I'm at my new desk, so shiny it's almost blinding, staring at my laptop. It's all there, the video I shot with my military grade spy cam around seven o'clock last night. I'm watching the footage, fighting the urge not to put my fist through my nice new screen.

He comes out of the hotel with a woman hanging on his arm. She's decked out in a silky purple dress. He kisses her one more time before he climbs into his car, making damned sure to let his hand swoop down her low back, grazing the top of her ass. Both their smiles say they've just finished fucking like it's Valentine's Day.

I want to kill the cheating bastard.

I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes pop like marbles. I want him to die slowly, painfully, and without mercy because he's fucking her over – literally and figuratively.

He fucks her once with his dirty little secret, the secret life she knows nothing about, and again when he comes home and climbs into her bed.

Meanwhile, I'm being fucked by my own jealousy. It wraps around me like a snake, glues my eyes to the screen, and makes me look at the man I despise for one simple reason.

The lying, mild mannered little prick is having her, and I'm not.

My fist comes down hard. It echoes in the office like a gunshot, and there's someone at the door a second later.

I can't help it. I haven't been this upset, this pissed off, since I saw it go down with my camera last night, hunkered down in my Tesla with my coat pulled up over my mouth. And before last night, I haven't been that pissed since the night I lost her, sent her like a lamb into the arms of this skirt chasing wolf.

“Mr. Brooks? Is everything all right?” Becky jiggles the doorknob when I don't answer quickly enough.

“Yeah!” It takes me several seconds to have a long swig of coffee, and then compose myself. “Come in.”

She enters, all smiles. I ought to be grinning too, considering the way everyone's bonuses around here have bloated five times bigger this quarter. It takes every muscle in my face not to scowl.

“Are you okay?” she asks me again.

“Not exactly, Becky,” I say, standing up and straightening my tie. “We're better than okay. It's going to be an incredible day. Are they ready for us?”

The uncertainty on her face melts in another sun beam smile. “That's why I came up to get you.”

We make small talk on the way out. Leonard is already waiting in the limo, looking more sleepless than usual. His newborn is forcing him and his wife to burn extra hours on no sleep. He'll get a break soon enough, but it's been rough with the duty I've had him pulling, making certain our grand opening in my old hometown goes off without a hitch.

“Can you believe it, boss?” he asks, just when the big crowd in front of the factory comes into view.

“I can. We worked our asses off to get here, and we're not leaving until everybody's a whole lot richer. That means us, plus the good people of Split Harbor. You're not allowed to quit when your company crosses the billion mark.”

He smiles. “Only a year ago. Jesus. Some days, it gets to me, trying to believe this.” He spreads his hand across his chest, an exaggerated display that makes Becky laugh.

“Yeah, it better. Appreciate it. We're big enough for other companies to start poaching talent. If I don't keep it rolling in, there's no way either of you are going to stay with me in this little town.”

“It's really very quaint,” Becky says, staring into her phone as she applies more lipstick. “Quieter, I mean. More peaceful than the little towns down the coast from Seattle.”

“Almost too quiet.” Leonard wrinkles his nose. “Can't stand the energy here in all honesty. Without the private jet home, we'd be screwed.”

“Tell me that again when you see how many good, hardworking people we snatch up in this town. The whole U.P. is teeming with people who just need a break. Besides, we don't need geniuses with PhDs and ten years experience to operate our machines. That's why we're a perfect fit.”

“Yeah, but why here, boss? I'll never understand how you found this place. Marquette is small enough. This place, down the highway...it's like we're in Timbuktu. There's only two shops serving coffee in the morning in town, for Christ's sake!”

Becky and I laugh. I'd better keep smiling, or else I risk revealing history no one needs to know about.

“Used to spend my summers in Michigan,” I lie. “It doesn't take too many drives up and down this shore to fall in love with the scenery, plus the little towns. You should try it sometime, Leonard. Better way to pep yourself up than tossing down three espressos a day.”

“Shit, only three? That was before the kid. Boss, I'm up to five with Billy keeping me up!”

I smile, laying a brotherly hand on his shoulder. “It's going to get easier. Trust me.”

I'm pretending I know, but I don't have a clue. Ignorance stings.

Yes, I'm happy for him. Doesn't mean it isn't a wicked irony.

I'm sure my advice sounds just as ridiculous to him. As far as anybody with an exec title knows, I'm still playing the field, plodding my way through the finest clubs in Seattle, leaving heartbreaks and hangovers in my wake.

I haven't fucked in almost a year. Not since our company got its biggest contract, and I saw the blueprints for this place with my own eyes.

