I buckled my seatbelt and leaned back into the plush leather seat of Jacob's luxury sedan. Shouts echoed behind me.

Riley and Jacob.

Jacob got in the car, slamming his door, and started the engine. We drove through the gates in silence, me wiping tears from my cheeks and Jacob sneaking glances at me.

Finally, he said, “What did you do to your hands?"

I uncurled my fingers and studied my palms, smeared with blood; neat red half-moons cut into my skin.

Jacob took a quick look and let out a breath. "I didn't think you still did that," he said.

"I haven't in years. Not like this." I curled my fingers back into fists. It wasn't as bad as it looked. My fingernails weren't long or sharp enough to do any real damage.

"You always hated crying in front of an audience," Jacob said quietly. "You and Charlie both. So strong when you shouldn't have had to be."

"I didn't do so hot with that today," I muttered. I'd completely lost it in front of everyone, crying and screaming. I’d been out of control.

Jacob stopped at the end of the long drive and flicked on his blinker. His silver eyes, usually so cool, were warm with emotion as he looked at me. "You had a right to lose it." He opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it and shook his head.

"You didn't know?" I asked, tentatively. I wasn't sure I wanted the answer. Riley, Aiden, the Sinclairs—that was all the betrayal I could take.

"No," Jacob said in a flat, hard voice. "I had no idea."

He turned onto the main road and drove through Buckhead. The bright spring sunshine dappled the road, lighting the trees a brilliant green. We could've been in the middle of the country, but in a mile or two we’d turn out onto a busy city street.

Jacob's building, which he'd named Winters House as a poke at Aiden, was only a few miles away. A historic hotel, he’d converted it to a mixed-use development with retail on street level, a few floors of offices, and the rest very high-end condos.

Jacob lived in the penthouse, his real estate company was on the fifth floor, and Holden and Tate’s gaming company, WGC, was on the fourth. Holden and Tate, my younger cousin and brother, shared the tenth floor, each of them in one of the building’s expansive residences. Jacob’s building was home away from home for the Winters family.

Jacob said again, “I had no idea. I didn't think he should let you live on campus, but with Vance and I both there it was hard to make a case for forcing you to stay home. You hadn't gotten any flowers or gifts in a while. Things were quiet. I was surprised Aiden gave in so easily, but it didn't occur to me to wonder why." The side of his mouth curved in a half smile and he admitted, "I was a junior in college, Lise. I had my head on school and girls."

"Not your younger cousin," I said.

"Exactly. Vance and I were both distracted. We should've paid more attention. I'm sorry—"

"Jacob, no. That was the whole reason I wanted to live on campus. I was tired of everyone worrying about me. Feeling like they had to. I wanted to live a normal life."

I slumped to the side of my seat, letting my head rest against the cool window of the car. Living a normal life hadn't worked out very well. A hot tear trickled down my cheek. I scrubbed it away in frustration. I hated crying.

No, it wasn't the crying I hated. Crying was fine. Sometimes it even felt good. A release. What I hated was the pain. The wrenching sense of loss. I was sick with it, my heart aching and my stomach rolling.

My phone rang in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen. Riley. I pressed my thumb to the power button on the side and swiped the phone off. I had nothing to say. Not to any of them.

A thought occurred to me, and I sat up, looking over at Jacob. "Did we leave Abigail?"

Jacob’s lips curved into the warm, sweet smile he reserved for his fiancée. "Kind of. She's getting our things together. Someone will give her a ride home when she's ready. I didn't want to wait."

Neither had I. "Thank you," I said.

"You can stay with us as long as you want," he said. "Security at my place is pretty good.”

"I don't want to be in the way."

“Lise, you could never be in the way. Stay as long as you want. Do you want me to have Flynn barred from the building?"

"Yes," I said, without hesitation. The thought of facing Riley again left me queasy and fighting off the prickle of tears.

"Consider it done." Jacob pulled the sedan into the underground garage and parked in his reserved spot just in front of the elevators. He ushered me into the building, the elevator gliding up fast and smooth to the penthouse.

I'd always loved Jacob's penthouse. Where Winters House had a Mediterranean influence, Jacob's penthouse was old world Europe. Creamy walls, oil paintings, gleaming hardwoods, and antiques. He led me down the hall to their guest room, giving me a gentle shove in the direction of the bathroom.

"Get your hands cleaned up and wash your face. I'll make coffee and get some food together. You missed breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Eat anyway. You already feel like shit, being hungry will only make it worse."

I shook my head but did as he'd ordered, washing my hands and patting them dry. The tiny cuts in my palms had stopped bleeding during the short drive. My face, on the other hand, was a mess, my eyes swollen, cheeks blotchy and red.

I was drying my hands when I heard voices, Abigail's smooth, modulated tones and Charlie, agitated and talking fast. She fell silent when she saw me coming down the hall. They were all in the kitchen, Jacob pouring coffee, Abigail scrambling eggs at the big gas range. Charlie pulled a glass dish of cinnamon rolls from the microwave and slid it across the bar. Jacob placed a steaming mug of coffee beside the rolls and said, "Sit. Get some sugar and caffeine in your stomach."

