NICHOLAS STUMBLED downstairs, exhaustion weighing at his eyelids, his phone glued to his ear. Between his staff, father, and his grandfather calling him about this prison-labor scandal, the damn thing had been ringing since the crack of dawn. He’d missed his usual workout, which, combined with his preoccupation over meeting Livvy later today, meant his already stretched-thin patience was in perilous danger of snapping.
He waited until the P.R. guy finished speaking. “Call a press conference for today at noon. In the meantime, we’re at no comment. We’ll talk more once I’m in the office.”
He hung up with a terse goodbye and stalked into the kitchen. He tossed his phone on the counter and reached up to grab a mug from the cupboard. He was so preoccupied, it took him a solid minute to process the loud, out-of-place crunching noise coming from behind him. Instinctively, he grabbed a knife from the rarely used set on the counter and pivoted.
Holy shit.
Past and present overlapped as he stared at the big man sitting at his kitchen table. His heart stuttered, his lips forming a soundless word. Paul.
Except Paul was dead, and Nicholas didn’t believe in ghosts, especially ones who hung around their ex-best friend’s homes to eat cereal.
The Kane siblings had all occupied specific roles. Paul had been the dutiful and charming heir apparent, Livvy the dramatic rebel, and Jackson . . .
Well, whatever role Jackson had occupied, he’d lost it when he’d been arrested on suspicion of arson.
A witness had identified him fleeing from the burning C&O. He’d had motive and opportunity, and a gas can with his fingerprints had been found behind some bushes in the Kanes’ backyard. Though the evidence had been flimsy, it had been enough to arrest Jackson and have him held without bail.
Before he could go to trial, though, the witness recanted his account. Despite the dropped charges, no one had been terribly convinced as to Jackson’s innocence.
Especially Nicholas.
He and Jackson had never been particularly close, but whatever relationship had existed between them had vanished when the man had thrown a Molotov cocktail through the window of the store their grandfathers had built.
Nicholas didn’t care about the physical damage. Someone could have been seriously hurt, and that he couldn’t forgive.
Jackson’s dark, oddly flat gaze moved between Nicholas’s face and knife with the easy skill of someone who had been in more than one brawl. “You gonna stab me?”
“No one would blame me.”
“Because I’m so scary, huh.”
“No. Because you broke into my home.” How had he broken in, anyway? Nicholas had a state-of-the-art security system.
Well, he used to have one. He was fucking calling the company right after he figured out what was going on here.
He wasn’t able to gauge any weapons in the other man’s big hands, other than the spoon he was holding. Gingerly, Nicholas placed his knife on the counter. “If you were hungry, you could have knocked on the door.”
“You would have invited me in for cornflakes?”
“Sure.”
Jackson took a bite of cereal, crunching louder than necessary. “Liar.”
Nicholas’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”
“Got in last night. Comfy couch you have, by the way.”
“You slept on my couch?” Who the hell was this guy?
“Wanted to make sure I caught you this morning. I gotta head out soon.”
“Most people call and make an appointment.”
“You wouldn’t have agreed to see me.”
“Then you knock.”
“You wouldn’t have answered.”
“Then you would have gotten the hint,” Nicholas bit off. “That’s how society works.”
“Never been very good at all that social stuff.” Jackson bared his teeth. “Not like you.”
Nicholas gave up. “What are you doing here?”
Another grunt. Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “So you came over here to what? Sleep on my couch, silently eat my breakfast foods, and brood? Wild take on Goldilocks, Jackson.”
Jackson took another bite, seemingly unfazed.
“Have you seen Livvy or your mother yet?”
Jackson picked up the bowl, and loudly slurped the milk. Nicholas gritted his teeth, well aware this was a deliberate rudeness. The man had been raised in the same social circle as Nicholas. Tani would have swatted him for such impoliteness, just like Maria.
Jackson finally put the bowl down and stared at him. Christ, he looked like his brother, only a leaner, rougher version of the man. Not even the milk mustache on his face detracted from his generally vicious appearance. “The more important question is, have you seen my sister?”
“None of your fucking business.”
The chair screeched as Jackson shoved it back across the expensive tile floor. “I think it is.”
Nicholas tensed, rocking up on the balls of his feet. Jackson had the air of someone who had never heard of fighting fair, but they had enough bad blood between them that Nicholas couldn’t say throwing a punch or two would be entirely unwelcome. “You’re mistaken.”
“You haven’t seen her?”
“No. You’re mistaken as to anything I do being your business.”
A muscle in Jackson’s cheek twitched. “It’s my business when you fuck with my sister. I’m here to tell you to stay away from her.”
The anger warmed Nicholas, loosening his tongue. “Aw, did you fly all the way here to play overprotective brother? How’s that role feel for you? New?”
A flash of something hot and angry moved behind those dark eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”
“It means I know you haven’t seen her since you left town.”
“And you have?”
He faltered. Yeah, actually, he had seen her consistently in the past decade. But no one was supposed to know about that.
“Don’t try to lie. I know you’ve been with her.” Nicholas stiffened, but then Jackson continued. “I saw you dropping her off last night.”
Last night. So he didn’t know about their unconventional arrangement.
Still, Nicholas’s hand clenched into a fist. There was no need for him to feel guilty. Imagine if her mother had seen you. Imagine if your father had seen you.
Would it matter? Would you have changed what you did with her yesterday?
The answer to that was frighteningly clear. He couldn’t regret a second of what had come after he’d indulged that one feeling. Not when it had made him feel so good. He met Jackson’s eyes. “Don’t tell her you came to see me. Or that you saw us together last night.”
