It's bad enough that Trent Usher kissed me.

Worse that he saved my life, and I let him.

But the worst part, the thing I can't forgive, is how I forgot everything in the thirty or so seconds his mouth was on mine. Melting into him while his hands and tongue roamed free was a sweet amnesia.

In just a few seconds, he did the impossible. Delivered a peace I've looked for everywhere else the past seven years, never finding more than small bits in Spokane, on long nature walks, forgetting as hard as a woman ever can.

Christ, I hate this man.

Now that I'm on my own two feet again, a safe six inches of hard steel between us, I'm aware. I see, feel, and taste too much.

I remember who brought me to my knees. Once with a foolish smile, and again with a hole in my chest.

I remember because I can't do anything else. Every day I've tried to forget him, to leave behind our tragedy, is just another savage waste of time.

If the scarring wasn't so bad, maybe this would be the perfect time to move on. He did just save my life, after all.

If he hadn't pulled me off the elevator, kicking and screaming, I'd be an Amy Kay-sized pancake crunched in the building's service basement.

But if he hadn't turned my heat into a dumpster fire – if the self-righteous bastard wasn't still doing it – then I might not be here in the first place. Re-living a heartbreak in real time.

If, if, if. Every time I mull the possibilities, they're more sour. They make me want to stare a line of fire through the door, straight at Trent's head, and roast him alive.

I have every right. What the heck does he mean when he says he's back to settle scores with my brother, anyway? It was Trent's idea, the whole dirty money thing.

His mistake when it finally caught up to him, and then brought hell crashing down on the rest of us.

I've got to warn Jace. Somehow, someway.

Flattening myself against the wall, I pull out my phone, holding my breath as the screen illuminates, hoping it'll work.

Except that'd be too easy. Too kind. The same pathetic NO SIGNAL indicator flashes, bright and blinding, draining the battery another bar.

I don't even know if Trent lied about the doors to the other floors being locked. I don't trust a thing from his lips, including the latest stupid kiss where I almost cracked.

Chances are, he's telling the truth. I know it in the pit of my belly.

We're really stuck. Really helpless. Really fighting a war I never asked for.

My stomach turns over, realizing the last seven years were nothing but a truce.

He never let go. Neither did I.

I have to sit, before I pass out or start dry heaving. I can't remember the last time I was this fried. Never, probably, since the day it all went to hell.

Sliding down to the floor, I kick my feet out, staring at my toes through their nylon sheath. They're so naked, so bland. The last time I wore nail polish was for him, a lifetime ago, that summer he came home.

Maybe it's the cold on this floor or the anxiety or knowing the man who ended me is just a few feet away. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, and try to pinpoint how this all went so wrong.

* * *

“Whoa, you mean to tell me this is the place, Ames? Talk about worn.” Lindsey bangs her heel against the chipped paint on the front step to the Usher place, snorting her disdain.

“Don't be a bitch. They're good people, Linds. Frankly, I think roughing it out a little is good for Jace. He'll have to get used to it if he wants to be Mr. Lean Sigma Entrepreneur soon. His grades certainly aren't getting him there.” I shake my head, wishing he'd have to survive his homework, too, but living here with Trent gives him easier access than ever to cheating.

My bestie winces. “He's such an idiot. I'm surprised your dad didn't kick his butt up and down for putting a dent in his boat.”

It's my turn to wince. My mind instantly goes back to my first kiss on the Wilkie. Was it really more than two years ago? Feels like half a lifetime.

But that isn't what she's talking about. Not that time.

Jace, genius that he is, decided to take it out on choppy seas last March with another hookup. Dad was upstate at a fundraiser, forming the exploratory committee for his Senate run. Totally unaware his pride and joy nearly took on enough water to send it to the bottom of the Sound.

“Well, at least he found out. Jace didn't have any time for a coverup. Dad was more pissed knowing he had a big liability than paying for the fix. He told him not to come home until after November.”

“Harsh!” she grins, enjoying the family schadenfreude. “He made the right move. A kid acting out in the middle of a campaign is a death wish.”

“Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose, already getting sick of the attention dad fawns over me. With Jace brushed aside, me and mom are his props at the conventions, the meet and greets, the slick glossy pamphlets where we smile for the cameras, looking like one big happy and electable family.

“Enough politics.” Linds gives me a look, flipping her cherry red hair over her left shoulder. “What about your other brother, Ames? Or are you staying pissed at him forever?”

Leave it to Linds to exhume Trent, the delicate subject I'm trying to forget, even though we're bound to be face-to-face in minutes.

My face overheats. She stifles a laugh, catching my blush.

Thankfully, I'm saved from an awkward answer, because a very nice lady with graying hair and crow's lines appears a second later, throwing the door open for us. “Hi, girls. I'll bring the boys right up. Help yourself to some banana bread in the meantime. Fresh baked this morning!”

I inhale as I step inside, smiling. One thing you never miss in these working class Seattle homes is good food whipped up by women who had to learn those skills the hard way, and always put an original spin on it. My first bite in the tiny kitchen tells me Martha Usher's angle is toasted walnuts. Yum.

Mom likes to fancy herself a baker, too. She does all right, but she'll never have it down like this when it comes to sweet breads. “It's awesome, Martha. How's Dale doing? Bet he's glad to have some time to himself retired.”

“Aw, he's off fishing again. Oysters and clamming this time, I think. Says the good ones will turnover real nice in the fish markets. I tell him, we don't need the money, we're doing just fine. But the man just can't let go of his frugal heart, bless him. Fresh air's good for him, at least, gives him something to do.”

Linds grins, elbowing me slightly. “Just like grandpa. He's a sweet guy, your hubby.”

Even a sheltered snob like her can't deny the Ushers make a dang cute couple. They've had thirty years together. Maybe more since I've lost track.

Trent came along later in life, their only boy. I don't think Martha was ever able to have kids, but between him and the foster dogs, she's got a heart the size of the Cascades.

We're still soaking in the moment when I hear a crash erupting down the hall. A big black lab runs into the kitchen, tongue hanging out. The beast pounces on Linds, licking at her neck. My bestie's face twists and she lets out an anguished laugh while Martha rushes over to help pry the dog off.

“I'm so sorry, ladies! She's a wild one, this pup. Still learning good manners.” The lab's full attention goes to her a second later, eyeballing the banana bread. She lets out a puppy whine.

“Sorry, ma! Lucky's turned over her dish again. Guess the appetite for what you've been cooking up all morning got the best of her.” Such a deep voice. Its owner turns the corner a second later, plodding into the kitchen.

It's him. Trent looks like he just rolled out of bed, jeans rolled up near his knees, a plain grey t-shirt hugging his shoulders.

Sweet Jesus.

No man should look this good first thing in the morning.

He freezes when he sees us. It's got nothing to do with modesty and everything to do with the icicle looks I've cast his way for the past two years, ever since the Wilkie mishap.

My stupid crush never had a fighting chance. I put it out of its misery after he stomped all over my heart.

Young and inexperienced doesn't mean I'm anybody's fool. Or I'm so desperate I'll go chasing after a man who's made it clear he wants nothing to do with me.

Too bad.

His blue eyes are just as beautiful, just as interesting, just as dangerous as they were the day he stole my first kiss on the boat.

“What brings you two by?” he asks quietly. “Here for Jace?”

“Uh, yeah. What else? Mom sent me to drop off his clothes. She's bought him a few new things to sustain him this summer, more than he deserves.” I instantly regret the resting bitch voice in Martha's presence. I look at him again, forcing a fake smile while shame heats my cheeks. “How's the war room? Messy as ever?”

He smiles, looking past me to Linds. Relief mixes with jealousy. “Yeah, sure, Amy Kay. We're busy boys. Companies don't start themselves off nothing but big dreams and endless coffee anymore. Speaking of which...” He reaches past me and pulls out the old drip coffee pot on the edge of the counter, sloshing the contents around. “Care for a cup, Lindsey? Or did you girls swing by Starbucks already?”

