At least in a long time. All of a sudden, I’m filled with a weird sense of déjà vu that leaves me uneasy.

“I—I have to get that.” I shove at his broad mountain of a chest but he doesn’t so much as budge. “It’s my mom.”

He leaps off me as if I burned him with the word and I scramble off the bed, running for my room, but I’m too late. I’ve missed her call. Immediately I dial her number, my heart racing, my head pounding, worry gnawing at my stomach.

“There you are,” Mom answers, her voice slurred.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I grip my phone tight, dread consuming me. I don’t want to know what’s wrong. Maybe something happened to Dad. There’s really no one else in our family to worry about anymore. And we’ve only just started talking again, my mom and I, though it hasn’t been easy. After I ran away without a word and then Colin found me, I had a difficult time talking to them. I felt too guilty for leaving.

I still remember the night I left. I’d planned my getaway for weeks. Saved up a little money, sold off a few things. I told absolutely no one I was going, though I really didn’t have any friends around who would have cared.

The evening had been cold and my parents stayed up for what felt like forever. Drinking and arguing and crying—yet again—over Danny. I’d put my hands over my ears as I lay on top of my bed. Closed my eyes as tight as I could to drown out their sorrow.

Escaping hadn’t been easy, but it had been the right thing for me at the time. I avoided their calls, my mom’s texts, until I changed my cell number. I gave them no way to find me, though somehow, they eventually did. I think one of Danny’s high school friends saw me at the club.

How embarrassing!

They’re still wrapped up in their mourning for Danny, not that they care what I have to say about it. There are so many things I could tell them. Terrible, horrible things, but I know they wouldn’t hear me. Oh, they’d pretend they were listening, but my words wouldn’t sink in. Besides, my parents don’t really talk. My dad works too much. My mom . . . I don’t know what she’s doing, but I have my suspicions. She’s drinking too much. Drowning her sorrows.

I don’t know how to help her. I don’t want to. It’s incredibly selfish of me to think that way, but I can’t help it.

“Belinda Lambert called me,” she said. “You remember Parker Lambert, right? He was right in between you and Danny, graduated high school the year after your brother did.”

Frowning, I try to place him but I can’t. Sometimes all those kids I went to school with morph into one big blur. And I went to school with pretty much all of them from kindergarten through senior year of high school. Funny how they’re all just a mass of faces now, not a one of them really standing apart. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to gossip about local boys?”

She lets loose an irritated sound. I wonder if she’s drunk. It’s not quite two a.m. Has she been at a bar? I sort of can’t imagine it, but then again, I can. She’s done this before. And besides, weirder things have happened these last few years. “I ran into his mom at the Buckhorn. Parker died in Afghanistan, ju—just like your brother.”

Oh God. She’s definitely drunk, considering she was at the Buckhorn, the bar where all the locals hang out in Shingletown, where I grew up. “When . . . when did it happen?”

“A few days ago. Belinda’s devastated. Just devastated.” She hiccups and sobs at the same time and I settle on the edge of the bed, hanging my head as I listen to her go on. Crying over Danny, crying for Parker.

Crying for herself.

She used to call me like this a lot, right after Danny died. I’d worked late-night shifts at one of the diners in the next town over, a real tourist trap where I kept busy, worked plenty of hours, and made great tips. She would call me on my thirty-minute-plus drive home, a little drunk from the wine she consumed too much of at dinner and crying. Always crying over the loss of Danny and how unfair life was.

I’m sick of it. Yes, I miss my brother, but it’s been almost two years. Why can’t everyone just . . . move on? He would be furious to see everyone act like this, especially Colin. I left home for this very reason, and here I am all over again. Surrounded by sadness and despair. I need a change of scenery. I need to find myself without the dark cloak of my brother’s untimely death hanging over me.

As I finally hang up with my mom and crawl into bed without going back to Colin, I realize now more than ever that I need my freedom.

The healing butterfly tattoo on my neck is becoming more and more representative of my life as every day passes.

Chapter 6

Colin

We’ve gone back to the way we were, Jen and I. Those few days after she gave her notice and confessed that she wanted me and I basically refused her, those two nights in my bed . . . all of that’s forgotten. We’re back to her working, me working, and the two of us living together but never really talking.

It’s been a week. She’s leaving me in three. To find out what’s going on in her life, I eavesdrop on her conversations with others at The District like a desperate loser looking for any glimmer of information. They’re all curious as to why she’s leaving, and why I’m not reacting. They all think we have a secret thing and we’ve never really deterred them from thinking otherwise.

More like I’ve never deterred it. I know how hot she is. Guys would be all over her if they thought they had a sliver of a chance. So I glower every time I catch any guy approaching her. Putting all of my past ‘I’m a protective big brother, don’t touch her’ skills from when she was a teen and every dude in her class wanted to bang her.

They all leave her alone and she never protests. Somehow, I still f**ked this up.

When people question her about her plans, she’s always evasive, offering general answers and with such a pretty smile every single time, I swear my heart seizes up when I see it. I’m surprised I haven’t dropped dead of a massive heart attack before the age of twenty-five. Last night had been an eye opener. I want her. Just looking at her makes me feel all growly and possessive. Jen belongs to me.

She just doesn’t realize it yet.

Only Fable knows what’s really going on in Jen’s life and head—at least I figure she knows everything, because she and Jen are so close. Whereas I know nothing, because Jen and I aren’t anything close to close.

My employees on shift tonight are all crowded in the bar at this very moment, chatting before the dinner crowd shows up. I don’t bother reprimanding them, though I should. I rarely let them get away with standing around and doing nothing while on the clock.

