She was giving me that look again.

It was enough to piss me off.

Tish sat on the bed, her pretty, dark-blue eyes grave and sad as she studied me, her eyes holding a mix of compassion and pity. I was torn between wanting to hide or do something to chase the look off her face.

At the same time, I didn’t mind seeing her there.

I was dreaming. It was the only thing that explained why she was here, because when I’d finally crashed down onto the bed, face-first and fully dressed, I’d been alone.

I’d also been stone-cold sober and not overly happy with the fact. But I’d run out of booze the day before and hadn’t had the energy to drag myself out of the house to go buy more.

There’d been a time when I would have just made a call to one of the people who worked in the building, but that no longer worked. Either my father or my brothers had likely bribed them into not helping. Even if I offered several hundred in cash, they’d politely refuse, claiming job guidelines prevented it. Funny, it hadn’t stopped them before. I’d bet my right nut that money from either Dad or Brooks had helped them find their ‘conscience.’

“They do it because they care about you,” Tish said.

Groaning, I rolled onto my back. “If I’m going to dream about you, can’t it at least be fun dreams? You giving me a blow job? Or bent over my lap so I can spank you? That actually sounds fun.” I lifted my head and studied her. “Want to try it?”

“No.” She blushed.

No idea why my subconscious would have her blushing, but it did, the color starting low, below the neckline of the white and black striped shirt she wore—her work uniform—and rising upward. I sat up and considered reaching over to undo the buttons on her shirt, just to see what else my imagination would fill in for me.

“You don’t want sex right now,” she said.

“I always want sex.”

“Liar.” She rolled her eyes. “Half the time, you just want to forget. That’s why you drink so much, why you started doing drugs when you never did much of anything but smoke some pot in college. You’ve seen what it can do to people, and you didn’t want to go down that road. Now you just don’t care.”

“For somebody who doesn’t want sex, I sure as hell spent a lot of time fucking.”

“That’s about forgetting.” She drew her knees up and hooked her arms around them. “But it doesn’t last, does it?”

Even in my dream, the smile felt forced. “I’m good, sweetheart, but even I can’t keep from coming for forever.”

“You’re not fooling me.” She shook her head. “You’re not fooling yourself.”

“I’m dreaming,” I pointed out. “You are nothing more than a figment, so you are me.”

“My point exactly.”

A hard, heavy knock had me jerking awake.

It echoed through the quiet expanse of the condo, and I sat up, looking around.

Since I’d spent the previous day mostly sober and drinking a ton of water to try and stave off the headache that had been teasing me, my head even felt somewhat clear.

Shoving upright, I looked around, confused.

The knock came again.

With a grunt, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked around. I gaped at the time on the clock. Eleven. How the hell did that happen? I never slept more than a few hours at a time anymore, and I’d gone to bed just after two.

“Mr. Downing?”

The muffled voice was proceeded by another knock, this one thunderously loud. Swearing, I got up and looked around, swiping my phone from the nightstand as I passed it. The battery was down to eight percent. A few messages from my family from yesterday—all unanswered—and several calls. One from this morning—Cedric. Nothing else.

And that wasn’t Cedric banging on the door.

Surprisingly clear headed, I didn’t even growl when I opened the door. The man on the other side looked familiar, although I couldn’t place him immediately.

“Mr. Downing.” He smoothed a hand down the lapels of his suit jacket, drawing attention to the name tag affixed on the right.

Davis Litchfield.

Management.

Memory kicked in. He was with the building. He gave me a quick flash of a smile, that salesman smile. I recognized it because I’d flashed that sort of smile myself back when I was still trying to work for my dad and make things happen down in Miami.

He wanted something.

There were fine lines fanning out from his eyes. I didn’t recall seeing those lines the last time I saw him—he had smooth, dark skin and that appearance of youth, although he could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty.

Okay, so he wanted something, and he was stressed.

“What’s the problem, Davis?” I asked, already wishing I’d stayed in bed.

He smoothed his lapels down, and that smile fired up a notch or two more. “Mr. Downing, I’m really sorry about this, and I know it’s going to come as an inconvenience, but an inspection revealed some electrical issues affecting this floor that will have to be repaired immediately for the safety of all tenants.”

“Okay.” I glanced out into the hall, then back behind me. “I guess some crews will need access?”

