I stumbled into my house, drawing in big, sucking breaths. Trying to keep it together when I already knew that was impossible.

Janel.

Janel.

Rex.

Frankie.

Oh God.

Agony sliced through my being, cutting me in two. Clutching Milo to my chest, I tipped my head back toward the ceiling. Tears slicked down my face and dripped into my hair.

Why?

Why did life have to be so cruel? Fate twisted. Warped and perverted.

I set Milo on his feet and frantically dug in my bag to find my phone. Uncontrollably, my hands shook when I tried to find Macy’s contact. Finally, I managed to push send. It rang twice before her groggy voice came onto the line. “Hello?”

It was three hours earlier there. No doubt, I’d pulled her from sleep. But I needed her. Had no one else to turn to. Sorrow wrenched from me on panted, shattered cries. No words but the tumble of frenzied, horrified confusion that gripped my mind.

“Ryn . . . is that you?” I could picture her shaking herself out of the haze of sleep. Panic surged into her voice. “Ryn, what’s wrong? Tell me what happened.”

“She’s here.” It was a whimper.

“Who?” she demanded before she caught on. Silence eclipsed the flood of worry that had been rolling from her mouth. “Shit,” she muttered. “Where’d you run into her?”

“She’s . . .” I struggled to find the explanation, choking over the revulsion at even having to say it. “She’s Frankie’s mom.”

A moan slipped from my tongue.

“Oh God, Rynna . . . sweetheart . . . shit. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe it,” I whispered.

Rex. The man I’d lost myself to.

She’d belonged to him. I couldn’t stomach it. The picture of her touching him. Of him touching her.

Sickness spun.

Spun and spun and spun.

Riding an agitator that fully wrung me out.

“Does he know?”

Grief constricted my chest. “No.” It was a wheeze. “I finally told him last night what’d happened. But he has no idea it was her.”

That was when I hadn’t thought it would matter. When the name and face meant absolutely nothing because the only thing remaining had been the scars.

Those scars had been ripped wide open.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. She’s . . . she’s over there now, and I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do. She’s her mother.”

It dropped from me like a stone.

Sorrow.

Dejection.

Regret.

Janel was Frankie Leigh’s mother. That was a fact I couldn’t change. One I couldn’t stand in the way of, no matter how much I loved that little girl.

“Ryn, I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do. How can I make this better?”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”

“I can’t stand the idea of you clear across the country hurting and no one there to feed you gallons of ice cream.”

I choked out a soggy laugh. “I wish you were here, too.”

“If you need me, you know I’m on the first plane. You say the word, and I’m there.”

“I know, thank you.”

“Just . . . hold tight, Ryn. He’s probably as shocked as you are. See what comes of it. What he has to say.”

I nodded. It was the only rational thing I could do.

Wait.

And I thought the waiting just might kill me.

* * *

Three hours later, I was at the diner. It turned out I couldn’t wait. Couldn’t sit idle while Janel was directly across the street with Rex and Frankie. Not when I couldn’t see through the walls or hear what they were saying.

Torture. I couldn’t find another word to describe the turmoil that seethed within. Pulling and ripping and grinding. It felt as if I were being torn apart, rended by white-hot agony.

So, I went to the one place I would find solace. I stood holding a sledgehammer in my hands, blinking into the dimness of the old restaurant as if I had any clue what to do with it.

As if I could make a difference.

A thick coat of dust had settled on the floor, and plastic sheets covered the booths that had been moved against one wall, waiting for the contractor who’d been hired to reupholster them. The old tabletops ripped out, the empty spaces waiting for new tables to be delivered.

It was amazing what Rex’s men had already accomplished.

It seemed almost a dream now. The excitement and hope I’d felt the last time I’d been in this very spot just a couple of days ago, envisioning its completion. The day I would finally be able to turn on the neon open sign I’d ordered. When customers would begin to pile in, eager for a taste of my grandmother’s legacy that would become my own.

It shivered around me, a haunting reminder that these walls still held their secrets. My past an echo that had hit its end and came bounding right back.

I turned toward the old counter, hands fisting around the wooden handle. At least it gave me something to hold on to.

I froze when awareness struck me from behind.

The door slowly creaked open. It was instant, the way the air thickened and the tension pulsed.

It slammed the walls. Amplifying. Lifting. Increasing. Pulling and pulling and pulling.

Gravity.

I swore I could feel his wary footsteps tremor across the floor and climb my legs. That connection streaking free. Though this time in a frenzy.

Slowly, I released the sledgehammer to the ground, turned around. The man had the power to reach right out and pluck the breath from me. My lungs heaved at the sight of him, and I whispered, “Rex.”

“Rynna.” He shifted on his feet, an agitated hand jerking at the longer pieces of his hair. He looked at the floor as if it might hold an answer, his tone low, laden with guilt. “God, Rynna . . . never in a million years would I have expected what we woke up to this morning. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Lightheadedness spun, and I gulped for air, trying to focus. To see straight. To focus on what was most important. “Where’s Frankie?”

He swallowed when he met my eye. “Took her to my mom’s. Didn’t want her in the middle of this. Not when I don’t have the first clue what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

“What does she want?” The question broke in desperation.

