CHAPTER TWELVE

A construction crew jackhammered outside her closed window, smashing the broken sections of the basketball court in preparation for smoothing them over with a fresh concrete surface. A pair of new security guards patrolled the block, courtesy of Colin. The sight of them brought a smile to her face—the man had moved quickly to make sure the center was safe during a time of transition.

As Elle surveyed the signs of change, she chatted on the phone with some of the center’s biggest donors, making her round of calls to thank them for their contributions.

She’d started sending letters and flowers earlier in the week, and was following up today with personal calls. She dialed another number and spoke briefly with a benefactor in San Francisco named Charlie, who’d attended the Beethoven event. “We couldn’t have done it without you. We’re already starting the work, and I’m thrilled to say it’s going well so far,” Elle said as she gazed out the window. “I’m watching them rebuilding the basketball court right now. And the boys spend a lot of time there, so your contribution is being put to good use immediately.”

“It is a pleasure and an honor to help such a worthy cause.”

“If you’re in Vegas again, I do hope you’ll stop by the center to see our work.”

“I come to Vegas often. Once a week now, it seems, and I will take you up on it. And please, you can count on me to be a regular contributor. The center is a worthy cause, and it also allows me to right some wrongs from my past.”

“It does?” she asked, curious as to what he meant.

He sighed with a note of regret, but his voice seemed hopeful too as he answered her. “I made some mistakes when I was younger. I held onto a debt longer than I should have. This is my amends.”

“I’m a big fan of making changes,” she said, smiling as they talked about redemption and all its possibilities. So refreshing to hear him speak openly about amends. Sam had never truly embraced that concept, though she’d desperately wished he had. Even during his rehab stints, he’d never tried to apologize for his past sins and omissions. His behavior sober was remarkably similar to his behavior when he’d been high—yet another reason why she’d never trusted his recovery. It had never stuck, and he never truly changed.

Clearly.

He’d died in her arms smashed on cocaine.

Colin, on the other hand, seemed to live a recovering life. He gave of his time. He opened his heart. He’d learned from the past. The man she knew now was exactly the kind of man she could see herself falling for. Colin cared about kids, and he was kind, smart, passionate, and sexy as hell. For a brief moment, she imagined their relationship with no rules, no boundaries, no lines, and she could see Colin fitting seamlessly into her life.

As more than her friend.

She wondered, though, what he’d been like when he was addicted, and if she would even have recognized him. Not physically, but emotionally—was he the same guy she knew now? Or was he more like Sam? Or even Charlie, who also seemed determined to live a changed sort of life.

After the call ended, someone rapped on her door, so she swept aside her musings about Colin and making amends. She rose and opened it, delighted to see Marcus on the other side. But her smile fell quickly—his face was white as snow.

“I need to talk to you. Badly.” His voice shook.

Worry coursed through her, a prickly flurry of nerves as she shut the door. “Of course, come in. What’s going on?”

He sank onto her couch and dropped his head in his hand, running his fingers roughly through his hair. Her heart lurched toward him.

“I need to talk. About some heavy shit. And you can’t tell anyone,” he said, raising his face.

“Are you going to tell me something I’d need to tell someone else?” She looked him in the eye, making it clear that she’d keep his confidences if they didn’t cross certain lines. “Because if you tell me you’re going to hurt yourself or someone else, there’s no confidentiality.”

“No. God, no,” he said with a brief laugh, but it was a joyless sound. “I just need this to be between us.”

While she wasn’t technically Marcus’s social worker, she’d been trained as one. And as the center director, she strove to abide by proper guidelines. That meant she’d keep whatever they discussed between the two of them.

“My family, who I’ve been trying to meet? My brothers? My sister?” he said, as if he needed to prompt her.

“Yes.”

He sighed deeply. “You know one of them.”

She cocked her head, trying to figure out who on earth it could be. “I do?”

He nodded and gulped. “You do. He’s a volunteer here, and I knew that when I first came to play hoops. He’s the reason I started coming around the center. To see what my family was like. To get a sense before I met them.”

