The clouds are heavy overhead, promising rain, and I want to finish painting the fence before it starts. The garden needs a major overhaul. The house needs painting, too, but I wonder if it’s worth fixing everything since Evan seems so set on moving.

But at least the physical labor keeps me busy and will ensure that he won’t get into trouble with his landlord for running this fucking place into the ground.

Movement out of the corner of my eye has me lowering the brush and turning around. It’s Octavia, walking down the path from the house in a long blue dress, a cardigan wrapped around her slim frame, her dark hair windblown.

She walks toward me, and I stare at her, caught in a spell. Damn, she’s so pretty. So bright she makes my fucking heart ache.

Then I remember last night, her pale body arching underneath me, her choked moans, and my dick thickens in my pants.

My girl. Mine.

“You decided to fix up the whole house?” She smiles, and I wait for her to reach me, to find me, like she did from the start. Nobody could see me, save me like she did, and the funny thing is that I feel she keeps doing it every day.

Saving me, again and again.

She shivers, and I lift my arm automatically, to let her burrow against my side, the brush dripping from my other hand into the cut grass. “Jeez. How can you not be cold?”

I glance down at my old hoodie and shrug. “I’m a hot-blooded man.”

“Ah-huh.” She lifts her grinning face up, and I kiss her parted lips. “No doubt about that.”

I tug her closer. “How is Evan?”

“Asleep. Dozing in front of the TV. Poor guy, I think he’s catching up on some much-needed rest.”

I hum in agreement. “And the girl?”

“Playing at his feet. She adores him. Looks like her mom isn’t around much. Too busy working.”

“Yeah?” Surprised, I draw back a bit to look at her face. “Evan told me her mom is jobless, so what keeps her so busy?”

Her slender brows wing up. “Melissa told me her mom works long hours for a company as a sales representative.”

“He said her mom is a junkie.”

Octavia’s blue eyes are round like saucers. “What’s going on here?”

Yeah, what the fuck?

We both turn to look at the house.

“I bet she was just repeating what her mom tells her,” I mutter.

“Yeah,” Octavia says, sounding as unconvinced as I feel.

I’m confronting Evan about it when he wakes up, that’s for sure. I never took Evan for a guy with many secrets. He’d seemed open and easy to read back when we lived here in Destiny and I worked by his side in Jasper’s Garage.

Octavia frowns, tilting her face up to me again. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… did you get a chance to talk to Mary before we left?”

“I tried.”

“She didn’t say much, I take it?”

I shrug. “Not really.”

“Could it be the baby? What if she’s jealous?”

“Dammit, you think so?” I look down at the brush I’m still holding, distracted. “She never seemed jealous of Cole, not even when they were younger. And we haven’t done anything different this time around.”

“You’re right. But the baby is a change, another change in our lives, their lives. They lost their mom, moved to St. Louis, then to Destiny, got me along for the ride and moved back to St. Louis. And then came this trip. It’s the first time we’ll be apart since I first entered their lives. Maybe she thinks I’m going to steal their father away from them?”

I turn to brush my lips over her hair. “Fuck. You really think it’s that?”

“Maybe. You could confront her, ask her directly.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want her to think any of this, to be sad. They’re our kids. I love them.”

And I love her. More than she can ever know. For loving my kids. For loving me.

“I know it. They know it, too.” I take a deep breath, drawing in her scent. “Maybe it’s nothing. I’ll talk to Mary again, as soon as we’re back. It’ll be all right.”

* * *

Fixing the house and garden takes longer than I’d expected. By the time I trudge back into the house to take a shower and wash off the paint and sweat, it’s midday. I wander back down to help with the cooking, and finding everyone half-asleep on the sofas, I make a strategic decision and order pizza.

Nobody ever died from eating take-out on occasion. That’s always been my motto, though when Octavia walked into our lives and started cooking home-made food for us, my kids breathed a sigh of relief. I swear I didn’t know kids could get fed up with pizza, but there you have it.

Waiting for the delivery, grinning at the sight of my pretty, pregnant wife sprawled on the sofa, Melissa tucked against her side, and Evan snoring on the armchair in front of the TV, I step outside.

The lawn is mowed, the fence repaired and painted, the house looks like new. I’m pretty damn pleased with my day’s results. And then I feel kinda guilty because I normally don’t have this kind of time to take care of our house back in St. Louis.

The guilt reminds me of the shop.

I speed-dial Kaden’s number and walk down the path to the garden, frowning at a weed that managed to escape the mower.

The line rings and rings, and then goes to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message, my stomach knotting with familiar anxiety. I call again. And again. Then I call the shop directly, and still no reply.

Shit. I hate how panic makes my hands shake.

Breathe, I instruct myself. Fucking breathe, Matt. Kaden is fine. Hailey is fine.

Everyone is just fucking fine.

Next time I call, Kaden picks up. “Hansen Brothers Garage, how can I help you?” he all but yells into the phone, and his pissy, gruff voice relaxes the twisted knot inside me.

“Kade. Why the fuck weren’t you picking up the phone?”

“Matt?” He sounds out of breath, as if he’s been running. “The hell, man? I was busy. I’m alone here today, if you remember.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You know I had to come help Evan out.”

