Now

Evan

“YOU KNOW HE CAN do more than surveillance. He’s good at what he does,” Ry says with a sigh.

Disappointment and doubt about my choices lace his tone and posture. I’m getting sick of this. I don’t know why he finds it hard to let me test Coop, to come to my own conclusions as to his competence.

Surveillance seems like a no-brainer, but it’s not always, and Ry knows that. Sometimes the most important piece of the puzzle is revealed during a stakeout. It can break a job wide open and change things significantly. Besides, I’ve got Coop on what I consider to be the most important assignment: my sister.

“I thought we agreed that I’d assign Coop his jobs?” My question is rhetorical.

“Fine. How’s he doing with watching Mari’s wife? And Anna?” His tone is tight and displeased.

“Good. We’re planning a face-to-face with Mrs. Mari. As for Coop, I’m still determining what his best skills are and what kind of jobs he should be on.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Speaking of agreeing to things, you need to agree to leaving Carys alone.”

“What?”

“I saw you two last week at Ma’s party. You need to back off, give her space.”

“Why? What do you mean? We only talked for like five minutes the entire night.” I grit my teeth, annoyed with his meddling. Not that I’d planned to, but now I’m not sharing that we kissed.

Chuckling, he hits me with his don’t bullshit a bullshitter look. “That may be, but you never left her alone. By the end of the night, she was a jittery mess, and that’s not Carys. She’s feeling the pressure. She’s got Greg, and Van, while I want nothing more than for you two to be friends, at the very least, you need to give her space.”

Running my hands through my hair, I clasp my fingers behind my neck and let out a long, frustrated breath. I’m trying, but I don’t know if I can be patient. I’ve got lots to say to her and know we can’t move on until I do. As for Greg, he’s insignificant.

“I can’t.” My tone is harsh and unyielding.

“Now you’re just being stubborn and reckless. You care about her—fuck, you love her, so let her figure shit out. In the meantime, leave her be.”

“Well, you ought to know,” I fire back, referencing how he met Tate. Their union was loaded with problems and danger, but that didn’t stop him. “I thought I’d take a page from my brother’s book.”

“You don’t need to be a dick. Just watch your step with her. She’s strong, but she’s also dealing with a lot of shit and I don’t want you…” He averts his eyes from me.

“To break her again?” I finish for him.

“No,” he grinds out. “No one breaks Carys Wolfe. Yeah, you sure as shit hurt her and you need to fix it, but you didn’t break her. In fact, I think you coming back may have helped her. It gave her answers and put to rest her incessant worrying about you. But she’s upset, and she may never forgive you or take you back. You need to fix things between the two of you on her timetable, not yours.”

I hear him loud and clear, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. I’m the one who’s been in the know all along. It’s been hard, and I’ve had my moments of wanting to turn my life upside down for the wrong choices I made, but she’s not been that lucky. She just found out why I left. She needs time to process.

Kissing her probably didn’t help. I’m a fucking selfish bastard. I want to give her space, but I also want her. I’ve spent a big chunk of my life waiting. Sure, it was my own doing, but now, not having her makes me realize all that time I wanted her to experience life, I was a fool. I want all her firsts and lasts to be mine.

“Listen to Ry.” Tripp saunters into my office. “Leave Carys alone. Let her come to you.”

Tripp and I haven’t spent a lot of time together since I’ve been back. He’s still FBI, but like Ry and Coop, he’s finishing his last assignment, then he’s out. He wants to join HC. He hasn’t asked me, though; he’s only spoken to Ry. I’m not going to be a dick about it, but he needs to ask me. It’s not a done deal until he does.

While Ry and I have always had a stronger, unspoken bond, Tripp’s no less my brother. I want to patch things up with him. I told him about my disappearance. He knows as much as Ry, who readily understood, even though he didn’t like my choices, and forgave me—or actually, he said there was nothing to forgive.

On the other hand, Tripp has yet to say anything. He listened and left. That was weeks ago, and now he stands in my office, telling me to leave Carys alone. Trying to keep my irritation in check, I inhale and glance back at my laptop.

“Whatever, man,” I say.

Tripp laughs, taking a seat across the desk from me. “Hey, Ry, give us a minute?”

“Sure thing. You two play nice,” he orders, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “I’m out of here. Tate wants me home for dinner with her brother. Later, dudes.”

“What’s up, Tripp?” I keep my gaze on the screen as I type an email.

“How’s it going with Mari?”

While he doesn’t officially work for HC, I brought him in on the letter and everything else. Despite how tense things are right now, he’s like a brother, and I trust him.

“Fine.”

“Van, I get it.” His tone is warmer, friendlier, and I briefly glance at him. “You made a mistake in the way you handled it, but I get it.”

The look in his eyes, the empathy is reminiscent of the boy I used to know years ago, long before Griff was taken from us.