“It’s a bit more severe than that. There will be ongoing repairs that will be taking place over the next three to four weeks, both in and out of your unit that will be quite…intensive.” He paused, studying me.

“Okay…” Drawing it out, I stared at him. “So, what’s the point here?”

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to leave your condo temporarily.” The pained look on his face might have been comical.

Might have been.

Except the last fucking thing I wanted to do was leave my damn condo.

“What do you mean I have to leave my condo?” I said on a growl. “This is my fucking home.”

Not really. It had felt empty ever since the day Isabel died. Every place I looked, there was a memory. But I had no desire to move my ass to a hotel or something either.

“I’m sorry.” That smile became a little more pained. “But building codes and other issues prevent a tenant from being in the immediate area when certain repairs are made.”

“So you’re clearing the whole building?”

“It just applies to the immediate area being repaired.” He once more smoothed his lapels down, the smile falling from his face. “Sir, I realize this is terribly inconvenient, but it’s a matter of safety, for both you and other tenants of the building.”

My aggravation grew, and once more, I shot a look back at my apartment. “What about my things?”

“I’ve already arranged for a security guard to be on the premises during working hours, although if you have small valuables or cash, I encourage you to take them with you. Everybody who’ll be on the floor has already passed a stringent background check.” He tilted his head to the side. “I take the safety of my tenants quite seriously, I assure you. I’m confident anything you leave will be secure.”

“Are walls coming down? Will they be repairing any damage?”

“Anything damaged will be repaired,” he promised. “Your home will look exactly as it does now.”

“Shit.”

“You’re not getting falling down drunk every night,” Cedric said, eying me as he pushed open the door to the spare bedroom. “And, buddy, I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but you can’t bring drugs into this place.”

I made a pointed effort not to look at him. “I figured as much.”

“I’m not kidding, man.”

His somber tone had me looking over at him, and once I did, he continued. “My career can’t afford that kind of thing, and unlike you, I don’t have the kind of influence behind my family name to make anything shady disappear.”

There weren’t too many friends who would have the balls to say that kind of thing to me—too many people period. But Cedric and I had been friends since the first early months of college, and I didn’t just respect him. He was like another brother to me. I jerked my head in a nod. “I know where you’re coming from. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Okay, then.” He smiled and gestured to the room. “Make yourself at home.”

Despite the words, though, not all of the tension totally faded, and once he was gone, I pondered, again, whether I should consider getting a hotel for the duration.

But immediately, I shoved the idea off. I’d go crazy living out of a suitcase for even a few weeks. I’d give it a few days, and if Cedric still seemed worried, I’d call around about renting out some sort of temporary furnished apartment or something.

The last thing I needed was to put stress on the few friends I had.

You can always go home, a small voice suggested.

I ignored it, dumping one of the two pieces of luggage I’d brought with me. I hadn’t worried about much. A gym bag with workout gear and a suitcase with some clothes, a few pairs of shoes and a picture of Isabel, which I’d wrapped in a shirt and tucked into the zippered compartment along with my toiletries. I didn’t want to look at it every day—or any day, really—but leaving it behind wasn’t an option either.

My phone rang as I dropped down onto the bed next to the bags. I gave it a disinterested look as I picked it up. Dad. I debated for a second before answering. I always felt guilty when I ignored him, though, and I hadn’t talked to him the last two times he called.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Sean! I was thinking about coming by. You up for company? We could order pizza, watch a game.”

Well, at least I had a good excuse not to entertain. “Actually, I’m not home. I’ve got to vacate the premises for a few weeks,” I told him, falling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m staying at Cedric’s for now.”

“Cedric’s?”

The tone in my father’s voice made me smile a little. I couldn’t even see him, and I already knew he was scowling.

“Why the hell not just come home for a few weeks? There’s a lot more room here than at his place.”

“I don’t need room, Dad. I just need a bed…and peace.”

“Not like I’d be hanging out in your room all day.” He grumbled a few seconds, then added, “Cedric doesn’t even have a gym for you to use. You’ll go crazy without a place to work out. You know that.”

I could have mentioned that I was already half crazy as it was but decided against it. “I’ll figure something out.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright. Well…” He hesitated, then added, “I might be going out of town for a little while. I’d wanted to see you, but I imagine you’ve got your hands full, having to leave your condo so suddenly.”

