Now

Carys

MUSIC’S BLARING WHEN I arrive home. Dammit—Greg’s here. It’s my place that I rent a few blocks from the bar. I could live at home with Ma, above the bar, but I need my own space.

I used to live with Evan in his beautiful townhouse. When he left, he gave it to me, but I didn’t want it. There were too many memories, and it also felt all kinds of wrong.

Even so, I was stuck with it because I had no way to give it back. He was gone. Feeling obligated to take care of it, I rented it out for two years, but as we entered the third year of his disappearance, I couldn’t keep it up. Having to go there and maintain the place was like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Each visit picked at the scab, tearing away at my fortitude and opening me up to all the love and disappointment. So, I locked it up. I still pay the few bills that come in with the money he left, but it just sits there, fading away… kind of like our love did, like we did.

Greg, my boyfriend of under a year, owns a place in Brooklyn but has a key to my place. Lately, he’s been crashing here a lot. He wants to move in. Actually, he’d prefer I move to Brooklyn, but that’s not going to happen.

I’ve been trying to end our relationship. No matter how many times I’ve said it isn’t working, he doesn’t leave. I’ll admit, I’ve been a coward, not wanting to deal with how ugly this could get, if I put my foot down. Instead, I’ve been burying my head in the sand and coasting.

“Hey, babe.” Greg enters the room as I collapse on the couch; he kisses my forehead before sitting beside me. “I thought you were working tonight.”

I’m surprised he’s here. Being a lawyer and the new guy at the firm, he logs crazy hours. Usually, if he’s staying at my place, an early night for him is eleven o’clock.

“Hey.” I lean my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes. It’s not his fault, but I can’t look at him. “I was, but I have a headache.”

It’s a lie, but I can’t tell him what happened, that my ache is much bigger and irreparable. He knows about Evan, all of it gathered from my best friend, Lauren, and my family, because I refuse to talk about him. Without me saying a word, he knows Evan was the love of my life and he left me.

“Did anything exciting happen tonight?” His eyes search mine expectantly, almost as if he knows, but there’s no way that’s possible.

“Nope.”

I can’t tell him Evan’s back. I can’t tell him that I came alive tonight for the first time in years because the man who took my heart with him is back.

He kisses my temple and begins to massage my scalp. “Let me see if I can help.”

My stomach churns at his considerate gesture. I don’t deserve this. Greg’s a good guy, not only because he does things like this, tries to ease my nonexistent headache, but because he’s kind and patient, even though he knows I’m not all in.

We met at a party and by the end of the night, he’d asked me out. I said yes, although my inclination was to decline. I was determined to get over Evan, and every attempt until that point had failed miserably.

From our first date, I was honest. I didn’t give details, but told him I was not ready for a relationship. It’s like I never said anything because from day one, he’s been fully invested. I tried to end things as early as three months into our relationship and as recently as two months ago, but he resists. He tells me it’s okay, no pressure. He’ll wait, I’m worth it.

I’m a shit.

“Mmm, that feels good, but you don’t have to. I’m going to take a hot shower and go to bed. Why aren’t you working?”

“I was, and I’ve got to go back. I came by to pick up my dry cleaning because I’m running low on clean suits at the office, and I got sidetracked by your pad thai.”

Opening my eyes, I smile. He has a weakness for my pad thai. His brown eyes are warm, as they always are when directed at me, and his dirty blond hair is in disarray. He has this cute but incessant habit of running his hands through his hair, which usually means he has perpetual bedhead.

“Good, it was for you.” I pat his knee as I stand.

Grabbing me around the waist, he pulls me into his lap. With his hands on me, I instantly and regretfully compare the charged way I reacted to Evan earlier to the absence of that sensation now. Greg’s touch is comforting, not electric.

He places his lips on me, kissing as his hands roam my body. At first, I try to silence my inner turmoil at how I can’t do this right now. I try to be in the moment, be with him, but it feels wrong. It feels like I’ve cheated on him, even though I haven’t.

My body and heart are true and loyal to Evan Hart. Despite my anger and pain, I still want him. I have no intention of acting on it, ever, but I need time to adjust to his return.

Pulling away, I give the lamest but age-old excuse: “Babe, I’ve got a headache.”

“Sorry. Yeah, I should get back to work. If we get started, I’m not going to want to leave.” Smiling, he stands and gently kisses my forehead. “Get some rest and I hope you feel better tomorrow. I’ll be back later, but I’ll probably be gone again before you wake up.”

“Okay. Don’t stay too late,” I say, although that’s exactly what he’ll do.

After my shower, I crawl into bed at barely eight o’clock in the evening. I need this day to be over. With the curtains open, I curl on my side and stare out the window, not fixed on or thinking of anything in particular. My vision blurs as I shut out my competing emotions. Only when a tear slides off the tip of my nose am I forced to face my conflict.

They’re tears of joy and sorrow. I’m thrilled that he’s alive, back and safe, but I’m also desolate because he’s unattainable. As I wipe my tears, the cold, harsh truth fires a shiver through me. It’s something I’m just going to have to live with but never act on. From my heart’s first beat, it’s belonged to Evan Hart, and as time has passed, the beat has only gotten stronger, deeper, louder.

When he went away, I struggled to exist, to breathe. Today, his presence awakened me with my blood rocketing through my veins and my insides uncomfortably heating. My love for him is as strong as ever, as limitless as the sky, but I swear, I’m going to remain firmly planted on the ground.