Several valets rush up from the spot where the mayor is waiting, opening our doors. I step out with the firm smile I've cultivated over the last five years and wave to the people like I own the world. Today, in this town, I do.

I'm careful to check my cuffs one more time, just to make sure they're covering the ink expanding on my skin.

Deep down, I'm nervous.

It's got nothing to do with the first day jitters where hiccups in component production are bound to happen, or the fact that I'm about to address people who knew me under my old name.

I'm not worried about being recognized. I've spent enough time in town to know nobody places this face to the kid who disappeared. Even stopped wearing the contacts to change my eye color when I realized how dead and forgotten Ryan really is to this town.

It's like he never existed. Maybe they never wanted him to, after they think they found out who he really was.

My speech is brief. I'm here to pump them up, not give them a lecture. I give them the usual spiel about prosperity, jobs, creative energy, and a Seattle sized drive to kick ass in the Midwest.

By the end of it, the mayor wraps her arms around me. We both share the oversized gold scissors, more like garden shears, and cut the red ribbon near the doors.

Everybody cheers. Leonard, Becky, and so many more I've worked with for years lose their shit, lost in the moment, drunk on our triumph and dreaming about tomorrow.

For Punch Corp, it's a victory. Growing up here, this was the moment I fantasized about, the day I'd know beyond any doubt I'd made it.

Too bad it isn't her.

No factory can compare to Kara. Neither can the dozens of lucrative contracts, or the millions in personal investments I'm accumulating every week.

Richer on paper. Poorer in heart.

Once upon a time, I thought that 'money can't buy happiness' schtick was the biggest BS I'd ever heard. Now, I'm afraid it might be true.

The rest of the ceremony drags. I keep the same beaming grin plastered to my face, hobnobbing with my associates and a hundred people whose names I won't remember tomorrow.

The instant we're done, I'm back in the limo with Leonard and Becky, listening to them chatter about priorities impatiently when I just want to get back to the office.

“Len, I want you to sort out the kinks,” I tell him, drawing a surprised look from Becky. She can't believe I'm trampling on my inner perfectionist. “You two are smart, you're capable, and you've been with me the longest. It's time for me to stop micro-managing and focus on the big picture. I'm leaving early today. There's something I have to do, but I'll be in tomorrow for the full rundown on what's going right and wrong. Do your best.”

They don't say anything except “yes, sir.” I'm out of the limo before I can get any more weird looks, heading for my car.

It's a tense ride to the place where she lives with the cheating asshole. I refuse to call it her home when he's got her trapped in a lie.

The last time I gripped a steering wheel this tight, I was leaving town in a stolen yacht. It's strange to drive through it, taking the twists and turns through the forested boulevard on the edge of town, then down to the wealthy lodges and condos along the waterfront.

I'm bigger, richer, and more successful than anybody here. Doesn't seem to matter. Part of me still feels like that kid, helpless to forces bigger than I can understand.

When I pull up to the curb outside her condo, I don't get out right away. My eyes scan the walkway near the heated garage. The small slanted windows there are just big enough to let me peer inside.

I see her car. She's home.

It's been months since I seriously worried about being recognized here. When I walk into the entryway and look for the attendant to ring her, there's a cold sweat prickling my brow.

Will she recognize my voice?

Will she remember my face?

Will she turn me into the police, or maybe kill me herself, the second she figures out who I am?

* * *

“Ms. Lilydale, there's a man here to see you,” the desk clerk says, holding down the button to radio her condo. “He says he has business concerning your cafe.”

“Business with Grounded? Really?” Her voice crackles through, soft and surprised. She hesitates for several seconds. “Okay, whatever. Send him up.”

The man stands up, walks over, and slides his card through the elevator. We exchange friendly glances as he holds it open for me. Soon, I'm heading up to the third floor, second guessing myself more in those agonizing seconds than any other time in the last five years.

There aren't many units to walk past. It's a lot like my place in Seattle, private and exclusive, except here there are fewer luxuries and a more old world charm.

My fist is clenched while I head down the hall, ready to knock with just the right pressure.

Except I don't have to. She's hanging out the door. Blond, green eyed, and beautiful as the day she said yes to me. Prettier than the day I kissed her for the last time and said goodbye.

She looks at me and smiles. I'm still about eight feet away. If she knows who I am, there's no recognition.

The biggest surprise of all is the kid. He's hanging off her leg like a little monkey, a toddler just learning to walk, bashfully pulling behind her when he sees me coming. Maybe he can sense the atmosphere coming undone all around me as I'm heading for judgment.

“I have to say, this is a surprise. I didn't think I'd made any real inroads at that roasters convention last month. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting, Mr. –“

Her tongue turns to stone. I'm standing right in front of her, and I watch her eyes go huge in slow motion, filling up like she's sucked in a storm, desperate to hold it. The kid at her feet smiles, and giggles.