“I know. Shit, relax.” He lets out a long breath. “It’s just that you, or me, being away, is something that’s bound to happen, sooner or later. We have kids. There are emergencies.”

“And your point is?”

“I’ve told you many times, we need to hire another mechanic for the Mancave, someone experienced who can run the shop if anything happens.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. Besides, I’m not sure we can afford one. And who would we hire?” I sink down on the steps of the porch, a headache starting behind my eyes. “Dammit, sometimes I feel that everything’s my responsibility.”

“Of course you feel that. Know why? Because you never let me make any decisions!” Kaden barks.

“The fuck.” I jerk at the anger in his voice. “But your headaches—"

“Dammit, Matt, I haven’t had any for more than a year now. I’m fine. I told you that plenty of times, if you’d only fucking listen.”

Shit, he’s right. He has told me many times over that he’s okay. And asked for more helping hands for Mancave. Why can’t I let go of a shred of control and let him take over once in a while? He’s my brother, and I’d trust him with my life. Why not our shop? Sure, I had the idea and put most of the capital into the venture, but so what?

“Do you have someone in mind?” I hear myself asking, and you couldn’t be more shocked than I am that I capitulated so easily. But hell, I think he’s right. “For help for the shop.”

He exhales, and it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “Seriously? If you’re serious, I’ll make you a list.”

“Tell you what.” I rub a hand over my mouth, over my beard. “Make that list, and as soon as I’m back in St. Louis, we’ll put our heads together and choose someone to hire. Satisfied?”

“You fucking kidding me?” He laughs outright, a happy sound that has me grinning. “Hell, yeah, I’m satisfied. That’s a good decision, man. You’ll see.”

Yeah, maybe. Never thought giving in would make Kaden be happy. Why can’t I give up more control? I have to try harder.

Thing is, hearing my brother’s laughter has loosened more than the knot in my chest. It’s shaken loose memories from our childhood, back when everything seemed to be made of green grass and blue skies, all play and joy, not a care in the world.

That’s what I want for my family. For myself. That’s worth every sliver of fear and every drop of sorrow. It’s worth everything.

* * *

“Hey, girl.” I pull Octavia against me after lunch, after sending Evan away to rest and Melissa upstairs to play, and lead her into the living room. “Well, we’re here, helping, and Melissa’s mom should come tomorrow or Monday to pick her up.” I tug her to the sofa, sit down and pull her on my lap. “Whatever the truth about her is. But what about you? Anything you would like to do while we’re back in your old town? Any friends you want to visit?”

I really need to talk to Evan about the girl’s mother. Yeah, I know it’s none of my goddamn business, and yet…

“I need to see Ross.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Ross is getting out of prison tomorrow. We could go pick him up.”

“Why the hell would we wanna do that?”

“Because,” she says quietly, her arms twined around my neck, a flush on her cheeks and the glitter of tears in her eyes, “nobody else will.”

Her words settle over us, heavy and sharp.

“Tay…” Fuck, how can I convince her to let go of this crazy idea? “Ross is in prison for a reason. He’s a criminal.”

“He’s just sad and drinks too much.”

“Sad? He’s a bully. He likes kicking puppies and hurting people. Let his dick of a dad go pick him up.”

“That’s the thing, Matt. His dad won’t go. Nobody will, and I’m his sister.”

“Half-sister,” I say stubbornly. “And after the way he treated you all your life, you owe him nothing, Tay. Nothing.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, and the sweet weight of her body on mine is distracting, getting my blood singing and my dick hard. “Gigi called. She said… said I should forget about Ross.”

“See? Even your sister agrees with me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She sighs. “I am not Gigi. Never was. I want to do this for me. Just to show him he’s not alone in the world, don’t you see? That’s all.”

I consider this. “And that’s it? We drive him back here, and you leave this alone?”

Seems like a small price to pay to appease Octavia’s obsession with Ross and get her back home safe.

“I guess. So that both you and Gigi can get off my case.”

I harrumph, absently tightening my hold on her.

Gigi may be a bombshell, but she doesn’t seem to have Octavia’s kind heart. Gigi would never have taken the time to know me, understand me, tame me. Save me.

But in this she’s right. Octavia needs to let go of this pet project.

Ross is beyond saving.

Right?

Beyond saving—you mean like you were? a small voice whispers in my mind. Who can tell who is worth saving and who isn’t? And who says you have a say over Octavia’s heart, and why do you think her kindness should stop at you and nobody else?

Dammit. I hate it when my inner voice disagrees with me.

“Fine,” I grumble. “We’ll go get fucking Ross from the prison and drive him here. But he stays away from you, Tay, got me? If he as much as lays a finger on you, or looks at you funny, I swear I’ll break every single bone in his goddamn body.”

She shivers and peeks up at me with half-lidded eyes. “No hitting. No bone breaking. You got to promise me, Matt.”

Goddammit. “No bone breaking if he looks at you funny,” I concede. “But he’s staying away from you, and that’s non-negotiable.”

She sighs and snickers softly. “Fair enough. He’ll be nice, you’ll see.”

And even if he is, he won’t be fooling me. Leopards don’t change their spots, and Ross Jones can’t change who he is. People don’t change. End of story.

Sooner or later, I think, Octavia will realize all this, and I refuse to consider what it might mean—about me.