“I'm good, thanks.” My friend wouldn't be caught dead drinking her coffee black. Or instant. “But you know, I think Ammers here said she didn't get much sleep. I'm sure she could totally use the boost.”

My mouth falls open while my brow digs into my eyes. Damn it, Linds. You're supposed to be on my side.

Martha jumps in before Trent can move a muscle. She fetches a heavy ceramic mug from somewhere. There's a lighthouse stamped on it with a name. It's not anything I recognize from around here.

“Armitage historic site?” I say, looking up.

“Michigan. Some place called Split Harbor, I think, barely on the map.” Trent smirks, pouring me a steaming cup. “They think they're hot stuff out there, Lake Superior and all. Frigging joke, really. They do have a tech billionaire though, that Caspian guy. Crazy story with him, changing identities and coming home years later.”

“Oh, son, it's a lovely place. Very romantic. Ryan and Kara's love story will be a movie one of these days. Your father and I enjoyed it. It'd do you good to expand your mind a little.”

Trent snorts. “Yeah, ma. Like I don't do that for twenty hours a day already between class and business.”

I raise the brew cautiously to my lips. It's actually...not terrible. A far cry from the fancy imported espresso beans dad drinks, and mom's sugary K-cups, but I don't hate it.

“How's the campaign? You sick of spending your summer on the road watching your old man kiss babies, or what?” Trent knows very well I am.

That's why I lie my pants off. “It's very interesting, actually. You meet a lot of people, learn a lot about managing groups. So many moving pieces. It's a shame you're busy, Trent, or I'm sure dad would've loved to take you on as a volunteer.”

“Don't trust politicians. Maxwell, yeah, but I wouldn't be caught dead in DC.”

“Hell, Usher, he'd have you take my place. You're the good kid.” Jace announces himself, straddling the entrance to the kitchen, a sour smirk on his face. I can't tell if he's just busting Trent's balls or if he's really dripping resentment.

My brother's sense of humor is too weird. Sometimes it's even a bit creepy.

“Finally. I texted you like five times,” I say, walking over. “Go out to the car. I've got two big bags of clothes for you, with love, from mom. She says you should come visit whenever dad's on the trail.”

“Whenever you can hide me away, you mean,” my brother says, still smirking. “Nah, sis. I'm not sneaking around like a felon in my own fucking house. You want me back, then I want to hear it from him. Let him be a normal dad for once in his life.” Stomping past me, Jace reaches for the banana bread loaf, and rips off a piece, stuffing it in his mouth.

“Hey, man, there's a knife for that,” Trent cuts in, blocking him from mangling another piece.

“Yeah, fuck...what time is it? Feels early.” Jace rubs his eyes, smacking his lips as he chews

I turn. Linds shifts uncomfortably, giving my asshole brother a stare I hope means disgust. I feel worse for Martha, though, taking in this scene. I flash her an uneasy smile, trying to telegraph how sorry I am.

“You boys holler if you need anything, okay?” she whispers, pale lips pinched tight.

“Don't worry, ma. I'll clean this up and get the dogs watered,” Trent says, also doing his part to diffuse the craziness. “Go enjoy your day off.”

“Nonsense! We have guests. I'll be right back after I've checked on the pups. Come along, you gremlin.” She pulls the lab's collar, motioning her to follow.

“Ma, wait...” Trent rushes after her. I can't hear what they say because Jace – stupid, rude, disgusting Jace – is chewing loud enough to cave the roof in.

I don't say anything. Just step up to him, hand whizzing at his face, patting his cheek angrily until he's pushing me away.

“Whoa, whoa, what the –”

“What's wrong with you? Yeah, Jace, because we'd love to know.” He staggers back against the cutting board, nearly knocking the bread over. Behind me, Lindsey laughs, either delighted or hiding it really well. “You're high again, aren't you?” I don't have to sniff very hard to catch the pot odor coming through his clothes.