But the restaurant looks good—everything’s clean and the tables are properly set for the customers. I like everything to have a certain look, a clean aesthetic that gives us a reputation for being a classy joint, as my father would say, versus yet another dive bar/restaurant where the college students hang out.

Considering I’ve trained my employees so well that they’re actually getting shit accomplished without me having to remind them, I just don’t have it in me to yell.

Besides, I’m trying to glean information from Jen, since she’s sure as hell not talking to me. They all surround her because they respect her. She’s taken it upon herself more than once to help run the place. She has a convincing way about her; corralling my employees and getting them to do what she wants comes naturally for her.

She’d make a terrific manager someday. She’s not ready yet but with the proper training, she would be great.

“Do you have a job yet?” Becca, one of my newer cocktail waitresses, is the one eagerly drilling Jen at the moment.

“I hope to go to Sacramento on my next day off for interviews.” Jen shrugs, her body language casual, but I can hear the nerves in her voice. “I have a few things set up.”

“You’re so brave, just leaving like that with nothing lined up.” Becca sounds like a borderline idiot, admiring Jen for taking off with no real plan. I thought she had one. She’s always been too impulsive. “I wish I had the guts to do something like that.”

“Guts? I think she’s crazy. There’s nothing brave about up and leaving a solid, dependable job and a place where you have great friends who’ll be there for you no matter what you need. Why would anyone want to walk away from that? Sounds like the ideal setup to me and she’s just . . . bailing.” Ah, leave it to Fable to call Jen out for what she’s doing. I know Fable is good and pissed at Jen.

“Fable.” Jen shakes her head, clearly exasperated. I can only see the back of her head, but I’m sure she’s giving Fable the death glare. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

“Maybe.” Fable shrugs. “Can’t I be selfish and wish you were sticking around? There’s no reason for you to leave.”

“There are a bazillion reasons for me to leave. One of them just so happens to be here at this very moment.”

Dread sinks my gut to my toes. She’s talking about me. And not only is she talking about me, she’s doing so in front of a handful of my employees. Employees that get it and suspect something is going on between us. And will now suspect I have everything to do with her leaving.

Fucking great.

Moving away from my perch at the hostess stand I stride into the bar, clapping my hands and putting on my stern boss face. “All right, let’s break up this unofficial powwow and get to work. Customers will start trickling in at any minute.”

They scramble like cockroaches when a light’s flicked on—even Jen, who shoots me a worried look as she hurries past, headed straight into the dining area. Fable’s the only one left, standing her ground, looking every inch the fierce little warrior she is.

“Don’t you have something to do?” I ask, sounding like a complete dick and not really caring. I’m grumpy as shit. I’ve been grumpy since Jen dropped her “I’m leaving” bomb on me.

Fable waves her hand at me, the lights from above catching on her engagement ring, making the diamond twinkle brightly. “Clearly I must, since no one else is doing anything about it.”

Before I can say a word she’s rushing me, her expression tight as she shoves my shoulder so hard, I take a step backward. “What the hell was that for?” I ask as I rub my shoulder, more than a little pissed.

More than anything, I’m stunned that she would do such a thing. Touch me like that. Looking at me like she wants to kick my ass into the next planet.

“For being such a stupid idiot who won’t do anything to stop the girl you care about from walking out of your life forever.” Her green eyes blaze fury at me and I take another step back, downright scared of the ferocity I see written all over her expressive face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wincing, I jump out of her way when she tries to hit me again.

“You’re lucky I missed. You’re being a complete asshole.” She rests her fisted hands on her hips, positively fuming. “I don’t care if you are my boss, we’re also friends, right?”

“Yeah, but at the moment, I’m officially your boss, considering you’re on the clock and all.” The minute the words fly, I know it was the wrong thing to say.

Her lips tighten so much they almost completely disappear. “Hey look, there you go being an as**ole again.”

Grabbing her arm, I silently lead her outside, to the alley behind the restaurant where all the employees hang out during their breaks. Some of them eat, some of them smoke, and all of them gossip. Luckily enough, it’s just Fable and me out here. I couldn’t take her berating me where anyone could see and hear us. As if I’d let her.

If I wanted to be a complete jackass, I could fire her on the spot. At the very least, write her up and suspend her for a few days. She’d deserve it for the set-down she’s giving me. Talk about insubordination!

But I know I deserve whatever she’s going to say, so I’m going to take it. It’s gonna be ugly, but maybe she can knock some sense into my head. Lord knows I need it.

“If you want to yell at me, do it out here,” I tell her once the door is firmly shut behind us. I can hear the music coming from inside the bar, hear the noise level start to swell as the restaurant slowly fills with customers. Like a switch, we go from empty to full, just like that.

“Want me to be brutally honest?”

Jesus, if she wasn’t being brutally honest just now, what do I have to look forward to? “Please, be my guest,” I say wryly, readying myself for the blow.

“She’s in love with you.”

Fuck. I hadn’t expected that. I flinch, as if Fable’s words physically hit me.

“Don’t say a word, because you’re just going to ruin it. Or make me madder. I warn Drew not to say anything when I talk to him like this because he always, always makes it worse. Men.” Fable shakes her head but she doesn’t look that angry. She loves Drew Callahan more than life itself. Lucky fucker. “Don’t you see the way she looks at you? She keeps your every secret, deflects it when everyone, and I do mean everyone, flat-out says to her face that she’s f**king the boss. She defends you always.”

I say nothing, because what is there to say?

Fable’s on such a roll, I wouldn’t be able to get a word in anyway. “I don’t understand what’s going on between you two, so who am I to judge? But I’m not sure if she understands it either. All I know is she believes you don’t feel the same way she does. And that’s why she’s leaving. She can’t take it anymore.”