Reece opened the bottle of Jack he kept in the cabinet beside his sink, poured himself a shot, then hurled the damn glass across the room without even taking a sip.

Fuck.

He'd lost her.

She'd been right there. His. Right in his arms, exactly where she was supposed to be. And somehow he'd fucking lost her.

He dropped down onto the sofa, then took a swig straight from the bottle, closing his eyes as the whiskey burned its way down the back of his throat.

Why the hell should he be surprised? He knew damn well that even if he had her, he'd never be able to keep her. Each and every one of his relationships had fallen apart. He just hadn't expected the end with Jenna to come only minutes after the beginning.

With a groan, he let his head fall back while he rubbed his chest in a futile effort to heal the jagged wound she'd inflicted when she'd ripped herself away from him so that she'd be on time for Easton.

Fucking Easton, a goddamn pretty boy attorney. One who didn't live in an apartment over his father's garage. Who was steady. Interesting. And who hadn't gambled away his life's savings to help a friend.

Hell, he was probably good for her. And, God knew, Jenna deserved the best.

So, no, Reece didn't begrudge the man. Even if he did want to kill him.

He took another swallow and sighed as the liquid fire lit his veins. It had been one hell of a crappy night. And the worst of it? That the one person he wanted to talk to was the one person he couldn't call. Fuck.

He couldn't even ring Brent. For one thing, Reece had no interest in confessing the truth. For another, he happened to know that Brent was still at The Fix. He was on until closing, and after that, he was crashing, planning to grab a few hours of sleep before spending his day off tomorrow with Faith. A school day, but considering Faith was still in kindergarten, he'd told Reece that he was willing to break the rules.

Maybe he should call Megan...

She might not be able to burn the thought of Jenna out of his mind completely, but she could at least give him a few hours peace.

He started to reach for his phone, then pulled his hand back. It wasn't peace he wanted; not really. He'd rather feel this way and crave Jenna than have another woman in his bed. Because no matter how much he might like the woman or how good the sex might be, it couldn't be anything but hollow.

And Reece didn't think he could ever settle for hollow again.

Frustrated, he took another sip, then closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He didn't intend to go to sleep, but the next thing he knew the light from his east-facing window was streaming in, warming his skin and urging his eyes to open and face a new day.

A day without Jenna.

The thought made him groan, and he forced himself off the couch. His muscles protested—he'd slept all night sprawled half-on and half-off his sofa—and his head ached with the dull throbbing of a hangover and the uncomfortable residue of Jenna-filled dreams. He felt like shit, but he was determined not to spend the day watching a mental movie of Jenna rolling around in bed with Easton.

By seven, he'd shoved a faded concert T-shirt over his head and had tugged on a pair of threadbare jeans. By seven-fifteen, he'd washed down a piece of toast with a glass of orange juice. And by seven-thirty he was under the carport, a power sander rumbling in his hand as he stripped a layer of cracked, faded varnish off the final door of his dad's kitchen cabinets.

He worked slowly, meticulously, letting the work beat back all other thoughts until there was nothing but him and the wood and the promise of turning something old and battered into something shining and new. Soon enough, he made the final pass, then switched off the machine and turned around to find a tack cloth.

It wasn't hard to find. As soon as he reached out, his father put the grungy brown cloth into his hand. "Little early for carpentry, isn't it, son?"

"Oh, hell, Dad. Sorry. Did I wake you?"

His dad waved the question away. "You know me. I'm up with the sun. And Edie's never slept past six in her life. But I haven't seen you up this early since, oh, never."

Reece smirked. He'd never been an early riser, but his father was also prone to exaggeration. "Just trying to make some progress." He'd taken on the cabinet project a few weeks ago after his dad's current girlfriend, Edie, had made an offhand remark about how battered they were looking. Reece figured he'd do the kitchen cabinets first, then tackle the bathrooms in the summer.

"I saw you come in," his father said, leaning against one of the carport's support posts, then lighting a cigarette.

"Those things will kill you," Reece said automatically. He'd been trying to get his dad to quit for his entire life, with no luck. For that matter, his dad's three ex-wives—including Reece's mother—had been equally unpersuasive.

"Might do," his dad said, just as he always did. His father had been smoking since he was fifteen years old, and had told them all that he didn't see any reason to quit now. "Was pretty late," he added, and it took Reece a second to realize they were back to talking about what time Reece got home last night.

"Well, what with being thirty and all, I thought I could stay out without calling home first."

"Stayed up pretty late, too," his dad continued, clearly ignoring the sarcasm. "Saw your light on," he added, by way of explanation. "Now here you are, up with the sun."

"Your point?"

His dad exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Just wondering if there's something on your mind."