Raising a finger to his lips, he leans forward, eyes big. “Shhhh. Are you trying to get me kicked out? Martha's not cool with it. She's kinda old fashioned.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't be smoking weed like a chimney in her house,” I snap, giving him the evil eye. I take a hurried sip of coffee.

“So, did you come by for those clothes, or a lecture, mother?” Jace looks past me, winking at Linds.

If I weren't standing in a kitchen belonging to a family that's way too good for him, I'd smack him so stupid it'd actually knock sense into his brain. Instead, I just give my friend a pleading look. Linds quits laughing.

“Sorry you're friends with this mouth,” Jace says, nodding toward me.

Holy hell. It's taking everything not to wipe the mean look off his face. Linds gives a little snort of shock and I walk the hell away, heading for the car, ready to dump his clothes myself and then get the hell gone.

Trent comes barreling to my side as soon as the trunk opens and I'm struggling with the first bag. It's wider than my chest, and heavy, too. “Let me help, Presh.”

He lifts it away like it's full of cotton swabs. Normally, I'd be annoyed, getting help from the muscles attached to this man, but right now I don't mind. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Least I can do. Jace has been on edge lately, whenever there's news about home, or Maxwell's campaign. Think it's wearing on him, honestly, all this family feuding.”

“Tough. He's brought it on himself, Trent. And it's not getting better anytime in the future when he still hasn't learned decent human manners.” Shaking my head, I'm still living the scene in the kitchen, wondering when the hell Linds will come out to console me.

Trent flashes an understanding smile. Summer sun dances in his bright blue eyes, soft and reassuring and oh-so-hard to pull my gaze away from. “Give me a little room. I'll grab the other bag and bring them both downstairs. Sorry for the delay, took forever to talk ma out of playing hostess.”

He's so nonchalant. It's like he's in an alternate universe where my brother's crap doesn't matter. Neither does helping a girl who's treated him like a leper the past two years, apparently.

Of course, I'm suspicious. My inner bitch doesn't go to sleep that easy. “Look, if this is about you and me, just stop. I've been camping plenty of times. I can take them.”

I pull on the strap slung over his shoulder. He takes a step back, unyielding. His chest is magnificent. He was always hot back in Maynard, but now? I see a man.

Not just a half-grown boy. In two years, everything got bigger, polished, better.

It must be the looks I don't want to admit he has, plus this strange thing between us. That's the real reason I'm staring him down, trying like mad to pretend I'm biting into a juicy lemon. “Trent...”

“Amy Kay, relax. You're letting him get to you. Stay there.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he's bounding up the stairs again. He disappears inside the house with the bags, leaving me to gawk.

Lindsey trots out a second later, a sly flicker in her eye before she pulls her shades down. “Sorry it took so long. I told Jace to lay the hell off. Doing you a favor.”

“Not you, too.” I turn away from her, fully deflated. Linds makes a confused sigh, wondering what's eating me. “I appreciate the help, Linds, but I'm a big girl. I don't need everybody rushing to my defense. Jace is the same stupid, selfish little boy I grew up with. It's –”

“It's nothing, Ames. And it's not really me, either, is it?” She's practically psychic.

I sigh, folding my arms. “Is it really so obvious?”

“Uh, you drank that battery acid Mrs. Usher served, didn't you? I saw your cup was empty.”

“Wasn't half bad, really.” I lift an eyebrow, amazed in hindsight it went down so fast without cream or sugar. “I was just distracted when Jace showed up and ruined everything. Story of my life.”

“Mm-hmm. You're a bad liar, Amy Kay, but I love ya.” She grins, popping the door, sliding into the passenger seat.

I can't walk away after a quip like that. Sliding into the seat next to her, I give her a look, and find my best poker face. “There's nothing going on. I don't even know what you're –”

“Wow. So, you weren't just eye-fucking Trent Usher as he reeled in your brothers' baggage? I think that's the most you've said to him for like two freakin' years.” Everybody needs slapping today. Yes, even my ex-best friend, eyes glowing while she aims her gotcha grin.

“Whatever. He's still an ass, and you know it. Just not as up my ass as Jace right now.” I reach past her, banging her knee harder than I intend to, riffling around the glove box for my shades.

