CHAPTER ONE
The one day I need to be on time.
And I’m late.
My best friend doesn’t ask for favors often.
This morning, he called from whatever far-off spot his company sent him to this month, and asked me to stop by his house to let his sister in. Apparently she’d be crashing there for a few days.
I hadn’t asked for details.
Didn’t need any. For Vince and Bree, I’d pretty much do anything.
Bree.
Haven’t seen her since two Christmases ago. Shares an apartment with her boyfriend, so even though it kills me, I keep my distance.
Not that I’d ever disrespect my best friend by messing around with his sister.
Never again.
No matter how much I might want her.
A flash of blue in the form of a hatchback blows through a stop sign, nearly sideswiping my patrol car and putting an abrupt end to daydreaming about Bree.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I grumble. Pulling the careless driver over will only make me later. The paperwork alone will take another half hour.
But leaving this menace on the road doesn’t sit well with me either.
The car drifts to the left, making my decision for me. Probably some asshole texting.
I flip on the lights, but the car doesn’t pull over right away. Uncooperative drivers piss me off. I’m running down my mental list of tickets to write when the car finally jerks onto the shoulder and comes to a stop.
Usually, I’d let them sweat for a few minutes while I call the traffic stop in to dispatch and dawdle over my paperwork. But I’m still hoping I can make it to Vince’s house before Bree arrives.
I step out into the boiling June afternoon. The weight of my uniform increases the temperature by at least another ten degrees. My eyes scan the vehicle as I slowly approach, taking note of everything. Engine still running. Female driver. Alone. Backseat stuffed with boxes and clothing.
As I’m about to tap my knuckles against the glass, the engine shuts off and the window slides down.
I brace my arm on the roof and lean over. “Good afternoon, miss—”
“Liam?”
It takes me a few seconds to realize the careless driver I pulled over is Bree. And when it clicks in my brain, my heart stutters all over itself. She’s thinner than I remember, and I have the urge to drive her straight to my mother’s for a dose of home cooking. Always a beautiful girl, Bree’s now a striking woman. The long brown hair I’ve admired since we were kids on the playground is tied into a ponytail flowing down her back. Messy, windblown tendrils beg my fingers to tuck them into place. The long-sleeved, tight, pink T-shirt she’s wearing leaves a lot of cleavage on display. Something I shouldn’t notice, admire or pay attention to at all.
“You ran a stop sign back there.” I keep my voice light.
“I’m sorry. I’m so frazzled—” She pushes her sunglasses up on her forehead.
The bruising around her left eye hits me like a fist in the gut. My gaze drops to her split lip and her tongue darts out, nervously slicking over the injured spot. I don’t remember Bree as a particularly clumsy girl. No, the damage to her face looks like—“Jesus, Bree. What happened?”
She slips the shades back into place, but I can’t unsee the damage as easily. “Vince didn’t tell you, huh?” she says in a tone devoid of any emotion, staring straight ahead.
“Brianna,” I say, using my cop voice. “What. Happened?”
“Can we talk about it at the house?” Her voice wobbles as if she’s close to tears. The last thing I’d ever want to do is make her cry. I used to be the one she’d come to when she needed cheering up.
I’m torn in two. I want to comfort her. But I also want to shake her and demand answers right now. The rational side of me decides the roadside isn’t the place to have this conversation.
“I was on my way there when you almost plowed into me,” I tease, hoping to lighten things up. Instead, she seems even more distressed.
“My head…I have a bad migraine. I’m a little out of it.” One of her hands flutters against her temple and my gaze strays to the bruises ringing her wrists. Defensive marks? Restraint marks? I can’t tell. She notices me staring and yanks her sleeves down, covering the marks.
Someone hurt her and my body shudders with beastly rage. My hand strays to the gun at my hip. Rolling my shoulders, I tilt my head side-to-side and flex my hands. No. No gun required for what I plan to do to the person responsible.
“I’ll be careful,” she says softly.
It’s unprofessional, but Bree’s a friend not a vic, so my fingers brush against her shoulder. Just a quick touch meant to reassure her. Nothing more. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I hold my hand out to stop her from turning the key in the ignition. “Just watch where you’re going, okay?”
