?” Ryan asks, reaching for my hand.

I let him hold on without fighting to pull away since the first time he's come home. I shake my head, sipping hot cider. “We both wish he would, mom and I. Don't think he wants to give up the pay, and there's nothing here in the U.P. for him. He talked about trying to rebuild daddy's old auto shop last time he came home for Christmas, but it isn't going to happen anytime soon. We don't have the money for that. Especially if Reg is out of the picture.”

Yes, my fiance made noise about supporting my brother's effort. That was back when things were good, before he started screwing around, assuming he hasn't been playing me all along.

Ryan looks at me. The next time I blink, he's pulling out his checkbook, pushing a silver pen to paper.

“What are you doing?” My fork clatters on the small plate holding the remains of my pie, and I wipe my mouth, eager to make him put that thing away if he's doing what I think.

He doesn't say anything until he's finished. The check comes out, and he slides it over. My eyes pop when I see the amount he's written.

“No way. I can't accept this.”

“It's not for you,” Ryan says, gripping my hand. “Give that to Matt. Tell him it's from an old friend who wants to make things right.”

I chew my lip, nervous when I imagine how it would go down. “He doesn't like you anymore. He believes the worst – the same thing most people in town think about what went down with you and Nelson.”

My foot taps the floor. I'm annoyed we're debating charity for my brother, when the big secret is the only reason we're here, sitting together like he never abandoned me.

“Keep your money, Ryan. Seriously. We'll figure things out.” I lean in, staring into his gorgeous face, refusing to let his blue eyes swallow me this time. “I can feel Matt out the next time we're hanging out, if it makes you feel better. Of course, it would really help if there's anything you want to say to clear the air about what happened.”

“Okay, yeah. Guess it's finally time,” he says, pausing to smooth one hand across his face. He stretches his skin, as if he needs to smooth out the tension caused by holding in his secrets. “Before I say anything, you need to know it went down this way because I made a promise. I –“

He stops talking the second I hear the door chime. We turn around, and I'm halfway off my stool, ready to tell the intruder we're closed for the evening. It's my fault for forgetting to lock up.

Except it's not just a random interloper, looking for a midnight snack. Matt stands there like a deer in headlights, his big arms bowing out, fists on his hips.

“Kara? Ma sent me out to grab some muffins for breakfast tomorrow. Gave me the spare key, and said you wouldn't mind. What're you doing here so damned late?”

He hasn't recognized Ryan yet. Thank God.

I want to lean down, tell him to walk in the back for the pastries, and keep on going.

But it only takes a second for my brother to notice Ryan's fingers still wrapped around mine. This causes him to study the stranger next to me in greater detail.

I see it the instant recognition hits.

Then all hell breaks loose. My Marine brother sends all two hundred and twenty pounds of muscles flying across the room, straight into my old flame's chest. Ryan's a big man too, and it takes a lot to knock him down.

It's like two bears slamming into each other, rolling and swearing when they hit the floor.

“What's he doing here, sis? What the fuck's this piece of shit doing with his hands on yours?!” He's still yelling to me as he tries to punch Ryan in the face.

He's quicker than my brother. Ryan catches his wrist, holds it, and strains to prevent the blow from landing on his face.

“Matt, stop! It's okay! Calm your ass down.”

“Bullshit!” My brother's voice echoes like a cannon shot. I'm digging my nails into his shoulders, trying to pry him off, but he bucks once and throws me down, knocking me on my knees. His attention turns to Ryan. “You never should've come back here, you goddamned idiot! I'm turning you in.”

“No, you can't!” Oh, he can, and that's why I'm crying.

It's a small mercy because my anguish seems to break up the fight. Ryan takes the break in my brother's drive to knock his teeth out to throw him against the counter. He hits the floor next to me, sweeps me up in his arms, and buries my face in his chest.

It's a smart move. Matt won't do anything while I'm there except bark. I would've put myself between them anyway if I'd had a few seconds notice, before the last shred of sanity holding this night together snapped.

“Kara...I can't believe this,” Matt growls. “How long have you been seeing him? Do you know what people are gonna say if they see you with this asshole, right underneath Reg's nose? Let alone if they realize who he is...Christ!”

“That's my problem. Not yours.” Ryan stands, cradling me against his chest. I'm clinging to him, ready to fight if he tries to push me away, because I'm the only thing that's stopping Matt from ruining my cafe and tearing into him again. “Let's talk about this like men.”

“Fuck you, Caspian. There's nothing manly about what you did to that rich old fart, or how you ran away from town leaving blood all over dad's auto shop. He never should've hired your lying orphan ass.” He bares his teeth, shaking his head. “Shit. If only we'd seen right through you since the beginning...”

