I got home at the same time.

I did the same things I always did.

I checked the mail.

I checked my phone.

I checked my cellphone, even though I routinely did the same thing when working—I was expecting a call, right?

A call.

A letter.

A postcard.

She could skywrite for all I cared.

It had been over a month. If I’d known, I would’ve been there with bells on—and my mother would’ve smacked me across the side of my head, too.

As it was, she and my father had been out of town for their thirty-fifth anniversary and it wasn’t until they got back into town that they heard the news. That was why I didn’t find out until nearly two weeks after that old bitch had been in her grave. It was over a week later.

I’d waited.

We’d made plans.

We’d promised each other.

A hundred promises, whispered over phone calls, scrawled onto letters and postcards. The only thing we hadn’t done was skywrite it.

I’ll wait for you.

I’ll be there. As soon as I know Nicky’s safe. Are you going to wait for me?

It was a damn hard thing, waiting for the only woman I’d ever loved, but it was a damn hard thing not to do it, too. She was the only woman—the only girl.

And it had been six weeks.

There were no letters.

There were no postcards.

There were no calls on my home phone, nor the voice mail.

The only thing I didn’t bother to check was the sky, but I didn’t figure she’d skywrite the message she was coming.

I was starting to doubt she ever would.

But I tried to remember that I was raised to have faith.

* * *

“Fuck, what’s the matter with you?”

Mac jumped back, eyeing the fire on the floor in front of us for a moment before looking up at me. His pale green eyes were more surprised than mad, and he wiped sweat off his brow as he helped stamp out a few of the flames. Assistants came running up with a fire extinguisher and one of them, a newer girl, gave Mac a lingering look—one he didn’t even notice. We had a strict rule about fraternizing with any of the crew, but even if we didn’t, I could’ve told the poor girl she was wasting her time.

The assistants would go on and on about how Mac looked like a rough-and-tumble version of that actor, Jason Momoa, and I could almost see it. But Mac had a hard time connecting with people—any kind of people.

Although right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to connect with me—as in one of those big fists slamming into my head. I’d almost set him on fire.

I had to get my head out of my ass before I hurt one of my partners.

We were working on our final group show of the year, a New Year’s Eve spectacle that Mac had cooked up. Sly, the third and final member of our band of merry madmen, came jogging up, his face folded into a scowl. It didn’t look right on his face—with his red hair and vivid blue eyes, he looked like he should be bright and cheerful.

In truth, Sly was an asshole.

All of us were at times, but Sly tended to have more days when he was an ass than when he wasn’t.

Although, when Mac was in one of his moods, he was the one we all needed to watch out for.

It was understandable. Out of the three of us, I was the only one who’d had any sort of decent life. Sometimes I think if it hadn’t been for how Thea and I had been ripped apart, how I’d ended up New Orleans where I’d met Mac…

The other man eyed me narrowly for a long moment, then shook his head. “If that was me, Sly would just think I’d stayed up too late and knocked back a few too many—he’d threaten to kick my ass. But you…I’m kinda worried,” Mac said, his voice a rough drawl that reminded me of home.

He’d grown up in the southern part of Louisiana, close to New Orleans. While he presented a laid back and aloof front to the world, that life he’d lived hadn’t been a pleasant one either.

The two of us had kept each other going, but while he’d helped pull me out of a deep, ugly rut, I hadn’t been able to do the same for him. Or Sly, for that matter.

The two of them had walked in a world that was just…foreign. I couldn’t understand it, and I didn’t want to.

“If it will help, I can threaten to kick your ass, LeVan. What the hell is wrong with you?” Sly demanded.

Sly was a control freak of the worst sort, which made it insane that we could all work together, because neither Mac nor I cared to be controlled. Mac, as a matter of fact, flat out refused to let anyone even come close.

But we managed, somehow forming a cohesive unit—and becoming friends.

After seven years together, I’d gotten used to Sly’s dictatorial bullshit and knew when to ignore him. The answer was pretty much always.

He was great when it came to the magic, laying out the show and organizing everything down to the last, finite line—even if that drove both Mac and me nuts. Beyond that, he took himself too seriously.

Right now, though, the scowl on his face was justified.

“I’m sorry,” I said, biting the apology off and lifting my hands up before he could tear into me. “I’m not sleeping well and my timing was off.”