“Will do, Deputy Hollister,” she answers. There’s none of the joy or sass I remember in her voice. If anything, she sounds defeated.
Vince has a lot of explaining to do.
As soon as I’m inside my car, I dial his number. My gaze never leaves the back of Bree’s car while I wait for her brother to answer the phone.
“Hey, you at the house yet?” he answers as Brianna steers her car onto the blacktop.
Trained to multi-task, I pull onto the road and keep a moderate distance behind Bree’s car while answering his question. “Almost. I ran into Bree on my way there. What the hell happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I say, not bothering to mask my irritation, “she’s sporting a black eye like a motherfucking boxer went at her.” My voice explodes in the confines of the patrol car, drowning out every other sound.
“Shit,” Vince shouts on the other end. In the background there’s a crash. “The hospital said she’d been in an accident. All she told me was she got into a fight with that dickwad boyfriend of hers while she was trying to move out and needed a place to stay. She made it sound like she tripped down the stairs or something. Not that he touched her.”
“That didn’t happen from a fall down the stairs.” Don’t need to be a doctor to know her injuries have nothing to do with stumbling on some stairs, smacking into a door, or anything else she might try to claim.
A string of curses erupts from my best friend as I pull into the driveway next to Bree. “I can’t leave, Liam. I can’t get another manager here to supervise this project for at least a week. I need you to handle this for me and keep her safe.”
I’m already compiling a list of favors to call in before Vince says, “And if that stuck-up, pretty-boy boyfriend of hers did it—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.” He laughs a wry, almost pained sound. “Can you stay at the house with her? I don’t want her alone.”
He doesn’t have to voice his reasons. Although I don’t know if the two of us alone together is the best idea, I reassure my friend anyway. “I can do that.”
“You need to play big brother until I get home. Keep her out of trouble. Any guys come sniffing around, nip that in the bud. The last thing she needs is to get involved with another loser.”
While I’m insulted he thinks so little of Bree, I choke out a sound of agreement, because honestly, I’d do that anyway. Not because I think of her as a little sister.
None of my feelings for Bree are brotherly.
“Liam!” Vince barks into the phone. “You there?”
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“Can you do this?”
“I already said yes.”
“Good.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re the only person I trust to look out for her right now.”
I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or a warning.
Shaking with nerves and embarrassment, and hyper-aware of Liam riding my tail, I do my best to maintain my car at the speed limit. Even though my arms and wrists ache, I manage to keep the steering wheel straight.
Of course Liam had to pull me over the second I arrive back in town. The only person whose opinion matters to me more than my brother’s. Why wouldn’t he be the first one to see me in this shape? Heap on more humiliation at the worst time of my life?
I couldn’t get stopped by crotchety old Sheriff Stevens. Nope. Not me.
Even though it’s less than five miles to the house, Liam falls behind. Probably calling my brother so the two of them can decide how to handle me.
My car sputters as I pull into the driveway. As if it doesn’t want to be here any more than I do. After my mother’s funeral, I swore I’d never spend another night in this town. Yet, here I am.
Figures my big brother is away and all I’m returning to is an empty house.
My brows draw down, and I immediately wince as pain spears my cheek. Flipping down my visor, I stare into the small vanity mirror. My dark sunglasses hide most of the damage, but not all. Mottled bruising extends above and around my eyebrow.
At least most of the swelling has gone down, and I can open my eye today.
Hooray for progress!
Shame slithers over my skin as I remember the expression on Liam’s face. How do I explain that my boyfriend’s response to “let’s break up” was to use my face as a speed bag?
Liam never seemed to care for Chad, and my brother definitely didn’t like my boyfriend. I can almost hear the chorus of “I told you so” I have coming my way.
The visor thumps against the ceiling as I flick it out of my way. Now I’m left staring at my childhood house through my filthy windshield.
Isn’t that appropriate.
A longing for something or someone familiar fills my chest. I can’t believe Vince won’t be home for at least a week. To be fair, I may have fibbed on some of the details of my recent hospital stay. I doubt the full truth would have made Vince come home any faster, though.