“He asked us out today, you know, while I was leaving. Said we'd make a good foursome, heavy on the innuendo.” Linds laughs, way too in love with her own bad jokes.

“Who, Lindsey? You can't mean –”

“Yup. I think Mr. Usher has the hots for me. Maybe your dumb brother does, too. Figured I'd run it by you, see if it's okay first, before I...you know.”

She trails off. Or maybe my brain has just reached its limit for BS today.

“No. Nope. Never.” I look her way slowly. Why has it took me this long to realize my friend adores torturing me? “I'm not interested in spending time with either of those clowns.”

I nod toward the house. It's quiet for a long second, filled with Lindsey digging through her purse, searching for her phone. “Stanford won't be any easier, Ames. You've got t-minus two months before you'll be two states away, surrounded by brilliant, gorgeous guys who'll jump at their chance to break your heart if you –”

“No! Screw dating.” My hands slap the wheel. After her reminder how Trent manages to knot me up, I'm halfway serious about leaving the dating world, too. “Can we just let this go? Please? If you want to date him, fuck him, whatever, then be my guest. I'm done.”

“Trent wants to meet us out on Bainbridge. Jace, too,” she tells me quietly. “Said he thought it'd be a good way to smooth things over. Apparently, your bro is a lot more relaxed when he's out doing something, or so he says. Keeps him off the bong hits and beer, too. But if you aren't interested...”

“I'm not.” But I am. And just imagining my best friend in Trent's arms, staring into his radioactive eyes, kissing him...it makes me want to drive my brand new hunter green convertible off the nearest bridge. I don't care if it was a present from dad for his little girl turning eighteen.

I'm that pissed.

That run down after doing circles in my own head.

That helplessly stuck on Trent Asshole Usher.

“Hey, Ames, look at me...” Lindsey's voice is softer now, soothing. She reaches over, but I swat her hand away, feeling like a bigger bitch. “I'm sorry for giving you so much crap. I never seriously thought about hooking up with Trent. No drama like that between sisters. No way.”

“I'm worried about Jace,” I say, deflecting old heartbreak. I'm serious, too. “He's such a little prick. College hasn't changed a thing. Dad was right to kick him out, until he gets his crap together, even if the campaign's his real reason.”

“Right. Here's a crazy idea: if you're worried about him, talk to him. Brother to sis.” Our eyes play tug-of-war, trying to figure out who's crazier, or more stubborn. “He was a total jackass back there in the kitchen, yeah. But he needs some time, and so do you, Amy Kay. I'm worried. It's not healthy, holding all this in, trying to go off to college.”

Damn her, she's right. I look down, eyeing my hands on the wheel. If I could just try to set things right with my dumb brother, and find a way to have a normal interaction with Trent, I'd have peace. A clean slate. Probably some secret zen state that'd make me work miracles.

“Screw it. Let's sit here until they come out. I want to get this over with.”

Her eyes light up and she sucks in a breath. “Holy shit. You mean?”

I do. I'm so mad, so confused, so screwed up by everything happening in my life that I'm actually taking her advice.

“We'll go out for the day, I'll catch Jace, and we'll talk. You'll join in for moral support. And Trent –”

“I'll help smooth things over with him!” Linds says, cutting me off. She's way too chipper.

I don't know what happens next.

But I'm ready to face the good, bad, and ugly. Everything that's been pointed at my head like a loaded pistol, clenched by a smirking, rage-worthy, sinfully sexy boy who kissed and ran years ago.

* * *

It's less than two hours since the huge white and green ferry let us off on the island, and I'm already abandoned.

Linds disappears. With Jace.

Jace, of all people. Stranding me outside this darling little fish and chips bar with a lemon-something mock-tail in my hand. Alcohol free because I'm too dang young to drink.

Pity.

Jace was all smiles the whole way down. It's the first time in months I've seen him act normal. He got my hopes up, thinking maybe I could have a heart-to-heart talk with my brother somewhere beautiful and remote enough to knock some sense into him.

