“Remember how it used to feel here?” Andie asks me quietly. We’re standing at the end of the wooden dock, watching the sun just barely beginning to rise over the horizon. The sky is gray and purple, a dusty pink starting to stain the clouds crowning the sun. The water is still, only the faintest ripples breaking the surface. I give Andie’s hand a little squeeze, looking over at her. She looks dog-tired, with dark bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale and drawn.

“Yeah. It used to feel like freedom. Like endless summer,” I reply. “It’s hard to believe how safe we used to think we were. This place was like our home away from home, wasn’t it?”

“I swear, if I close my eyes, I can still smell Dad grilling hotdogs and hamburgers on the back deck up there. Mom pouring glasses of champagne. She used to get so tipsy on those summer nights,” Andie giggles. “I remember when I was little I just thought she was more fun.”

“She was more fun. I mean, she’s never boring, but with a glass of champagne you can even convince her to dance,” I add, grinning at the memory of our beautiful, famous, well-respected mother Pamela Parker spinning and whirling around in the yard with a champagne flute raised high in her hand. We were all so carefree on those summer days and nights, far enough away from the city to escape the probing eyes and camera flashes of the paparazzi. Here at the lakehouse, we all let our hair down and relaxed.

“Remember when we dragged that beat-up, old boombox out here and all danced to that Britney Spears CD you and I bought with our allowance?” she laughs.

“Yes! How could I forget? Dad and Uncle Eddie were so--” I stop short, realizing what I just said. My heart sinks. Andie steps closer and gives me a one-armed hug of reassurance.

“It’s okay,” she says. “We’re just gonna have to rearrange our memories a little bit. Maybe there was a bad guy waiting around, taking up space in our best memories, but he’s only a tiny part of it. All those good times… it wasn’t just him. It was all of us. You, me, Dad, and Mom. And Britney Spears,” she adds, smiling.

We hear the thud of heavy footsteps behind us and we turn around to see Wes walking up to us, side by side with a police officer holding a notepad and pen. I’ve already been questioned for several hours since the cops first turned up at the lakehouse, but I’m sure they’re nowhere near finished with me. A high-profile case like this, with people like my sister and I and well-known Hollywood agent Eddie Arnold involved, the police need as much information as possible to keep things carefully under wraps. The police, as well as my family, will be under intense scrutiny, I’m sure.

Just as I’m starting to feel a little anxious, Wes gives me a smile, which makes my heart skip a beat. I feel warm from my head to my toes, just from that one look.

“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but I need to take down a statement from Miss Parker,” the cop says. Then he blushes. “Oh. You’re both Miss Parker. I need to speak with Andie Parker first,” he clarifies bashfully.

“Okay, what do you need to know?” Andie asks him, already going into business mode. The whimsical look leaves her face and she furrow her brow, nodding intently as the cop explains what he needs from her. As he drones on and on, she seems to realize that this is not the best place for the conversation.

Andie glances between Wes and me, then interrupts the cop, saying, “Excuse me, sorry, but could we go sit down on the deck to talk? I’m still really exhausted.”

“Oh-- oh, of course,” the policeman agrees. As they turn to walk away, he adds over his shoulder, “Miss Parker-- Molly-- will you be available for some routine questioning over the next few days? I know one of my officers spoke to you earlier, but there will some other details to fill in.”

“Yes. Should I come to the station tomorrow?” I ask him.

He grins. “That would be great. And, uh, pardon me if this is inappropriate, but my daughter loved you in The World Enders. Do you think I could get her an autograph from you tomorrow, as well? I totally understand if you’d rather not--”

“That’s perfectly fine,” I interrupt, laughing. “In fact, if you’d like to bring her in to the station, perhaps she might like to meet me herself in person?”

The cop’s face lights up. “Oh, she would love that! Thank you!”

“Looking forward to it,” I tell him, smiling.

Andie pokes her tongue out at me from behind the cop and I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. The cop and my sister walk off to the deck for further questioning, leaving Wes and me alone on the dock.

He puts an arm around my shoulders. “How are you feeling?” he asks genuinely.

I shrug and give him a noncommittal, “Eh.”

He laughs. “Just a day in the life, huh?”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “No. Not at all, actually. This is the most excitement I’ve had for a very long time. Maybe ever. And I would be very happy to go the rest of my life without another day of this kind of excitement.”

“What kind of excitement would you prefer?” he asks pointedly. I elbow him gently in the ribs and give him a grin, rolling my eyes.

“You’re gross,” I laugh.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees jokingly. “Want to see something that will make you feel a whole lot better?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Uh, sure?”