The world froze. Everything and everyone became a statue as she swayed, absorbing his news.

“Colin Sloan is one of my brothers.”

She clasped a hand to her mouth. Then it was her turn to sink down, as she fell into her chair and tried to rearrange her shock so she could lend her support.

“My dad never wanted me to meet them,” Marcus said. “He always told me I was safer staying away from them. So I respected his wishes while I lived under his roof. I worry he’s going to be pissed when he finds out, but I don’t care. I have to do this. I need to go back and try again. Especially since I just talked to Colin in the hall.”

“Does he know?” she asked, her voice papery.

Marcus shook his head. “No. Not yet. But he seems like a good guy, and I want to do this right.” He talked more about his parents and the twisted tale of how his dad met his mom, and how his dad felt about her. When he was done, he took the biggest inhalation in the world, it seemed, and relaxed into the couch, spreading his arms across the back of it. “You’re the only person I’ve told about this. God, it feels good to finally say their names. To finally be able to talk to someone and share all the details.”

He was unburdened, buoyed with relief. Meanwhile, she’d taken on the weight of one of the biggest secrets she could ever imagine keeping from someone she cared for.

Cared for.

Holy shit. The realization crash-landed in her that Colin wasn’t just the man she was sleeping with. He was more to her. Even if she couldn’t have it, she realized she wanted more than friendship with him. More than just these sexy nights.

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be her no-strings lover.

Which made this new situation that much harder. Because she’d just spent the last hour in a strange state of suspended animation as she counseled a boy on how to reconnect with the family of the man she was involved with.

Never in her life had she wanted to clone herself like she did now. Never had she so badly needed to be two Elles at once.

* * *

Colin closed the math apps on his laptop, pleased with the progress that Rex had made. After winning the basketball court bet, Colin had expected some resistance from Rex, but the teen had taken quickly to the business math they worked on and had decided to sign up for a math placement test at community college in just a few days. Their tutoring had become a crash course, and Rex had been excelling.

As a reward, Rex attacked a fleet of zombies as he played video games with his brother Tyler and Elle’s son Alex. Colin glanced over at the boys, firing away at the living dead on the TV.

Alex pointed, practically stabbing the screen. “Get that one. Do it now!” he shouted to Rex.

Sometimes, it was odd to be in the same room with Alex. Not because Colin knew what the kid’s mom looked like naked and falling apart in his arms. And not because there was any weirdness with Alex—there wasn’t.

The issue lay with Colin. He was keenly aware that Elle had drawn a line in the sand regarding who she let into her son’s life. Given what happened to Alex’s dad, he understood her need to protect him.

“Rex, look out! There’s another one. You have to book it to the safe house!” The warning came from Rex’s little brother. Rex narrowed his eyes in fierce concentration, jamming his thumb hard on the controller, firing away at a zombie and blasting him to smithereens.

“Oh yeah! You did it. Man. You don’t suck as much as I thought,” Alex said to Rex, then punched him on the shoulder.

“I don’t suck at all. I rock hard. And I will school you soon enough,” Rex said as he raised his arms in triumph.

“You wish,” Alex said, picking up his controller to get ready for his turn. “I am the master.”

Rex craned his neck to catch Colin’s attention. “Hey, man! Got any tips for us on angles and shit?

“You know anything about video games?” Alex asked as Colin stuffed his laptop into a messenger bag.

“I know a bit.”

“Give me a tip,” Alex said. “I need to up my game.”

Do something cool for Elle’s kid? This was a no-brainer—he liked working with the boys, and he liked that he could be a positive influence rather than a bad one. That had to count for something. Plus, Alex was a good kid. “Here’s your tip. It’s all strategy. You just devise a strategy and follow it. But don’t be afraid to pivot if things change, and then to pivot again,” he said, then let his own advice register. Because, as he noodled on the words, he realized they might apply to his approach with Elle.