Finally leaving my task behind, I lift my head and our gazes lock. His hurt, anger, and disappointment, likely in himself, cloud his blue eyes.

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

“I get how our fucked-up fathers are wreaking havoc on us, and especially for you, since having discovered the truth after your father was dead. I can’t imagine how that feels, but I’m sure Ry and Ma have told you that what your father did is not on you. You must believe that, Van. You are not your father.”

My chest tightens. The old Tripp is in front of me, the one who easily told you like it was and wasn’t against showing vulnerability. He’s had a lot thrown at him and has reason for his hardening, but it’s good to see he’s still in there.

His mother died in his first year of college and his father just up and left mentally, turning to the bottle and forgetting about his sons. Like Ma did for me, she took Griff and him in and insisted he continue with college. She’s the glue that kept us together when our lives were unraveling. She still is.

Then Griffin disappeared, only to have his body found not too long after. Losing his brother erased the easygoing, fun-loving side of him. Now he’s brooding and intense, with no desire to let anybody in.

“As for Carys, give her time.”

I’m not a fan of his advice. I’m already exhausted from waiting.

§

Carys

DUMPING THE TAKEOUT CARTON in the garbage, I pat my full belly and wonder at how I somehow managed to snarf an entire order of pho from my favorite Vietnamese place. Usually it’s enough for two meals. Food’s obviously my way of dealing with my anxiety. Great—at this rate, I’ll need to buy bigger clothes.

I’m heading for the shower, but then a knock at the door has me going in that direction. As I gaze through the peephole, my breath catches and my heart leaps into my throat. It’s Evan.

“What are you doing here?” is my harsh and abrupt greeting.

“Hey Sweetness, I’d love to come in,” he says sarcastically and nudges me back into my place, shutting the door behind him.

With barely a glance around, he saunters toward the kitchen. How does he know where he’s going?

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. He’s been here before. While it’s not possible because I got this place after he left, there’s an unnerving familiarity in his demeanor.

“Evan, what do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“I still need time,” I say.

“Hear me out.”

Perching on a bar stool, I drink in his sexy frame in his well-fitted black jeans and tight white shirt. He makes himself at home and leans against the counter, running a hand through his hair. It’s now longer and curlier, begging to be pulled, and his faint dusting of stubble and sly grin only add to his allure.

“I went to the bar and they told me it was your night off, and I took a guess you’d be here.”

“A guess?” I snort — not likely. Evan doesn’t guess at anything, he knows. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Listen, we left things unsaid the other night.” His tone is loaded.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry for not…”

His eyes fix behind me and I turn in that direction, only to see my neighbor, Tom, staring at us through the window while eating what looks like a peanut butter sandwich. Tom looks to be about my age, and for the most part he’s harmless, but creepy. Unfortunately, the way these places are designed and given the fact that space is not in abundance in New York, our buildings are very close together.

Most times, it feels like we practically live in each other’s places, so much so that I could draw Tom’s Pearl Jam 2005 Atlantic City Concert poster that’s plastered on his wall from memory.

Twisting back to Evan, I’m puzzled why Tom would be a distraction or concern for him, but he obviously is. Sure, like his name implies, he’s a peeping Tom, but why Evan is fixated on him confuses me.

“Why don’t you have a blind for that window?” His tone is taut like a tightrope.

“Um, I’ve never gotten around to it.”

“You’ve been in this place for…” He pauses, eyes still on my neighbor. I’m surprised Tom is still standing there. “Next month will be two years. Why the hell haven’t you put something up to shut out that pervert?”

He’s disturbed by his peeping, and at first I was too, but now I just don’t come into the kitchen without being properly dressed. What I’m stuck on is how Evan knows my lease will be two years next month. How on earth would he know that, unless… Like all the other things, it confirms that I’ve been under surveillance.

“Have you had someone watching me?” My anger’s barely under control.

“What?”

“How do you know when my lease will be up?”

He winces slightly, straightening to his full height with an intent stare. “I’ll get to that,” he says, stonewalling.

“Answer the question,” I insist.

I could be reasonable and wait, but I don’t want to. I want answers, and while he might eventually give them to me, I don’t want to be sidetracked or get this information on his terms. I want my answers now.

“Sweetness, let me start—”

“Evan, tell me now or get out.” I begin to rise from the chair when he steps toward me.

The counter separates us, but his hand rests on mine, stilling my movement. Looking down at our joined hands, I notice the small tremble in my fingers and a tumble of nerves marches through my body. I’m anxious for his response but also dreading it, because I’m pretty sure of what he’ll say, and I’m not going to like it.

“Yes, I did have someone watching you when I couldn’t.”

“When you couldn’t? What does that mean?” I push, although it’s obvious. He was in the city all this time, two plus two equals four.

“I wasn’t always able to watch you, so I had…”

I jump off the stool and it crashes to the floor behind me, while he swiftly rounds the counter, his fingers latching onto my elbows. Protectively, my arms cross my chest.

