ALMOST US

S.M. SHADE

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Acknowledgements for the Almost Duet

Where to Find S.M. Shade

More by S.M. Shade

Copyright © 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover art by Melissa Gill Designs

Formatting by Pink Elephant Designs

CHAPTER 1

This can’t be happening.

Those words are a song played over and over in my mind on my frantic drive to Stokes Brothers. Not thirty minutes ago, Oliver was led away in handcuffs, accused of hiring the Warrens to kill Alden. It’s insane. Everything that’s happened over the last seven months sometimes feels like a cosmic joke. Like we’re only characters in a play and some sadistic writer is throwing horrible things at us for their own entertainment.

Tori and Paul pull into the lot and park beside me as I’m climbing out of my car. She was my first call. “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know. Milo said they’re searching the shop.”

The three of us rush inside to find Milo and Smith standing in the garage while an officer guards the stairs leading to Oliver’s apartment.

“They arrested him?” Smith asks.

“Yes. They took him.” My words spill out in a panic. “I need to find him a lawyer. A criminal lawyer. I have to get him out. He’s not well enough to be in jail. We have to—”

Milo reaches out and lays a firm hand on my shoulder. “I know a criminal attorney. He doesn’t come cheap but he’s one of the best in the city. He got my sister out of some shit a few years ago. I’ll call him.”

“Yes, call him. The quicker the better.”

“What are they looking for?” Tori asks. “Did they show you the search warrant?”

Smith nods and hands her a sheet of paper while Milo walks away to make the call. She skims it and hands it to me. After I read it twice, I hand it back to Smith. “They’re limited to the office and Oliver’s apartment,” he says.

“Is there anything illegal here? Hot bike parts? Weed? Anything?” I’m not aware of anything illegal going on here, but I have to ask.

“Absolutely not,” Smith replies. “They won’t find anything like that. They aren’t looking for drugs or stolen property anyway. Only financial records. There’s a detective in the office going through the computer.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Tori exclaims. “What do they think he did? Launder money or something? What did they even charge him with?”

Milo approaches with his phone to his ear to ask the same question. “Do you know the exact charge?”

My stomach turns. “Conspiracy to commit murder.” Everyone freezes and stares at me while I force myself to add. “Alden’s murder. They’re accusing him of paying the Warrens to kill him and disguise it as a robbery.”

The sudden silence reflects their shock.

“That’s fucking insane!” Tori exclaims. “They can’t be serious.”

Milo relays the information to the person on the phone and walks away again.

“Why do they think Oliver had something to do with it?” Smith asks.

“I have no idea. They didn’t question him. They just showed up and took him. I don’t understand any of it. Detective Ramos, the one who’s been handling this from the beginning, was there. He wouldn’t tell me why or what evidence they had.”

Milo glares at the officers who emerge from the office carrying files and the laptop. “The lawyer will meet us at his office in two hours. He’s making the calls to find out when Oliver will be arraigned.”

“What do I need to do? What does he need from me?” I ask, my mind running a thousand miles per hour.

“It’s a thousand dollars to put him on retainer for the arraignment hearing. After that, Oliver can decide if he wants him to represent him for the rest. He needs a signature to show you’ve retained his services. I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you.”

The officers finish ransacking Oliver’s apartment while we stand around, not knowing what else to do. Once they’ve left, Milo says, “Hudson and Joanna are due in soon. Do we want to close the shop?”

“Yes.” My answer is instant. All focus needs to be on Oliver today. Still, this is going to be expensive, and I need to make sure we’re in a position to re-open as soon as possible.

“They took the computer. We need that to operate, right?” I ask Smith.

“I have everything that we need to run the shop backed up to the cloud, but yes, we need a laptop. We can’t see our appointments, print work orders or receipts.” He rubs his chin. “I have an older one at home that might get us through for a bit. It’s a little glitchy.”

I do my best to focus on the decisions that need to be made despite the fear trying to pull me down. “Give everyone a paid day off,” I tell Milo, then turn to Smith. “Can you shop for a new laptop? You know what you need for our software. Just use the business card.”

“Of course.”

Milo hops on the phone, and Smith heads out to his truck. Okay, the shop is handled. At least today is my day off from my studio so I don’t have any appointments scheduled. I’m not going to start rearranging any of that until I see what the lawyer says since I have zero idea what to expect over the next few days.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I tell Tori and Paul. “I’ll call you after I meet with the lawyer. We really won’t know anything until then.”

Tori raises her eyebrows. “I’m not going anywhere.” She hands her keys to Paul and drops a kiss on his lips. “I won’t be home before you go to work. I made you a lunch. It’s in the fridge.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Call me if you need me. I’ll check in with you later.” He leans and gives me a hug. “I’m sorry for all of this, Ella. Oliver has everyone on his side. I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Tori asks.

“No. I’m not hungry.” There’s no way I’d be able to choke anything down. “But I could use a coffee.”

“A big sugary one,” she agrees.

“Would you mind going for us? I want to go see what they did upstairs.”

“Of course.”

She accepts the credit card I hand her. “Grab some food if you’re hungry, and an iced caramel macchiato for Milo too.”

The edges of her mouth crease. “Milo drinks macchiatos?”

Despite the situation, I feel a small grin tickle my lips. Big, burly Milo with a fancy coffee made me laugh the first time too. Especially since he started out making fun of my “frou-frou coffees” until I made him try a sip.

“He does. It’s almost as shocking as finding out my best friend makes her boyfriend’s lunch.”

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

I shake my head. “Tori Porter making a man a sandwich…”

Her response is a middle finger as she walks away.

I knew Oliver’s apartment would be a mess, but I didn’t expect this. I thought they would’ve scattered some papers around while hunting through them at most. Every drawer and cabinet in his place is empty. It looks like a bomb went off, turning paperwork, dishes, clothes, and random stuff into shrapnel.

All of his clothes have been yanked out of his closet and thrown over the bed and floor. The shelves are clear, the boxes they once held dumped onto the hardwood.

I’m not sure where to begin cleaning up, but Oliver can’t come home to this. And he will come home. I’m not letting myself even consider the alternative.

With a sigh, I start by gathering his shirts and hanging them back in the closet. After a few minutes, Tori’s voice makes me jump.

“Cops are such assholes!”

Alden held the same opinion. I remember him telling me when he found out Sawyer wanted to be a federal agent. It’s kind of hard to disagree at the moment.

“I don’t think anything is broken.”

“The medicine cabinet?” she calls from the attached bathroom. “Seriously? They had to swipe his band-aids and aspirin onto the floor to see there weren’t financial records in there? The fuck?”

Her outrage is comforting. I’m not alone in this situation. More importantly, Oliver isn’t alone.

“Here,” she says, handing me my iced mocha. “I had them throw in a shot of espresso.”

“Thanks. The more caffeine and sugar today, the better.”

“I’ll get started in the kitchen.”

We manage to get the bedroom and half of the kitchen cleaned up before it’s time to head to the lawyer’s office.

Tori and I ride with Milo in his truck to a swanky office building downtown. Milo leads the way up to the fourth floor and opens the door to a plush lobby.

The receptionist looks up from her computer. “Can I help you?”

“We have an appointment with Lowell Richards,” I reply, and she gestures to the small hallway, giving us a smile.

“First door on the left.”

Mr. Richards greets us when we enter. “Milo, good to see you. How’s Gina?”

“Staying out of trouble.”

“Glad to hear it.” They shake hands then Milo introduces me and Tori.

Lowell isn’t exactly what I expected. The lawyers I’ve met tend to be stuffed shirt, preppy types or men so old they could’ve written the laws. He’s a guy who looks to be in his mid-forties, clean shaven, and wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. We did bring the man in on a Sunday so maybe suits are only for weekdays and court.

He’s personable, and I like his no-nonsense attitude right away when he starts asking questions and making notes. It strikes me how crazy the whole thing sounds when I have to say it aloud.

“I’ve found out Oliver is due to be arraigned tomorrow morning at nine in courtroom four of the justice building. Our first concern is for bail. With a murder charge, they may request he be remanded until trial.”

My heart is in my throat. He could be locked up for a long time before we even get the chance to tell his story.

Lowell continues, “However, since he has no criminal record and his medical issues are well documented, I’m going to argue for bail. If we’re successful, it will likely come with stipulations such as house arrest or other electronic monitoring.”

“As long as he’s free,” I tell him.

“I’m going to do my best. The judge presiding is reasonable, but no pushover.”

He goes on to explain how the hearing will work and what to expect. After I’ve handed over the check for his services, he asks, “Have you retained an attorney for yourself, Ms. Booth?”

“I haven’t been accused of anything,” I point out, taken aback.

“I understand that. It’s wise to be prepared in cases such as this. They’ll be looking for motives for Oliver to kill his brother. You’ve been Oliver’s caretaker since Alden’s death, and you may be questioned over whether you had a prior relationship with him.”

Outrage has me on my feet. “And told him to kill my fiancé on our wedding day? Are you serious?”

“Ella,” Tori murmurs, grabbing my wrist.

“Yes, unfortunately I’m serious.” He slides his card across the desk to me. “If you are questioned, do not answer anything and call me immediately.”

My anger leaks into despair. “This is a nightmare.”

“It may not happen but it’s best to be prepared.”

It wasn’t something I had even considered, but if they’re crazy enough to think Oliver killed Alden, then it isn’t a far jump to throw me in the same scenario. Maybe I should be afraid, but all my fear seems to be reserved for Oliver. After all, I know there’s no connection between myself and the Warrens, nor any evidence against me.

It’s afternoon when we leave the lawyer’s office. There’s nothing else that can be done for tonight. Oliver will have to spend the night in jail. The thought makes me sick to my stomach but there’s no help for it.

When we return to the shop, Smith listens while we fill him in on the consultation. “So, we need to be at the courthouse at nine,” he says.

“Yes,” Milo replies. “I’ll call to let Hudson and Joanna know they can come in to work but to keep the shop closed until we get back. Hopefully with Oliver.”

Smith nods and regards me. “The new computer is set up with everything we need installed. The office has been cleaned up and put back in order. What else needs to be done tonight?”

“Nothing,” I reply, grateful for him and Milo. “You should both go home. Tori and I are going to finish cleaning up Oliver’s apartment, then we’ll be at my place tonight. I’ll meet you at the courthouse in the morning.”

Before they leave, I hug them both. “Thank you for all the help.”

“Whatever evidence they have must be bullshit,” Smith assures me. “We know how close those boys were. I’m sorry this is happening, but Alden would be proud of you for sticking by his brother.”

Milo nods his agreement.

Somehow, I doubt they’d feel that way if they knew I fucked him last night.

Once they’re gone, Tori and I finish cleaning up Oliver’s apartment. It’s so hard not to think of him sitting in a cell. Detective Ramos said he’d be housed in the medical wing, but I have no idea what that might look like.

It’s late in the evening when we go back to my house. The sight of Oliver’s packed bags sitting in the foyer hits me hard. So much has happened over the last twenty-four hours.

The bags don’t escape Tori’s notice. “Were you going somewhere?” she asks.

“Oliver was packing to move back to his apartment. Before the cops showed up.”

“Unfortunate timing.”

Guilt pours into me. All I’ve done is add to the turmoil and make things worse for him. The knot in my throat won’t disappear no matter how many times I swallow.

“Hey.” Tori says, after hanging up her coat. “He’s going to be okay. This shit will get straightened out. We know it has to be a mistake. Then he can sue that fucking department until he owns their asses.”

“It’s not that.” I turn to face away from her. This weight I’m carrying is too much. It’s one thing too much. “I’ve done something terrible.”

Tori follows me into the living room. “Okay. Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t know if I can. You won’t look at me the same. I sure as fuck don’t.”

Tori clamps her hands on my shoulders, halting my erratic pacing of the floor. “Ella. There’s nothing you can’t say to me. I might tell you that you’re an idiot or you’re wrong, but I’ll still have your back and help you solve the problem.”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish. It’s so hard to get the words out.

Tori crosses her arms. “Do we need to bury a body? Burn some evidence? Run to Mexico? Tell me now because I’ll need to take care of it while Paul’s at work.”

Everyone should have a friend like Tori.

“I had sex with Oliver last night.”

The contempt I expect to see never appears on her face. She doesn’t recoil in horror or ask me what the hell is the matter with me. She doesn’t even seem surprised. Instead, she sighs. “Ella.” There’s no judgment or disappointment in her voice. “We need wine for this.”

Despite the tears in my eyes, a snort of laughter leaps out of me. “Yeah. In the kitchen.”

Once we both have a glass in hand, we sit on the couch. Tori tucks her feet beneath her and faces me. “I thought this might happen. I almost brought it up with you a few times.” She smiles at my startled silence. “Don’t look so surprised. You two have been in each other’s pockets since he woke up. You’ve taken care of him for months. You’re lonely. Things happen.”

“Alden would hate me.” I drain my wine glass and refill it. It’s too bad I can’t get drunk tonight. Showing up in court hungover isn’t a good look. “Oliver said he wouldn’t want me to be unhappy or feel guilty, but he doesn’t know that.”

Tori chews her lip, considering her next words. “This is going to sound harsh, but it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what Alden would think or want. He isn’t coming back to complain. Nothing you do now is going to affect him, Ella.” She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “You can’t hurt him where he is, do you understand?”

Logically, I do, but my heart isn’t having it. “I know. But it’s his brother.”

“I’m not saying it’s a good idea to do it again. It’s a terrible idea. Not because of what Alden would think or what others might have to say about it, but because of that look on your face right now. It matters what you think, how you feel. How do you feel?”

There are a throng of feelings inside me right now, but one elbows its way through the crowd to the forefront. “Guilty.”

Tori tilts her head, looking at me with sympathy as I continue. “Not just for sleeping with him. It wasn’t a moment of weakness or alcohol or anything like that. There’s something between us that wasn’t there before. At least for me. I notice him in ways I never did. He says he has feelings for me too, but I think it’s because I’ve taken care of him. I’m taking advantage of him when he’s too mixed up to know what he feels.”

Tori sips her wine and regards me. “It’s odd for me sometimes, looking at him when he’s so much like Alden. I can only imagine how hard that’s been for you. Do you think you love Oliver? Or are you desperately trying to hang onto the only piece of Alden that’s left?” Tori’s tone is kind, but nothing could soften those words.

“Oliver said something similar, that I only want him because he’s almost Alden.”

Tori’s brow furrows. “But he still wanted to sleep with you?”

Swallowing the last of my wine, I resist a third glass. “He said that this morning, right after he told me he was moving out.”

“After you had sex last night,” she clarifies, confused.

“Yeah, and after I yelled his brother’s name when I came.”

