The car ground to a halt on the gravel driveway of her childhood home. It hadn’t changed at all from the image that lived in her mind. Dale told her he’d painted last month, but her stepfather must have matched the paint because the color looked the same. Dapple-gray with white trim, navy blue shutters and door. Some things were bigger, like the rhododendrons out front, blocking what used to be her bedroom window.

Clean, safe, middle-class. Riddled with secrets and lies. Jillian dared a glance at Ben. Could he see it? That things were never as they seemed? Always boiling underneath the surface, waiting to erupt as soon as there was a crack in your armor.

“You have my cell number, right?” The half smile made her want to stay rooted in the car, with him, where if she wasn’t safe, at least she was happy.

“You’re not coming in? A little much to play meet–the-parents, I guess.” She stayed put, trying to garner her courage to walk through the door. She could do it. She had to. He’d driven all this way so that she could.

“Sure, for a minute. I have a tee time.” He waggled his dark brows and leaned closer. “If you want to back out of this and come with me...”

If only. “I don’t think so. Golf is not my game. Especially after a rainstorm.” Though following him around like a puppy all day seemed so much more fun than what awaited her.

Ben gave a resigned shrug and leaned back in his seat. “What are they like? Anything I should be prepared for?”

“Your typical American family. Mom’s a nurse. Dale’s an English teacher at the high school. Or was. He retired this year. My sisters are...” Jillian searched for the word. Something honest, yet would prepare him. “...entertaining. Their world is here, in this town.”

Ben nodded as if he understood. But he couldn’t. No one could understand Connie and Susie.

“Dale’s kids all got out of town. Like me. Sometimes it feels like I’m more like them than like my own sisters.”

“How long have they been married?” He raised a hand to her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers for a second before pulling away. He liked it curly, but she needed the New York polish to face these people.

“Four years. They got married a few months after my father died. That was the last time I was here.”

“Is that why you went to New York?”

Was it? She’d left in such a mad dash the reasons all rolled together.

“No. I told Dale I would be a writer and live in New York when I was fourteen. I was living here, freelancing whatever I could sell. He’d kept the essay I wrote in freshman English because he thought I’d make it. He reminded me of a time when my dreams were big. I wanted to get back to that girl who believed in dreams, so I went looking for her.”

“Did you find her?” His fingers found the fringe of the scarf she’d used as a belt.

“Not yet, but I got some great clothes.” Jillian reached down to the floor, finding her perfect shoes. She always felt more confident in Manolos.

“They all come off the same way, you know.” Ben’s fingers crept up the scarf to the hem of the low-rise jeans and then the bare skin above.

She wanted there to be no doubt how much weight she’d lost, that she’d finally conquered her addiction. But she didn’t want him to feel her insecurity.

“How would you know? You haven’t taken my clothes off yet.” Concentrating on fastening her shoe, she watched his hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar smile from the corner of her eye.

“Is that a request?” He leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

“Have I mentioned Dale has a shot gun?”

* * *

“Spill. Now, Jilly. I want details.” Susie’s words slapped against the back of Jillian’s head. At least she’d waited until Ben left. Of that she should be grateful.

“There’s nothing to spill. Like I said, Ben owns the resort I’m staying at while I do a piece for the magazine. End of story.” Jillian looked around the living room, nothing out of place. A few new pictures of Dale’s grandkids on the wall, but nothing else had changed.

“Too bad.” Connie shoved another handful of corn chips into her mouth, never noticing the crumbs accumulating on her shirt. “He’s hot.”

“He hasn’t bought you anything? His car says money.” Money was always Susie’s bottom line.

“He bought me lunch the day I arrived. He’s making nice so his resort will look good in the column.” No use telling them about the travel article. They never read anything she wrote anyway.

Though the house was cluttered with cooking magazines, her mother never opened Mine and Ours. Jilly had bought her a subscription the first year her column ran, but not this year. Better to give her a gift she’d actually use.

“Have you heard from Dave?”

“Sonya,” Dale warned her mother as he left the room. Jillian wanted to beg him to stay, not to leave her alone with these people. But he probably needed the break.

“No, but I work with his new girlfriend. They’re vacationing in the Berkshires.” Jillian had set Dave up with the wedding coordinator from her magazine the week after they’d had the conversation that declared their courtship officially over.