His strategy had been to focus on the physical, then on the fun and friendship, despite her big reservations. The approach had worked, to a point. Each encounter they’d had was hotter than the last, and each moment together seemed to show how good a time they could have. The question was, when would all the fun and games tip over into something more? Something deeper. He’d sensed an inkling of emotion from her at the Mob Museum, and even more the other morning at the cafe by the canyon. Was it time to pivot once again?

“Strategy,” Alex repeated, then tapped his temple as he played. “I’m working on my strategy as we speak. Thanks, man.”

Alex held out his free hand for a low high-five, and Colin obliged.

As the boys returned to the game, Colin tapped the back of the couch and told them he’d see them later in the week. On the way out, he walked past the vending machine. The Diet Cherry Coke had been restocked. A rarity. He plugged some quarters in and snagged a cold one, then stopped at Elle’s office to say a quick good-bye.

A chaste good-bye. A friendly good-bye. To show her he could care for her not only in bed, but also during the regular rhythm of her day. She loved Diet Cherry Coke in the afternoon. A pick-me-up. Yes, it was a small thing. But wasn’t it the little gestures in life that often mattered the most?

The door was shut. He knocked and heard some rustling and the squeak of a chair. There was no answer. He waited ten seconds before he knocked once more.

“I’m busy now.” Her voice was tinny from behind the walls.

He set the can on the floor and left, sending her a text that the soda was from him.

A few minutes later, as he drove home, his phone rang with a call from an international number. He swiped over the screen immediately, eager for the details from Ryan.

“How’s Johnny Cash?”

Colin laughed deeply. Only his dog-loving brother would focus on the four-legged beast first. “I’m on my way home to take care of him now. He is a prince among canines. I took him to the dog park the other night and all the lady dogs ran up to him,” Colin said into the speakerphone as he slowed at a red light.

“They can’t help themselves around him. You can use him as a wingman if you think he can help you land a woman. Wait. What’s the latest with the woman from the benefit?”

Colin tapped the steering wheel and blew out a long stream of air. “Like I said before you left, it’s complicated. Speaking of complicated, you know that kid who was following Shan? I’ve got great news for you.” He told his brother what he’d learned an hour ago about the Protectors. “So it’s all good. We don’t need to worry about him,” he said, pressing the gas as the light changed. “Now, why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re calling from Germany at midnight your time when you should be focusing on your woman?”

“Don’t you worry. I’m still focusing on her, but you will not fucking believe what she found out the other night.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Sophie was jet-lagged and couldn’t sleep. So she was working on deciphering the rest of the pattern that I told you about.” Ryan was talking about the sewing pattern that their mom had passed onto him before she went to prison. She’d asked Ryan, then just a fourteen-year-old, to hold on to it for her, telling him that it was a prized pattern for a dog jacket that she wanted to make when she was freed. He’d held onto the hope that she might be innocent, and so he’d saved the pattern for her, only to discover a week ago, when Sophie tried to make the jacket, that it was a code of sorts. The first row contained addresses that corresponded to the homes of the shooter, and of the two alleged accomplices in their father’s murder. Sophie had said there was more to the pattern, and she’d need extra time with it.

“What did she find out? What were the rest of the lines?” Colin asked.

“It’s a list of more addresses. They had missing numbers and symbols, but she worked on it and she figured out all of them. She gave it to John, and when he put it together with the leads he’s been looking into, he believes the pattern is a hell of a lot more than just those two guys. You better be sitting down,” Ryan said, his voice heavy and intense.

Colin slowed the car, pulled over, and cut the engine. “Talk to me. What is it?”

Ryan heaved a sigh then told him the newest wrinkle.

Colin was damn glad he’d pulled over. His head fell back against the headrest, the shock of Ryan’s new revelation echoing in his bones.

When he reached his home and leashed up his brother’s dog, his phone buzzed once more. Elle had messaged him. At last. But when he read the note, frustration seared him to a crisp.

Elle: I’m so sorry. I have to cancel tomorrow. Something came up.