“I am pretty tired.” Shoving the guilt back, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You won’t be gone long, right? We can do dinner or something when you get back.”

The only reason I answered the phone when he called me less than twenty-four hours later was because I still felt guilty over the disappointment in his voice.

Maybe things were strained between us now, but I did love my dad. He was trying to help. I knew that. It wasn’t his fault that I’d gone far beyond help. Still, I answered. Fuck, it was my dad. The man who’d bought me my first basketball and taken me to my first game.

The man whose sad voice still echoed in my ear.

Fuck it all.

“Hello.”

“Sean.”

“Hi, Dad.” I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, a familiar headache already throbbing behind my eyes. Since I’d had to leave the fucking condo to drive over to Cedric’s, I’d hit a liquor store on the way over—and yes, I’d stocked up.

I hadn’t exactly emptied any of the bottles out, but there was no denying I’d had a drink…or few.

“Listen, I need to ask you a favor.”

I stifled a groan. “Ask away, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to help.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I hate it, son, but I really need your help. You see, Briar finally managed to find a girl to help me rebuild my library, but she’s got her set to start here in a few days.” He let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t realize it would be so fast and here I am, set to fly out soon. I don’t much like the idea of somebody being in my house unattended. The girl’s already moved in. Gave up her apartment for the job. I can’t make her leave.” He hesitated, then added, “I really don’t want to put off my trip. I’m flying back to Ireland with Declan to see some old friends. I’ve put it off too long, and I’m getting along in years…”

The words trailed away, and guilt, as it often did, kicked in.

“You want me to come stay at the house?” I offered.

“Yes.” He heaved out a relieved groan. “Sean, it would take a weight off my shoulders if you would.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Although if you could avoid drinking all the good scotch, that would be good.”

“I’ll leave a bottle or two.”

I expected a laugh, but he just sighed, and I had a feeling he was taking me at my word. The sick sense of shame settled in me, and I wanted to reach out, grab the words and yank them back.

“When do you think you can be here?” he asked as I was fumbling for a way to change the subject.

“I…” Had he told me when they were leaving? I didn’t really want to be there with both him and Declan. It was hard to be around them both and see the worry in Dad’s eyes, the frustration that bordered on censure in Declan’s. “I guess I’ll come tomorrow. When are you leaving?”

“The day after. Glad I’ll have a chance to visit with you before we leave, boy. I’ve been missing you.”

A knot filled my throat.

He rushed to fill the silence. “I know, I know. You need time. I went through the same kind of thing when your mum died. I know how hard it can be, how the guilt and grief can choke you. I just want you to know your family is here for you.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ve got to go, okay?” Disconnecting the call without waiting for an answer, I blew out a breath and sank back onto the bed, feeling completely and utterly drained. All from talking to my dad. It was bullshit. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to people.

And it wasn’t just talking to people.

It was the mask I put on. It was exhausting trying to pretend I was even a little okay when I wasn’t. But nobody needed to see the mess I was inside. It was like everything in me was mired in toxic sludge, and there was no hope of cleaning it out.

Dad had said he understood about the guilt?

How the fuck could he?

Mom had been killed because a driver crashed into her.

Isabel had died because she got into my car, and the bomb meant for me took her life instead.

How did it even compare?

“Hey.”

A sharp rap on the door had me looking over as Cedric pushed it open just enough to look inside. “I’m going to order a pizza. Want any?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I went to pull my wallet out. “I’ll get it.”

“No, it’s good.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “What’s wrong?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “My dad just called. He’s flying to Ireland with Declan for a trip, and he wants me to stay at the house. Guess you don’t have to worry about me getting drunk, falling down or otherwise.”

He didn’t say anything for a long while, then finally, he said, “Sean, you could probably do to spend more time with your family anyway, you know. Shutting yourself up like you have is like textbook depression shit.”

I lowered my hand and gave him a baleful look. “I don’t want an armchair analysis.”

“I took enough psych courses to offer a bit more than an armchair anything,” he replied, not thrown by my bullshit. “You’re still in a very dark place, man, and it ain’t good for you. You know that. I’ll call for the pizza. Probably be about an hour.” He rapped his knuckles on the door once more and left me alone.

I was tempted to tell him to shove the pizza up his ass.

But I didn’t.