He takes me by the hand and leads me around to the front of the lakehouse, where several cop cars are parked at odd angles, having all arrived in a huge rush. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think part of their hurry was just some secret interest in seeing Andie and I. Catching the big scandalous news before anyone else. But either way, whether for genuine or selfish reasons, it was nice to have them arrive on-site so quickly. Especially considering how far out of the way this lakehouse is. Now that I’m older and I know more about the kind of man Eddie was all along, I understand another purpose for his owning this place. It’s the perfect location to lay low and work under the radar. Away from prying eyes. Out here in the woods without a neighbor for miles. I shudder to think what kinds of dark, underground business went on here.

It’s so strange to think that this place can hold so many sweet memories for me and still have belonged to the likes of Eduardo Abruzzi. This lakehouse has seen so many bizarre things.

“Look over there,” Wes says, pointing to a car further up the long drive way.

Three cops have Eddie in handcuffs and are dragging his sorry ass over the gravel to force him into the back of the squad car. He’s fighting every inch of the way, yelling about how his lawyers will sue every one of their sorry asses.

“You can’t do this to me! You’ll never pin me down! I’ll see all you fuckers in court! You bastards have no fucking clue who the hell you’re dealing with!” Eddie is raging, kicking his legs like a small child having a tantrum. It’s an almost comical sight-- the man who’s been terrorizing me and making my life hell, reduced to a whiny, self-important caricature of himself.

“You’re right,” I say.

“About what?” Wes asks.

“Seeing that does make me feel a lot better,” I explain, smirking.

“Good. I hope that bastard gets locked away forever. I don’t want him or anyone else to fuck with you and your family ever again. But if they do… well, you know how to find me,” Wes says. And something about the wording of his statement makes me sad. My heart aches, urging me to say something, do something, stop this train before it leaves the station without me.

What is it? What is my heart trying to tell me?

I so rarely listen to what my heart has to say.

Before I can dig around for the words, another police officer walks up to us.

“Ma’am, it’s nearly morning. Would you like a ride home?” the cop asks.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m already going to be swarmed by the paparazzi. The last thing I need is a police escort to draw more attention,” I tell him, smiling. “But thanks for the offer.”

The cop nods politely and walks back over to his squad car.

“So, how is it that you’re planning to get home?” Wes asks emphatically.

I look up at him and shrug. “I could call my parents. Or a taxi.”

“Hmm. That you could,” he agrees coolly.

Why are we playing this stupid game?

“I should wait for Andie, maybe,” I muse aloud. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to be left here all alone. Probably.”

“Makes sense,” Wes agrees. He’s keeping his tone even, unaffected. Like he’s just as afraid as I am to say the wrong thing, scare me away, imply something that would forever alter the dynamic between us.

And what dynamic is that, anyway?

“I suppose my contract to you is finished,” he adds, putting his hands in his pockets. “Your lawyer hired me to look after you and guard you from Eddie Arnold. Well, Eddie’s in custody and he’s not going to be a threat to anyone anytime soon.”

My heart is breaking and I have no way of pushing the two halves back together. I simply nod. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. You already went way above and beyond what your job required of you, too. I-I’ll definitely give you a great review, if that’s… a thing,” I tell him lamely.

Wes and I stare at each other for a moment, soaking in the tension. That electricity between us is snapping, crackling, threatening to burn us both alive if we don’t do something. say something. Bridge the gap or break it, but don’t leave it hanging like it is. I get the sense that we’re both dangling over the edge of a sheer cliff. The big fall.

“I could drive you home,” Wes offers softly. “I don’t want to just leave you here.”

“But your job is done,” I tell him, wondering why the hell I’m saying this. What am I doing? Why am I pushing him away the same way I push everyone away? Is he really just like all the others who have tried to get close to me? Is he not completely different? Something new and exciting and maybe a little bit scary, but beautiful?

Wes reaches out and takes both my hands in his.

“This isn’t part of my job. It’s… a favor,” he explains, shrugging.

“Okay,” I accept. We say goodbye to Andie, who tells me she’s fine catching a ride home from the police. Then Wes and I climb into his dark sedan and pull out of the driveway, starting the long stretch back to the big city, where maybe we’ll part ways and never see each other again. The thought makes me more than sad-- it makes me ill. Like I’m considering chopping off my arm or cutting out my heart. Do I need it anymore? Do I want it?

What do I have to lose except this hammering heart and the warmth he emanates? The safety I feel when he’s nearby? The calm that passes over me when I gaze into those radiant blue eyes? How can I just toss it all aside and go back to my former life alone?

