Clem turned over the recording of Forbidden Sins to the publisher two days ago, and already she had three new contract offers on top of a deal to finish the next two books in the series. A part of her wasn’t surprised. Forbidden Sins was the best work of her life. Over the past week, she’d poured every ounce of her desire, heartache, and hope into the narration, delivering a performance more nuanced and emotive than she knew she could. This was the kind of professional success she’d been dreaming about but it was bittersweet. She’d used up every heart-wrenching memory of her time with Jake for inspiration. How could she replicate that without him?

She closed her laptop and resigned herself to watching the movie her sisters had picked out.

“Ooh, this is brilliant. You could use cut-out figures on a string to keep the robbers out the next time you leave the house,” Clover said, holding the bowl of popcorn beneath Clem’s face.

Chastity leaned across Clem and snatched a handful of popcorn. “No way. She never leaves her house. I vote for the broken glass on the windowsill idea.”

Clem grabbed the bowl and set it on the new coffee table her sisters had picked out for her. “For the hundredth time, I’m not taking security advice from Home Alone. I have a house alarm now. That’s enough.”

“How useful is it if you won’t even tell us the code?” Clover whined.

If Clem had known an alarm would give her some modicum of privacy from her family, she would have invested in one long ago. Then again, she was actually kind of grateful to have her sisters with her right now. Their near constant presence since getting home from Beecham Lake last week had kept her from wallowing in misery. Somehow, they’d managed to drag her out of the house yesterday to go shopping and replace all her furniture. It was easier to give them free reign with her credit card than to muster the energy to pick out new chairs and couches herself. The bright patterns and colors Clover insisted on weren’t something Clem would have chosen, but even she could admit the outcome was beautiful and sophisticated in a way she could never have replicated on her own.

“Mom said the alarm’s enough to help her sleep at night,” Chastity added. “But I still think you need to hire a 24 hour security guard. A really handsome, beefy one.”

Clem ignored the last part of her sister’s statement and focused on the warm blanket of relief that settled over her thinking about her mom. The ride from the cabin to the hospital last week had filled her with a fear more bone chilling than the break-in. Even though it turned out to be nothing but a terrible panic attack, the aftermath of the ordeal had left Clem shaken. Ironically, it seemed like the incident had the opposite effect on her mom. She’d been unnervingly calm and reasonable since it happened, as though she’d finally realized that all the meddling and fretting was counterproductive to the one thing that mattered most: seeing her family happy.

“How long do you think this new Zen-Mom thing is going to last?” Clover asked.

“I give it two weeks,” Clem said.

“So pessimistic! I think she’ll last a month,” Clover responded.

“At least until the next national holiday that requires redecorating the house. One minute with all those unlabeled Rubbermaid boxes in the basement will set her off again,” Chastity said with the kind of finality that left no doubt she was the oldest sister.

Clem hoped they were all wrong and that her mom really had undergone a personality transplant, but she wasn’t foolish enough to bank on it. Heck, she was pretty sure a big chunk of the reason her mom had been so willing to listen to the doctor was because she thought he happened to look like a young Steve McQueen. But the fact she hadn’t given Clem a single ounce of grief over the whole fiasco with Jake in the week they’d been home was nothing short of miraculous.

Right after the doctor had given her mom the all clear, she’d taken Clem’s hand and asked her what really happened. Clem couldn’t lie to her anymore. She’d spilled every last detail about the break-in, the fake relationship, and how she’d ended up falling for Jake.

Her mom patted the back of her hand and told her that the only thing she really wanted for Clem was to see her go after what she wanted. And that meant going after Jake. So Clem tried. She sent him a text telling him everything was okay with her mom. A gentle prod that left the ball firmly in his court. When she arrived home, she found her Forrester in her driveway with the keys dropped through her front door mail slot. That was all the answer she got.

She dropped her head back on her new couch, fighting the urge to check her phone for a message from him when she knew it hadn’t come.

“Oh no, get the mint chocolate chip ice cream. She’s wallowing again,” Chastity said to Clover.

“I think this calls for double fudge brownie.”

Clem crossed her arms. “I’m not wallowing. But I will take the ice cream.”

“Heavy sighs, distant look, muttering Jake’s name over and over again? Yeah, you’re wallowing.” Chastity punched her lightly in the shoulder to punctuate the point.

“I haven’t said his name once.”

“Not out loud,” Clover said. “But you can’t tell us you aren’t repeating it in your head.”

“I’m not—” She groaned. “Fine. I’m thinking about him, but that doesn’t mean I’m wallowing.”