“Oh my God. Come on, Holden, we're way overdue for your nap.” She reaches down, starts scooping him up, ready to retreat back inside and slam the door in my face.

My hand shoots straight past her, knocking it into the wall. “Wait.”

“Leave!” she hisses, one word like an arrow through the ribs. “Leave now, Ryan, or I'm calling the cops.”

“Just like that? The old Kara would at least ask why I'm here.” I smile, gazing deep into her eyes for the first time in years.

They're beautiful. Electric. And so damn alive, even when she's afraid.

I'm placing bets doing this, but I'm also drawing lines. The kid throws a wrench in everything. He's the reason she's being so careful, but I'm not going to take advantage of it. I won't do anything that scares him.

In all my planning, all the times I imagined this fragile moment, I didn't account for any visitors. Fuck.

“I'm a married woman now,” she says quickly, her eyes darting around. “Married, with a family. There's nothing to talk about. You have no right to barge in like this.”

I hold in a nauseating laugh. She's a horrific actor.

What the hell happened to the woman I loved? She never would have lied like this in the past. She's either petrified, or she's changed so much I barely know who I'm seeing beyond the surface.

“We can stop pretending. I know he's Matt's son, Kara. If you want to talk, lying to my face isn't a good way to start.”

“I don't want to talk to you, unless you're going to admit to being a stalker freak. Christ, it's hard to even look at you.” She turns her face so hard a brilliant golden lock of her hair whips across her shoulder. “Nothing you can say will ever change my opinion. You think you're so smart, don't you?”

Yeah, launching a billion dollar company will do that. I hold my tongue, keeping my ego in check, because the last thing I want to do is piss her off more.

“I don't give much thought to my intelligence. I think you're still beautiful.” My hand uncurls and reaches for her face, cupping her cheek. It's like lightning, my skin on hers, a jolt filled with memories, passions, and dreams unfulfilled. “I'm not here to scare you, Kara. I came home to make things right, including with you. Give me a little of your time. That's all I'm asking. We'll meet somewhere after your nephew's home. I'll explain everything, I promise.”

“Time?” It comes out like a curse.

She shakes her head, turns around, and starts walking. Too bad she's got the kid, or I'd be going after her. No, I don't care about tromping on the cheating asshole's Turkish rug. I've got five of them worth thousands more in my own place. I'd roll her fiance up in it and drop him off the nearest bridge if it brought her back to me.

Why won't she look at me?

I'm pissed. Volcanic blood surges through my veins, electrifying my temples. I try to look cool, holding myself up in her doorway, waiting until I hear her footsteps coming toward me again. I'm surprised she doesn't have her phone out, ready to make good on the threat to dial the cops.

She's empty handed. Her arms are folded. She's glaring, and I've never seen those eyes I fell in love with burn with such hatred.

“You want time, Ryan? That's what you came to ask me for?” I open my mouth to answer, but she never gives me the chance. Her little hands fly out. They're slapping my shoulders. I'm so taken aback I stumble into the hall, and she follows, still hitting me, this time in the face.

“The nerve...you're a sadistic, creepy, backstabbing asshole! I can't believe you have the fucking nerve to ask for time after everything you stole from me. You robbed away years from my life.”

“Kara-bou – stop!” Catching her wrists, I squeeze them hard, and push her against the wall. “It isn't like that.”

It's not my hands that overpower her. She locks up when she hears the old pet name, the one that's as alien to her as Ryan is to me.

“Let go. And don't you ever call me that again.” Her eyes are daggers, eager to cut me to pieces.

Growling, I slowly release her, lowering my arms. My hands go out. Pleading, imploring, desperate to make her listen for one golden minute.

“I didn't come back to turn your life upside down again,” I tell her. “Your fiance, Reg, he's not who you think he is. There's something you need to know, Kara.”

“No.” Her eyes narrow, sharpen, and cut me like green knives. “You fed me the biggest lie of my life, Ryan. If you think I'm going to stand here and listen while you try to ruin my marriage, you don't know me. Hell, you don't have a clue anymore.”

I stare her down, trying to find the right combination of words. “Give me one chance. Five minutes of your time. Please.”

“Get out! Leave, leave, and never come back.” She closes her eyes, forcing a hot tear down her red cheek. “I'm not going to say it again, you fucking murderer.”

Ouch. Hell is hearing her say what she thinks I've become.

I blink, too pissed at how badly this is going to do anything else.

Murderer. It's the dreaded word, one that's kept me up at night for five years, imagining its weight on her lips.