As we roll down the woodsy gravel road, I turn to look at him. His face is stony, his expression blank, but I can see his jaw tightening. He’s tense, too. Waiting for something. A sign, maybe? For me to make the first move?

Am I brave enough to make that leap?

“Wes, you never told me the answer to the question I asked before,” I say suddenly, surprising myself as the words tumble out into the air.

He nods. He already knows the question.

“His name was Joe Mackey. They told me to kill him or they’d kill my mother. They could’ve chosen anyone else to do the job, but they picked me. They wanted to make an example of me, show their clout. They could force me to do whatever they wanted, and with blood on my hands, I would be even more wrapped up in the mafia. They would have blackmail. Something to hold over me, to make it so I could never defy them. They would have total control over me, use me like a puppet. And I did lure Mackey out into the desert. I told him I would help him escape to Mexico, get as far from the mob as he could.

“He showed up, and I was nervous. I knew if this didn’t go the way I planned, my mother’s life would be void. So I did what I had to do. I took his jacket and shot a bullet through its chest. Spilled pig’s blood from the butcher all over the scene. I left it right there on the sand, where I knew the boss would find it. I gave Mackey a new forged passport, a bus ticket, and some money. I told him to get the hell out of dodge, and if he ever dared to show his face in Vegas again, I would really kill him. I hopped in the car, drove him to the bus station, watched him board the bus, and then I took a small bag of important things I owned and I drove to Los Angeles without stopping. I never looked back. It was a long time before I worked up the courage to reach out to my mother. I was afraid that the mafia was still watching me, watching her. I was worried that I would put her in more danger. But I needed to know if she was okay. So I began sending letters, signed with a fake name. At first, she kept asking who I was, what I knew about her son who disappeared. But after awhile, she recognized my handwriting, my turns of phrase. She knew me better than anyone. So that’s how I kept in touch with her. I explained in as vague detail as I could, what happened, and why I had to ditch town.

“Ever since then, I’ve been running, Molly. Hiding from my past. From who I was. I think once the mafia realized that I did their bidding and left, they determined it was okay to let me go. The Vegas boss is sadistic. He was more interested in forcing me to perform some horrific, evil act than actually keeping me around. I went so far off their radar, they just moved on. In Vegas, there is an endless supply of young men itching for fast money and a dangerous life. They replaced me. That was never the life for me. But it is a part of me. I’m sorry for never showing you who I truly was, Molly. You of all people deserve to surround yourself with people you can trust. I’m sorry to have betrayed that trust,” Wes finishes, his voice morose and regretful.

It takes me a moment to process everything he’s said.

Now you know, my heart whispers. You know the truth. How do you feel?

I know the answer. I feel the same.

I reach over to take his hand. Wes glances over at me, surprised. I give him a wide grin and tell him, “Thank you for telling me. And don’t apologize. I’ve known exactly who you are all along. My heart recognized yours from the start, Wes. You may have been hiding from your past, but I could see the true you. I’d know if you were faking-- I’m an actress. That’s my whole job. And that guilt you’re carrying? You need to let it go. You saved my life. You saved my sister’s life. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a fucking hero, Wes Jameson. And apart from that… I like you. A lot. More than I ever thought I could like someone.”

“Molly,” he says gently, still in shock.

“Let me finish. It’s my turn to talk now,” I tell him. “I know you’re doing your job. I know you’re a busy guy with your own life. I know I’m not the kind of girl you usually like. Our lives are so different. I’m stubborn and ambitious and a workaholic. But you know what? So are you. And when I’m with you, all that noise and static in my head just goes away. You make me feel warm, and safe, and happy. I know this probably sounds crazy, but Wes, I think I’m falling for you. And whatever you choose to do with that information, I’ll accept. But if you’re going to tell me your truth, then it’s only fair that I give you mine, too. So there it is.”

Wes is silent at first, and my heart starts to sink. Still, I refuse to regret laying everything out on the table. I need to be honest about my feelings for once, instead of just burying them under piles of work and promises that maybe later I’ll let my heart speak. This time, I’m going to follow it. As the car bumps off the gravel road and onto the highway, he turns to me with a bright smile and his blue eyes blazing.

“Well, damn,” he says, laughing. “Here’s a little more truth for you: I like you, too. Hell, after seeing the way you handled yourself last night… I might even love you.”

The word stings through my heart like an arrow. I can see him swallow hard, like it was difficult for him to admit. He said the words like it was a joke, but I know. He means it. I felt it long before he gave breath to the statement. I can’t help but smile.

“You know, I might just love you, too,” I confess, laughing.