“Nice to see you too,” Ryan says, reaching to the counter. “Honestly, I'm glad you're here tonight. We were just talking about you before you came storming in. I've got something with your name on it.”

He holds the check out for what seems like forever before my brother walks up, and snatches it from his hand. I keep holding in my breath.

“What the fuck is this? A bribe? You're an even bigger asshole than I think you are if you're telling me I should take your money and walk away,” Matt snarls. It takes a few seconds for him to speak after he sees the amount on the check.

Then he holds it up to his face and takes the corners with both hands. I know what's coming next.

“Wait!” Ryan jerks in my arms, holding out one hand. “Before you tear that thing up, I want you knowing it's not a bribe, Matt. We used to be like brothers, before everything went to shit. Give me a chance to explain all this. That's all I was trying to do here tonight with your sis. If you'll hear me out, you'll see I want you to have that money, and I've got more with your name on it for the vets' charity I know you're trying to set up.”

“You've been watching me? And her?” Disbelief sizzles in his tone. “Fuck you, creepy ass stalker. You've got no clue how much you blew our lives to hell after you left, especially Kara's. We don't want a damned thing from you. Sis, just say the word, and I will call the sheriff. I don't care who this fucknut thinks he is with his suit and his money. He belongs behind bars.”

“Matthew, I swear to God,” I say, closing my eyes. “Let him go. This isn't what you think.”

At least, I hope it isn't. Thanks to my brother's crap, I still haven't found out the big secret. Now I'm afraid I won't get the chance tonight.

“Just go home. The family doesn't need this, and neither do you. Go grab your muffins in the back. Take whatever you want home to mom and Holden.”

We stare across at each other for several fiery seconds. Then rage snorts out his nostrils. His fingers finish ripping the check into a dozen little pieces and they fall on the floor like snow.

“Sorry about the mess. I'm not taking this fucking backstabber's money. As for anything else...we'll see. I'll think about what I'm gonna do on the way home.”

He marches past us. I hear him slamming drawers in the kitchen, looking for the day's leftover baked goods, which would've gone to the local shelter in the morning. His fist bangs the back door on the way out, and it swings shut, closing with a thud.

Ryan gives me one more squeeze before he walks over and bends down, picking up the remnants of his shredded check.

“Jesus, Ryan, I'm sorry. Didn't have a clue he'd be coming by tonight. We should've went for a greasy burger instead.”

“Don't apologize,” he says, more adamant than ever. “Kara, this wouldn't be going down if I weren't here. I've got a lot to fix, as soon as I give you the explanation I promised.”

I wrap my arms around him when he comes back to me. I'm shaking my head, hating myself for the next words out of my mouth. I want to know what the hell happened, but not if it means putting him at risk.

“We don't have time to rehash the past tonight. You need to go home and rest. So do I. There's no telling what Matt's going to do after seeing you like this.”

“Fuck. You're right.” He leans down, touching his forehead against mine.

We stay like that for a little while, just savoring our old, familiar warmth. Hating the confusion, the uncertainty, but loving this closeness. These are possibilities, poised between new disasters and miracles.

I'm not going to find out the ending to this story tonight. “Go,” I tell him again. “I'll be in touch. I need a chance to get home and look at what you've given me, too.”

Reluctantly, he nods, and walks me to my car. I give him my number, hoping I'm not making another mistake.

Whatever's coming next won't be easy. Looking into his eyes, I see horrors up ahead. It's going to get worse before it gets better.

Even if he's squeaky clean – and I seriously doubt that's the case – I'm facing a hurricane when Matt spills the news about Ryan's reappearance to mom, and that's separate from the hell coming whenever I walk out on Reg.

If I walk out on him. Ugh. It's hard not to get ahead of myself after being plunged into darkness.

Before we leave, my eyes go to Ryan's lips. It takes every fiber in my being to walk away without a kiss.

He stops next to his car as I'm pulling out, looking at me like he understands.

He gets it, and he fucking hates it, but he isn't giving up.

After tonight, I owe him the same. He's stirred feelings I haven't had in years. They're going to soothe the scars tainting me for the last five years, or turn them into open wounds.

I'm ready for the truth, whatever it may be.

That's what I tell myself, heading for my unhappy home. If I'm honest, before all this is over, the truth might kill me.

* * *

I don't have the energy to look at the files tonight.

Reg hasn't come home yet, despite the late hour. I slip into bed with a glass of wine and doze, dreaming about deep blue eyes, stubble on my skin, and a man between my legs who fucks me without asking to hoover suck my toes.

I wake up with a start near early morning. There's no one next to me. Wherever he is, he never came home.

Showering quickly, I dress, cursing myself for not setting an alarm. My internal body clock is the only thing that saves me from being late opening Grounded.