But he had a different agenda. I wanted to believe he was trying so bad I didn't see it coming.

The hand under the table. The looks behind my back. The way Lindsey laughed at his crude jokes, just a little too hard.

I've been betrayed.

Trent and I finally have something in common after years of estrangement: rolling our eyes at our friends as hard as we possibly can.

Not that I'm on his side. No way.

Hell, I'm glad his ego takes a beating, even if it means Linds just disappeared with my Neanderthal brother. She shot him down. Rejected the self-described genius with the baby blue eyes and rocket hips, which helplessly drew my eyes every time he moved in front of me on the ferry ride here.

There's only one way this ends: savage disappointment. Plus my best friend finding her own way home.

As for Mr. Usher, I'll pretend I'm not this pathetic. Tell him I'm getting drunk whenever he emerges from the town's little streets and kitsch shops surrounded in evergreen.

Totally not nursing a non-alcoholic mocktail. Totally not mourning my broken trust with Linds. Totally not bamboozled into thinking I lost a chance at making my dumb brother act like an adult.

Totally whatever it takes to see Trent with a straight face and ice cold eyes that don't want to – what was the word Linds so eloquently used? – eye-fuck him?

Jesus.

No. Nope. Never.

“Looks like you're ready for a drink,” a voice rumbles behind me. Speak of the very suave devil. He's returned too soon.

“Uh, hello?” I hold up my glass with the half-depleted mocktail, rattling the ice.

“No, Presh. I mean a real one. Hand it over.” He practically rips it out of my hand, fishing around in his pocket. When the small silver flask comes out, I gasp. “Whoa. Here I thought Jace was the drunk in our group...”

He looks up, cocking an eyebrow, stopping after what smells like vodka splashes in my glass. “We came out here to take the edge off, right? Somebody has to help get you young'uns toasted.”

He throws two more shots in my glass and slides it back to me. I take a sip through my straw and instantly back off, hacking up a lung. “Blech!”

“Lightweight,” Trent growls, his smirk becoming a genuine smile. “Let me get you some water.”

He runs into the bar while I pin a new badge of shame to my chest. So much for the tough girl act. While I'm waiting, I force myself to take another swig of the drink.

Up until now, I've only had sickly sweet wine coolers and mimosas snuck from Lindsey's mom.

I smack my lips, adjusting to the acrid taste on my tongue. He isn't kidding about the edge coming off. This stuff sandblasts it away, roaring in my blood, making me giddy and lightheaded in the five minutes it takes him to come back with a dark beer in his hand and a pitcher of water.

“Drink this,” Trent says, noticing my glass is a lot lower. “You'll feel like shit if you don't learn to keep your stuff balanced” He pushes a tall glass of water toward me, banging his beer against it. “Here's to science.”

I burst out laughing for the first time since this disaster began. “God, you're a dork, Usher. Since when did you study bartending? Thought you were doing physics and engineering or some crap that's way over everybody's heads? No wonder Linds ran off with Jace.”

Okay, that was mean. It's supposed to be.

Just once, I want to see his face show a twist of regret. A little sour jealousy. A smudge of regret that he turned me away years ago.

It's the least he deserves for putting the bug in Lindsey's ear, dragging me out here, getting my hopes up for all sorts of stupid things. Also, putting us in a situation where drowning my regrets in long sips from his flask is suddenly way too appealing.

“They're shit out of luck, Amy Kay. All the hotels on the island are maxed out. He'll have to wait for the next ferry if he wants to get his dick wet.” Trent leans back in his chair, taking a calm pull off his beer, undaunted by my insults. “I'm sorry for all this. Thought it'd help, coming out here, after the bullshit that went down this morning...”

“Forget it. Don't apologize. It was a mess the second I caught you staring at Lindsey, trying to use my almost-estranged brother to weasel your way between her legs.” Wow. Even I'm surprised how scorned I sound. “Sorry. I mean, you're a jerk, but no worse than Jace, really.”