I told myself I was ready to deal with it. I must've been insane to believe it.

“Kara –“

“Fuck off!” She swats my hand away when I reach for her, backing into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. “How many times do I have to ask you to leave? Turn around and go. Now. I'm not interested in excuses, catching up, or whatever big secrets you think you're entitled to drop in my lap. You abandoned me, Ryan. You missed everything. My suffering, Matt's purple heart, the night daddy got diagnosed with cancer, the night he fucking died!” Sighing, she closes her eyes for a second, shaking her head.

It's hard not to wince. She doesn't know how torn up reading her old man's obituary made me not so long ago. If it weren't for Bart, I wouldn't be standing here, taking this abuse, absorbing it patiently because I deserve every last word.

I left her. If I'd had another choice, it's the last thing in the world I ever would've done.

“Kara...” I try to reach out to her, but she gives me a look like she's going to bite me if I touch her again.

“No. We're way past over. You took weeks, months, years off my life,” she says. “Let that sink in for a second, jackass – years. I'm going to count to five. If you aren't on your way to the elevator by the time I'm through, you'll be in prison.”

I study her eyes. It isn't just fear clouding them.

It's real hate. Loathing. Years of pain fermented into poison, inflicted by me, unearthed when she least wanted it.

I can't give up on this. I need to convince her, but her face is telling me the obvious – today isn't the day to do it.

Fury churns in my guts while I turn away, put one foot in front of the other, and force myself to leave her a second time.

Before I'm at the elevator, I hear her door slam shut. The metal doors close, locking me in. There's a few brief, hot seconds where my fists are flying and I'm screaming, before I hit the button. I'm so sick and disappointed in myself I can't even remember to check whether or not the elevator has a camera.

Thankfully, this town is so small, even the million dollar condos don't need to be crawling with surveillance. The attendant looks at me when I stop next to his desk, fish out several hundreds from my wallet, and throw them on his desk.

“Sir?”

“That's for the damage in the elevator, plus extra for your trouble.” I also leave Becky's card, knowing he can reach her if he needs more. “I'm sorry.”

I'm clenching my hand, trying to stop the bleeding. I only glance back once, over my shoulder, before I'm heading through the big glass doors to my car. The entire floor inside the elevator is covered in sharp fragments from the mirrors that used to line its walls. I shattered every single one of them with my bare fists.

* * *

Later, when I'm at the hotel where I'm staying with a drink in my hand, I realize my mistake. I'm staring across town at her condo. It's the only building taller than this one, before my new factory was finished. Now, it dominates Split Harbor's vacant skyline.

I never should've confronted her at home. There were too many unknowns, like the kid she had to put down for a nap before she could even talk to me. Plus it meant invading her personal space – something she'd never welcome since she's chosen to believe the worst about who I am, what I did, and why.

For a second, that night flashes through my head again, and I swallow the rest of my drink. I can only remember the blood, the panic, the gut-wrenching pile of evil shit I found in that old man's car, and then sailing for my life across Superior's inky unsettled black waves. Each one crashing down over the hull, threatening to snuff me out like a mountain falling on a mouse.

I'm staring at my phone, watching the line on the map. The GPS tracker I put on Reg's car rolls into Marquette. He's so predictable it hurts.

Asshole goes straight to their usual place, the big hotel by the lake, where he lies to her again every time he buries his dick in his dirty little secret.

Maybe she can't forgive or forget what I did. If she hears me out, and still decides we're not meant to be, then I'm ready to walk away. Move on. Know that I did everything I could to win her back.

But I can't give up without opening her eyes. She can't marry this sonofabitch.

Whatever mistakes I've made, however I've stumbled back into her life this afternoon, I won't screw this part up.

Next time we meet, it's going to be on my terms. I'm giving her the truth about dear old Reg. Then I'm going to open my arms, pull her in, and put my mouth on hers until neither of us can breathe.

Yes, I'm officially a stalker, peeking into their lives, hellbent on chasing a second chance I don't know if I deserve.

I'm obsessed, guilty, and proud of it. I can't live the rest of my life saying what if.

We're meant to be. I'll live, breathe, and worship this last chance to have her back until it's crushed out of me.

Until it's gone, the last hanging shred of my old life, forcing me to bury what's left of Ryan for good.

Maybe I'm a fool, I can't save us, and I'm going to have to suffer to realize you can't bring back what's long dead. Doesn't matter.

I'm done looking through this peephole, staring into a life I'm never supposed to have.

I won't let go before I've exhausted every option, every chance, every ounce of wishful thinking.

I'm taking her back. I'll have her under me again, moaning my name, or else I'll feel every last drop of blood squeezed from my heart when she pushes me away forever.