Reece sighed. He should have known it was coming. "No," he lied. "Okay, yes. I was thinking I might want to stay in the apartment a little bit longer than I'd originally planned. I'm not quite ready to dive into building the house yet, and so long as you don't mind me living in your backyard, I'd rather not deal with the hassle of moving all my stuff."

The lie rolled out easily. The last thing Reece wanted to do was tell his miserly father that he'd essentially given his savings to Tyree in exchange for part ownership in a failing bar.

Not that Reece was pessimistic about their chances—he wasn't. He just didn't want a lecture from his father. Reece might be thirty years old and able to bench press over two hundred and fifty pounds, but as far as Charlie Walker was concerned, Reece was still the skinny fourth-grader getting picked on by the sixth-grade bully.

"Should be okay," Charlie said. "Edie was thinking about letting young Oliver stay there starting in late August."

"Oliver?"

"Her youngest grandbaby. Starting at UT in the fall. You figure you'll still be in the apartment then?"

Reece raised a brow. "You figure you'll still be with Edie?"

"Don't be impertinent, boy. You think I don't know what a good thing I have with that woman?"

"I think you go through women like some men go through handkerchiefs."

His dad made a rough noise in the back of his throat. "If you need a place, the apartment's yours. Anything else you want to talk about?"

"Not a thing."

His father stubbed out his cigarette, then gave him a long, thoughtful look.

"Something else on your mind?" Reece asked.

"You're a good man."

A frown tugged at Reece's mouth as he glanced toward the cabinets. "What? These? I should have been finished by now."

"The cabinets. Fixing up that apartment even though it's not going to be yours forever. The truck."

"Truck?"

"Your granddad's old El Camino. I heard you gave it to Jenna."

"She's tight right now," Reece said, his senses sharpening at the mention of her.

"Not criticizing. That girl's like family."

"Right." Reece shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anything else?"

"Talked to Tyree last night."

"Oh?"

"He told me about the partnership." His dad's voice had softened, and although it might have been Reece's imagination, he thought he heard a hint of pride. "The apartment's yours for as long as you need it."

A lump formed in Reece's throat, and he swallowed it down. "What about Edie's grandson?" he asked, reaching for a fresh tack cloth.

"Phfft. Dorms are good for a kid. And don't worry about getting your house."

Reece looked up sharply, surprised. The straight-forward acknowledgment of what Reece had done for Tyree—and what he'd given up in the process—was uncharacteristic for Charlie.

"If it's your dream, you'll make it. Sometimes dreams take a while," Charlie added. "Hell, sometimes you don't even know what your dream is until it's staring you in the face."

An unfamiliar twinkle danced in his father's eyes. "Dad?"

But Charlie just waved the words away. "Don't mind me. I'm just an old man rambling. Bottom line is that I'm proud of you, son." He pushed away from the post, standing up straight. "Now Edie and I are off to breakfast, then we've got an appointment with a travel agent."

"A travel agent? Dad, I keep telling you that it's simple to book flights on the Internet. You don't have to go through an agent."

"We're thinking about taking a cruise. Figure we should do it right."

The back door opened, and Edie stepped out, her gray hair teased high. Born and bred in the Panhandle, Edie still embraced the stereotypical big Texas hair.

"Look at you," she said, coming over to give Reece a hug, which he easily returned, breathing in the scent of Shalimar perfume and Pond's face cream. "I'm going to fix you the biggest breakfast ever once all those cabinets are back in. You're just the sweetest boy."

"I'll take it," Reece said. Of all the women who'd come in and out of his father's life, Edie was the one he'd miss the most when it ended.

Because with his dad, it always ended.

Like father like son, he thought, watching as Charlie opened the Cadillac's passenger door for Edie.

And as Charlie backed the car out of the drive, Reece kept on thinking. About how many women had crossed his own bed. And about the fact that he hadn't truly wanted any of them. Not permanently, anyway. They were transient comfort. Companions for a while, but not for forever.

He'd never found a forever woman.

Or maybe he had, and he was just too afraid of upsetting the status quo to do something about it.

Sometimes you don't even know what your dream is until it's staring you in the face.

His father's words echoed in his head, and he had to give the old man props. Because he was right. Goddammit, he was right.

Jenna.

She'd been in front of him for his entire damn life, but he'd been too blind to realize it until that night before she left for LA. The night that everything flipped.

And instead of accepting the truth and doing something about it, he'd been fighting reality ever since.

Or he had been. Last night, he'd stopped fighting. Last night, he'd pulled her close and claimed her. And, dammit, it had felt right. Perfect, even.

At least until she'd pulled away.

But he'd seen the truth in her eyes and felt it in her kisses. She wanted him, too; he was certain of it.

And now Reece knew what he had to do.

For years, he'd been fighting his own desire, but he was done with that.

Now, he had a new battle to wage.

Now, he had to fight for Jenna.