“So you can keep on fucking with her?”
“No. Because it would stress her out.”
Jackson blinked. “Your concern for her is heartwarming.”
“Don’t presume to know anything about me or my concern for your sister,” Nicholas said coldly. “You don’t know shit about us.”
Jackson crossed massive arms over his chest. Jesus, what had the guy been doing over the past decade, bench-pressing cars? The Kane men had all been big, but this was excessive.
“I know that you think there’s an us. I’m not too keen on there being an us when it comes to you and Livvy.”
“And again—it’s none of your business.”
Jackson rubbed his hand over his face, and Nicholas suddenly noticed the bags under the other man’s eyes. Livvy’s twin may have broken in and slept on his couch, but it clearly hadn’t been a restful nap. “I don’t like you, Nicky. I never really have.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” Actually, he’d never given Jackson much thought. He and Paul had been fast friends from the moment they could walk. Before he and Livvy had been lovers, he’d adored her platonically. Jackson . . . Jackson had been way too distant for anyone to really be close to. Except Livvy. And maybe Sadia.
“After you broke my sister’s heart when you dumped her ass ten years ago, my dislike turned to hate.”
“I didn’t dump her ass, as you so disgustingly put it. It was a mutual breakup.”
Jackson laughed, but the sound was without mirth. “Yeah right. Our father died, our mother checked out, your dad maneuvered a takeover, and you cut her loose.” He sneered. “It was a perfect storm of assholery.”
It had been mutual, not that Jackson would necessarily know that. Nicholas didn’t much recall the aftermath, but the breakup, that was engraved in his mind. Livvy’s hair had been purple then, fading to lavender because she hadn’t bothered to color it in the two weeks since the accident. Her eyes had been puffy, face scrubbed clean of makeup.
Telling her about his father’s threats was impossible, not when he’d been groomed his whole life to keep their family business private. Besides, if she’d known about the blackmail, she would have tried to tell him they could still be together, because their relationship was so fairy tale perfect, and wasn’t that how fairy tales worked? The prince and princess stood up to the evil wizard and life worked out?
Be realistic, Nicholas.
The truth would have only made things more difficult for both of them. So he’d convinced himself their ending things was the rational, realistic thing to do. He’d rehearsed a speech, suppressed every desire he had to fight for them both.
They couldn’t have survived everything that had gone down. To believe they could would have been the height of fantasy. “Is that why you burned down the store that week? Because you thought I hurt her?”
Anger twisted Jackson’s face, and he took a few giant steps toward him. Nicholas held his ground. He might not have the younger man’s brawn, but he wasn’t about to be pushed around by some . . . some . . . criminal.
Alleged criminal.
Whatever.
“There it is,” Jackson sneered. “You’re nothing but a fucking robot in a suit. You never cared about Livvy more than you cared about the fucking business. I was the one who had to hold her after you broke her heart. I was the one who had to tell her she would be okay when she sobbed so much she threw up. I was the one who had to hide every pill in the goddamn house because she kept saying she wanted to die because you didn’t love her anymore. Don’t you dare tell me it was mutual.”
Nicholas jerked. “What?” he rasped.
He’d misheard Jackson. Surely that couldn’t be right.
Jackson’s mouth tightened until it disappeared, and he took another step. This time Nicholas backed up against the counter and let the other man shove him in the center of his chest, accepting the pain of his index finger. “Stay away from my sister,” Jackson enunciated. “Or I swear to God, you’ll wish I was only an alleged arsonist.”
She’d wanted to die? His vibrant, sweet, rebellious Livvy? Because they’d broken up? No, Jackson was lying.
Except Nicholas was good at separating lies from truth, and that had sounded pretty damn true.
His vision blurred. He wasn’t in his kitchen anymore, but back in that clearing in the woods, standing a foot away from her. He’d refused to touch her as he spoke the final words in his carefully rehearsed speech. It’s impossible for us to be together now.
And then, because he was human, he’d slipped, speaking the truth for a few seconds. They won’t let us.
To cover, he’d blurted out the rest. I think we should end this.
She’d nodded, pale and composed. They hadn’t hugged or touched, merely retreated to their respective homes. She had surely hurt, just like he hurt, but she’d agreed with him. She hadn’t even put up a token resistance.
You made sure she couldn’t.
Jackson grabbed his shirt in his fist and hauled him close, until they were nose-to-nose, bringing Nicholas back to the present. “Are you listening to me? Fuck with her and—” Jackson looked down and frowned.
Nicholas glanced down as well. He hadn’t buttoned his shirt all the way. Jackson’s grip had revealed a smidgen of the mermaid Livvy had drawn on him yesterday, the green marker vivid against his skin.
That was his, a souvenir of his time with Livvy, not to be shared. He shoved Jackson away, stepping back. This was all too much. One feeling. He’d been right to be wary of indulging that one feeling, because now he was being flooded with every emotion under the sun.
There was no way he could bury them all and get back in the box.
He needed time and space. And Livvy, but that wasn’t new. What was new was that he’d actually get to see her soon. Before they got together, he had to think, and he couldn’t do that with her brother lurking in his home. “Get out.”
Jackson watched him for a second, then stalked to the back door. The alarm beeped, but didn’t go off. Disarmed. “Fuck with her, and I’ll fuck you up.”
Nicholas’s jaw clenched, but he couldn’t speak, his mind still in a tailspin.
“By the way, your security is shit, but it might help if you changed the code.” Jackson smiled. It wasn’t a comforting smile. “I guessed it on the first try.”