I thought about protesting again that I wasn't hungry. I wasn't, but I knew they meant well. They couldn't fix this. No one could fix this. If feeding me would make them feel better, I wasn't going to argue.

The cinnamon rolls did smell good – yeasty and warm with spice. Whoever had made them hadn't been stingy with the cream cheese frosting. I wiggled a roll free from the pan and swiped my finger through the frosting.

"They're a day old, but they’re still good," Abigail said, from the stove, sending me a gentle smile over her shoulder. Charlie came around and sat at the bar beside me.

"Are you going to yell more?" I asked.

"Do you want me to?" she asked, nudging my shoulder with hers.

I thought about it. I loved that she was mad on my behalf. I loved that she was here for me. It meant a lot, especially because I knew how close she was to Aiden. He'd practically raised her. She'd been ten when her parents died and only twelve when I'd dropped out of college and taken off.

I loved her, and I knew she loved me, but we weren't as close as we could've been. My fault. I wrote her, then emailed her over the years. I'd send her funny things I came across that reminded me of her, stuff like that. But it wasn't the same as being there the way Aiden had been.

Just thinking of Aiden sent a wave of nausea through me. I put the cinnamon roll down on the counter and shook my head.

In a small voice, I said, "I think I'm done with yelling."

Charlie wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me in a fierce hug. Before the affection could overwhelm my emotions, she let go, picked up her coffee and said, “Then just eat your breakfast."

Abigail slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me, and I ate. My stomach was in knots, but I must have been hungry. I finished the cinnamon roll, the eggs, and the coffee.

I put down my fork and stared at the empty plate, at a loss for what to do next. I'd had a plan. We'd had a plan, Riley and me. Without Riley, there was no fake engagement. Without Riley, everything fell apart.

I had to think. I had to figure out what to do. I didn't want to do anything except curl into a ball and cry.

I hadn't realized I'd been spinning fairytales of a life with Riley until they fell apart around me. Somewhere deep inside I’d been hoping there was a happy ending for us.

Knowing it wouldn’t happen was tearing me to pieces.

I didn't have the energy to put myself back together.

"Come on," Charlie said. Her arm around my shoulders, she urged me off the stool and out of Jacob and Abigail's kitchen, tugging me down the hall to the guest room. At her urging, I climbed up on the big, black, canopy bed and lay back on the fluffy white duvet. Charlie kicked off her shoes and climbed up beside me. Picking up the remote off the bedside table, she clicked on the TV.

“Maggie swears by John McClain for a broken heart, but considering everything else that’s going on, I think we’ll skip the violence and explosions. We’re going to watch a stupid, funny movie and not think about anything. If you feel the slightest urge for chocolate or ice cream, you let me know, and I'll get it."

I didn't want to watch a stupid, funny movie. Especially not the one she put on, which I knew would have as many fart jokes as sight gags. I let her do what she wanted. I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want to talk. Might as well watch a stupid, funny movie with my cousin.

The alternative was to think about everything that had happened with Riley. I wasn't ready for that.

I tried not to laugh at the movie, but Charlie's giggles were infectious. She caught sight of my scowl and laughed saying, "I know, I know. It's ridiculous. Lucas made me watch it the other day. I told him I'd hate it because it's so dumb and then I laughed so hard I was crying."

"It really is dumb," I said, laughing again as the main character tripped over a mop handle and tumbled down a flight of stairs, rolling to a stop at the feet of the female lead. The lovable buffoon looked at her with an expression of such potent adoration that the laugh hitched in my chest, and before I knew what was coming, it turned into a sob.

Beside me, Charlie said under her breath, “Fuck." Her arm wrapped around me and she pulled me into her shoulder. Stroking my hair, she murmured, “It's going to be okay, Lise. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I promise, it's going to be okay."

"All those years, Charlie. All those years I felt so guilty for leaving him. For that letter. And all that time he knew. He knew why I left. He had to know I lied and he never came after me. I felt so guilty. It ate at me. I loved him so much, and it was all a lie."

My breath strangled in my lungs, my throat tight with tears. I cried harder, sobs shaking my chest, making it impossible to talk. Charlie held me tighter saying only, "I know, Lise. I know."

I couldn't fight the despair pulling me under. Everything I thought I understood was backward. People I thought I could trust betrayed me.

I held onto Charlie and wept. It felt like hours until I wound down and when I finally stopped crying, I was exhausted. Charlie slipped from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Belatedly I noticed the TV was off and the penthouse was quiet. She came back with a wet washcloth and wiped it across my cheek. My face was hot, my eyes swollen, and the cool, wet cloth felt like heaven.

Suddenly, I was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Charlie, I don't want to get between you and Aiden and I didn't mean to—"

“Did you know Lucas and I broke up?"