“It’s bad enough that you were in the city the whole time, but you were also watching me!” I gulp down the ball of anger growing and twisting in my throat.

“Let me explain.”

“You were watching me, and meanwhile I thought you’d left me? Seriously, Evan, what the hell?”

His being in the city is not news, yet in this moment, I now fully grasp what it means. My eyes narrow into slits, daggers pointed at him.

He hauls me flush against him and one hand squeezes the back of my neck as he bends his head, and without asking permission, fastens his mouth to mine.

The moment his tongue breeches the seam of my lips, there’s no turning back. His kiss is as harsh, extreme, and feral as my emotions for him. My anger, desire, and despair burst from my lips, teeth, and mouth with an intensity I don’t expect. It’s molten lava erupting from a roaring volcano, an explosion of a kiss.

My hand seizes his shirt, coiling the cotton with desperation. The fingernails of my other hand dig into his muscular forearm, clinging to him like my life depends on it.

He grabs my face in his hands, his rough fingers skimming along my cheeks as his mouth deepens our kiss, possessive and assertive. I moan into his mouth, rubbing my hips against him, the lust building at the apex of my thighs.

We’ve already started this mesmerizing, addictive dance. It started the day he stepped back into my life. Even while I fought to stop or silence the music, the beat has a life of its own. It’s out of my control, and as much as we shouldn’t give in to the rhythm, I don’t want the music to stop.

His kiss is now wanton and erotic. He pushes his thigh in between mine, his hands fiercely holding my face, his hard body pressing into mine. His tongue is sharp, fierce, and unforgiving in a way that owns me and leaves me wanting more.

My heart hammers wildly against my breastbone, thundering throughout my body, straight to my core. That damn music, the hypnotic drumbeat lures me to the point of no return.

His gravelly growl into my mouth causes my sex to clench and has me wet. His fingers burrow into my ass cheeks as his big, throbbing erection grinds against me. I want him, need him, inside of me—now.

As my hand goes for his belt, a glimmer of sanity cuts through my lust. Greg. Fuck, I can’t do this. It doesn’t matter that I still love Evan and know with time I can move past this. It doesn’t matter that Greg and I are over. I’m not a cheater. I can’t do this, not even with Evan.

Painfully, I shove him away. At first, he’s having none of it, as his teeth nip at my mouth and his hands fist my hair. He roars as I aggressively push him back, taking three steps away from him.

Opening his eyes, he immediately meets my stare and groans in frustration. His hands curl into fists at his sides and he grinds his jaw, his brows creasing as his eyes strip me bare.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take in a jagged breath and will my body to cool down.

“Sweetness, I want you.” His voice is gruff.

“Evan, you have to leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“Stop playing hard to get.”

My head snaps up and I glare at him. “What did you say?” I have no doubt I heard him correctly. He steps toward me. “You didn’t just say what I think you did, did you?” I threaten, taken aback by this Evan.

This Evan who is pushing me, has no regard for what I want, is intent on having me. I’m not scared of him, not in the real sense of fear. Rather, I’m scared of him kissing me again because he knows me.

He knows that’s all it would take for me to give in, to forget about these years apart, forget about Greg, and forget about why I’m upset with him. He knows it—it’s clear as day in his eyes.

“You heard me,” he taunts, his sexy grin all for me.

“Since when did you become an asshole?” I seethe. “I’m not playing hard to get. It’s not my style. I’ve never played hard to get with you, ever, and you know it. You left me. You keep forgetting that little but hugely significant tidbit,” I say. “I would have waited for you forever.”

“But you didn’t.” His tone is flat and cold.

My eyes widen and heat rises from my chest up my neck, flaming as I look at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You didn’t, though. You moved on. You’re with Greg.”

His eyes are impassive, his shoulders deflate, and he shifts his gaze away in defeat. My heart stammers and my stomach knots as I marvel at how the hell this got turned around and why I now feel like I did something wrong.

Before I can say anything further, the click of the front door opening snaps both our heads in that direction. Greg. He’s the only person it could be.

“Carys?” Greg calls out.

“In here,” I answer, my gut clenching as the taste of Evan sours in my mouth.

The sound of Greg’s footfalls increases as he nears, and he visibly stiffens when he enters the kitchen. Frowning, his brows crease and his eyes flit back and forth between us.

“What’s he doing here?” His tone is hard.

Great, just what I need. “He was just leaving. Evan, goodbye,” I say. “I’ll walk you out.”

Evan gives Greg a brief but pointed stare on his way to the door. As I pass the hallway mirror, I do a double take. My eyes are vibrant, shining, and my lips are swollen, stained red from our kisses. Shit. Greg will know. There’s no way he won’t guess, especially with my hair a mess and my cheeks flushed.

Evan steps into the hallway and turns to face me. Before he can say a word, I give him a quick smile and shut the door on him. It’s time to face the music.