Chastity paused the movie and angled toward Clem. “Good, because a guy who declares he’s falling for you on his freaking wedding day to another woman isn’t worth your time or your energy.”

“I feel like such a fool.” Technically, it wasn’t Jake’s wedding day, but her sisters didn’t think that slight clarification mattered one bit.

“He had all of us fooled,” Chastity said with a huff. “And I’m not easily fooled. I honestly thought you two were the real deal. Heck, I could even get over the weird timing of his romantic gesture if he was here knocking down your door with flowers and chocolates, but it’s been a week.”

“I still believe him,” Clover said, popping another kernel into her mouth with a shrug.

Clem cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when I was dating Phil Marsden in high school and he broke up with me right before senior prom because I told him I wouldn’t go back to a hotel and have sex with him afterward?” Clem nodded. She’d only been thirteen years old at the time. The sobbing and Celine Dion ballads that flooded their home were memorable enough, but their parents sat her and Clover down for a sex talk so awkward, it was forever burned into her brain. “Chastity and Mike made Andrew step in and take me instead. Even though I was still brokenhearted about Phil, I knew that night Andrew was the one for me. That’s why I let him pop my cherry and everything that night when I’d never even let Phil touch my boobs.”

“I really didn’t need to know that,” Clem mumbled while secretly holding back a laugh.

“Yes, you do, because I’m making an important point. When you meet the right person after being with the wrong one for so long, it’s like taking off a blindfold. Everything makes sense and you just know.”

Clem’s chest tightened. Her heart screamed that her sister was right, but her brain stormed over those feelings like a rain cloud. “If that were true, why am I sitting on my couch on a Saturday night with my two sisters instead of him?”

“You said you texted him, right?” Chastity didn’t even wait for an answer. She snatched Clem’s phone off the coffee table.

“Hey!”

Chastity ignored her and pulled up her text history. Clem didn’t even bother to ask how her sister knew her passcode. “This is what you wrote?” She held the phone up with her last text on display.

Mom’s okay. Just a panic attack.

“What was I supposed to say?”

Clover sighed. “That he needs to man up and win you back? Or that you’re standing in your bedroom buck naked waiting for him to tell you what do next?”

Clem rolled her eyes.

“How about this?” Chastity typed something into the phone and passed it over.

Clem looked down at the screen and sucked in a shaky breath.

I miss you.

“All you have to do is hit send,” Chastity added gently.

Her sister made it sound so easy. But could Clem really put herself on the line again? Jake had been clear from the beginning that he didn’t do long term. It was easy to tell herself that one week wasn’t long enough to fall for another person, but then how did she explain how quickly she’d been willing to hand her heart over to him? How desperately she ached to see him again?

The malt mill was running smoothly but Jake wasn’t convinced it was running perfectly smoothly. The bearings had been tuned and greased over the past month, but there was always the chance they needed a full replacement, not just a repair. At least, that’s how he explained the fact he’d had his ear pressed against the cool metal for the last three minutes, listening to the vibrations for any inconsistencies. It had nothing to do with the fact he would have stuck his head into the damn thing just to drown out the memories of Clem that kept haunting him.

“I’m not really sure what you’re up to, but I’m going to write down the number for a good therapist and just leave it on your desk.” Eli stood over him, covered in grease and bits of mash.

“The mill was making a funny noise.”

Eli’s dark brows pinched together. “What kind of noise? Like a unh-unh-wee, a wee-unh-wee, or a unh-wee-guuhhk? Cause if it’s the last one, we’re totally fucked.”

“Wee-unh-wee.”

Eli crossed the floor and banged his hand against the side of the machine. The slight catch was instantly replaced with a soft purr. “Better?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Now stop doubting me and get out of my brewery. Your space is out front, convincing the fine ladies and gentlemen of this establishment to part ways with their hard-earned cash so that we can pay our bills.”

“I—”

Eli shushed him then pointed to the hallway leading to Jake’s office. “Your space.” He pointed to the equipment. “My space. Unless you want to stay and talk about your feelings.”

Jake stood up and wiped his hands against his jeans. “All right, I’m going.”

Julia burst into the room before he managed to take a step. “Great news! No, scratch that. Phenomenal news! We’ve been featured in Taste of Washington. Apparently there was someone at the wedding who works for the magazine who loved our space. She rated our Matrimoni-Ale as one of the top five craft brews in the state. And she love the food, the décor, pretty much everything about the Holy Grale.”

“That’s great,” he said, trying to muster a convincing amount of enthusiasm. It was the kind of thing that should make him ecstatic, but every emotion had been numbed since he’d gotten back from Beecham Lake.