At my look of shock, she shook her head. "No, a while ago. Before we moved in together. We were just supposed to be hooking up, and then I fell for him, and he walked away."

"What an asshole," I said with a watery laugh. Lucas couldn't have been more in love with Charlie. He adored her. I couldn't imagine him dumping her and moving on.

"Exactly," she said with a gentle smile. "He was a complete asshole, and he broke my heart. It's not the same; I'm not trying to say that. But don't apologize for crying all over me. I've been there. I know."

"Thanks, Charlie," I said taking the washcloth from her and holding it over my face. My eyes were so swollen it hurt to blink. I didn't think I had any tears left in me.

I let my lids slide shut, lulled by Charlie stroking my braid, and slipped into sleep.

I woke later to raised voices down the hall. Jacob and Aiden. Jacob saying, “She needs time, and you need to back off. She’ll deal with you when she’s ready. Not before. Just go home.”

Only Jacob, and maybe Gage, would face Aiden down like that. I knew people said that Jacob was a shark, but to me, he was just Jacob, my older cousin and sometime partner in crime.

I didn’t want to come between him and Aiden, but I was grateful he was running interference. I was hollowed out, run dry, and I didn’t have the reserves to deal with Aiden.

Aiden was the one who looked after us. Our defense against the world. I wasn’t sure which betrayal was worse, Aiden’s hiring Riley and not telling me, or Riley’s for his lies.

I waited until I heard the door close, then got out of bed and used the bathroom. Washing my face and re-braiding my hair left me feeling marginally better. Less of a mess, at least.

I wanted to go out. I wanted to be alone. Walking down the hall, I tried to make a decision. Any decision. Jacob stood in the kitchen, his silver eyes going dark with concern as he saw me.

“I know I look like hell,” I said. I’d washed my face and straightened my hair, but that didn’t do a thing for my puffy eyes and splotchy face. Abigail, coming up the hall from behind me, said, “I have just the thing.”

She passed me and went for the freezer, pulling out something that looked like Zorro’s mask, except pale green. “Put this over your eyes for a while. It’ll bring the swelling down.”

I took the mask from her, holding it by the strap. Abigail gave me another of her gentle smiles. On the surface, she was a perfect match for Jacob—elegant and refined, a master at navigating Jacob’s social circles. Underneath she had a core of steel and a warm heart.

“Do you want to be alone, or do you want company?” she asked.

“Alone. But—”

“But you’re tired of being cooped up,” she said. “Go up to the roof and get some sun. It’ll make you feel better. I’m making chicken and dumplings for dinner. It’ll keep until you’re ready to eat.”

I didn’t protest as she herded me to the front hall and pointed me in the direction of the stairs to the private rooftop garden. Jacob watched her with an indulgent smile, saying only, “No one will bother you up there. It’s a good place to think.”

He was right. Potted plants surrounded the space, along with a dining table, grill, and a seating area complete with a fire pit. I sat in one of the teak recliners, laying back and turning my face up to the spring sunshine. The ice mask was covered in a velvety fabric that molded to my eyes, cooling my swollen skin.

I still wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but I’d been there, done that. I had to decide what to do next. Normally, I’d be packing my bags. For the first time in years, running had no appeal, even with the mess my life at home had become.

I was done with running.

This fake engagement had turned into a disaster of the worst proportions, but I couldn’t deny it had provoked my stalker just as we’d planned. If I ran, we’d lose all the ground we’d gained.

Letting out a sigh, I accepted that cancelling the fake engagement would be as useless as running. I could fire the Sinclairs and get rid of Riley. Spread the word that I was on the market again. That would solve the problem of Riley, but it would be giving the stalker exactly what he wanted.

If I ended the engagement, I’d have to wait before I tried it again—more time lost—and I’d have to find another fake fiancé.

I never wanted to see Riley again.

I wanted this to be over. All of it. Riley, the stalker, everything.

I sat there, letting the late afternoon sun bake into my skin, the mask over my eyes gradually warming, and turned the problem over in my mind. There was no ideal solution. No way to get everything I wanted.

I couldn’t put the pieces of my heart back together. I couldn’t roll back the clock. But maybe, if I was strong, if I had courage, I could finish this and set myself free.

A shoe scuffed the slate beside me. I reached up to tug the mask from my eyes and saw Jacob, holding two beers. Without a word, I reached out to take one, dropping the mask on the edge of the recliner. Jacob sat beside me and took a pull from his beer.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Anytime. Your eyes look better. Abigail knows all the tricks.”

“I like her with you.”

“Me too,” he said, his lips curving as he thought of his fiancée. “She’s better than I deserve.”

“Probably,” I agreed, smiling a little myself and sipping the beer. It was crisply cold and bitter with hops, just the way I liked it.

I drank more and waited. Jacob took his time. We were halfway through our beers when he said, “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“I do,” I said.

“Am I going to try to talk you out of it?”

“I don’t think so. I think you’ll approve.”

“Tell me.”