Timing was everything in this business, and with this illusion, one Mac and Sly had put together, it was even more crucial. It was a piece that involved an escape act and the two of them switching position—and clothes—all while Mac started out riding a big, mean-looking bike while Sly did a variation on one of his more popular fire routines. If I fucked up, either or both of them could be hurt in so many ways—or worse.

I was the distraction and while that didn’t seem like such a big role, it was.

It was Mac who played peacekeeper—that was usually my role.

As he stepped between us, Sly opened his mouth.

Mac shoved him back. Mac was a big bastard. At six foot four, with heavy shoulders and muscles that looked like he’d spent half his life in a gym, that light push sent Sly stumbling back. “Leave him alone. He never misses a mark, never has off days. If he’s having them now, then he’s got a reason.”

Sly shoved him back. “We don’t get to have off days.”

“You and me have them all the time, dumbass. You need to take a break?”

The dumbass comment had me grinning, lightening my mood a notch or two. But only a notch or two. My mood was too fucking foul for anything to really do the trick.

I was about ready to brush off the idea of a break when a woman’s voice rang out in the small, mock theatre.

“LeVan, there’s a woman here to see you. She’s talked her way past security on the main level and this one.”

Sly looked at me, then Mac.

“She sounds persistent,” I said easily. But my heart was racing.

Was it her?

* * *

“Dee.”

My cousin threw her arms around me, her crazy, dark curls smelling of summer and the tropics. When she pulled back to beam at me, I cupped her cheek. “You should’ve told me you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” She grinned at me, displaying a crooked tooth in a grin that had shattered hearts around that small Louisiana town. “So…are you surprised?”

“Yes.”

“And…disappointed.” Dee sighed. “She’s not here yet, is she?”

I didn’t bother asking for clarification. We both knew there was only one she who might possibly be here—or one who would matter that much. “No.” Shaking my head, I reached down and caught her hand. “Come on, let’s go get a drink. I’ve missed my cues a few too many times and Mac kicked me out and told me to take a break.”

That wasn’t the exact truth.

Sly didn’t know everything about me, but Mac did and he knew why I’d been so tense, had recognized the look on my face. He’d told me in a low voice to go, and if I needed the whole damn day—or a whole damn month—to take it.

I wouldn’t need a month, but I’d take the afternoon to enjoy some time with my favorite cousin.

“Have you heard from her?” she persisted, hooked her arm through mine and swayed along next to me with a grace that was almost enough to make me forget about the gangly girl I’d left behind ten years ago.

“No. And I don’t think I will, cuz.”

“What do you mean?”

That stopped her dead in her tracks and since she had attached herself to my side, I had to stop as well or risk pulling her off her skyscraper heels.

Sighing, I looked down at her. “We were kids, Dee. Just kids. Stupid, desperate kids in love with the idea of being in love, in love with the idea of each other. That doesn’t mean it was meant to last forever.”

“Bullshit.” She unhooked our arms and poked me in the chest. “You and me, both of us know that kids who fall in love sometimes do have the real thing. You just…” She stopped, her voice hitching a little. “Well, your parents got to have the whole enchilada. My daddy died when I was so little, I barely remember him. But they were young when they fell in love, my mama and daddy—and yours. Sometimes, age really is just a number. You ought to know that.”

The answer that leaped to my lips was bitten back. I wasn’t going to feed into this. There was no doubt that the love I’d had for Thea Kent was real. But Thea wasn’t here.

I was.

She’d known where to find me for almost a decade, ever since I’d fumbled my way into an opening act in a second-rate hotel here on the Vegas strip. She knew where to find me. And she hadn’t done it.

“And sometimes…age is just that,” I said gently. “Age. We were kids, honey. Kids who were going through an awful lot.” I caught her hand and brought it upward, kissing the back gently, the way my dad had done for so many women and girls. It was second nature now.

“You’re a gentleman, son. The Vanderbilts always are. Remember that. Conduct yourself accordingly.”

I planned to.

“Come on. Let me buy you lunch.”

Dee studied me for a long moment, then she sighed and nodded. “Fine. But I want tickets for the show. And…by the way, I’m twenty-four now. You told me once I graduated college, you’d introduce me to Sly.”

She sent me a look that made me want to shudder.

“Ah…yeah.” Gamely, I grimaced. “Sure. Sure thing.”