“Not great. Phenomenal,” Julia corrected. “We’ve also gotten an explosion of bookings in the last few days. I’ve even had to turn some down. Don’t you get it? We’re not just competing with other venues. We’re in demand.”

His attempt at a smile must have failed because Julia’s expression soured. She turned to Eli. “He’s still moping?”

“Yep.”

“I’m fine,” Jake growled, annoyed by the knowing look that passed between the pair. “I’m just making sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Like it did last week when Julia and I handled things while you were on a vacation. Relaxing. Letting go of stress. All those things people are supposed to do on a vacation. Remember?”

Julia set her clipboard down on the old wooden table covered with barley samples and crossed her arms. “Eli’s right. You’re wound up tighter than before you left.”

“I don’t like roller coasters, man. Real or emotional,” Eli interrupted before Jake could defend himself. “What gives? I thought you left all your emo shit behind after you and Kelly broke up. Right now you’re acting like one of the sad, orphaned puppies in those animal adoption commercials that always make Julia cry.”

“We’re focusing on Jake’s emotions, not mine,” Julia said pointedly.

“We shouldn’t be talking about any of this at all,” Jake grumbled.

“You’re right,” Eli said with unusual solemnity. “Talking isn’t going to solve your problems. You need to do something. I don’t know if your attitude is about Kelly getting married, or about the fact Clem hasn’t shown her face here since you got back, but you need to deal with it.”

A streak of anger shot through his chest, but it fizzled just as quickly. Eli was right. He’d been putting off dealing with too much shit for too long. “Okay.”

Eli looked at Julia with suspicion. “Did he just agree?”

“I think it’s a trick.”

“Or a trap.”

“Or a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Enough. I said okay, and I meant it,” Jake huffed.

The pair nodded and left him alone in the large, dark space. The heaviness that had been weighing on him for the last week seemed to drag down every step as he made his way back to his own office. He’d been spending most of his time in the brewery lately, drawn in by the loud whirring and buzzing sounds. It was the only thing that could get the sound of Clem’s voice out of his head. She’d ridden with her parents to the hospital, leaving him to drive her car back alone. He’d listened to her recording the entire way, completely mesmerized by the story. He’d had to fill up the gas tank an extra two times just to finish it before finally parking at her place and walking to the Holy Grale to catch a ride back with Eli.

The couple in the book she was narrating should never have gotten together. Never should have made it work, and for a while, he didn’t think they would. But even with the odds against them, they’d fought to be together. The parallels between him and Clem were too fucking close to think about. But unlike the couple in the story, Clem had rejected him. The lies they’d told had unraveled in the worst possible way, exploding any chance they had to make things work.

But maybe he just hadn’t tried hard enough.

He settled into his chair and forced himself to pull out his phone and read the text message he’d read a million times already.

Mom’s okay. Just a panic attack.

He’d had six days to come up with a response. Six days to figure out if she even wanted him to respond. She’d been so guarded with her emotions, not giving him any sign she wanted more until he’d laid everything on the line that last morning, and even then she’d ultimately rejected him.

He wanted to believe she’d been lying. To herself. To him. That she did believe the connection between them was too real to throw away once the week was over. But he couldn’t be the one to push her now. He couldn’t be selfish with her. Pushing her too hard, too quickly, is what got them in this mess. Even though he was grateful Darlene was okay, not a single ounce of his guilt had lifted in the time since. He needed to do the right thing this time.

Only, the right thing had never felt so wrong.

He opened the phone and typed a message.

How are you?

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. His phone dinged with a message within a second. He straightened in his seat and stared at his phone like the damn thing was on fire.

I miss you.

The message was from Clem. Either they’d texted each other at the same time or she’d been waiting in anticipation for him to get in touch.

He typed back the only thing he could: Miss you, too.

His phone dinged again. I’m good. U?

A small chuckle erupted in his chest. They were definitely cross-texting. He paused for a moment, waiting for her to text again. A full minute passed with nothing, the little ellipses absent from the bottom of his screen.

OK. You coming back to the Grale anytime soon?

Another painfully long, silent minute before the answer came.

Maybe.

Another message popped up before he had the chance to respond.

Did the fact it was your wedding day have anything to do with what you said to me on the island?

Reading those words felt like a punch to the gut. He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand along his scruff. The temptation to lie was strong, but he couldn’t. Not if he wanted her back. He needed to be truthful, no matter how much it hurt. He typed five letters and hit send.

Maybe.

He waited ten minutes. Nothing. She was leaving the ball in his court and for once he knew what he needed to do.