Tori nearly spits out her wine and quickly pulls the glass away from her lips to gape at me. Her stare continues for a long moment until she suddenly bursts into laughter. She slaps a hand over her mouth way too late and leans over to put her glass on the table.

“I’m…sorry. It’s not…I know it’s not funny,” she manages, still laughing her ass off.

“It was mortifying!”

She covers her face, her shoulders shaking. Laughter is contagious, especially if you have a good wine buzz, and giggles begin to spill out of me too.

“Poor Oliver has not had a good twenty-four hours,” she says, shaking her head.

Tears pour down my face through my giggles until I can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying. It’s all so insane. Everything that’s happened. Just horrible and macabre and fucking ridiculous. How has this become my life?

After we both calm down, Tori hugs me. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about. No one would judge you or Oliver. If they do, they have no right. You don’t have to figure this out right now.”

“No, all that matters now is getting him out of jail and proving he had nothing to do with the robbery.”

“And once that’s accomplished, you need some space. Some time apart. Him moving back to his apartment is a good start. Get some distance and perspective.”

It’s the opposite of what I want, especially now. He needs me.

CHAPTER 2

After a brief meeting with Oliver’s lawyer this morning, Milo, Smith, Tori, and I sit in the gallery of courtroom four. Oliver is led in wearing the same clothes that he was arrested in. He glances back at me and nods. Exhaustion is written over every inch of him.

I’m not familiar with court proceedings, other than what I’ve seen on TV, but Lowell explained that this would go quickly. He’ll hear the charges and they’ll argue for bail. That’s the most important part today. If they choose to remand him, he could stay locked up until trial. The thought has my stomach in knots while I listen to the exchange taking place.

The court clerk is a thin, older woman with a voice that carries. “Your honor, Mr. Stokes is now present. Mr. Stokes, you are charged with conspiracy to commit murder. A plea of not guilty has been entered.”

The judge is scary. His expression gives nothing away as he peruses the file in front of him. He looks to the assistant district attorney. “Can we hear the facts from the state?”

“Good morning, your honor. Jason Hanlon for the state. On April second, Alden Stokes and Kevin Thornton were shot and killed in the commission of an armed robbery at The Stop Along convenience store at 637 Bowen Street. Two suspects, Dean and Connor Warren, have been apprehended and held in custody. On November thirteenth, we received a signed confession from Dean Warren stating that Oliver Stokes hired him to rob the store at that particular time to murder Alden Stokes. A search warrant has been executed at Mr. Stokes’ home and business, Stokes Brothers Custom Cycles. Detective Victor Ramos arrested Mr. Stokes yesterday morning to be arraigned here today.”

A confession? That’s why he was arrested? On the word of some lowlife, robbing, murdering asshole?

The judge pauses to finish whatever he’s reading, then asks, “Does the state have a recommendation for bail?”

“Due to the seriousness of the offense, the state requests that a bail of one million dollars be set to ensure his return to court.”

I’m relieved they aren’t requesting remand, but a million dollars? Even under bond, that would be a hundred thousand to get him out. I’m doing well, but I don’t have a hundred grand lying around.

The judge doesn’t blink at the request which makes me think it isn’t out of the ordinary or unreasonable to him. My eyes fill while I swallow back a knot. Smith reaches over and takes my hand.

“Response from the defense?” the judge asks, looking down at Lowell.

“Your honor, Attorney Richard Lowell on behalf of Mr. Stokes. My client has no prior convictions or arrests. He was gravely injured during the robbery in question, remained in a coma for over two months, and now suffers from multiple mental deficits for which he is receiving medical care. He has been diagnosed with amnesia and has no memory of himself or anything before his injury. He’s an upstanding businessman with strong community ties. There’s no evidence that he would be a flight risk. We ask that he be released on his own recognizance and he would agree to wear a GPS monitor.”

The judge looks down at him over his glasses. “You want me to O.R. on a murder charge?”

Lowell smiles. “These are unique circumstances, your honor.”

The judge considers it for a moment. “Having heard these arguments, I’m setting the bail at five hundred thousand. Should you post bail, additional conditions are imposed. The defendant will surrender his passport. He will also wear a GPS monitor and remain inside the city limits at all times.”

He continues going on about fees associated with the ankle monitor but I don’t hear it. The ten percent a bondsman will require to free Oliver is fifty-thousand. We can do that. I’ll pull it from the Stokes business account. Whatever happens next, he’s coming home. The relief of that sends tears down my cheeks.

Oliver is led out of the courtroom and the rest of us meet Lowell in the hallway. “Where are they taking him? I can pay the fifty thousand now,” I tell him.

“He’ll be processed out once the clerk is paid and they’ve attached his ankle monitor. It’ll be a few hours at least.”

He goes on to explain where to go to get the bail paid, reminds me that Oliver needs to meet with him first thing tomorrow if he’s going to be handling his case from this point on, and excuses himself.

We all agree that Milo and Smith will go to the shop before things get catastrophically behind there, and I’ll pick up Oliver when they release him. Tori hasn’t been home since yesterday morning and also has to work today so she heads home after I promise to keep her updated.

Hours later, I get the call that he’s about to be released and I’m just pulling up to the side door of the justice center when he walks out of the double doors. His face is grim, and he waves for me not to get out of the car as he approaches.

“Are you okay?” I ask when he climbs into the passenger seat. He looks over at me silently. “Right. Stupid question.” I pull away from the curb, merging with the traffic. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to stop at a drive-thru?”

“No, thanks.”

It’s all he says until we park in my driveway. Before he can get out, I take his hand. “It’ll be alright. You have a good lawyer. He’ll straighten this out. No one believes you had anything to do with that robbery. All your friends have your back.”

His smile is forced, and he squeezes my hand back before getting out of the car. “Where did you get the bail money? I need to pay you back.”

“No, you don’t. I took it from the Stokes Brothers business account. It’s yours as much as it is mine.”

Once we’re inside, he starts gathering his bags and putting them into his car. I figured he’d be upset, but I didn’t think he’d still want to leave.

“Oliver, you don’t have to go. Especially now.”

He scoffs, and bitterness invades his voice. “Yeah, I do. It’s always going to be something. I was just finding my life and now…” He pauses after stuffing a jacket into his bag and mumbles, “Murder. Fucking murder.”

“Everyone knows you didn’t do it.”

His head whips around and I’m met with a blazing stare. “How? Just how the fuck do you know that when I don’t even know?”

Oh god. It never occurred to me that he might doubt his innocence. He stands stone still when I grab his wrists and look him in the eye. “Because I know you. Because I’ve known you most of our lives and you aren’t a monster. You loved Alden. We were the two people who loved him more than anyone else. If you can’t believe me, or believe in yourself, know that Tori and the guys at the shop loved Alden too. Would they have showed up in court to support you if they had any doubts? No matter what the prosecutor or cops told you, you did not do this.”

He steps back and runs his hands through his hair. “They didn’t tell me anything. They kept asking questions I couldn’t answer.”

Fear fills me. Rule number one is never talk to cops without a lawyer. “What did you say to them?”

“I kept telling them that I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t fucking remember!” he exclaims, his voice rising.

“Okay, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not! Stop saying that! I have to remember. How can I defend myself? How can I swear I didn’t do it if I don’t fucking know?”

“I get it. We can try to trigger your memories again and—”

“No.” He slings a bag over his shoulder and picks up another. “Not we. I’m going home. What we talked about before hasn’t changed. I can’t figure out who I am when you’re looking at me and seeing my brother. My head is too scrambled. I need to be alone and sort some things out.”

He pauses, taking in the look on my face. “I’m grateful for everything, Ella, and I’m not cutting you off. I’m just moving out. I’ll call you after I meet with the lawyer and let you know what’s going on.”

“Okay.” What else is there to say? He’s a grown man. I can’t keep him here if he wants to go.

His voice softens. “You need to get back to your life too. I’m sure you had to cancel appointments today, didn’t you?”

“It’s fine. I rescheduled.”

“I couldn’t have made it this far without you but there’s nothing you can do now.” He leans and presses his lips to my forehead. “Stop worrying about me and get back to your life.”

Sighing, I nod. “I can do one of those things. Promise you’ll call if you need me. You’re still family.”

“I promise.”

A few hours after Oliver leaves, my phone rings and Mom’s face smiles at me from the screen. As soon as I say hello, she asks, “What’s wrong?”

My voice is husky from crying so I shouldn’t be surprised. “Oliver is in trouble.” She listens while I explain everything that’s happened—minus me riding Oliver and yelling Alden’s name.

“We’re coming up there. I know you wanted to skip the holidays this year, but—”

“No. There’s nothing you can do, Mom. He has a good lawyer and we’re waiting to see what comes next. For now, he’s back to work and back to living at the shop. He’s starting to recover memories here and there. I need to focus on my business for the next few weeks too.”

“Alright.” Her tone doesn’t hide her displeasure. “I hate to think of you being alone right now, Ella. Especially with the holidays coming.”

“I’ll be fine. I won’t be alone. I’ll go to a friend’s house on Thanksgiving. Smith has already invited me, and you know I can go to Tori’s.” It’s time to change the subject. “Did you call for something before I dropped that bombshell on you?”

“Oh, yes, I was calling about Christmas plans, but it might not be such a great idea now. Garrett invited us to come to Alaska to stay for two weeks with him and his girlfriend. He plans to call and invite you too. I think he’s going to propose to her.”

“That’s great news! Will you please tell him why I can’t come? I’m not up to celebrating this year and I want to be near Oliver while all this is going on.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“You and Dad go. Go make sure the poor woman knows what she’s getting into. Let me know if they get engaged so I can call and congratulate them.”

“I’ll do that.” She pauses for a moment. “How are you, Ella?”

My reflection leaps out at me when I walk past my bedroom mirror, and I pause to look at my puffy face. “I’ve had better days, Mom, but overall, I’m doing alright. I’m scared for Oliver, and there’s never a day I don’t miss Alden like hell, but I’m getting through it. I’m going to focus on work. You remember I was talking about rebranding? Changing the name of my studio?” It’s not something I really give half a fuck about right now but if she doesn’t think I’m okay, she’ll cancel her trip to visit my brother.

“I do! Did you choose a new name?”

“I’m going to stop accepting boudoir clients. They’re few and far between. I want to concentrate on the maternity and infant side of things. I was thinking of naming it Babies and Bellies.”

“That’s absolutely adorable! I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

We talk for a few more minutes while she complains good naturedly about the new dog Dad got and how she wanted a cat. When we hang up, I feel a little better. Silence closes in around me quickly, and I distract myself by heading to my computer to research a new logo for Babies and Bellies. Maybe it’s time to make that rebranding happen. It’ll give me something to concentrate on other than Oliver.

The red tape that’s necessary to legally change my business name will take a bit to process but I’ve gotten things moving. When I initially chose to call it Ella’s, it was a quick decision I hadn’t given much thought to. At that point, I had my doubts it’d last long. I knew I’d change it at some point, but after Alden’s death, I couldn’t care about anything like that.

In between maternity shoots over the next couple of days, I start cleaning out the loft area where I used to do boudoir pics. I can use this extra space to set up another area for the infants. It’s become my favorite part of this job, even though it’s the most challenging.

Babies don’t cooperate. They scream and pee and sometimes shit. But getting them to calm and seeing how adorable they look curled up in an oversized teacup or tucked into a tiny hammock is worth it. It’s almost as rewarding as the expressions on the parent’s face—and the occasional happy tears—when they see their baby’s photos.

The tinkle of the bell at the front door surprises me while I’m unpacking some new props, and I peek down over the loft to see a woman walk up to the front desk. I don’t get too many people walk in to make an appointment, but some like to check the place out in person first.

“Hi,” I call, descending the stairs. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Ella?” she asks.

“That’s me.”

“Perfect.” If this woman is pregnant or has just had a baby, I’ll eat my shoes. She’s far too put together to have a screaming newborn at home. She reaches her hand out to me. “I’m Angela Dash. I’m a contributor to Modern Motherhood Magazine. I’ve seen some of your work and I’d like to speak to you about featuring Ella’s in our next issue.”

A smile grows on her face while I fight the knot tied in my tongue. Modern Motherhood is a nationally distributed magazine that’s found in most places that women frequent. I was perusing one at the salon recently. Being featured in those pages would be huge for my business.

“That’s…wonderful. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, let’s have a seat over here,” I offer, leading her over to a sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you.” She pulls her phone out and holds it where I can see one of my photos that’s been shared on social media. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but quite a few of your photos have gone viral online. They’re very popular and it’s not hard to see why.”

“I don’t really spend time on social media lately. I’ve noticed an uptick in calls for appointments. That explains it.”

“I imagine those calls are only going to increase. I’d like to do a feature on you. It would mostly focus on your work, of course, but I like to include a little interview with the artist if you’re open to that.”

Is she kidding me? Would I like my business featured in a wildly successful publication that will lead to me having more clients than I can handle? Would anyone turn this down? “I’d be very happy to be included. Thank you so much.”

“Fantastic. Let’s chat then.”

For the next thirty minutes she has my full attention. Thankfully, the questions aren’t too personal. She’s focused mainly on why I wanted to be a photographer, where I went to school, why I decided to open my studio here. She’s going for a hometown girl does good vibe from what I can tell. I let her know that I’m at the beginning of a rebranding and that my business name will be changing. She promises to mention that in the article as well so there’s no confusion when clients try to find me. We go through my photos and choose the ones she’d like to include. We need permission from the parents, but that’s quickly solved with a couple of phone calls.

By the time she leaves, I’m bursting with excitement and I can’t wait to tell someone. A glance at my phone tells me Tori is at work, probably in front of a classroom right about now. It’s a few minutes past five o’clock. The guys might have headed home for the day, but Oliver will likely still be at Stokes Brothers. I’ve been doing my best to give him the space we both need, but I’m going to stop in to share my news and see how he’s doing.

Milo’s truck sits parked beside Oliver’s car, but it looks like the others have gone home. The door is locked since it’s after hours, and I’m greeted by loud rock music when I let myself in.

Milo hangs up a set of keys on the peg board, then turns to see me. “Hey!” He reaches under the counter and turns the music down to a level where we can hear each other. “I didn’t know you were coming. Everything alright?”

“Everything’s great. Maybe I just missed you.”

His big chest shakes under a gruff laugh. “Of course you did.”

“Things good here?” I ask, glancing around.

“Same as always.” He leans over and drops his voice. “Take a peek into the garage.”