Staying in our childhood home alone will be a challenge. So many painful ghosts live between those walls, it’s hard to believe there’s any room for me.
Luckily—or unluckily, depending on my mood—I’ll bet anything Vince tasks his best friend with playing babysitter for me. If our earlier encounter is any indication, Liam will pester me with questions I don’t want to answer during the day, and I’ll be left to battle old memories all night long. Alone.
In the four years since I left, the neighborhood hasn’t changed all that much. Well, our childhood home looks different. Cared for. That has to be my brother’s doing. It sure as hell hadn’t looked this nice when we were kids.
Gravel crunches next to me. My scared heart slams against my ribs, sweat trickles down my back.
Not Chad. Not Chad. Not Chad.
My left hand curls around the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles hurt. In my other hand, I grasp my keys. Chad’s in jail.
Finally, it registers that it’s Liam’s patrol car pulling in.
I’m safe.
Deep breath. In and out.
I glance over and a shaky smile curves my lips. Liam holds up a few fingers, indicating he’s on the phone and will be right out.
Take your time.
No doubt he’s on the phone with Vince. A mixture of joy, relief, and a few complicated emotions I can’t name, war inside me.
Liam’s here. For me.
Correction, Liam’s here to do a favor for my brother.
A few seconds later his door swings open and he stalks toward my car. My stomach flips with anticipation. I haven’t been near Liam in so long.
For the millionth time, I wish I’d said no when the hospital told me to call my brother. Mortification twisted my insides the whole time I tried to explain to him what happened. He ordered me home like I was a naughty teenager instead of an adult. Now Liam’s here to make my humiliation complete.
How many times did my brother and I take refuge at Liam’s house when my mother went on a bender or one of her boyfriends smacked her around? Turns out, I’m no better than she was.
I wheeze out a painful breath. Allowing Liam to see me in this condition almost hurts more than my actual injuries. I’ve idolized him, crushed on him, loved him since I was a kid. Resisting his masculine beauty, wicked sense of humor and habit of protecting me was impossible.
I may have fallen for Liam a long time ago.
But he was never going to catch me.
I know that, and yet I can’t stop the fluttering in my stomach.
I’d never be more than little Bree to him. Vince’s baby sister. Not Brianna who finished near the top of her high school class and was accepted into a competitive psychology program. Not the Brianna who’s been accepted to a prestigious university to finish my master’s degree.
Now? He’ll see me as pathetic and broken Brianna. Crawling home after her boyfriend beat the crap out of her. As a deputy sheriff in our small hometown, I’m sure he sees women like me all the time. Pathetic, weak, and stupid women who mistake smooth lines, out-of-control jealousy, and lavish gifts for love.
I let out a final sigh and paste on a fake smile as I step out of my car to greet him. My stupid heart stumbles all over itself as I take in every masculine inch. In the sunlight, copper highlights glint throughout his familiar coffee brown hair. It’s long enough for me to run my fingers through—not that he’d ever allow that. His full lips may look soft and inviting, but I know all too well how firm and obstinate they can be. All the boyish charm I remember has been replaced with a hard-faced, and hard-bodied—but I choose to ignore that for the moment—man. Liam’s easy swagger radiates confidence and safety. Two things I desperately need at the moment.
As he meets my eyes, his lips curve into a tender half-smile, reminding me why I’m here. The small spark of excitement at seeing him fizzles. Pity, plain as day, is written all over his handsome face. He holds out his arms to me. “Come here, baby girl. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
My traitorous body quivers at the sound of his smooth, deep voice. For a brief second, I’m thrown back to the night of my high school graduation when he used those same arms to shove me away when my brother caught us kissing.
Apparently, my body forgot the sting of rejection, because I rush into his waiting arms. Throwing myself against him, I allow myself a few seconds of safe, simple comfort. His familiar woodsy scent conjures up a lot of fond memories.
The moment his sturdy arms band around me, a ragged sob tears out of my throat. He runs one big hand over my hair, and makes soft soothing noises.
“I got you, Bree. You’re safe now.”
I never want him to let me go.