Trent's smiley smirk just gets broader. He sets his beer down, leans forward, and cages me in his pristine blue gaze. “She took the bait. It's adorable, though, that you think I want to lay your stuck-up friend so bad.”

My mouth falls open, but the words won't come.

My head spins, and not just from vodka. I glance at the liquid in my cup, wondering if I just hallucinated.

Not wanting to screw Linds?

What the holy hell is he trying to say?

“I wanted you to hash it out with Jace. Saw how bad you needed it after he waltzed into the kitchen, acting like a fucking idiot, cutting you down in front of us all. A woman needs to give and take with her own kin, darling. He deserves every punch you've got waiting. But that's not the only reason I brought you out here, Presh.” His stare only deepens.

Oh God, here it comes, even though I don't know what it really is. My lungs start hyperventilating before he even says the next four words.

“I need one thing.”

He leaves me in suspense. Wants me to beg. I try to resist, but the drink and his eyes and the screaming need to know are far too much. My lips move, tasting how much I hate obsessing over this man.

“Tell me,” I whisper, throat dry as cotton.

“Exactly, darling. That's what I'm waiting for: you tell me exactly what I need to do so that time we kissed finally stops being a problem. I want to drain the bad blood, Amy Kay.” His eyes narrow, blazing blue pinpricks stabbing through me.

“You're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about. That was years ago, Trent. Years. Long since over. You think I'm still –”

“Yes. You've treated me like I barely exist for the past couple years, Presh. Like my very presence is pure poison. You've kept your distance no matter how often I came by to see your folks, or how many times Jace got himself in trouble, how many times I tried like hell to get his dumbass back in shape. You're still hung up on that time we locked lips alone on the Wilkie.”

Face, meet table. That's what I'd love to do, just fall into it.

It'd be a mercy. Being knocked out cold would end this conversation that shouldn't be happening.

But you came out here for your brother and Trent, a small voice in the back of my head reminds me. Don't chicken out. Don't give him exactly what he wants.

I swallow, draining the rest of my sour drink, hoping liquid courage is really a thing. “Okay. So, maybe you're right. Maybe a small, teensy part of me never got over how you kissed me, and then brushed it off like it was no big deal. Maybe I didn't like being told to just forget, like I'm just a dumb kid, or that there's no way it ever meant anything. If that's the issue, then maybe I'm guilty, Trent.” I pause, hating how the vodka makes my cheeks a brighter red. “Convict me. Will that make you happy?”

“You were too young, Amy Kay. Too damn young,” he bites off. “Even if there weren't a thousand other reasons why making that thing a repeat would've been stark raving mad.”

His logic has a brutal precision. I hate it. I was too young. He was too close. We couldn't do more.

“What choice did I have? You're gonna hold it against me forever, turning you away? Knowing us doing anything, exploring what happened on that ship, would have blown both our lives to kingdom come?”

Too many questions. Too much truth weighing on my battered heart. I twist my face away.

My fingers tighten on my glass, numb from the cool touch. I want to hurl it at his head, the last distraction I've got left before the pain stinging at my eyes seeps out. “That easy, huh? Just like that, you finally give me the truth? God, Trent. What took so long? If you'd just been honest –”

“I was a kid, too. Tried to let you down as easy as I knew how then. It never would've worked, Presh. Not then. Me, you, our family in between, Jace...Christ, especially Jace!” he pauses, staring into his beer, before he takes a swig. “Your brother's got problems. That's the other reason I wanted to get you alone today, so we could talk in private. I'm on your side, Presh. I want to – hey, where do you think you're going?“

I'm standing, every nerve in my body burning. I need oxygen. I also really need an escape. Mostly, I need time.

There's only one way out, a narrow path winding around the rocks stretching down to the marina. I stomp past him, so ready to be done.

But Trent Usher has other ideas. A second before I'm out of reach, his hand snatches at my dress and tugs.

“Let me go!”

I whimper. I fight. I'm far too weak for his magnificent hands, and I go down, falling into his grasp.

“What's gotten into you, Precious?” His words are a demanding growl. “Talk to me, Amy Kay. I just bled the fuck all over us.”