Curiosity grips me as I follow his direction and look around into the bays. There’s no music blaring in there, but a set of earbuds are tucked into Oliver’s ears. He sits surrounded by a bunch of metal parts that I couldn’t identify if my life was at stake. He’s streaked with grime. While I watch, he rubs his hand up his forehead, knocking his sweaty hair back but leaving a smear of what looks like oil. His brow furrows while he studies the part. I’ve seen that look on Alden’s face a hundred times. On him what looked like frustration or concentration was pure joy. He was in his element.

Oliver picks up a small wrench and begins to work on the part. I can’t take my eyes off of him. Staring at the dirt-streaked jeans, dark gray fitted shirt, and the small smile that appears when he gets whatever he’s working on accomplished is like looking back in time. Alden would’ve loved to see this side of him.

Without letting him notice me, I slip back into the lobby area. “He’s working on a bike.”

“He’s building a bike,” he corrects.

“He told me you were teaching him the mechanic side of things, but I thought he was still mainly working on the business stuff.”

“He’s doing both, bouncing between them, and learning fast, but he doesn’t seem to take to the numbers like he used to. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the mechanical skills before, or at least the ability to learn them, he just wasn’t interested. He once said he’d leave the monkey wrenches to us monkeys, and Alden threw a bolt at him.” Milo pauses to look at me after he shrugs into his coat. “He’s changed. That blow to the head rearranged him, I guess.”

Rearranged. That’s a good way to put it. He’s not damaged or broken. He’s rearranged.

“He’s doing alright, though?”

“He’s doing a hell of a lot better than I would be if I had his problems riding on my shoulders. That’s a strong fucking man out there.”

Oliver walks in, putting an end to the conversation. He stops short when he sees me, and a smile rises on his lips. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I stopped by to see how things are going.”

Milo scoops up his keys. “I’m out of here. I left that work order on the desk in the office.” Oliver nods at him and he takes off.

“How are you doing?” I hate how awkward things feel now.

He walks around the counter, putting it between us. “I’m okay. Working a lot. How about you?”

“Same. Working. I’m rebranding my studio like I talked about before. And I had a writer from Modern Motherhood magazine visit me today. They’re going to do a feature on my infant photography, so I don’t think I’ll have a shortage of clients anytime soon.”

“That’s fantastic!” His smile reaches into my stomach. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“I’m excited about it.” I notice a drip of blood leak out of a band-aid wrapped around his middle finger. “You’re bleeding.”

He curses under his breath and pulls the first aid kit from under the counter. “I was installing a new rotor and the wrench slipped and slit open my finger.”

“Do you need stitches?”

He pulls off the band-aid and cleans the cut. “Nah, Milo super glued it.”

Men. I swear.

While he’s putting ointment on the cut, I open a new band-aid. He holds out his hand for me to apply it. The injured area is the only clean spot on his hand, but I pay no mind, holding his hand and wrapping the bandage tight around his finger to stop the bleeding. “Any news from the lawyer?” I ask.

“Not really. He plans to claim I’m not mentally competent to stand trial because of my memory loss. So he’s working on that.”

It’s not a defense I expected. It seems to me like proving he didn’t do it would be better than claiming he’s too messed up to remember, but he’s the lawyer. Whatever keeps Oliver out of jail. It’s only been a few days, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that our justice system moves at the speed of a sloth.

“Ella?” His voice is soft, and I look up into his eyes. The emotions I see there mirror my own. Yearning and pain and shame.

“Hmm?”

“I should get back to work.”

I’m still holding his hand. “Right, yeah, sorry.” I let him go and take a step back.

“I want to see that magazine when it comes out.”

“It’ll be at the end of the month, after Thanksgiving.” It occurs to me he may not have plans then either. “Are you doing anything for Thanksgiving?”

“Milo and Smith both invited me, but no. I’m not really in the celebrating mood.”

“Yeah, I get that. Okay, I’m going to go. Try not to cut off a finger.”

“See you later.”

CHAPTER 3

Tori’s parents must be putting on quite the Thanksgiving dinner judging by the number of cars parked next door to me. Tori’s isn’t among them since she’s gone to visit Paul’s family this year. Most of the houses are lit up and full of people coming and going. I’m doing my best not to let loneliness seep in. It’s just another day, Ella. You didn’t even care for Thanksgiving before. Turkey and cranberries aren’t your thing.

No, they aren’t, but family is. A peek into the dining room brings back so many memories of Mom, Dad, Garrett, and I gathered around the table. The last two years, Alden was with us too, and I smile remembering how he and dad played rock, paper, scissors to see who would carve the turkey. Alden won and Dad threw a pea at him that bounced right off his forehead.

This Thanksgiving will be different but not terrible. I braved the ridiculously crowded grocery store yesterday, but not for the food most customers were battling over. The bags I left with were full of cookies, chips, and candy. I risked a quick trip over the state border into Illinois to buy some weed from a dispensary. My plans for the night are simple. Get high, eat my feelings, and binge watch TV.

I’m thirty minutes into a horror movie marathon when my doorbell rings. It’s probably Tori’s parents offering an invitation again.

Instead of Luke or Mia staring back at me when I open the door, I’m met with Oliver’s sheepish grin. Two pizza boxes sit balanced on his palm. “Hey…I thought you might be hungry.”

His uncertainty is cute, despite the reason for it. We both agreed not to spend too much time together while we get our feelings sorted out, but I’m glad to see him after a week apart.

“Come in. You’re just in time for Creepshow. It’s classic Stephen King.”

“You watch horror movies alone?”

“Ha! I’m super brave.”

He follows me into the living room where my snacks are spread over the coffee table. The corners of his mouth crease. “Got the munchies?”

“Not yet, but I plan to. Why didn’t I think of pizza?”

Laughing, he edges the boxes onto one side of the table, careful not to knock anything off.

“Grab something to drink. You know where I keep the alcohol if you want something stronger than a soft drink. I know you can’t smoke.” They didn’t specifically tell him he could be drug tested while he’s out with the tracking anklet, but they did warn him that committing a crime would send him straight to jail where he’d stay until trial. And our state still treats marijuana like it’s heroin, as ridiculous as that is.

He returns with a glass of Coke and a bottle of whiskey. It feels good to have him here. It feels natural. We spent so many evenings like this while he was recovering.

His eyebrow raises when he catches me staring at him. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re here. The house felt too empty tonight.”

“Me too. My apartment felt the same way.”

“Any news from your lawyer?”

He sips his drink while I roll a joint. “I have an appointment to be examined by a forensic psychologist. He warned me it’ll be a long interview and that they may even want to meet with me more than once. They’ll be the biggest influence on the judge when it comes to determining whether I’m fit to stand trial. He advised me to be honest and not try to lie to make things go my way.”

I shift around in my seat to look at him. “Yeah, I can’t imagine a forensic psychologist is going to be fooled.”

His head tilts a bit when he looks at me, and a flutter runs through my stomach. I’ve missed him. “Lowell told me he once had a client talk only in rhymes the entire time, then shit himself right in the middle of the interview. It did not end well for him.”

“Oh my god!” It’s good to see him laugh, and my mood lightens. “If you’re not found competent to stand trial, does that mean he’s going for an insanity defense?” A mental hospital would be better than prison, but he doesn’t deserve to be locked up at all.

“No, insanity is different. That would be claiming I didn’t understand what I was doing at the time of the crime. We have no evidence of that. Competency to stand trial is judging whether I can understand the charges and assist my attorney in defending me against them. I don’t have a lot of hope for it, honestly. From what Lowell told me, mental state at the time of the crime is what’s important. Amnesia after the fact is no excuse. If someone gets drunk and smashes up a bar, they’re still guilty of it even if they don’t remember once they sober up.”

His demeanor as he talks about it concerns me. He sounds so disconnected. I reach out to lay my hand on his. “How are you doing with it all? Really?”

His eyes darken a little when they land on mine. “I’m scared. It’s hard not knowing what’s going to happen. I want to think everything will be fine. The lawyer will prove Dean Warren lied in his confession. He’s going to go after his character which isn’t hard to do.”

He sighs and takes a swallow of his drink. “But I don’t know how this is going to turn out. And sometimes getting through the days with it hanging over my head is hard. Lowell says to be prepared for this to be a marathon, not a sprint. I’m just trying not to think about it.”

“Okay. Let’s drop the subject and try to relax tonight,” I suggest. “But I’m always here if you need to talk.”

He nods as I withdraw my hand. “Nothing says relaxation like horror movies.”

It turns out to be one of the best nights I’ve had in a while. He drinks while I get high, and we pig out on pizza and junk food. Our movie marathon continues with Creepshow 2.

Oliver sits up straight at one point. “I remember this!” He drops his voice. “Thanks for the ride, lady.”

I grab the throw blanket from the back of the couch and curl my legs under me, getting comfortable. “We loved it when we were kids.”

He gnaws his lip for a moment. “I used to annoy Mom with it. Whenever she dropped me off somewhere.” He repeats the phrase in a gravelly voice. “Thanks for the ride, lady.”

“Do you remember your mom?” That would be a huge step and so good for him to remember someone who loved him.

“Bits and pieces. I can remember saying things to her. Her smile. But I don’t remember her voice or what she was like.”

“You’re still regaining memories, though. That’s fantastic.”

“This morning, something came back to me. I remember swimming in freezing water with snow on the ground. Can you tell me what that was about?”

He grins when I throw my head back and laugh. “The polar bear plunge! It was Alden’s idea. He signed up Milo, Smith, and Hudson too. It was a charity thing we all did.”

“I remember Milo in a wetsuit. Could’ve done without that one.”

“He was so annoyed.”

Oliver looks over at me. “I remember carrying you into the water when you were taking too long. I think you were annoyed too.”

My mind replays that day, one that’s written deep in my brain. It was the day after Alden and I got together, after I returned from Florida. Alden carried me into the water. Oliver’s remembering some stuff, but it’s not all correct.

“What?” he asks, reading my hesitant expression.

“That’s not exactly how things happened. You were there with Breanna, your ex-girlfriend. Alden carried me into the water.”

His head flinches back slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain, but it’s okay. You probably saw him carry me in, and how I freaked out. Your memory is just a little off. It has to be hard to sort through everything.”

Confusion draws his eyebrows inward. “I guess so. That sucks. If I can’t trust what I recall…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Damn it.”

Scooting closer, I offer him one end of the blanket. “We’re trying to keep things light tonight so let’s go back to the murderous hitchhiker.”

We find our way closer together throughout the rest of the movie, and I’m cuddled against him by the time the credits roll. The room is plunged into darkness when the screen goes black, and the only light we have leaks in from the kitchen.

We’re getting too close. I know it and so does he, but I’ve missed him and it’s obvious from the way his hand strokes down my hair that he’s missed me too.

My tongue slips out to wet my lips when I look up at him and it’s all the invitation he needs. His warm mouth covers mine and my arms wrap around him. His kiss is hungry. Mine is equally as demanding when I plunge my tongue into his mouth and satisfy the urge I’ve had too many times since that last night we spent together.

His hands roam up my sides, brushing my breasts. I run my fingers over the hard planes of his chest and break the kiss to drag my lips over the scruff on his jaw. Alden’s grin flashes in front of me and his voice plays in my head. “You’re the reason I don’t shave. I know you love it.”

Fuck.

Am I going to do this to Oliver again? Wasn’t calling him the wrong name once enough?

He opens his eyes when I move away from him and mumble, “Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, and his lips puff out when he releases it. “That’s not why I came here.”

“I know.”

“I should go.”

Yes, he should, but I don’t want him to. “It’s late. You’ve been drinking. The guest room is still made up.”

He smiles and picks up the bottle of whiskey to take upstairs with him. “I’ll be expecting blueberry pancakes in the morning.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle that.” He leans to plant a kiss on my cheek then goes upstairs.

I want to follow him. Kiss him. Climb into his arms. It’s hard for both of us to resist. It’s wrong. Especially because I can’t be certain why I feel the way I do. Is it only because he reminds me of Alden?

Instead of going to my room which is too temptingly close to his, I lie down on the couch, tucking a throw pillow under my head. The horror movie gets ditched in favor of a mindless sitcom. A few more puffs from a joint settles my racing heart.

I’m okay. It’s amazing how knowing someone else is in the house—even if there are way too many walls between you—can be enough to dull the loneliness. I close my eyes and listen to the voices on the TV while I doze off.

Maybe it was the ton of food or the weed that I’m not accustomed to anymore, but my sleep is heavy and when I wake, Oliver has left. There’s a text from him waiting on my phone.

OLIVER

Had to go to work and didn’t want to wake you. Raincheck on the blueberry pancakes until next time.

Next time. Will there ever be a time when we can be around each other without being tempted? At what point do you stop fighting it?

I’m finishing up with my last client of the day when a delivery man walks into my shop. He smiles, gesturing to the counter, and I nod for him to leave the package there.

“Thank you!” I call.

“Have a good one,” he replies, on his way back out the door.

It’s everything I can do to stay focused on going over digital images with the woman beside me because I know what’s in the thick envelope he delivered. Once we’ve finally finished and she leaves toting her four-week-old son in a carrier, I make a beeline for my desk.

I’m so excited. Modern Motherhood Magazine will hit shelves tomorrow on the first of the month, but Angela promised to send me an advanced copy. Three copies slide out of the envelope.

Oh wow. This is unexpected. She told me that I’d be featured, but I didn’t know one of my photos was going to be on the cover. The image of a sweet newborn asleep on a hanging sliver of the moon takes up most of the glossy cover.

Inside is a two page spread featuring three more of my photographs, along with a picture of me standing by my studio door. The headline across the top reads Unique photography captures baby’s precious early days.

My stomach tumbles like a dryer full of shoes while I read the paragraphs that accompany the images. It’s what Angela said it would be. A fluffy piece that gives moms a look into the options of infant photography and how my studio operates. A squeal leaps out of me at the sight of my studio phone number and address listed at the end of the article.

I take a picture of the pages with my phone and send it to Tori and Mom.

My phone rattles almost instantly with both of their replies.

TORI

Ahhhh! Fuck yeah, girl!

MOM

I’m in tears. You deserve this so much. Congratulations, honey.

I’m going to be drowning in appointments. Glancing around my studio, I’m suddenly struck by how surreal it is that this worked out. That despite everything that’s happened, my business isn’t only surviving, it’s thriving. Did Alden have any idea what he did for me when he bought this building? He gave me a purpose.

The envelope of magazines goes with me after I lock up my studio. The florist is my next stop. Then I head to the cemetery. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve gone to visit Alden. I try not to feel guilty about that. Like Tori said, he can’t hear me or care what I do. Sitting by his headstone and filling him in about everything he’s missed is more for my benefit. Truthfully, it’s hard when it feels like I’m leaving out the one thing I can’t say aloud. Hey Den, I love you and miss you but by the way I fucked your brother.