He was a great guy, and there weren’t many of them out there. Setting him up with a friend seemed natural. She wasn’t even jealous they were vacationing together already. That spoke volumes to her. She should have ended it with him long before she’d bothered to sleep with him.

She’d just wanted to give it one more shot. At twenty-six, she’d decided enough was enough and stopped protesting when her then-boyfriend wanted to have sex. It was painful, and when she told him to stop he replied it was supposed to hurt your first time. With a beginning like that, Jillian saw no reason to continue.

It wasn’t until Dave that she even considered trying again. On paper, they were perfect together. If she had a job application for her ideal husband, he would easily have been hired. He was gentle and didn’t push. Educated her about positions and lubrication. But still she was left with a feeling of “is that all there is?”

She’d try anything Dave thought of to climax, but the closest she came was closing her eyes and imaging Dave was Ben. Which wasn’t fair to anyone. She could be more aroused by one kiss from Ben than actually making love with someone else.

Her blood heated at the thought of being with Ben. What was it that made it so different? Was it him? Was it the way he spoke to her? His demanding domination, her eager submission? The way their bodies locked together? Or was it bigger than even that?

“Earth to Jillian! Jilly, I asked when you want to eat.” Her mother’s eyes bored through her. “The food is ready when you are.”

Jillian’s heart raced. The idea of eating in this house, the site of so many binges, terrified her. But she could do this, prove to herself she really was better now. She’d been through enough therapy and logged enough support-group time to battle even her mother’s food-pushing.

“Whenever everyone is hungry. What are we having?”

Connie jumped up from the couch, the fastest Jilly had seen her move all day. Susie shook her head and followed behind her to the dining room.

“All your favorites. Macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes and meatloaf. Red velvet cake for dessert.”

“Yeah, Jilly,” Dale said as he came back into the fold. “Your mom made it to match your hair.”

His laugh was warm and friendly. He never meant to tease, but being in this house seemed to bring it out in him. Jillian forced a smile and followed them into the dining room for her test. She’d stayed away from home until she knew she could pass.

“Do you want me to make a salad?” Jillian offered, noting the closest thing to a vegetable on the table was the sour-cream-laden mashed potatoes.

“There’s plenty of food, Jilly. And you need to eat.” Her mother slopped a mound of mashed potatoes on Jillian’s plate.

“I’ll have some, but I eat differently now. Healthier,” Jillian said through gritted teeth. If only this could just be about food. It was about control, and who had it. Jillian had worked too hard to find it to hand it to her mother at the first opportunity.

“Are you anorexic, Jilly?”

No, she did not just go there. Jillian’s heart bounced about her body, thundering between her ears. She was thinner than she’d ever been, sure. But that was mainly to fit into the clothes from the magazine. There was nothing unhealthy about her weight.

“She looks good, Mom. Lay off,” Susie said, filling her plate. “She needs to look good to land a man. And if starving herself turns the head of someone with Ben Cannon’s bank account, it’s not a bad thing.”

Jillian watched the insults volley across the table as she opted for the macaroni and cheese. Was this what her father had seen every day? That explained why he cheated, but not why he stayed, why her mother let him stay.

None of it made sense, even in this place where it was reality. This was not the life she wanted to live anymore. With her mother and sisters abusing each other, and Dale offering jokes to lighten the mood. She’d have to keep her mouth full of food to keep from screaming.

She’d only ever felt like she fit with her father. Like the two of them were sane in a family of crazy people. When the doctors said there was no more they could do for the cancer and he’d come home, Jillian filled out her paperwork for early graduation to be with him. To love him while she could. To protect him from the house.

But it was she who needed protecting then as the truth seeped in. She always thought her father larger than life, and she wanted to find a man just like him to marry and settle down with. Until her father’s girlfriends appeared, one by one, making this claim and that. Her mother ignoring them all as Jillian put together the pieces of a history she though she knew.

She didn’t want that for her life. The settling and bargaining. The weariness that led you to seek excitement elsewhere, but only enough to take the edge off. Never enough to actually make the jump.