“Crap I'm not ready to talk about, especially not with you.” My eyes pinch shut. I wonder if I'll ever be ready in this lifetime. “Why couldn't you just leave it alone, Trent? If you're worried about my brother, then go to mom and dad. What can I do? I'm not a freaking shrink. Him acting out the way he does, that chip on his shoulder and screw everything attitude...of course I worry constantly. Wonder if he'll get himself in too deep and mess up his whole life, and maybe ours, too.”

I shake my head, losing the fight. Hating how good, how right, how comforting his big arms feel on mine. Shifting on his lap, I sigh. “You want to help for once? Fine. Get me another drink.”

“You've had your fill, Presh. Water's all you're getting next.” Non-negotiable, his sharp look says. Ass. I wish I could keep believing that's all he's doing, looking out for me. “Fuck. I didn't mean this to go all sideways, honest. Thought we could sit down like grownups, clear the air, try to put this shit to bed.”

“Well, I'm sorry, orphan boy. Now you know there're some things a big brain and good looks can't fix.” I'm biting my tongue, blinking back tears, wishing I had the reflexes to wriggle out of his arms. Wishing so bad.

I blink, replaying my words. “Sorry for the orphan thing. Again. Low blow. That's what got us into trouble the first time, right?”

He isn't even mad. His eyes are a sad mix of frustration, warmth, hope. They're beautiful and interesting and so unrelenting.

He lifts me up, but never lets me off his lap. I guess being glued to his rock hard body is part of my punishment for cutting him down.

It's the same with his eyes. I watch every change, every ripple, every small prism of light catching and turning over as his brain shifts, trying to figure out how best to deal with this emotionally strung out baby in his arms. “Presh...”

“Don't bother. Picking words, I mean. Just spit it out. We're talking, aren't we? I'd love for this to be done.”

“We're way past that. Fuck words.” There's a long, drawn out second where I don't have a clue what he means.

Then his grip tightens, his fingers lock on my upper arms, and he pulls me into those explosive, impatient lips I've dreamed about for two years in the wilderness.

Sweet Jesus.

They're as good as I remember. Better, maybe.

No, definitely.

There's no hesitation. No resistance. His lips take mine on a hypnotic dance I barely match.

I'm melting into him. Flesh going slack, surrender, all while tears steam down my cheeks, whimpering the first time his tongue touches mine.

There's no stopping it then.

I'm kissing him back. Biting his bottom lip. Climbing his tall, lean, hard wrack of shoulders.

Climbing home.

If this asshole, this marvel, meant to condense two years of messed up tension in a sixty second super nova, mission accomplished. I'm wet, trembling, and aching.

I hate him with every fiber of my being. Somehow it makes me want him more.

“Ass-hole. Why?” I whisper, as soon as he breaks the kiss.

“Because I'm done dicking around with the past, Precious. Sick and tired of watching you all tangled up in it, too, never moving on with your life. If this is what it takes to make you forget, then fuck it all. I'm in. I'll throw you against the nearest wall and we'll bang it out till you scratch my back raw.”

This isn't even insane anymore. It's toxic.

But I can't stop my lips from colliding with his, once more, this time with so much feeling it leaves my nipples pebbled. Every end of me wants his hands, his mouth, his touch.

A touch that would've been equal parts unbearable and unthinkable mere minutes ago.

“Just...help me up,” I whisper, loving how he lifts my body with ease, cradles it for a second, and then sets me back on my feet. “I need to take a walk.”

His eyes shift over, lock on, and there's another slap-worthy smirk on his lips. “So, no to the banging part? Really, darling? After how well we fit together?”

“Don't tempt me, Mr. Usher. I'm not sold on one kiss. Not even an amazing, heartfelt, mind-blowing kiss. You'll have to try harder before I let my heart get stuck in places too deep to climb out of.”

“Don't I know it, Presh? Don't I want to know you like I haven't for two fucking years? Come on.” Seizing my hand, he pulls forward, leading us into town.