The weather is raw and windy. An occasional sprinkle adds to the chill. “Hi Den,” I mumble, squatting near the shiny black stone. I swipe the dirt that’s gathered in a few of the grooves of his name away with my fingers. “I made it through Thanksgiving without you. Two more holidays to go.”

The flowers get tucked into the vase embedded in the ground. “Things are hard. I miss the fuck out of you, but something good happened. Look.”

I pull out the magazine and prop it against the stone. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about getting enough clients after this. My dream job came through just like yours did. Thank you so much, Den. I never could’ve done this without you. You didn’t only give me a head start with the building, you believed in me.”

I talk for a few more minutes, about his shop and his friends. Never about Oliver and what’s going on with him. As if I could keep the bad news from him. It’s ridiculous, but I’m coping. My face is numb by the time I go, leaving the magazine beside the headstone.

My next stop is Stokes Brothers. It’s after hours and everything is closed up. Oliver isn’t home, so I let myself inside and leave the magazine tucked into his door. He said he wanted to see it when it came out. I’m tempted to text him, but I don’t. We haven’t seen each other in the week since Thanksgiving, and I’m doing my best to get accustomed to being alone again.

I’m home and finishing up dinner when Tori texts me with a link to one of Modern Motherhood’s social media accounts. It’s followed by a phone call and her excited voice in my ear. “They’ve already posted about you and the article is live on their website!”

“You’re kidding!” I click the link and there it is, a post promoting the new issue due out tomorrow.

“You look amazing too! That’s a great picture of you. We need a night out to celebrate. Next Saturday? I have to go to Paul’s friend’s house this weekend.”

“That sounds great.”

Tori and I spend half an hour on the phone while I share the post and reply to comments. I’ve never cared to have any personal social media, but you can’t run a business without an online presence.

Within an hour of the post, my business page and website are getting hits. It’s amazing how fast things happen. When I lie down to go to bed, I feel something that it takes me a moment to even recognize because it’s been so long. I’m happy.

I’m up early the next day and in my studio first thing, but there are already voicemail messages waiting for me. My email also has requests for appointments. I’m glad that I don’t have any afternoon appointments scheduled today—I usually leave Friday afternoons open—because it takes me quite a while to go through all the requests. By late afternoon, I’m already booked for the next two months and have had to start a cancellation waitlist. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since they posted the article.

The little bell dings above my door and I look up from my laptop to see Oliver stroll in. He’s dressed in dark jeans, and his forest green sweater clings to his biceps and chest, giving him a sexy, warm look. God, he looks good.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” I call, coming out from around my desk.

He smiles and holds up a Modern Motherhood magazine. “I heard the talented owner here is famous and I was hoping for an autograph.”

“Stop it,” I laugh, hugging him.

He plunks the magazine down on the counter, raises his eyebrows and holds up a marker.

“You’re ridiculous,” I giggle, scribbling my name in the corner of the cover.

“Can I take you out to dinner to celebrate? If you don’t have any plans?”

“Tonight?”

“Right now if you’re done for the day,” he replies with a shrug.

“I’d love to.”

“Come on, I’ll drive and bring you back to your car later.”

We decide on a steakhouse not too far away. Oliver parks the car and puts his arm around me while we walk to the doors.

I’m surprised when I spot Breanna standing in front of the Italian restaurant across the street until I remember she works there. It’s on the tip of my tongue to point her out but why make things awkward again? She doesn’t seem to see us, and Oliver doesn’t notice her.

Our hostess seats us at a table near the front window where we can watch the activity on Main Street. Couples wander past hand in hand. Christmas lights have gone up over the weekend, and they cast a glow over the sidewalks full of people. Frenzied shoppers rush back and forth. It’s barely December but Christmas seems to be everywhere overnight.

“Have you seen an increase in interest at your studio yet?” he asks.

“It’s been a madhouse. I’m booked solid. If it continues like this, I may have to hire some part time help around the place. Someone to answer the phones and straighten up when I don’t have time.”

A smile lights up his face. “I’m happy for you. You deserve a break.”

“Don’t we both,” I breathe, as our food is placed in front of us. Once we dig in, I ask, “Wasn’t your appointment today?”

“With the forensic shrink? Yeah.” He sips his drink. “It took forever. He examined me for over four hours, and then a woman came in to add another hour’s worth of questions.”

That sounds awful. “They asked about what happened?”

He shakes his head and swallows a bite of steak. “No, it was a bunch of mental assessments. It was weird as hell. He had me say as many animals as I could think of then put a list of words in alphabetical order.”

“You’re kidding. Was it an IQ test?”

“I couldn’t tell you. It felt like a Kindergarten class,” he chuckles. “He gave me some kind of puzzle to solve then asked me to count by sevens. When I first went in, he had me draw a clock on a piece of paper, then told me to remember three words until he asked me to recite them again later. I swear, I was waiting for them to tell me to do the hokey pokey.”

“So, if you can count and draw, you can defend yourself in court? That’s nuts.”

“The woman psychologist was a little different. She asked me about current events like who the president is, and then read out some scenarios where I had to choose what the right thing to do would be. It was super obvious what answers they wanted for those.” He rubs his fingers over his chin. “I wonder if they might use that to weed out the people who are trying to fail on purpose. Because who would actually say that the thief or attacker in their stories was in the right?”

“"If a man deliberately shit himself mid-test, I'm guessing more than one has claimed not to know stealing is wrong.” He looks up at me and we both break into laughter. “It didn’t have any relation to the case or your memories at all?” I clarify.

“Didn’t seem to.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s over.”

He nods, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Lowell said it can normally take up to four weeks to get the results back and for the doctors to send their statements to the judge. During the holidays like this, it could be even longer.”

My frustration and impatience eat at me. I can only imagine how much worse it is for him when it’s his life at stake. I reach over and rub his arm. “It’s cruel the way they drag things out.” Guilt crawls over me. “I’m sorry that I’m adding to your stress, Oliver. I know I am.”

“No.” He squeezes my hand. “You aren’t stressing me out, Ella. I miss you but we’re okay. You can’t help how you feel any more than I can. You’re grieving and everything is a fucking mess. We can take our time and figure things out. I don’t want you to feel guilty. And I want to know when we’re together, it’s because you want me, not because you’re missing Alden.”

“I know. I miss you too.” Sighing, I sit back in my seat. “Sometimes, I do feel guilty. Not only because of what happened between us. I feel guilty that I’m out here living my life, getting on with things, when I wasn’t sure that was even possible. I feel guilty that I can have good things happen to me, that I can feel happy when Alden isn’t here to share it. I feel guilty that there are times when I look at you that I do see him or hear his voice. It’s only for a second, and not because I want you to be him but because you’re so similar sometimes. Your facial expressions and humor.”

My words are dragging his lips into a frown. Leaning forward, I take both of his hands in mine, holding them tight, and he looks me in the eye. “But I see you too. We never had this…spark or connection between us before. You’re different too, Oliver. You’ve changed and I adore the new parts of you along with the old. I’m trying so hard not to do the wrong thing and hurt you, but more and more, I’m not sure what’s right. I need you to know your feelings aren’t one sided. I’m right with you, and I’m doing my best to sort my shit out.”

A tear leaks out of my eye despite my attempt to hold them back. Great, I’m crying in a restaurant. Embarrassing us both. “My worst fear right now is losing you altogether so please don’t doubt how I feel about you.”

Oliver runs his thumb over my cheek, wiping the tear away. “I’m not going anywhere if I can help it, Ella.”

CHAPTER 4

The next week is wonderful. I’m so busy with all my photo shoots that I fall into bed every night exhausted and content.

A lesson I should’ve learned by now is that happiness is temporary. Something is always waiting to smack it down in the dirt. This time it’s a social media post.

Saturdays are my busiest days, and it’s after seven when my last client leaves. After back-to-back appointments since early this morning, I’m dead on my feet. Tori and I are going out tonight to celebrate, and a few drinks sound amazing.

My plan is to go home, grab a quick shower, then meet Tori at one of our favorite bars, but I’m surprised to see her walking into my studio while I’m locking up.

“Hey, I thought we were meeting at eight-thirty.” One glance at her face when she looks up at me and I know something is wrong. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Have you checked any of your social media in the last few hours?”

“What? No, I’ve been working.” I scoop up my phone and my stomach drops at the number of notifications. I’ve been tagged—or rather my business accounts have been tagged—hundreds of times. It wouldn’t be an alarming sight, but her demeanor tells me this isn’t positive. “What the hell happened?”

Tori hands me her phone. The article from Modern Motherhood has been shared by someone with the username Poetic Kicks, along with a statement aimed at the magazine. Is your magazine in the habit of promoting murderers? Ella and her fiancé’s brother had her fiancé killed so they could be together. I can’t believe you’d advise unsuspecting women to take their babies anywhere near her or her studio.

The post ends with a link to the local news story that was broadcast right after Oliver was arrested. It wasn’t big enough news to be national, and the story died out quickly, but judging by the amounts of shares and comments on this, it’s getting attention now.

“It’s viral,” Tori says.

Her words barely register while I scroll the comments.

OMG, is this true?

Did they kill him? This is wild!

The article says the brother was arrested but not her. Idk.

Poetic Kicks replies with a picture of Oliver and me. His arm is around me, and I’m smiling at him. It gives the impression of a happy couple. The comments after that take a quick turn against me and Modern Motherhood. There are calls for boycotting my store and their magazine.

I hand Tori her phone back and switch to look at another platform on mine. Someone has put Oliver’s mugshot, the picture of the two of us, and the picture of me from the magazine into one side by side image. Scrawled across it is Baby Photographer Exposed as Murderer.

The comments are everything you’d expect.

“I can’t believe this,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“I know. I’m sorry. Lock up and come with me,” Tori orders.

My stomach rolls, and I have to swallow hard to keep my lunch where it belongs. “I’m not feeling up to going out tonight. I’m going to go home.” I’m not sure how bad this will get. It could die out quickly, but I doubt it. It’s too juicy of a story for the internet not to run with.

“We’re not going out.”

My attention is on my phone as I scroll through the comments, watching things get worse and worse. Tori snatches the phone out of my hand. “Ella!” Her eyes blaze with anger. “We aren’t going out. We’re going to go to my place and figure out who the fuck Poetic Kicks is.”

Right. My brain feels scrambled. Overwhelmed with the dire possibilities of how this could go. I need to focus. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

Who would want to do this to me?

Hours later, I sit on Tori’s couch, scrolling and trying not to panic while she types away on her laptop next to me. I’ve always teased Tori about being an internet stalker. Whenever she had a date in the past, she would track down everything about them online. Despite her skills, this one isn’t as easy.

I’m not sure how much it matters who shared the article with the link. The damage is done. Right now, I’m more focused on figuring out what—if anything—to do. Oliver called once someone pointed out to him what was happening, full of apologies for “dragging me down with him.” Of course, it’s not his fault, but he feels guilty anyway.

It’s all such a fucking mess.

Tori has found a place to point her anger. She’s determined to find out the identity of Poetic Kicks. It’s not going well so far. It’s an anonymous account that posts pictures of designer shoes and some of the worst amateur poetry I’ve ever read. It’s an odd combination.

“This bitch’s account had less than fifty followers when I first saw it. Now she has ninety thousand. And climbing. Whoever did this, it worked for her.”

“I’m opening another bottle of wine,” I tell her, getting to my feet. Without looking away from her screen, she hands me her empty wine glass to refill.

It’s a good thing Tori keeps plenty of bottles on hand. I’m definitely draining her supply. I pour myself a glass, drink half of it, refill it, then return to the living room to deliver hers. My head swims, and I close my eyes for a second, laying my head back.

What do I do? I’m trying my best not to overreact and fall apart. People get called out and cancelled all the time. It blows over. Surely, this will too, right?

My hand seems to be magnetized because my phone ends up right back in it. Reading the comments isn’t helping anything but I can’t look away. Which means I see Modern Motherhood’s response moments after they post.

“Modern Motherhood Magazine has been made aware of our reader’s concerns about the photographer featured in this month’s issue. We were not aware of the allegations surrounding the subject of the piece and we’re moving quickly to rectify the situation. All December issues will be pulled from shelves and the article has now been removed from our site. Modern Motherhood in no way endorses Ella’s Photography Studio. We apologize for any distress caused by our mistake.”

“Fuck!” I shout, leaping to my feet.

Mistake. I was their mistake.

Tori’s head whips around. “What happened?”

I thrust my phone in front of her face where she can read it, and she spits out a few choice curses as well. “Cowards. You haven’t been accused of anything. They’re just covering their own asses.”

The page Tori is looking at features the picture of Oliver and me together. It’s everywhere now. For the first time, I wonder where it came from. I recognize the clothes we’re wearing, and the background shows a couple of outdoor bistro tables. It’s the café next to the steakhouse we went to downtown. “That picture of us, it was taken when Oliver and I went out to eat last week. Who the hell would’ve taken it? Has someone been following us? And for what? Just to drag me on social media?”

Tori stares at the photo. “It doesn’t make any sense.” She shakes her head and downs her glass of wine. “I’ve tried everything I know to figure out who the account belongs to, but I keep hitting walls. The username isn’t connected to any other accounts. She never posts her face. Her life updates are just vapid statements alongside a shot of her shoes.” The sound of a key in a lock draws my attention but Tori flaps her hand in that direction. “It’s Paul.”

Who could’ve taken that picture?

I’m struck by a sudden realization. “The steakhouse is located across from the restaurant where Breanna works. I saw her when we were going in. I didn’t think she noticed us.”

Tori blinks, looking over at me. “Oliver’s ex? You two never had any problems, did you?”

“No, Oliver and I even ran into her, remember? I told you about it. She was the first memory Oliver had come back to him. She seemed a little upset, but I figured it was because of his condition.”

Tori types feverishly, then points to the screen. “This was the last post this evening.” A photo of feet boasting designer high heeled shoes is captioned with this bit of advice. “Want to make those tips, ladies? Sexy shoes and pigtails, that’s the trick. Men are simple creatures. It’s going to be a good night.”

Tori looks up at me. “I thought maybe she was a stripper, but I guess the same thing could apply to a waitress when it comes to tips.”

“She was a hostess when we were there.”

“Whatever.” Tori leaps to her feet and calls out, “Paul! Don’t take your shoes off yet! We need a ride!”

Paul is a trooper, I’ll give him that. He was barely through the door after work when Tori swept him into this, and now he’s parking near the restaurant where Breanna works downtown.

“Do you expect her to admit she did it even if it’s her?” he asks.

“We don’t need her to. We know what shoes Poetic Kicks is wearing. That’s proof enough,” Tori says.