I'm in such a rush I don't give a second thought to when Reg got home, or if he did. It isn't until I'm downstairs, heading into the kitchen for a banana and some yogurt, when I see him.

He's sitting at the counter, the little black stick in his hand, tapping it against the marble. “Who gave you this?”

My feet turn to ice. I'm stuck, staring at my fiance, his polite mask hanging by a thread. It isn't hard to see the anger underneath.

He's seen what's on it. Somehow, he knows.

Gutted doesn't begin to describe the way I'm hollowed out. If I hoped to control my world self-destructing, there's no chance of that now.

He stands, comes toward me, his eyes narrow and dark. “Jesus fucking Christ, Kara. I thought we were getting better. Then you go behind my back, get this thing from some goddamned jackass, and find pictures taken over my shoulder by a stalker psycho? What did you do, hire a detective?”

“Whoa, back up. I haven't even looked at it!” I decide to give him the truth. “Jesus, calm down.”

“Calm down?” His voice bristles, the same as his angry, erratic movements. “You're asking me for calm when you won't even say where this came from, bitch?”

New pain rips through my heart. In all our arguments before, he's never called me names, much less a bitch.

“To think, you asked me if I was having a goddamned affair the other day,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You hired a PI to trail me, didn't you? Admit it. Some busy little jackoff you dropped money on to tell you you're right? Well, let me tell you something, Kara-bell.” That name has never sounded so sinister on his lips.

I'm officially afraid.

He steps up, grabs me, and rips me into his chest. I'm too shocked to scream, afraid he's going to throw me against the counter, or worse.

“There's no fucking affair! I'm too good to sneak around behind your back, and you're too stupid to believe it.” He's snarling in my face, continuing to scream, growl, and thunder when my eyes are pinched shut. “This ends here, okay? I'm giving you a choice. We're marching ourselves down to Dr. Evans tomorrow, as planned. You're telling him the truth and asking for help to fix your psychotic paranoia. Otherwise, we end this here. And if we do, I'll make damned sure the whole town knows why.”

My ears try to close in disbelief. For the first time since he pushed me against the counter, I'm angry enough to get over the fear. Opening my eyes, I stare at his face. It's incredible how someone you once loved can transform into a demon in front of you once they've done the unthinkable.

“Are you threatening me, Reg?”

“Is that what you think is going on here?” Raw hate gives way to frustration in his tone. He pulls away, muttering to himself, hot shame warming his cheeks. “Jesus. You're really disconnected from reality, you know that? I'm reacting how any sane person should. Any man would be just as pissed as I am if he found out his fiance had him trailed. I told you the truth the other day. You wouldn't believe me.”

He's right. I wouldn't. Seeing him standing in front of me, rambling like a madman, doesn't bolster my trust.

“I'm leaving for work. We'll pick this up in the evening,” he says, raising his arm.

Our eyes lock as he brings the little thumb drive down against the counter. A second later, it's smashed.

It was my mistake leaving the thing out. I wasn't thinking after coming home so late last night, too emotionally drained by yesterday's events to put it away.

Now, I'll never get that chance. Reg doesn't stop to pick up the pieces laying on the floor. His heavy footsteps plod toward the door, which he slams on his way out.

There's no mistaking the adrenaline flooding my system, my heart beating like a clock out of sync. I'm starting to hate this man. It's incredible how quickly our love has soured, how it's damaged to the point of almost no repair, held together by social pressure more than anything else.

But I've never seen him this crazy before. I can't judge what's on the destroyed drive, but what if he's angry because I misjudged him? Not because he's covering up the awful truth?

I pick up the pieces, no longer worried about getting into the cafe a few minutes late. I reach for the tiny shattered pieces, and push them together absent-mindedly, hating that I can't put Humpty-Dumpy together again.

It takes me a minute before I toss them in the trash. I don't know who to believe, or what's true.

Reg has never been this upset. The glow in his eyes...it was rage.

Pure, unfiltered contempt.

There's only two possibilities: he's the best damned liar in the world and he's completely soulless, or it's Ryan manipulating me.

I hold in the scream building up in my chest until I'm out the door, in my car, and on the way to work. When it comes out, I'm sure several people on the main drag in Split Harbor hear it, out on their morning walks They stop and look toward my vehicle's headlights.

I think back to what went through my head last night, realizing how wrong I really was.

This isn't even close to over, and I'm already dead inside.

Someone's lying to me. Ryan, Reg, or maybe both. I'm just sick of being used.

I won't be anyone's whore, or their trophy wife. We're past the point of anything a psychologist can help with.

I'm not coming home this evening. After I close up Grounded today, I'm getting in my car and going for a long, long drive. I need to clear my head, search my heart, and forget about the two men pulling me in half.

It's the only way I'll know if I can stay in this town without losing my mind.