What do you want?

I wanted to ask it, but I was terrified. Terrified of the answer. Terrified of how this man made me feel. How he’d consumed me entirely. Everything that was mine, his.

My body.

My heart.

My mind.

Mouth trembling, he stared at me, expression distant, the man shaken from his own axis. “Frankie. Me. Fuck, I don’t know.”

A strangled sob sprang from the depths of me, and I clutched my stomach. “And what do you want?”

In a second flat, Rex rushed me. Those big hands were on my face, forcing me to look at him. “I want you. God, Rynna, I want you.”

The relief was almost as fierce as the pain. As fierce as the stark grief that passed through his eyes. Eyes that swam with the deepest guilt. “Need to tell you something, Rynna.”

I blinked at him. Strung up. My world hinging on what he might say.

He squeezed his eyes closed, his expression pinching in regret. “I . . .”

“What?” I begged.

Shaking his head, he slightly angled it to the side and pulled me closer, as if he were pleading with me to understand. “She’s still my wife, Rynna.”

My heart froze.

Froze in horror. In disbelief.

“What?” I begged again, but this time because I didn’t want the answer he’d given. I wanted him to tell me I’d misunderstood. That he didn’t mean what I’d heard.

I struggled to break out of his hold, and he held me tighter. “I never signed the papers, Rynna. I’m so sorry. I should have told you. God, I should have told you.”

Another rush of dizziness swept through me. This time it was so intense, it nearly knocked me from my feet. “You’re . . . still . . . married to her?” The last came off as an accusation.

After everything we’d shared? After everything I’d told him and he’d told me? And he’d failed to mention this?

My mind flashed through a barrage of memories. The things Rex had eluded to. The way he’d first reacted when we’d met. The fact he’d never been with another woman after Janel left. Not until me. He’d kept warning me and warning me he didn’t have anything to give.

Horror flooded the words. “You were waiting for her. The whole time, you’ve been waiting for her to come back.”

Tears streaked free, and I struggled to break out of his hold. “We never even had a chance, did we?” It barely made it out over the sobs that clogged my throat. The grief that clenched my chest, making it hard to breathe. “You were always waiting for her.”

Now she was here.

Janel.

Oh God.

I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying to keep it all in. To keep from spewing the hatred that had blazed back to life the moment I’d seen her standing in his door. Tell him who she really was. What she’d done.

But she was Frankie’s mother. How could I do that? I couldn’t be that person. One who maligned Janel’s name because she had what I wanted. Who was I to know if she’d changed? Like I’d told Rex, it’d been more than ten years.

My spirit thrashed, rejecting that notion, convinced I knew exactly who she was. But was that because of my jealousy? Was it because she was Frankie’s mother? Because she was Rex’s wife?

Wife.

Nausea crawled through my senses, a sickening poison injected straight into my veins.

Rex fumbled to get his hands back on my face, eyes so intense, his presence powering straight through my body. It only ruined me all the more. “No, Rynna. No. Fuck. Of course, we have a chance. You and me? We’re supposed to be.” His tone was despairing.

I blinked at him, trying to make sense of the situation. To sift through every horrible emotion. My anger. My hurt. The love that shined far too bright. Trying to look inside myself and find what was right.

But the betrayal glared, blinding. Both Janel’s and Rex’s. How could I make sense of the two? “You lied to me.”

“No, Rynna. I was going to tell you. I promise, I was going to tell you.”

“You had plenty of time to tell me last night. You’re married, Rex. Married, because you chose to be. Because you were waiting for her to come back to you. Oh God.” A whimper burst from between my lips.

“I swear, Rynna, swear to you.”

Frantically, my head shook. “You need to figure out what you want from your life, Rex, because I can’t be with you. Not when you’re with her.”

“No,” Rex grated, shaking his head. “There’s no chance of me bein’ with her, Rynna. Not when it’s you I want.”

“I can’t—” He cut me off with a kiss. A kiss so desperate I nearly got lost in it. I wanted to let go. Let him take me and love me and capture me. Pretend it was real. Pretend this man wasn’t married and his wife wasn’t waiting for him back at his house.

Hands still on my face, he pulled back. “Please.”

I gripped him around both wrists, staring at him through bleary eyes. Hot tears streaked down my face and into the webs of his fingers.

This beautiful, intricate man who wasn’t mine.

Misery.

Agony.

So much hurt.

It whirled around us. A tornado that screamed.

“I can’t keep you when you never really belonged to me.”

A moan pulled from his throat, and he gripped me. His voice was a rasp. “Don’t do this, Rynna. You promised me you wouldn’t run. That you wouldn’t leave. You promised.”

Janel’s face taunted me. The idea of her touching him. Of him touching her.

“I can’t,” I whispered my heartbreak against the top of his head.

He made a choking sound, as if I were causing him physical pain, before he turned and walked away. He pulled open the door, paused to look back at me, grief scored across every line in his face. “You promised you’d stay.”

My head shook. “And I trusted you not to lie to me.”

His throat bobbed as if he were swallowing the reality down.

He was married, and he’d never thought it important enough to tell me.

What did that make us?

Then he turned and was gone.