“Then what?”

He’s asking Tori but I answer. “Then I twist her fucking head off.”

Tori cracks up and flashes a smile at me. We’re buzzed and hyped up now.

Paul looks back at me after we all get out of the car. “Getting yourself arrested will only make things worse.”

He’s not wrong. “I know. I’m not going to do anything stupid.” That remains to be seen. Punching her in her mouth will be a decision that might be made in the moment. She may not even be working tonight.

It’s late and the restaurant is five minutes from closing time. When we enter, a man wearing a manager tag calls out from behind a drink station. “The kitchen is closed, folks, sorry!”

“We’re looking for Breanna. Is she working tonight?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

He turns and bellows toward the kitchen. “Breanna! You got some friends here!” He nods at us. “You can wait in the dining room.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as we enter the empty dining room, Breanna enters through a different door. We aren’t who she expected to see and the smile on her face drops. It isn’t her smile that’s of interest, however. It’s the designer heels on her feet. Not to mention her hair that’s pulled into two pigtails.

“Nice shoes, you fucking bitch,” Tori says. Her tone of voice shows she didn’t really believe Breanna was the one who did this until now.

Confusion creases Breanna’s brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Why?” I snap. It’s what I want to know most. “Why did you post that? I’ve never done anything to you.”

I’m not sure what I expected. A denial mostly, possibly an apology or a claim that she didn’t know it would go viral.

Instead, a bitter grin tilts her lips. “You probably believe that, too.” She shakes her head and mumbles, “Never did anything to me.” Her eyes blaze with anger when she looks at me. “Where’s Oliver tonight? Not leading him around on your little leash?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why do you even care? You two have been apart for almost two years.”

The manager who called her for us sticks his head through the door to talk to her, but she barely glances at him. “I’m on break, John.”

He leaves and she turns to me with a sneer. “Do you have any idea how much I despise you? Even the sound of your name pisses me off. All the times I had to hear it from Oliver’s mouth. ‘Ella does this,’ or ‘Ella said that. You should dress more conservatively. Ella doesn’t have to show off her tits.’”

I’m frozen in place, stunned by what she’s saying.

She juts her finger at me and it’s a good thing there are tables between us. “You’re the reason he couldn’t love me. I tried. I did. I tried to be what Oliver wanted. I even tried to make him jealous once.” A quick, cruel smile accompanies her words. “I grabbed Alden and kissed him right in front of Oliver. I bet Alden never told you about the kiss, did he?” She doesn’t give me any time to reply before continuing. “I didn’t think so. But do you know what Oliver did then?”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and she swallows. “He laughed. They both did. He didn’t care because I wasn’t you. When you and Alden got engaged, I thought maybe that would do it, maybe Oliver would see that your choice was final. But Alden wasn’t enough, was he? You had to have both of them under your thumb.”

I’m doing my best to absorb what she’s telling me through the anger and alcohol. “You told the world that Oliver and I conspired to kill his brother because you wanted revenge on me for some shit that I didn’t even know about? Do you have any idea what he’s been through this year?”

Her arms fold over her chest. “Well, good thing he had you to swoop in and take over his life…and his bed.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Really? Are you going to stand there and tell me you haven’t fucked him?” The truth must be written on my face because she laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Maybe you shouldn’t be such a slut.”

My heart beats in my ears. Deep breaths help me keep my composure and weigh my words. “Do you want to know what I think? I think Oliver saw through you. Alden and I both thought you were good for him, but he knew better. He saw the person you are under your fake smile bullshit. Alden is dead. Oliver is injured to the point he may never be the same and he’s facing prison. You knew what you were doing when you posted that. You knew it wouldn’t only hurt me and my business.” I nod, scoffing. “Yeah, Oliver had your number, bitch. He knew you were trash. Because only the lowest human being would try to make this situation worse over petty ass jealousy. You’re pathetic.”

She shrugs, and I want to knock the smug look off her face. “You wanted Oliver. You got him. At least until he goes to prison. Guess we all lose.”

My self-control snaps, and I lunge in her direction. How dare she take it so lightly? How dare she blatantly ruin our lives then shrug it off?

Two strong arms wrap around me and pull me back. Paul’s deep voice echoes through the empty dining room. “I sympathize. But beat her ass another time. You don’t need a violent news story about you going viral now. It won’t help Oliver either.”

“Hey! You all need to leave right now,” the manager orders, striding into the room. “I don’t want any trouble in here.”

“We’re going,” Paul assures him. “We were just trying to get our money back. Watch your registers. She’s a thief.”

The outrage on Breanna’s face is amazing. “I don’t! I’ve never…”

Tori grabs my wrist and I let her pull me away. She looks back at Breanna as we’re leaving the dining room “Your poetry sucks and your shoes are fucking ugly. Jealous, no talent bitch.”

We exit onto the street and my rant comes out in a puff of steam through the cold. “That bitch, acting all moral like I didn’t watch her put her pussy on view to skinny dip when we were teenagers. There probably wasn’t anyone in our high school that didn’t see her naked.” Tori snorts out a laugh while I turn to Paul. “You told her boss she was a thief.”

His smile is serene. “It seemed prudent since she’s trying to cost you your job.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Paul with Tori in the beginning. My first impression of him was that he was kind of boring, but that’s not true. He’s quiet and introspective, but he can be funny. And apparently, he can misbehave if given a good reason. His calmness and her excitable energy work together. He’s good for her.

I wish I knew what was good for me.

CHAPTER 5

Things only get worse as the week goes on. I try to carry on like normal, hoping to wait it out until people move on to some new scandal but the public interest only grows. There’s a tsunami of appointment cancellations and many more who don’t show up. My business phone goes from ringing constantly for appointment requests to lighting up with calls from people who want to tell me what a piece of shit I am.

When I show up to open my studio on Thursday morning, a group of about twenty women are gathered out front. This can’t be good.

I pull around back to park and let myself inside. They spot me through the front window and signs are hoisted into the air.

Boycott Ella’s.

Save the babies.

Immoral murderer.

The last one makes me snort. Is there such a thing as a moral murderer?

Many of the other signs bear the name and logo of Moms for Morality. The sight of it makes my heart fall. I’m familiar with their particular brand of bullshit. They picket places like strip clubs and sex toy stores, but I’ve also seen them target bookstores that sell erotica, women’s clinics that hand out contraception, and movie theaters that show movies they think are immoral. They’re a bunch of self-righteous nutcases, but they don’t give up and move on easily—and they always attract the media.

Marching back and forth, they begin to chant. I can’t tell exactly what they’re saying but I catch adulterer and murderer in there. I wonder which one they consider worse?

I’m not going to unlock my door with those crazies right outside. I’m not sure what they’ll be able to do, but I call the police and the dispatcher promises to send an officer out.

While I wait, I check my messages. Only two clients were still scheduled for today and there’s a message to cancel the one in the afternoon. The other one should be here any minute, but I doubt she’ll be willing to bring her baby through a line of protesters. I sure wouldn’t. With a sigh, I text the client and warn her of the protesters out front. Within a minute, I get a reply that she’ll reschedule.

Somehow, I doubt it.

An officer taps on the front door, and I unlock it to let him inside. “I’m sorry I had to call, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. I can’t open my studio with them blocking my door.”

The officer nods, frowning at the crowd that seems to have grown. “I understand. I can move them back a bit and make sure they don’t touch your customers, but they have the right to protest. I’d love to make them leave or round their asses up, but legally, it’s not possible.”

It’s about what I expected. It looks like I have no customers to protect today anyway.

His expression is sympathetic. “We’ve dealt with them a lot. The best course is to wait them out and they’ll move on to harass someone else.”

I’m done with today and it’s barely nine a.m. He tells me to call if they become violent or start damaging property, then wishes me luck.

Yeah, I’m drowning in luck.

There’s no reason to stay. After double checking everything is locked up tight, I return to my car. I’m not sure what to do with myself. For a moment, I consider going to Stokes Brothers to see Oliver, but in the end, I head home and spend the day wallowing in self-pity.

It isn’t pretty.

A little after ten o’clock at night, I’m lying on my couch staring at the TV when my phone goes off, alerting me that the alarm at my studio has been tripped.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Now someone is breaking in? What do these assholes want from me?

I throw on my shoes and coat, anger driving me forward, and rush to my car. On my way there, I call the cops again and let them know what’s going on. By the time I pull up in front of my studio, two squad cars are parked out front.

The front window of my studio is shattered. Glass covers the sidewalk. “I can’t fucking believe this shit!” I shout to no one in particular, climbing out of my car.

“Are you the owner?” one of the officers asks.

“Yes, I’m Ella. The Moms for Morality protestors were here earlier and—”

“We’re aware of what’s been going on. Stay here while we make sure no one is inside.”

Nodding, I hand him my key.

It’s freezing outside, and I pull my coat tighter around me. Stars spray across the clear sky, and I remember a similar night when Alden and I stood right here. He’d come to help me rearrange my office furniture. We went out to dinner afterward and screwed our brains out in front of the fireplace later. Tilting my head back, I take a moment to admire the stars. That was only a year ago. How did I get here?

“It’s all clear,” one of the officers says, pulling me out of my reverie. “You can come in and see if anything is missing.”

The other officer shines his flashlight around until I throw the overhead lights on. “I don’t see any other damage. Looks like they threw a chunk of cinderblock through the window.”

After a careful search of the premises, I’m convinced nothing has been stolen. “It doesn’t look like they took anything,” I tell them.

“We’ll write up a report for your insurance company. You’ll want to get that boarded up as soon as possible.”

It creeps me out to be here alone once they’ve left. I have some plywood in my garage that will work for the window, but I don’t want to leave the studio like this, where anyone could get in.

I text Oliver a picture of the busted window.

ME

Are you busy? I need some help.

My phone lights up with his call about thirty seconds later. “Ella! Are you okay?” he exclaims, before I can say hello.

Okay might be a bit of a stretch, but I’m not hurt. “I’m fine. Some asshole busted my window with a chunk of cinderblock. I was hoping you could help me board it up.”

“I’m on my way. Are you there alone?”

“Yes, the cops just left.”

He curses under his breath. “Don’t stay there. Wait for me at the gas station down the street. It’s well lit. Lock your car doors.”

“I’m not leaving so some other bastard can rob me. There’s plywood in my garage if you can stop by there to get it.”

“I can bring what I need from here. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He must’ve been hauling ass because he pulls up out front about fifteen minutes later. My heart stutters when he climbs out of Alden’s truck. It’s been parked behind Stokes Brothers since he died. I’ve considered selling it multiple times, but I haven’t been able to let go of it any more than I have his motorcycle or the rest of Alden’s things.

My reaction isn’t lost on him. “Sorry, the wood wouldn’t fit in my car.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I just wasn’t sure whether the registration had expired yet.” That sounds a lot better than thanks for coming to help me but all I saw was Alden when you got out of that truck.

He strides over and hugs me tight. “Were you here when it happened?”

“No, the alarm went off. I get a notification on my phone if it’s tripped.”

He steps back and frowns down at me. “You should’ve called me, not come down here by yourself.”

“I called the cops first. I didn’t go in by myself.” Now that I’m not alone, my heart starts to calm. I seize him in another hug and bury my face in his neck, breathing him in. That rich, dark scent of the shop combined with the fresh smell of soap on his skin is pure comfort.

His hand runs up and down my back. “It’s alright. We’ll get it fixed up. Insurance will replace the window.”

“Yeah.” It’s been a really shitty week, that’s what I want to tell him. But I can’t. I can’t moan about my problems when his are far more serious. “Let’s get started. It’s been a long day.”

It doesn’t take us long to get the window secured. While Oliver is finishing up, I print out a sign for the front door.

“Closed for the holidays?” Oliver asks, looking over my shoulder.

“It’ll work for now. I’m not putting what date I plan to reopen. That’ll depend on when this all blows over. I’ve already closed the online appointment form for the rest of December and January.”

He blinks and his brow furrows. “What’s been going on? You told me it was only a few cancelled appointments and some rude phone calls.”

“It’s gotten worse all week. My clients either cancel or no-show. Now, the Moms for Morality nutcases have shown up to protest. I can’t ask people to bring their babies here even if they’re willing. Not when it might not be safe. I need to give it time, let the spectacle of it pass. The holidays are a good excuse anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Ella.”

Shrugging, I tape the sign to the front door. “It’s the only thing I know to do now. Have you had any trouble? Phone calls?”

“Not that the guys have told me about. We’ve actually had calls from our regulars wanting to make sure we aren’t going to close and that their appointments are still valid.”

There’s probably something to be said on the difference between men and women in this situation. We’re both accused of the same thing in the viral post.

Though men are sometimes included in the maternity and infant photos, I cater mostly to women. My clients are worried that I’m a murdering, scarlet-A wearing whore who might hurt their baby. Stokes Brothers customers are overwhelmingly men, and they don’t give a shit what he might’ve done. Would it be different if they provided a service aimed at kids? Maybe.

I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this. I’m glad that Stokes Brothers isn’t suffering. It may be the only income that I end up with soon.

“Thanks for coming. I’m going to head home and figure out what I’m supposed to do with my time for the next six weeks or so.”

Oliver looks down at me. “No, you’re coming home with me. What if one of these crazies has looked up your home address? It’s not hard to do.”

“They want to ruin my business. It’s closed. Mission accomplished. I’m not worried about them following me home.”

“Well, I am. Either come with me or I’m going home with you.”

I’d like to say I argued with him or even showed another moment of hesitation, but it’s not true. I’m exhausted. The kind of exhausted that sleep doesn’t help. The idea of being alone with my thoughts tonight is awful. “We’ll stay at your place,” I agree. “You probably shouldn’t leave it unguarded either, just to be safe. I need to run by mine first.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Oliver has been pretty quiet since we got back to his apartment above the shop a couple of hours ago. Neither of us are in the best mood. We try to watch a movie, but I can’t focus on it.

My eyes keep finding their way to him as he sits beside me, his attention on the TV screen. The curve of his stubble covered jaw is particularly interesting. And his lips. Maybe it’s the way he came through for me tonight or the fact he was so worried about keeping me safe. I was scared, and when I called him, he was there within minutes.

Everything is falling apart, and he feels like the only bright spot.

One of his legs sits propped on the other, the calf muscle clearly outlined. His shorts hide his thighs, but his chest is bare and the urge to run my fingers through the thin hair there is strong. My gaze wanders slowly up his body until I’m looking into his eyes.

Damn it. I’m busted.

The same longing and hunger reside in his expression. He doesn’t hesitate to lean over and bridge the gap between us. The kiss he delivers is scorching and it’s everything I can do not to climb into his lap.