§

Evan

DINNER WITH MA WAS great. I’d finally come home, and the woman loved me like her own. She only reinforced that tonight when she told me she never gave up on me. No matter how little I told her, she didn’t press for information or details I wasn’t prepared to give. She was satisfied and focused on me being back, not what had happened.

I was prepared to talk about Carys, to explain why I’d left her daughter, but she didn’t bring it up. I’m no fool—she’ll ask eventually—but for now, she was content with having me home.

There were a few questions that edged into the no-go zone, and I did my best to dodge them without lying. I had to figure out how to tell them the truth, even though I was still grappling with what I’d learned about my father.

He was my idol. I could have forgiven his shortcomings, even those some might consider unforgivable. Except, he was a cheater. Destroying my image of him as a faithful, loving husband, and father was unforgivable.

The anxiety of whether she would ask, and the shame of what had happened, began to sicken me. Unable to calm my riotous insides, riddled with guilt, I left. I will tell her the truth, and soon, but I didn’t want to ruin our reunion with the dirty truth.

§

I sense him the minute I leave The Waters, the bar his mother and sister own. The place is named after Thomas Moore’s The Meeting of the Waters; like the sentiment of the poem, it’s meant to be a place of love and friendship.

While my parents owned half of the bar, I gave it to Carys years ago. Running the bar was always her dream. She wanted to follow in her dad’s footsteps. Besides, she’s the one with the business degree, and she’s done a great job at bringing the old Irish bar into the twenty-first century.

He’s still on me and I wonder if I should just confront him right now? But I’m not ready to face him. In my rush to see Carys, I didn’t think about how I’d explain where I’d been and what I’d been doing.

Originally, I wanted to give them enough of the story to buy time—time for them to get over how I’d left, and to once again accept me as part of their lives.

But I hadn’t determined how best to keep the ugly truth a secret for a bit longer without lying to them, and now he’s on my heels. I had every intention of going to him next, but fuck, on my terms.

As I enter my small apartment, he pushes on my back and barrels in after me.

“Van.” His voice deep and hard.

I turn and see Rylan Wolfe, my best friend and Carys’s brother, standing before me. Damn, it’s fucking good to see him in the flesh. I’ve missed him, but I’m not sure if the feeling is mutual.

In addition to relief, there’s anger—or is it hatred swimming in his blue eyes? It’s a jab to the chest. I never expected all hugs and laughs, but seeing his fury at me is hard to take. I can’t fault him. I not only left Ma and Carys, I also left him. He’s as pissed as his sister.

And fuckin’ Dex. He stands beside Ry, the two of them intent on raining hell down on me. I can’t say I blame them, although I’d like to dish out my own shit on Dex right now. This is what I get for not trusting my gut.

Dex found me earlier today and I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t see him coming; that was on me. I was sloppy and took my eye off the ball, so consumed with what I’d learned when tracking Greg that I let my only weakness, Carys, blind me for a second, and that was all he needed.

I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that I was deliberately careless. I went the better part of two and a half years undetected, and today of all days, Dex spots me on the fucking streets of Manhattan, and in his neighborhood, no less.

While getting ready to come out of hiding, it’s as if I let things slide. I let myself get spotted.

When Dex confronted me, he explained that they’d been searching for me for years. This wasn’t news to me. While all my time undercover had been in hiding, I’d spent half of it covering my tracks, checking over my shoulder. I had not only the best men—my men—looking for me, I also had Ry and Tripp. I couldn’t fucking rest.

Fortunately, they overlooked what I’d counted on them dismissing: their own back yard. I was right under their fucking noses. The best hiding place is in plain sight.

While they traveled far and wide in search of me, I was in the city the whole time. I wasn’t proud or smug about how hard I made it to find me. I was deliberate in keeping them at a distance and out of harm’s way. It had to be that way.

The biggest problem of being in New York City, being so close to them, was that I lived a hell I never knew existed. I paid for the sins of another, while I watched my girl mourn me, hate me, and move on.

The heaviness in my stomach intensifies as my guilt gets the better of me—guilt for pulling the wool over on my men and my family, and for hurting the only people who love me, no matter what.

When Dex and I talked, I made him promise not to tell anyone and told him I’d explain everything soon, told him I’d be coming out of hiding and he’d have his answers, if he could just give me more time. He agreed. I should have known he was lying.

I suppose he felt betrayed, and because of that, had no qualms about breaking our code and going straight to Ry. Now they’re on my doorstep, expecting answers I’m not prepared to give. Worst of all, Sweetness—the one reason I came back—is not only angry at me, she’s planning the future we were supposed to have with someone else.

“Ry. Come in. Dex, thanks for keeping your word.” I can’t resist the dig, and at least he has the decency to hang his head.

The three of us form a loose circle in the small space, with their tight faces and tense postures clearly stating their expectations.

Looking from one to the other, I clear my throat as I prepare my mea culpa. “I’m sorry. I was days away from approaching both of you.”

Ry growls, pulling at his hair, as his eyes stab me with irritation. “I don’t give a fuck what you were going to do. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I waited for you to call me, to explain, to make me understand why you willingly hurt my sister and gave us no rhyme or reason for your fucking disappearance.”

“Van, what the fuck?” Dex asks.

Ry turns to Dex, still clearly agitated. “Dex, I appreciate you calling me, but give us time alone.”

Dex’s torn between staying, because he, too, has a right, or leaving. I get it; I owe him an explanation. He’s my man. We went through two tours together and shit no man would ever speak of, and he joined my crew when I created Hart Corporation. I owe him a lot, but Ry is another kind of brother and I owe him another kind of explanation.

“Sure.” He nods before turning to me. “Van, we’re fucking talking tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, he leaves.