And so she’d left. Left her mother to be cared for by Dale, whom she only thought of as her favorite teacher then, and left her sisters to their husband-hunting in town. Left the part of her who stuffed the emotions down with ice cream and cookies.

Jillian lifted another forkful of the creamy macaroni studded with breadcrumbs. Wrapping her lips around the fork, she tasted the bite completely. The tang of cheddar, the smoothness of the noodles, the slide of the butter in the sauce.

Yes, that girl who hid behind food was out of sight, only her memories remaining. In her place was a woman who’d decided to never settle, to take a chance at the big dreams. Even the ones you knew would never work.

* * *

Such bad form. Ben stared down at the display on his cell phone and sighed. It was so rude to play with your phone on, but he wanted to be available in case Jillian needed him. But it wasn’t Jillian who’d called him four times in the last hour.

He made his apologies to the group of men sharing his tee time and trekked off the course. He’d barely cleared the green when it started vibrating again.

“Are you dead? Why aren’t you answering your phone? And why does no one know where the hell you are?” Jay’s voice boomed through the speaker. Ben held it away from his ear. What he lacked in height, Jay made up for in volume.

“This had better be good. I was six under on the eighth hole.”

“You are such a bad liar, Ben.” Jay’s laugh tilted the corners of Ben’s mouth.

“You haven’t played me in a long time.” Ben set his bag on the ground and leaned against a tree, taking in the Newport public course. He was so lucky to have Willy watching his greens. “I get a round in every morning. You’ll see when you get back.”

Silence hung on the line for a while. Ben refused to break it. Jay had called, and before he got away they’d talk about it.

“I think you sent Dad your Nitrous clubs. The things are made for a Sasquatch. You think you could send ones for normal people?”

“What good would those do you?” Ben grinned. Jay sounded fine, better. Why couldn’t he just sack up and come home?

“Very funny, freak. What’s it like not to be able to try on shoes? I’m normal, you’re a mutant. That’s why you can’t play golf.”

“So that’s why you’re hiding down in Arizona.” Jay could be as slippery as an eel. Ben was not about to let him avoid the topic. If he didn’t want to come home, Ben wanted to know exactly why. Then he could remove the obstacle, and Jay could return. “You’re afraid to play me. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Bring it, baby brother. You haven’t gone under me since you were eight and I had a broken arm.”

“I’ll make a tee time. When will you be here?”

“You should come down here. Or are you afraid to face me?”

He was one to talk about being afraid to face someone. “Angela’s not handling it well, Jay.” The line went silent. “Jay?”

“Lolita can take care of herself.” Jay had called Angela Lolita since she’d set her sights on him in junior high. Even though he was ten years her senior, he never stood a chance.

“She doesn’t seem to be. She keeps crying.”

“Lolita doesn’t cry. You’re a terrible liar. Really, you need to work on it.” Ben heard the crack and fizz of a can opening. It had better be soda. He wasn’t putting out all that money for Jay to clean up just to have the jerk pour it down the drain.

“If you don’t believe me come up and see for yourself. It’s so out of character that I worry. She can’t talk to me without begging and crying. It isn’t fair to me, to her. Just call her. You owe her some kind of explanation.”

“I can’t talk to her. I can’t. If I come back she won’t move on. And she needs to. She’s wasted enough of her life on me.”

“Then tell her that. Be a grown-ass man, tell her you don’t want to be with her. Come home, live in your house, drive your car, do your job. Stop running from your life.”

“You don’t get it. If I come back, I’ll drag her back down. This is the best thing I can do for her.” Ben heard gulping. He rummaged through his own bag and pulled out a bottle of water. He drank it, trying to think of a way to slap some sense into his brother over the phone. Jay was so much easier to deal with when you could shove him.

“You’re full of shit, you know that. You’re scared of Cross. It’s bad enough you started using again because you couldn’t deal with him, but you’re still going to give him power over your life? Cannon Meadows is yours, it’s in your blood and you’re going to keep away because some pompous ass gets under your skin?”

“I’m not scared of him. Cross has a point. I bring her down.”

“You keep her from crying.” Ben chucked the empty bottle at his bag and missed. “Whatever. This isn’t about Angela, it’s about you. You can’t hide from who you are. Meadows is who we are.”