He doesn’t want this. Not really. Not when I’m still so fucked up.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, standing up. “I should get ready for bed.” My face flushes with heat while I retreat to his bedroom. He insisted on sleeping on the couch so I can have his bed, despite my attempt to argue with him that I’d be happy to take the couch.

I scrub my hand over my face. Why is he so hard to resist tonight? It’s been a terrible day, a terrible week, and the last thing on my mind should be sex with anyone, but my body doesn’t seem to agree.

Annoyed with myself and frustrated as hell, I undress and change into a long tee shirt and underwear. My hair gets let loose from its bun, falling to my shoulders. As I lay my hair tie on his dresser, Oliver steps up behind me and sweeps the hair off my neck. Fingers trace over my collarbone.

My eyes fall closed at the feel of his lips brushing my neck, and a little hum slips out.

His voice is soft. “That look on your face is killing me. Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

My tongue darts out to lick my lips before the truth falls from them. “I’m thinking about how badly I want to be bent over this dresser and fucked.”

His hand comes around and cups me between my legs. He slowly pulls me back against him until I can feel his bulge against my ass. “Is that really what you want, Ella? Because I’m tired of fighting this and I know you are too.”

“Yes,” I whisper, grinding my ass against him. I am tired of it. Tired of worrying about what’s right or wrong. Tired of questioning every feeling I have.

“Then take your panties off and bend over.”

His order throws goosebumps over me from head to toe. He watches me take them off, then grasps the hem of my shirt before I can turn around. It gets tossed onto his bed. His gaze darkens with desire as it slowly rolls down my body.

He shoves the few items sitting on his dresser to the floor. “Bend over and grab the far edge. Don’t let go.”

There is no better combination than a sweet man who sheds that trait at the bedroom door. Last time, I was the one who initiated things. This time, he’s in control.

As I obey, he strips off his shorts and underwear. My eyes close involuntarily when he bends over me to deliver hot, sucking kisses to the back of my neck. All the tension built up in my muscles over the last week loosens. My breasts ache against the cool, smooth surface. I’m melting under his hands and mouth, and he’s barely gotten started.

The weight and heat of his body leaves mine and is replaced by the slide of his fingertips down my neck. They travel down my spine to my tailbone. “Your back is so fucking sexy,” he says. “These dimples.” He brings his mouth to one of the two divots above my ass and drags his teeth over it.

I’m going to burn up on the spot.

He slips a finger between my legs and rubs softly over my clit. The sensation it delivers tells me I’m going to come fast. I’m so worked up. “I love how wet you get,” he says, his voice huskier than I’ve ever heard it.

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

His chuckle is dark, and his finger stops. Before I can protest, he slips it inside me and strokes over the perfect spot. “How about if I do this?”

“Oh fuck.” My body lights up fever hot, but it’s not enough. “Please.” He works another finger into me and drives me closer to the edge. Any self-control I may have had is long gone. All I can think about is the desperate need for more. “Oh, please,” I repeat.

“What are you begging for, Ella?” He removes his fingers, and his cock prods at me. “This?” He rubs the thick head against my opening.

He pulls back a little when I push my ass toward him in an attempt to fill that aching emptiness. “Yes!”

“All of it?” The tinge of amusement in his voice is infuriating. If I turned around, I’m sure I’d see a wicked smile.

“Yes, damn it.”

My last word comes out as a sharp cry when he buries his cock in one firm thrust. Oh fuck. Fuck, it pinches and burns and feels so good my entire body seems to spasm. He lets out a groan, grabs my hips and presses into me harder.

He leans over me and nips my earlobe. “Say you’re okay, Ella, because I’m going to fuck you good and hard.”

My body is screaming for it, and I squirm against him. “God, yes, hurry up.”

The words sound snotty and impudent, full of impatience. Not exactly sexy, but all it elicits from him is a growl. He jerks my hips back far enough to shove a pillow between my body and the wooden edge of the dresser. The sudden withdrawal of his cock stings and makes me draw a quick breath through my teeth.

A sharp crack is followed by an intense burn on my ass cheek. “Get your hands back where I put them,” he orders, delivering an equal burn to the other cheek.

“Fuck me then!” We’ve never been so short with each other, but it’s hot as fuck. I grab the edge of the dresser.

He wraps his hand in my hair and pulls my head up. “Are you mad, Ella, hmm? Join the fucking club.” His breath is in my ear again. “I’m going to give you what we both need, but if you can’t take it, just yell stop.”

His words only piss me off more. They sound like a challenge. “I can take it.”

He releases my hair, grabs my waist and pushes his cock inside of me. Instantly withdrawing, he drives it in a little harder, making me cry out. It feels so damn good. It’s all the warm-up I get before hard, steady thrusts steal every thought in my head.

I can feel his frustration and anger. It wars with my own while I slam back into him with equal vigor, keeping up with his punishing pace. The orgasm that’s been circling since he told me to bend over builds fast and strikes hard. My cry echoes around the room. He never misses a stroke. I can already tell another one won’t be long behind. Every nerve in my body is on fire, twitching, ready to light up again.

I shift my body to glance back at him. His hair is damp at the temples, flattened to his skull. His expression is intense, focused. Blazing eyes skip across mine for a second. “Where did I tell you to keep those hands?”

If the sight of him so passionate and feral wasn’t enough to hasten that second orgasm, his next move is. He grabs my hands and pins them to the small of my back. My first reaction is to try to free them, but jerking my arm does nothing. He’s strong.

A guttural sound of aggravation escapes me. We’re both losing control. My anger isn’t aimed at him any more than his is directed at me, but we’ve both been through too much. Held back so many pent-up emotions. We’ve bent and bent. Something had to break.

Every ounce of anger and frustration thrashing in my brain is doused, then drowned by the crashing orgasm that buries everything other than pure, rippling pleasure. I hear myself shout but there are no decipherable words in it.

My hands are suddenly free, and fingers dig into my hips. The noise he makes when he buries his cock deep inside of me and becomes still is short, but sharp.

For what seems like forever, the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing. Finally, he pulls out of me, and I stand up. I’m at a loss for what to say or how to feel. The man fucked the absolute hell out of me.

I need a minute. I also need the bathroom so it’s a great excuse to get a moment to myself.

After a quick clean up, I do my best not to crawl into my own head like I tend to do. This time, I’m not going to feel guilty. We needed each other. It was as simple as that.

When I stride out naked, Oliver watches me while I put on underwear and a tee shirt. He’s already pulled on a pair of shorts.

Why does this have to feel so heavy? So awkward?

He’s waiting for me to regret it. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips when I approach him. His dark eyes shine. When I step up to him, he pulls me into his arms. “Ella.” The emotion in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Share the bed with me?” I murmur against his shoulder.

He lets me go, tilts my chin up and places a tender kiss on my lips. “Are you okay?”

My quick nod doesn’t seem to reassure him, but he flips off the light and we climb into his bed. His arms wrap around me and pull me close. My head finds its place on his chest. The beat of his heart is comforting. I feel calmer than I have all week.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he says, running his fingers up and down my spine. The regret he expected from me lies thick in his voice.

“I loved it. I needed it. So did you. The world isn’t a soft place for us, and I think we need to rage against it sometimes.” My fingers play in his chest hair. “Personally, I think that was way better than the Smash and Bash Rage Room.”

His chest vibrates with a chuckle. “It was another kind of smash room.”

“There’s our next business venture. The Smash Room. Pissed off at the world? Come and fuck your brains out in a padded room.”

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes after we stop laughing until Oliver asks, “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with your studio? You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know, but this is nothing compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t need to add it to your worries.”

“Hey.” He shifts until we’re lying face to face. “That’s not how this works. You’ve been there for me from the beginning. I want to be here for you. You always put everyone else first, but you matter too. What happened to you this week was unfair and awful.”

Tears begin to build in my eyes. “I feel like I’m losing everything. Like the things I love and care about are being plucked out of my life one after another.”

“I’m sorry, El.”

He doesn’t point out that he’s facing way worse than I am. He doesn’t try to solve the problem for me or tell me that it’ll blow over and everything will be okay. He just holds me tight. “It’s complete bullshit. You don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re the best thing in my life,” I confess, and brush my lips over his. “This is the best thing but…”

He sighs and touches his forehead to mine. “But we won’t let ourselves have it.”

My fingers thread into his hair. “If this is wrong, it doesn’t feel wrong.”

“How I feel about you is the only thing I know is right.” His words reach inside of me, squeezing my chest.

“I don’t want to fight it anymore,” I admit. We’re only making things more complicated, more chaotic, but I don’t care.

A small smile appears on his lips. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

His kiss is passionate and relief flows through me like a weight has been lifted. One less battle to fight. There’s a tiny smirk on his face when he looks at me. “It was the smacking your ass that won you over, wasn’t it?”

Giggles spill out of me. “Yeah, that’s what did it. You figured me out.”

“I knew it!”

I roll over and he spoons me. It feels so good. It feels right.

“Are you worried about what our friends will think? Tori? The guys?” he asks.

“Tori knows about the first time we had sex. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea or healthy for either of us. At least not right now. But she won’t judge. Are you worried about the guys? Or how it might look if the prosecution finds out we’re seeing each other? Especially after the accusations going around online now.”

He strokes his hand over my stomach. “The guys can kiss my ass if they don’t like it.” His sigh is reluctant. “It probably wouldn’t help my defense or your business troubles to have our relationship confirmed in the public eye.”

“It’s nobody’s business anyway,” I assure him. “Things are chaotic enough. We don’t have to advertise our relationship. But once we get through the worst of it, once the charges are dropped against you or you’re found not guilty, I don’t want to hide anything.”

His arms tighten around me, and he rests his chin on my shoulder. “You have such faith that things are going to go my way.”

“I have to. You’re innocent.”

CHAPTER 6

The rest of December ticks by while Oliver and I spend most of our free time together. Well, most of his free time. All of my time is free. We spend Christmas the same as we did Thanksgiving, except this time we don’t stop at a kiss, and he gets his blueberry pancakes the next morning. The new year is rung in at an overnight movie marathon with Smith and his husband. We’re finding some little joys where we can despite what’s breathing down our necks.

It's the second day of the year and the holidays are over, thank goodness. Oliver is at work, and I consider going to the shop but I’ve been spending too much time there when there’s not much for me to do. I’m not going to try to reopen my studio until the end of January, when I’ll have everything ready for the rebranding, including my new sign. There hasn’t been any further vandalism and the protestors have stopped showing up since my studio closed.

I’m not accustomed to this much free time. It occurs to me there are medical appointments I’ve been putting off. It’d be a good time to get them out of the way.

I’m past due for a dental cleaning and a pap smear. I’ll get those scheduled then work on giving the house a good cleaning until I meet Tori for lunch. For a pariah and assumed murderer, I’m living a boring life.

The dental appointment is scheduled easily enough, but I get put on hold when I call my gynecologist. Once I give them my name, I’m transferred to a nurse.

“Ella Booth?” she asks, then rattles off my birthdate and address.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Great. Does she recognize my name? Are they going to refuse to see me? “I wanted to make an appointment for my yearly exam.”

“Okay, just a couple of questions and we’ll get you scheduled. Have you had your contraceptive implant removed or replaced by another provider?”

Her question throws me for a second. Why would I have gone somewhere else? Before I can answer, she adds, “Or will we be replacing it on your visit?”

“Is it time for that?” Has it been three years? It probably has. After everything that’s happened, I haven’t given it a thought.

“It’s well past time. It’s not recommended for an expired one to remain implanted. It can cause some problems and make them harder to remove. Yours expired…” The sound of shuffling papers fills her silence. “Over four months ago. Are you having any issues? Heavy or irregular periods?”

“The implant stopped my period.”

“Have you been using a back-up contraceptive method?” she asks.

Dread drops into my stomach like a brick. My voice comes out in scarcely more than a whisper. “No, I didn’t realize it was expired.”

“No problem. You may want to take a pregnancy test, but we’ll also administer one before we replace the implant. Does next Wednesday at eight work for you?”

Pregnancy test. She said pregnancy test.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, sorry, that’s fine, thank you.”

My stomach churns when I hang up the phone. The implant expired four months ago. Well before Oliver and I had sex.

No, the universe could never be so cruel. Not after everything we’ve suffered and are still going through. I haven’t had a period because surely there’s some grace period. The implant isn’t going to turn off like a switch on the expiration date. The hormones are still trickling in, keeping me safe. It’s still working. It has to be.

I can’t bear the possibility hanging over my head so despite the complete denial settling in, I grab my keys and race to the drugstore. The box I choose has three tests. Once I see negative on all of them, I’ll know everything is fine. I’ll get the implant switched out and make sure I never forget again.

It’s still early morning when I return home. The test recommends using your first urine of the day but it’s too late for that and there’s no way I can wait until tomorrow. I’ll take two of them and once they’re negative, save the other for first thing tomorrow just in case.

Maybe it’s nerves or the fact I’ve already gone and haven’t had anything to drink, but I can’t pee. Damn it. My head feels like it’s in a weird fog while I set the test aside and chug a glass of water. I feel zoned out.

It’s okay. Once I see a negative test result, I’ll snap out of it. For twenty minutes, I busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen, stopping to drink more water until finally, I feel the urge.

As I’m unwrapping another test, Oliver calls. Not answering isn’t an option or he’ll worry and want to check on me. I need to be alone for this.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound normal.

“Hi beautiful. What are you doing today?”

“Not much. Meeting Tori later. And cleaning the house. I’m spring cleaning in the winter, haha!” Okay, the laugh sounded insane. And loud. Tone it the fuck down, Ella.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Did something happen?”

This time I control myself and give a normal giggle. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to blow your eardrum out. I’m fine, just went a bit heavy on the caffeine. I should probably eat something.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear you in a good mood.” You poor deluded man, I’m losing it. “My lawyer called and wants to meet with me this afternoon. He’s coming here. He didn’t say what it was about but if you could come…”

“Of course. What time?”

“Noon.”

“I’ll see you then.” My bladder is about to burst by the time we get off the phone. I have no problem taking the tests this time. They take five minutes. Five minutes that I spend reasoning with myself while I pace the house like a trapped tiger. I haven’t had a period in years. If the birth control had worn off, surely I would’ve had a period when that happened. You don’t just go from suppressed periods to pregnant. I’m being silly. I’ll be sure to bury these tests in my trashcan so no one will know how ridiculous I am.

The timer on my phone beeps telling me the five minutes are up.

Two plus signs stare at me from the counter.

Not silly. Not ridiculous.

Screwed, that’s what I am. Completely screwed.

