They didn’t go inside. Instead, they sat on a cushioned swing in the yard, far enough away from the house so as to not be in the glow of any ambient light. The night was moonless, and the dark surrounded them like a blanket as the stars blinked down, distant witnesses to the story she had to tell.

He sat properly, his feet on the ground so that he could push them, making the swing rock in a soothing rhythm. She sat with her back to the armrest and her bare feet on his lap. He rested a hand on her ankle, and she focused on that point of connection. She needed his touch to tell the story, and though she was ready to share, she was also grateful that his face was half-hidden in the shadows of the night. Somehow, it was easier to talk to the dark.

“I never lied,” she began. “But I never really told the truth either.”

She paused, giving him a chance to comment or ask her a question. He remained silent though, and she understood that was how this would work. She’d tell the story from start to finish. And only then would the floor be his.

After taking a long, deep breath, she began again. “It is Beau who’s after me, but I really did think for a while that it could be Reggie—I wasn’t pulling your chain. But I thought so because of the theater references. And, well, because I knew the alternative, and couldn’t believe that after so many years he’d found me.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Anyway, once we talked to Reggie, it was clear that Beau had found me. And when I told you he was a creepy ex, that was mostly true, too. He’s definitely creepy. And he’s sort of an ex. But not the way you think.” She paused, looking into the darkness. “Landon?”

She knew he was being quiet so she could get it all out. But she needed to hear his voice.

Gently, he squeezed the top of her foot. “I’m here, baby. I’m listening. Tell it however makes it easiest.”

“He—I—my mother left when I was fifteen. My father abused her. I grew up hearing her cry. Hearing the lash of his belt against her skin.” She heard her voice crack and paused to take a deep breath. “But she fought back in her own way. She saved money. From the very first day he hit her, she started hiding money away. And the day she left, she gave me what she’d saved up. Nine thousand, six hundred and fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. It was in cash—in a metal lockbox—and she showed me how to pull up the kitchen tile to get to the place where she’d hidden it. Then she left.”

“For where?”

“I don’t know. And she never came back.” Her hands were on her thighs, and now she dug her nails into her legs. That had been the worst part—that her mother had said she’d loved her. But she’d left and hadn’t once looked back. As if that stupid cashbox was a substitute for having her mother with her. As if those dollars could magically keep her safe from her father.

She’d learned a lesson though. The words I love you didn’t mean shit. Her father had said them. Her mother had said them. And even though those two were polar opposites, they’d both been lying when those words left their mouths. Real love wouldn’t have allowed her mother to walk away like that.

And as for her father … well, Dale Tucker wouldn’t know love if it bit him on the ass.

“She just left me with him.” Her voice was a whisper. “Even though she knew what he’d do. What he was capable of.”

“Did he … hurt you?”

She shook her head, then voiced the word when she remembered that she was lost in the dark. “No. Not like you mean. But he was not a good man. He dealt drugs. He dealt weapons. I’m pretty sure he ran hookers. And he double-crossed his business partner. Not that the business was legitimate.”

Memories started flooding back, and she hugged herself, trying to keep them at bay. It was no use. The past rushed up, making her stomach churn as she pulled the pieces out to share with Landon. “It was drug money, and the partner was Beau.”

“Go on.” She heard the tight edge in his voice and was certain that he believed that Beau had killed her father. But it was so much worse than that.

“My dad—he refused to give the money back. And the truth was that Beau didn’t care about the money. He had plenty of money. But he saw an opportunity to get something he did want.”

“What?” Landon asked.

“Me.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “He’d always watched me. From the time I was ten years old he’d told my mother that he was going to have a piece of me. And on that day, he told my dad that he could keep the money. So long as my dad gave him me. And my father said yes.”

“Taylor, I can’t even—”

“I ran,” she blurted. “I was barely sixteen, but I took the money myself, along with what my mom had given me, and I ran to Austin.” She drew a breath. “There are people—you know—who can fix paperwork. Give you a life. I’d been around my dad long enough to know how to find them. So that’s what I did. Little Eulalie Tucker became Taylor D’Angelo. I got a driver’s license. I manufactured parents. I enrolled in high school. And I tried so damn hard to kill off that old life.”

Warm tears streaked down her cheeks. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’ve kept that secret for over eight years now. And the money’s drug money. And I stole it. I knew it was tainted, and I took it. Worse, I spent some of it. Not much. But I used it to pay for some college. Some other stuff. Mostly, though, I used my mom’s money and what I’ve earned. Most of the stash I still have.”

She sucked in a breath of air, then slowly let it out. “So there you go. I’m not the woman you thought I was.”

“No,” he said softly, her stomach twisting with that horrible word. “You’re even more amazing.”

“What?” She couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“To go through all that? To survive?”

“But I stole that money.”

“I know. Doesn’t change my impression of you.”

“I—” But that was all she could get out. She’d been living with the secret—the guilt—for so long that to have someone be so matter-of-fact completely threw her off her game.

“I’m not saying you can pull it out of the bank and start running around town buying cars and diamonds. But I am saying that there are a lot of mitigating circumstances involved in what you did. How much money are we talking about, by the way?”

“A hundred and twenty-seven thousand.”

“And how much do you have left?”

“A hundred and seventeen thousand. And change. All neat and tidy in a safe deposit box.”

He actually laughed. “Almost a decade and you’ve only spent ten thousand? What on?”

“I told you, I used my mom’s money first, and for all the stuff I had to do to get my fake IDs. I never, never wanted to touch my father’s money. But later, I needed tuition money. And a place to live. And I figured that my dad owed me as much. Hell, even if Beau had taken me, he’d have put me someplace to live.”

She flashed a wry smile. “Not that Beau would look at it like that. Or the cops for that matter. Oh. I mean … shit.”

His soft chuckle filled the air between them and his palm closed more tightly around her ankle. “Forget who you’re sitting with?”

“For a bit. Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to slap my cuffs on you. Not for the money stash, anyway. But I can think of some other uses—ouch!”

“Watch it, mister, or the next kick will be real.” She tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t hide her relief. “You’re really not going to, well, do anything?”

“I’m going to do a lot.” He lifted her legs, then shifted them both until he was sitting by the armrest and she was in his lap. For a moment, she studied his face, though without a moon, she could read nothing in his eyes. The night was too dark. And so she simply rested her head on his shoulder and let the cadence of his voice soothe her.

“I’m going to find that bastard, for one thing.”

“Good,” she murmured, her lids starting to get heavy now that the adrenaline rush had faded.

“I’m going to talk to a lawyer about working out a deal for you to turn what’s left of the money over to the Arkansas police in exchange for testimony against Beau and your father.”

“My dad’s already in prison. I looked him up once. He killed somebody outside of a liquor store. But if it’ll keep him behind bars longer, I’ll repeat the whole sordid story again.”

“The bottom line is that we’re going to get you clear.”

Tears clogged her throat as she nodded. “Beau trashed your house because of me. And yet here you are, doing everything you can to help me.”

He brushed her hair off her face, then gently stroked her cheek. “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather fond of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, then kissed her so tenderly that she almost started crying all over again. This time, from joy. Because for the first time, she truly felt like she wasn’t alone in this. And that felt just fine.