It was good to be home, I thought as I left my bedroom and headed downstairs to pick up my mail.

Technically, the police had cleared my place after just two days, but Syll and I had stayed at the hotel for the remainder of the week while my new security team installed new cameras, new locks, and a whole host of other security measures. I’d been promised that it all came with a money-back guarantee that no one would be able to bypass the security system. Their background checks were thorough, and their other customers satisfied.

We’d come back a week ago, and it still surprised me at how well the two of us had settled into living together. I’d never thought I’d want to live with anyone, but with Syll, it felt natural. We teased and bickered, but I didn’t feel like she was intruding on my space. In fact, I loved that she’d already found little ways to make her presence known.

Her shampoo and soap in the master bathroom. Her toothbrush next to mine. The new clothes I’d talked her into letting me buy – she insisted that she’d pay me back, but I wasn’t going to let her – and her shoes by the front door. A copy of an Ursula K Le Guin book on the end table on her side of the bed.

Now I just had to convince her that I wanted her to stay…and hope that’s what she wanted too. I had a plan for today, and it was making me jumpy, even after I’d worked out some of the tension in my personal gym, first with some weight lifting, and then by bending Syll over the weight bench and fucking her senseless.

She was currently in the master bathroom, showering after the unplanned sex marathon in the gym. I’d used the shower there because now that things were getting down to the wire for me to put my plan into place, I was worried that I’d spoil the surprise if I’d climbed into the shower with her.

At least things were going well with the investigation. Billy had cut a deal and positively identified the thug as the man who’d hired him. In turn, the thug had flipped on Mr. Jones, who’d named a less-than-scrupulous rival of mine as his employer. More than likely, none of them would end up in court, which was more than fine by me as long as they served time. I didn’t want Syll to have to deal with those guys any longer than necessary.

The mail came early on Saturdays, so it was already in a pile just under the mail slot when I walked into the foyer. I picked it up and began to shuffle through it absently. I received most of my bill statements via email, so what came via the post office was generally junk, but I never liked to just pitch it without looking through it first, just in case.

Credit card offer. Insurance offer. Catalog for fishing equipment for a Jack Hunt. Credit card offer. Loan offer. A seed catalog for a Miss Jay Hunter.

I loved mailing lists.

The last envelope was different from the others. It was still a business-sized envelope, but there was no return address. And the delivery address was handwritten. To me. In handwriting familiar enough to make me lose my breath.

I dropped the rest of the mail right back onto the floor and walked into the living room without taking my eyes off my name, almost frightened that if I did, it would disappear.

I opened it to find a neatly folded piece of paper inside. My chest was tight, my hands shaking, but I took the paper out and unfolded it. If I waited until I was ready to read it, I knew I never would.

Jax,

Upon the event of my death, I have asked Mr. Constantine to send this to you. I will spare you any sentimentality, as I know that we are both unaccustomed to such displays between us. This letter is not to explain the changes to my will, though I am sure they came as a surprise to you and your brothers. I know that you will come to understand them with time.

The purpose of this letter is to explain something that I have never spoken of to anyone outside of Mr. Constantine.

Bartholomew Constantine is a private investigator. I hired him twenty years ago to investigate the car crash that killed your parents and sister. I do not believe that it was an accident, and now that I am gone, I ask that you continue the search for the truth.

When I finished the letter, I went back and read it again. And again.

But the words just couldn’t compute.

Because they were crazy.

They couldn’t be real. None of this could be real. The accident wasn’t an accident? Grandfather wasn’t given to flights of fancy. But he’d hired a PI. And he’d been sure enough that he sent me a letter to make sure I kept up the investigation.

“Jax?”

I looked up to see Syll coming into the room. She wore one of my robes, the soft flannel dwarfing her. I patted the seat next to me, and she came over and sat down, a concerned expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Concern filled her eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“In a way I did.” I held up the letter but couldn’t bring myself to hand it to her. “It’s a letter from my grandfather.”

“Really?”

“Apparently, he hired a private investigator years ago because he didn’t think the accident that killed my parents was an accident.”

“What?” She put her hand on my arm.

“Yeah, I’m as surprised as you are. He never talked about it, never gave me a hint that he ever thought it was something other than a car accident.”

“How much do you remember?” she asked gently.

“Not much.” I shook my head. “I was a kid, so no one wanted to tell me much about what happened, and I didn’t want to upset Grandfather, so I never asked. The more time that passed, the less I thought about it.”

She ran her fingers through my hair, her touch soothing. I leaned into her, needing the comfort even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“Cai, Slade, and I were at a friend’s house when it happened. We didn’t know until it was all over. Grandfather came from the hospital after…it was over, sat us all down, and told us that our parents and sister were dead and that Blake was going to be okay. He just said it was a car accident.”

“That’s awful.”

I looked over at her now and saw tears in her eyes.

“I never knew he thought it was anything else. Why didn’t he tell me?”

She squeezed my hand. “Maybe he didn’t want to burden you with it.”

I gave her a half-smile. “Trust me, protecting me wasn’t something Grandfather really did.”

“Yes, he did,” she countered. “I’m sure he didn’t want to tell you until he knew for certain what happened. He didn’t want you to have the pain of not knowing.”

She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. I could feel my desperation in the kiss, but I didn’t feel the need to hide anything I was feeling. She understood without me needing to say a word.

I’d contact this Constantine fellow and get the facts. If I thought he was on the level, I’d do what my grandfather asked and continue to look for the truth.

I’d just wait to tell my brothers. No point in bringing up painful memories if there wasn’t anything there.