The next couple of hours seem to flick by like a page in a book. There are no tears. Maybe I’ve cried out all I’m capable of. There’s only fear and shame. I’m pregnant by my dead fiancé’s twin brother. Who has been charged with his death. Somebody call the soap opera network.

I find myself sitting by the window in my old room with the broken trellis leaned against the wall beside me. “There’s no forgiving me for this one, Den.” I trace the wood with my fingers. “It was supposed to be you. We bought this house so we could raise our kids in the neighborhood where we grew up, where we fell in love.”

The latch on the window is turned to the left and I reach up to click it over to where it stayed most of my life. Unlocking the window makes me feel better. Like I’ve set something right. It’s ridiculous and probably not smart. Dad took the trellis down before selling us the house, but the lattice work that replaced it is scalable.

Maybe this room will be the nursery.

Fucking hell, I’m going to have a baby.

I can’t even think of the options right now. Whether I’ll keep it or not. It’s unreal that a combination of Oliver and me is growing inside me. Part of Alden too, since they shared identical DNA, but that’s probably not a healthy thought.

All I know is that this needs to be kept to myself for now. I can’t burden Oliver with it while he’s already buried in trouble. Until I figure out what I’m going to do, I don’t want anyone knowing. If I decide to terminate, no one will ever know.

Dragging myself out of my childhood bedroom, I wrap the positive tests in toilet paper, toss them into the trash, then take the trash bag to the outdoor can. The unused test is tucked into my drawer.

My phone buzzes with a text.

TORI

Lunch at Cedro’s?

ME

I have to be at Oliver’s to meet with his lawyer at noon. After?

TORI

Works for me. I’ll meet you at Oliver’s.

Okay, I have to get myself together and act normal.

It’s easier said than done but by the time I pull into the lot at Stokes Brothers, I’m focused on Oliver and what the lawyer has to say. He didn’t say why he wanted to meet but I’m guessing it has to do with the psychological test results and decision on competency.

Milo greets me when I step inside and nods back toward the office. “They just went in there. Oliver said to come on back.”

“Thanks.”

Oliver sits at the desk and Lowell sits across from him, opening a briefcase. Lowell glances at me, then looks back to him. “You may want this discussion to be private.”

That’s not promising.

“No,” Oliver says. “Like I said before, any updates you have can also be shared with Ella.”

“Suit yourself.” He pulls a few sheets of paper from his briefcase. “The prosecution has obtained new evidence and I’m not going to mince words here, Mr. Stokes, it doesn’t look good.”

Oliver’s jaw hardens. “What evidence?”

“As you’re aware, Dean Warren claims you paid him ten thousand dollars and promised him another twenty-thousand once the job was done.”

“He’s lying,” I snap.

“That was our defense, before, but we need an explanation for these transactions.” He hands some paperwork to Oliver. “Two days before the robbery, ten thousand dollars in cryptocurrency was paid to Dean Warren’s account. The cryptocurrency came from a pseudonym.”

“So it could be anybody,” Oliver says, sitting back in his chair.

“A lot of people are under the impression that cryptocurrency is untraceable, but that isn’t the case. The crypto coins were purchased using a bank account. That account is registered to Stokes Brothers.”

My heart falls into my stomach. That can’t be true.

Oliver shakes his head. “That’s impossible. I’ve been over our records and accounts from the last two years. I would’ve noticed a ten thousand dollar mystery payment from our business account.”

“If you’ll look at the third page, you’ll see it didn’t come from your main business account, but from an additional savings account. It was opened with Stokes Brothers as the account owner but labeled spare funds. It’s not out of the ordinary to have an extra account such as that for petty cash or to set aside tax payments. The issue is that not only did the money originate from a Stokes account, that particular account now has a balance of twenty-thousand dollars. Do you have any recollection of a spare funds account?”

“No.” Oliver stares at the paper like maybe something on it will change. “I don’t remember it.”

“The prosecution also has phone records showing two calls from your phone to Dean Warren’s. One was made two weeks before the incident. The other was an hour before. Forensics couldn’t pull anything from your recovered phone, but the records exist. Can you think of any reason you would’ve been in touch with Dean Warren?”

“I don’t know either of them. I don’t think I’ve ever met them before. But I can’t remember.”

Lowell temples his hands under his chin, pointing them at Oliver. “We don’t have a strong counter for this evidence. Up until now, all they’ve had is Dean’s claim that you hired him. Now this shows someone with financial access at Stokes Brothers bought the same amount of cryptocurrency that was sent to Dean, leaving the exact amount in said account that he claims was promised as a later payment. This corroborates his story.”

My mind races. “There has to be some other explanation! Everyone knows cryptocurrency is shady. Maybe Dean created an account to look like it belonged to Stokes Brothers or hacked their accounts somehow. If Oliver found out it was him, that could’ve been the reason for calls between them.” It doesn’t make sense even as I say it. Neither of the Warren guys seem smart enough to memorize a phone number much less hack anything.

Lowell looks at Oliver. “I believe we should start discussing other options besides going to trial.”

“You want him to take a plea?” I exclaim. “Just because we don’t know the explanation doesn’t mean there isn’t one! You want to give up?”

Oliver looks Lowell in the eye. “I didn’t do this.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince, Mr. Stokes. It doesn’t matter what happened, it matters what we can prove. If you choose to go to trial, I’ll do my best to get you acquitted, but I have to warn you that the odds don’t look good at this point.”

Oliver swallows and runs his hand through his hair. “What about the competency motion?”

“We don’t have a ruling on that yet, but I’m not hopeful. It was always a long shot. You’re able to communicate, assist with your defense, understand the questions you’re asked. Unless the forensic psychiatrist noticed something, I doubt that will go our way.”

Oliver stares at the papers for a long moment. “I want to wait for those results before we discuss a plea.”

Lowell doesn’t look pleased, but he nods. “Alright. You need to understand the stronger the case gets against you, the less likely a plea will be offered, much less a good one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t have better news.” Lowell gets to his feet. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear from the judge on competency.”

“Thank you.”

He closes the door behind him, and Oliver shoves the papers into a drawer. He runs both hands through his hair, then cradles his head, his eyes squeezed shut.

I don’t even know what to say. None of this makes any sense. Oliver would never have wanted his brother dead. “Oliver,” I begin softly.

He looks up at me with watery eyes. “What if I did it?”

“No.”

“It came from one of our accounts. I don’t remember, so how can I be sure?” He takes a deep, shuddery breath. “I know how I feel about you now. I’m shredded inside, and you’re all that’s holding the pieces together. When I see you walking toward me, the world just falls in line behind you. You make everything right, Ella. What if I loved you then and wanted to sabotage your wedding?”

I reach across the desk and grab his arms while he grips his head. “By killing your twin brother who you loved more than anyone in the world? No. I can’t explain what they found, but I know you aren’t a murderer. Don’t give up. Don’t lose hope and doubt yourself.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles, sitting back and wiping his eyes. “There’s nothing I can do but keep trying to remember. It’s so infuriating that the stuff that comes back is useless. I can remember riding the school bus when it broke down and we all walked home in the rain but not something that might save my life.”

Tori taps on the door and pokes her head in. “Hey, am I interrupting?”

“No,” Oliver says, standing up. “I need to get back to work.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. I don’t want to leave him. “I can stay, or we can all go to lunch.”

“No.” He comes around the desk to hug me then gives Tori one too. “Working is what I need.”

“Okay. I’ll call you later.”

Tori turns to look at me, her eyebrows raised, when he walks back out to the garage. “What happened?”

The laugh that escapes me has no humor in it. Where to start? It was just another normal day in my existence. I’m pregnant and the father is another step closer to prison. “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

Oliver is crouched next to a bike when we leave. My heart aches at the sight of him.

Tori drives us while I fill her in on everything the lawyer told us, and the advice Oliver was given regarding a plea bargain.

Neither of us seems to know what to say. Once we’re seated at the restaurant, Tori stares at me over our shared platter of tacos. “What’s he going to do?”

“He’s waiting on the competency decision. It feels like everything is riding on that now, and Lowell doesn’t seem to think it’s going to go his way.”

We both fall silent for a few minutes. My head is so full it feels like it’s going to explode. I’m desperate to tell Tori about the two sticks buried in my trashcan. It’s on the tip of my tongue to do so, and swear her to secrecy, when she finally speaks up.

“Ella, have you considered...that Oliver did hire Warren and can’t remember?”

No one has doubted him since those cops showed up at my door. Not one of our friends or family. My first reaction wants to be anger, but I tamp it down. She still must see it flash across my face because she sits back and softens her voice.

“Listen, I would’ve never thought he was capable of hurting anyone, especially not Alden, but it’s getting harder to ignore what’s being discovered. He talked to Dean Warren. He sent them money—”

“We don’t know he sent it. Just that the account was registered to his business.”

Ignoring my interruption, she continues, “Then the Warrens just happen to rob a store Alden wasn’t even supposed to be in. He should’ve been in the limo on the way to the arboretum. Except Oliver showed up with that sports car.”

“He did that because Alden always dreamed of driving one.”

Tori nods and looks me in the eye. “I’m not saying I believe he did it. But, if it were anyone else, we’d think they were guilty. I wonder if our hearts are blinding us to the truth.”

“He isn’t anyone else.”

“No, he’s Oliver. A boy who wanted his brother’s girl. Maybe he never stopped. Plus, the name of the account you told me about, spare funds. Spare.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not,” she sighs, sitting back. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

My voice cracks when I try to speak, and I sip my drink before trying again. “Tori, I need you to be on my side. There’s too much…it’s too much.”

“Hey.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “I’m always on your side. I’ll always have your back, but that means telling you the truth too. I don’t want to think he could’ve done it, but I also think you should prepare yourself for that possibility.”

I squeeze her hand. “I can’t. I can’t let myself think for a second that he had any part in it. There must be some other explanation for the money and the calls between them. If Oliver could just remember. More memories are coming back to him every day, and I keep hoping that will too. He didn’t hurt his brother. He’s innocent. He has to be. Because the alternative isn’t something I could survive. If he’s the person who killed Alden, and I took care of him, fucked him, fell for him…” My stomach turns, and I swallow hard, then shake my head. “No. No.”

Tori regards me for a moment. “Have you fallen for him, Ella? Or are you holding on to the last part of Alden that still lives?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked me that question. My answer is honest and it makes me ashamed. “I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want to lose him.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Oliver about the pregnancy over the next week. Part of me is screaming that it isn’t fair to keep it from him. Which is true. I’ve been holding out for both of our sakes because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Now I am.

I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of my doctor’s office, staring at the first ultrasound picture that confirms that yes, I’m going to be a mother. I even heard its little heartbeat a few minutes ago.

Ten weeks pregnant.

That means it happened the first time we slept together. Unbelievable.

I’ll admit I entertained the idea of terminating it. This is not the way I ever envisioned having a child. I was supposed to be married, stable. It was supposed to be planned. It was supposed to be Alden’s.

Guilt washes over me along with that thought. It feels like I’m betraying them both. Alden by having a child with his brother, and Oliver by bemoaning what might have been instead of celebrating what we have. He loves me. There’s not a doubt in my mind he’ll love our son or daughter.

Soon, I’ll tell him.

Then I’ll be able to tell Tori too and not feel like I’m keeping a huge secret from the two most important people in my life. Tori is gone for the week on a cruise ship. Paul surprised her with the trip, and they picked a good time to leave.

A blizzard watch has been announced for our city, and while we’re no stranger to snow, this one could shut things down for a couple of days. There are a few more errands I need to run before I go home. Thankfully, groceries aren’t on my list because the stores will be a madhouse right now, but I do need to fill my gas tank and try to find some driveway salt.

There’s a short wait at the gas station as panicking people fill every gas container they can scrounge up. After I’ve had my turn, I return to my car to find a missed call from Oliver.

I tap on the screen on my dash to call him back while pulling back out onto the road. “Hey! Still coming to get snowed in with me, sexy?” I tease.

“Ella.” The weight of his voice instantly makes my stomach sink.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lowell called. He was right. The competency motion was denied. Either I try for a plea bargain or go to trial.”

I pull over and park in the lot of a dollar store. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not all. With the new evidence, the prosecutor has added another murder charge for the clerk’s death.” His monotone speech is worrying as he continues. “He’s also asked them to revoke my bail.”

“What does that mean?” I whisper.

“It means I’ll go to jail until the trial if the judge agrees.”

“They can’t do that! They already agreed to the bail and the anklet! You haven’t broken your radius once!” I exclaim, tears welling over.

“Lowell said with the additional charge added, the judge may decide I’m a flight risk. He told me to get my affairs in order. If the judge revokes my bail, they’ll issue a warrant and I’ll be expected to turn myself in or they’ll come get me. It could be in the next couple of days.”

This can’t be happening. It’s too fast. Everything has been inching along and we should have months if not a year before he even has to go to trial. Now, he could spend that time in jail.

“I’m on my way,” I tell him, swiping the tears from my face.

“No, you don’t need to come here. I need some time to think.”

“Oliver.”

“I love you, Ella. Wherever I end up, I need you to know that, okay? I love you.”

Sobs shake my chest. “I love you too. I’m not leaving you alone today. I’m on my way.”

He doesn’t argue any further. I’m on autopilot throughout the drive to Stokes Brothers. All I can think of is getting to him. When I arrive, I know he isn’t there even before Milo tells me.

“He took off. Said he needed a drive to clear his head.” Milo sighs. “Did he tell you what Lowell said?”

I nod, trying my best not to burst into tears again, and Milo gives me a hug. “Wait here with us. I’m sure he’ll be right back and be glad to see you.”

He doesn’t come right back. Hours pass while Milo, Smith, and I wait. We take turns ringing his phone, but he never answers. Our texts go ignored.

Fear creeps in once evening comes with no contact from him. The words he said earlier take on a new weight in my head. I love you. Wherever I end up.

He meant even if he goes to jail, I try to convince myself.

Smith sits beside me. “How are you holding up?”

“You don’t think he’d hurt himself, do you?” My worst fear tumbles out.

“I hope not. He has that tracking anklet on. If we don’t hear from him soon, can we access that somehow to make sure he’s okay?”

“No,” Milo says. “Not without contacting the cops who are monitoring him and we sure as hell aren’t going to alert anyone that he might’ve ran. They’re already threatening to lock him up.”

“He didn’t run. He wouldn’t.” Wherever I end up.

“If he had left the city or took the monitor off, we would’ve already had the cops up our ass,” Smith points out.

All our phones begin to blare with an emergency alert. The blizzard watch has been upgraded to a warning. I completely forgot a storm was coming.

"You should go home before the snow starts,” Milo tells me.

