It was as if we'd been hanging out together these past few years, instead of being worlds apart. I'd never felt as comfortable with anyone, not even Emily. We'd driven our separate cars to the park in the center of town. I'd kept my eyes glued to the rearview, certain Rebecca would turn off and head in another direction. But she stayed behind me.

I sat on the bench in the middle of the green, watching as Rebecca circled around the small gated rose garden. Most of the park lights had been shut off to discourage people from lingering there at night, but I could still see every curve and angle of her face. She was even more stunning than I remembered. And it seemed she was still unaware of it. Or, more likely, she just chose to ignore it.

My phone beeped, and I pulled it out. "It's a text from Dylan. He wants to know where the receipt book is. Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting him. I'll let him know I'm with you."

"No," she said abruptly as she rounded the garden wall to my side. She shook her shoulders. "It's just I have kind of wiped them from my mind. Everything got so messy in the end, with the divorce and . . . just don't say anything about me."

I looked at her for a long moment before texting Dylan back about the receipt book. I slipped the phone into my pocket. I knew the family had fallen apart quickly, like a crumbling hillside, but I figured if nothing else, Rebecca had kept in contact with Michelle. Dylan never talked about her much, but then he rarely talked about anything that didn't center around him.

Rebecca leaned over the wall to smell some pink roses, giving me a nice view of her long, sleek leg muscles. "I worked for a landscaper when I was with my dad in France. It was amazing. Lots of sunshine and everything was so green, like the earth there is different than here." She stopped and reached over to pluck a rose from the bush. It was half wilted, and the petals fell away from the stem as she touched it. "I almost got married when I was there."

I quickly assured myself she'd said almost. How was it possible, after all this time, after all that had happened, that she could still make my entire body react with every word, every turn of her head, every small breath she took in.

"What happened?" I asked, hoping for the right answer.

"I never really loved him. I just loved the idea of living in the countryside in some two hundred year old cottage away from here. Away from the past."

"Away from me?" The question came from some other part of me, the cynical part of me that I used to keep my feet on the ground. The part that reminded me that deep down I was an asshole who would never deserve true love.

"That was impossible." She brushed her fingers along the top of the garden wall. "You can't get away from someone who lives right here." She placed her hand over her heart. "I gave it a good fucking try though. I really did."

My throat clamped painfully shut as I watched her circle back around to where I sat on the bench. She leaned against the garden wall and crossed her ankles. Like all the servers in Vandy's, she was wearing a short mini skirt. It was hard as hell not to just sit there and stare at her long legs.

"Why did you come back from Europe?"

"After the engagement fiasco, I just decided I'd had enough. My dad was busy with work and his new friends, so I decided to give him some space." Rebecca tilted her head to look at my right hand. "Does it still hurt?"

"Only when it rains or when I try to play a Jimi Hendrix song." I lifted it and showed her the fingertip side of my fist where all the fingers crossed each other at odd angles. "The doctor did a shitty job. But I guess I can't complain. At least it still works." I'd been staring at the ugly ridged scars on the back of my knuckles as I spoke. When I looked up, I met a pretty face that was far too often marred by sadness. "It's all right, Rebel. My music career was just keeping me from growing up."

She stared at me with those eyes that always seemed to be looking right into my soul. I couldn't tell if it was the dim light in the park or just my imagination, but it seemed her eyes were wet with tears. "You didn't need to grow up, Josh. You just needed to be set free. Everyone kept you from living that dream. Your dad. My sister. Even your band mates. They gave up on it long before you did. But then you were always the real talent of the group."

"I sure as hell wish things could have been different, Rebel."

A breeze pushed through the trees. She momentarily lifted her face to feel it. "You know that saying about getting all your ducks in a row? Well, mine never want to line up. They just waddle all over the damn place, flapping their wings and quacking like a bunch of mad birds."

I smiled. "Yep, I think I've got some of those same ducks in my row."

"But you and Dylan have started a business. It seems like you've finally tamed yourself into that guy Emily always wanted. Except for the long hair. Thank goodness for that."

"Yep, I figured if I had to give up the music, at least I could keep the rock star hair."

A moment of silence fell between us as we listened to some small critter skitter around in the rose bushes.

Rebecca pulled her eyes away from the garden and looked at me. "Why did you come tonight, Josh? This was something I needed to do."

"To what end? It's done. He served his time."

I'd said the wrong damn thing. She pushed off and started walking along the cement pathway. "Glad it's so fucking easy for you."

I stood from the bench and walked after her. "You think it's easy? You think I didn't want to ram my fist through his face the second I saw him? Do you know how much time I've spent imagining myself fucking strangling him until he turned blue?"

I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away and backed up a few steps. Tear started as just a light glassy look in her eyes and turned into steady streams down her cheeks. "I need to know, Josh. I've heard so many fucking stories and rumors and Michelle didn't even want to look at me. That's why the marriage fell apart. Michelle couldn't even fucking look at me. But I don't care about her or any of them. I just need to know you weren't breaking up with her because of me." The question didn't throw me off as much as the terrible heartbreaking sound of her sobs. "I need to know. I loved her. She was the only sister I ever had and I loved her."

I walked to her, sure she would back away. But she stood still. She let me wrap my arms around her, and once I had her in my embrace, I drew her against me. She slowly circled her arms around me and rested her face against my shoulder, looking out toward the empty park. Her body shook with sobs. "I need to know if she was angry at me, when . . ." Still, after all this time, she couldn't bring herself to say it.

I smoothed my palm over her back, along the soft worn fabric of the Iron Maiden t-shirt. "No, Rebecca. She wasn't mad at you. Emily left this world hating me."