“Not anymore. You bought my shares, remember? I have no ties, no reason to come back. I’m free as a bird right now.”

“I bought your shares from the bank because you used them as collateral and then stopped paying your bills. Which was a stupid move. Cross could just have easily swiped them up. If Aunt Lois didn’t work at the bank, he might have. And you have a house to deal with. A truck, a bike. A whole life.”

“You’ll get rid of it. I can’t be trusted around her, Ben. I’ll always be an addict, no matter what I do. She shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“As long as you’re not using, I don’t understand what your problem is. Cross doesn’t think you’re good enough for his daughter. No father ever does. And you haven’t given him much to work with over the years. It’s all excuses, no reasons. Just sack up and get your ass home and back to work. I’m tired of listening to it, from both you and Angela. If you’re here, she can cry to you and leave me be.”

“Don’t try to guilt me, Ben. Lolita doesn’t cry.”

“In the middle of Crosslands bar last night, Jay. People were everywhere and she lost it.”

“What the hell did you say to her?” As if this were something he’d done. Ben rolled his eyes.

“That you didn’t want to talk to her.” As if he could possibly hurt Angela worse than Jay. As if anyone could.

“Did you tell her why? Did you explain?” Jay’s voice got higher, nasal, whining. No way was Ben putting up with this shit. He had enough to deal with.

“You want it done right, do it yourself.” He shouldered the bag and stomped off the course, still holding the phone to his ear even though neither of them spoke until he’d hit the parking lot.

“What were you doing at her bar?” Jay’s light, teasing tone was back. Ben fought the urge to pretend he’d hung up long ago. What kind of example would that set?

“There’s a writer doing a piece on dating at golf courses.” The truth and nothing but the truth.

“Lolita’s on top of that. She even plays matchmaker with the tee times. Why were you there? Looking for love?”

“Not hardly.” Ben recalled the slime ball ogling Jillian at the bar. He shoved his clubs in the trunk and slammed it closed with all the force he could muster, wishing it were that creep’s head. “The writer’s staying at Meadows Lodge.”

“So, you had to hold his hand? Angela’s not going to make us look bad. No matter what’s going down with us personally, she’s a professional.” The jerk sounded proud. What an idiot.

“She wasn’t very professional last night. She started crying right in front of Jillian. She doesn’t seem to care that Jillian’s writing an article about the courses. Instead, she aired your dirty laundry right in front of her.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“She did, Jay. She’s not acting like herself. Pick up a phone and talk to her.”

“So this writer is a woman? Is she hot? Why are you following her around? Worrying what she thinks? You got a hard-on for her?”

“Damn, Jay. It’s good you were only responsible for the pro shop. You have no tact.” He opened the driver’s door and sat on the seat with his legs outside the door. His shoes were a wreck, wet and sloshed with mud.

“I’m onto something. I was kidding before. So, she’s hot?”

“Yeah.” No point denying it. Ben pulled off his shoes and socks, reaching behind the seat for the clean pair he’d brought. “She’s great, except I have no idea what she’s doing here.”

“I thought she’s writing an article about Lo’s golf course matchmaking.” Of course Jay would make Jillian’s column all about Angela.

“Remember my sophomore year when I was infatuated with the mystery girl? The one who disappeared after we kissed?”

“Vaguely.”

Ben grabbed his shoes from the backseat and laughed out loud. Inside one of the sneakers was her shoe. Tucked almost completely inside the mouth of his sneaker.

“Why are you laughing?”

“That’s who she is. She’s that girl.”

“The one who kissed you and vanished? I thought you said she was a figment of your imagination.”

“No, she’s real.” Though still as elusive as ever.

“So what’s going on? Did she know it was you before she came out?”

“I think so.” Ben pulled on the shoes, wishing he’d remembered a pair of socks.

“What do you mean you think so? Mr. Direct hasn’t asked?” Jay’s voice altered to an adolescent whine. “Sack up, brother. Be a man. Stop running from your life.”

“Glad to hear you were listening.” Ben slammed the door and started the engine, setting the cell to speaker as he buckled his seatbelt.

“So you found her. Or she found you. Now what?”

He had absolutely no idea. “Why don’t you get your scaredy ass home and find out.”