“I need to know when he comes back.” We planned for him to stay with me tonight, but who knows whether he’ll show up at my house or come back here.

Smith holds his hand out. “Give me your phone. I can put the security app on it and activate the alerts for the cameras. You’ll get a notification and be able to see if he comes home.”

I’d rather wait for him, but they’re right. We all need to head home before we get stranded. “Okay, thanks.”

Smith sets it up and shows me how to check the front and back cameras. Milo double checks that the shop is locked up securely since none of us may be coming in tomorrow if the snow is too deep.

“Drive safe,” Milo says. “Try not to worry yourself. He’s got a lot on his mind. He probably needed some solo time to figure shit out.”

“I’ll call if I hear from him,” I promise, before we all go our separate ways.

The traffic is almost nonexistent on my drive home. A couple of salt trucks pass me, brining the road. Hope has me holding my breath that maybe he’ll be parked at my house, but that’s dashed when I turn onto my street. My driveway has never looked so empty.

Where the hell is he?

CHAPTER 7

It’s past ten o’clock when I hear my front door open, and Oliver calls my name. Relief floods through me. I’m on my feet and in the foyer before he even gets the door shut behind him.

“Oliver! Where the fuck have you been? You scared the shit out of me!”

His face is lined with anxiety. “I’m sorry. I had to think.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t fucking think! The memories keep coming back now but I don’t know what I can trust. Some of it…just makes no sense, like the one about the polar bear plunge.”

He’s almost in a panic. “It’ll be alright.”

“No! No, it won’t. I can’t prove my innocence at trial when I don’t know what I did. I’m going to go to prison. Fuck, maybe I belong there.”

“No, you don’t! You don’t belong in prison.”

“You don’t know that. And neither do I. I need to know, Ella. I can’t live like this anymore. I’m going to The Stop Along. I need you to come with me.”

My heart hammers against my ribs at the suggestion. The Stop Along is right around the corner, but I haven’t been there since it happened. Neither of us have.

“Do you think that’ll help you?”

He shrugs helplessly. “All I’ve done today is go from place to place trying to trigger memories. And it’s worked…sort of. I went back to places you showed me or told me about. I can remember sitting on the steps of my old apartment. I can remember wading in the stream by the treehouse trying to catch minnows.”

“That’s great. If everything is coming back, we’ll keep trying and—”

“You don’t understand!” he snaps. He curses under his breath, then continues in a calmer tone. “I also remember things that don’t make sense. I can remember touching you, kissing you…before.”

“We had one kiss in junior high. Maybe—”

His gaze lands on mine. “It wasn’t a junior high kiss. Neither is the memory of my cock in your mouth. So, unless that also happened before…”

“No, it didn’t.”

“The memories of you are every bit as vivid as the ones I know are real, but they can’t be. I think fantasies are getting mixed up with reality and I’m scared that soon I won’t know what’s real. Every night I dream about gunshots and blood and someone screaming my name. I know it’s trying to come back, and something the cognitive therapist said…” He shakes his head. “He said I’m afraid to know the truth. That I’m fighting the memories, running from them. If that’s true, the only way I can think to stop running is to confront the worst one head-on. Everything started there. I need to know what happened that day. I need to know if I murdered two people.” When I open my mouth to argue, he cups my face. “And so do you. Will you go with me?”

There’s no way I can refuse him. Maybe he’s right and this will be what breaks the dam holding back his memories. “Of course I will.”

A text from Milo rattles my phone.

MILO

Still can’t reach Oliver. Do you want the shop to open tomorrow?

“It’s Milo. He wants to know whether to open up the shop tomorrow. There’s a blizzard coming tonight and more snow predicted tomorrow.”

“Tell him to stay closed for the next couple of days. Until it’s over.”

ME

Oliver is with me. He just showed up at my place. Stay home and stay safe. Can you let the others know?

MILO

Will do.

I grab my coat. “Let’s go.”

The streets are empty and only one car sits in the small lot of the convenience store. Heat rises from the tailpipe, showing up like smoke in the frigid air. A young guy wearing a red clerk’s vest with The Stop Along logo shuts the car door and reaches the front entrance at the same time we do.

“Sorry, we’re closed. I came out to warm up my car while I finish cleaning up. The gas station two streets over is staying open all night.”

We’re too late. “Can we come in for a minute?” I ask. “I don’t need to buy anything. He just…” This isn’t the easiest thing to explain. “Look, it’s a long story but he needs to look around inside. We’ll be quick.”

The suspicion on his face is fair. He’s young and working alone at night in a place where a man with his job died not a year ago. “No, sorry, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Oliver doesn’t let him finish. He yanks open the glass door and stalks inside. His determination in the face of the fear I know he’s feeling is admirable. It’s also likely to get us arrested.

“I’m sorry. We only need a few minutes, please.”

“I’m calling the police.” He retreats toward his car, pulling his phone out.

Damn it. I’m concerned with getting arrested, of course, but that’s not what makes me hesitate with my hand on the door handle.

Alden died here. It isn’t a place I wanted to come again. I’ve never quite understood the common practice of decorating the spot where a loved one died with flowers or crosses, like you see along the side of the highway. To each their own way of grieving, but the cemetery seems like a much more peaceful choice. This place holds only violence and tragedy.

Alright, I can do this. It won’t take long for officers to show up. We’ll probably only have one chance at this. Oliver is in there and he needs me. The warmth of the store washes over me, making my cold face tingle. The layout isn’t exactly as I remember it, but it’s close.

Oliver stands in the middle of the front aisle beside a large trashcan that’s been dragged out. His eyes are scrutinizing as they sweep from the register area to the rear of the store. It’s silent. The local radio station that always plays from the ancient sound system has been turned off. The guy closing the place probably prefers the quality of his earbuds over those tinny sounding speakers.

Was that what Alden died listening to? Low quality top forties pop music? My morbid thoughts can’t help but surface and force me to picture him lying on the floor, bleeding.

Dying.

A clunking sound comes from the back of the store, followed by a hum as one of the freezers kicks on, and Oliver’s head jerks in that direction.

“That wasn’t there before,” he mumbles. “It was different.”

“Yes, it was in a different spot.”

It’s hard to keep quiet but throwing questions at him now won’t be helpful. Instead, I watch his face while he takes a few steps and continues to look around. His tongue slips out to wet his lips and his breathing speeds up.

My chest feels tight, the anticipation and fear warring between my ribs. Something is happening.

He turns in a slow circle, then looks at me. “Ella,” he gasps. “I think…”

Whap! Whap! Whap!

His words are cut off, and his hands fly to his ears. Pure terror overrides his features.

“Hey!” Whap! “I called the cops!” The clerk calls from outside, slapping his palm against the glass door. “Get the fuck out!”

Oliver drops to a crouch, his hands still over his ears, mumbling something indecipherable. His eyes bulge, darting around the store.

The clerk stares at me while I step over and turn the little metal disc to lock the doors. We’re in this now. Something is coming back to Oliver, and I’m not going to let it get interrupted. After cursing, the clerk goes back to his car to wait.

We don’t have long.

“Oliver.” He jerks when I lay my hand over his and gently tug it away from his ear.

“Gunshots! He’s shooting!” he cries.

“No, the clerk banged on the window. No one’s shooting.”

Quick, rasping breaths flare his nostrils while his gaze locks onto the dirty blue floor tiles. “Blood. There’s so much blood! His eyes are wrong. I can’t reach him! I need help!”

He isn’t making much sense but it’s clear this is working. I don’t know if this is a flashback or a memory but he’s recalling the robbery.

Red and blue lights chase each other across the walls of the store. Shit. Our time is running out.

I kneel beside him. “What do you remember? What do you see?”

“They came in behind us.” He looks up to the ceiling at the buzzing fluorescent lights. “I made fun of the song playing on the radio.” His gaze jumps to the front doors. “We were laughing, and then a gun was pointed at me. At all of us. They wanted our wallets and phones. I thought it was a joke or something.” Despair grows on his face when he looks at me. “I laughed. I thought it was a joke,” he sobs.

“Okay, it’s okay. You gave them your stuff.”

His nod is frantic. “We all did. I thought they’d go for the register next, but this guy stepped out and yelled…something.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Then everything exploded. Blood was everywhere. I couldn’t reach him.” His hand crawls up to grip his throat, covering the scar. “I kept screaming his name, but no sound would come out.”

A bang on the front door makes us both jump.

“It’s the police. I’ll talk to them.”

His body trembles as he gets to his feet. He stays where he is while I approach the door.

I’m a little relieved to see Sawyer staring back at me. At least it’s someone we know, someone who knows our situation. It probably won’t keep us from going to jail though.

Snow falls around him, sticking to his hair as he tries to open the door. “Ella? What’s going on? Unlock the door.”

I glance back at Oliver. He’s holding onto the counter so hard his knuckles are white while he stares at the floor. Whatever is going on in his head isn’t over.

“Ella!” Sawyer snaps.

“No. Listen to me. We aren’t taking anything or hurting anything. Oliver needs to be here. To try to remember…and face what happened.”

Sawyer looks over at Oliver, then back to me and rubs a hand over his chin. “Unlock the door now. We can talk about it. My backup will be here shortly, and this isn’t going to go well if we can’t resolve it first. Let me in.”

Oliver’s head suddenly jerks up and his face goes stone white. “We were wrong. They were wrong. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.” He bends over and vomits into the trashcan by the counter, takes a stumbling step backward, and sits down hard. He slumps back against the rack of candy and for a second I think he might have passed out.

“Oliver!” I cry.

Sawyer curses and bangs on the door. “Open it! Now, Ella! Let me help!”

Oliver doesn’t lose consciousness, but he won’t look at me or respond. He’s in his head somewhere, trying to come to terms with whatever he remembered.

I’m not sure what to do anymore, so I unlock the door. Sawyer accompanies me back to Oliver’s side.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare him,” I say, nodding to the clerk who hovers at the door. “Oliver’s memories have been coming back and he wanted to come here to see if we could trigger them.”

Sawyer frowns as Oliver stares at the floor. “Well, you picked a hell of a night. There’s a blizzard on top of us.”

“I know.”

Oliver lifts his head and looks around.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Sawyer asks me. “Does he need help?” He doesn’t mean physically. Taking him to a hospital isn’t going to make anything better. He needs time to process things.

“No,” Oliver answers before I can, getting to his feet.

Sawyer turns to me. “I’ll handle things with the clerk. You need to go. Now. Get him out of here.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, relieved we aren’t going to be arrested. We didn’t break in exactly but I’m sure they could’ve gotten us for trespassing at the minimum.

Oliver doesn’t speak when I grab his arm, only follows me out the door. “I’m sorry,” I tell the clerk, who gives me a cautious nod.

Fat snowflakes fall in a thick curtain. Everything will be covered in a matter of minutes. I’m glad we’re right around the corner from my place.

“You’re going to stay with me tonight,” I tell him, getting into the car. He doesn’t reply, only buckles his seatbelt. The headlights reflect off the snow, making it hard to see. Not one other car passes me while I drive the few blocks back to my place.

Once we’re parked in my garage, I look over at Oliver. He stares at the dash, and when he turns to look at me, his expression is strange. Dazed.

“Hey, it’s alright. Whatever you saw or remembered, it’s going to be okay. Let’s go in and get warm. Then you can decide if you’re ready to talk.”

“It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. I remember…I can’t believe…”

“I know that, Oliver. I never thought that you hurt Alden.”

“You don’t understand. My god, Ella!” He grabs my face and looks me in the eye. “It’s me. Not Oliver. I’m Den. I’m Alden.”

His statement is so monstrous, it takes a second for me to comprehend.

“Let go of me!” I jerk away and fumble with the door handle. Rage fills me as my feet hit the garage floor. “That’s not funny!” I shout, backing away from my car. “Why would you say that?” The hysteria in my voice scares me.

He gets out of the car, pauses his steps when I retreat, and holds up his palms. “I’m sorry. Listen. Please, just listen to me. I know it sounds insane, but I remember. I remember who I am. Who you are. Who we were and—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I scream. After everything I’ve been through, this is my limit. His words are hornets stinging every part of me. I’ve done everything I can for him. Why is he doing this to me?

Swallowing, I take a deep breath and fight to get control of my anger. He’s confused. That’s all. He’s traumatized from reliving the robbery and he’s confused.

Despair clouds his face. My voice trembles when I manage to speak. “Alden is dead. Don’t you ever say that to me again.”

“El,” he whispers, taking a step toward me.

“No.” My neck cracks with the ferocity of the shake of my head. My chest is so tight that drawing a breath hurts. “I need a minute.”

My stomach churns as I let myself inside my house. I’ve gone from being cold to too hot. The living room feels stuffy and too small, like it’s closing in on me. I jerk off my hat and coat. I’ve seen enough of Oliver’s happen to know I’m having an anxiety attack.

My kitchen is brighter and more open. It feels less constrictive. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take sips, concentrating on calming my racing heart and slowing my rapid breaths.

I’m alright. Oliver caught me off guard, that’s all. There’s no reason for me to panic. Of course, it was upsetting, but it’s not true. There’s no reason to freak out. So why am I still feeling this way?

Because the wicked voice of hope never gives up. In the back of my head it whispers, but what if?

No.

They were identical.

No.

They were dressed identically in tuxedos.

No. Fucking no! It’s not true. I know it isn’t, but I need to prove it to myself anyway. Sometimes, hope holds us by the throat.

Oliver steps into the kitchen but doesn’t approach me. My first attempt to speak produces only a squeak. Clearing my throat, I try again. “The last time Alden and I saw each other before I left for college, I told him I was sorry that we were over. He said we weren’t over. He called it something else. What was it?”

A pause. It’s something only we’d know.

Some part of me must’ve thought there was a chance, because the shake of his head feels like it pulls all the life out of me, leaving a heaviness I’ve never experienced. It was so cruel for him to give me even a sliver of hope. How stupid am I? Things like that don’t actually happen.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember everything.”

“Because you weren’t there. Because you’re Oliver. You’re confused. I realize that, and I want to help you, but you can’t say that to me again, do you understand? I can’t take it.”

After a long moment, he nods. His silent stare is intense, and all I can see in his face is Alden. He’s gotten into my head. I can’t do this. Not now.

“You can stay in the guest room and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, El,” he murmurs when I walk past him, and the pain I hear shreds me even further.

“I’m not angry, but I need some time to get myself together.”

It feels like I’m running away once my bedroom door is shut and I’m safely inside. Maybe I am. Running from him, from the pain of his words, from the split second of ridiculous hope that somehow made its way through all logic. I’m running from this whole fucking year. Life keeps throwing darts at me and the last of my strength has drained from the holes.

I’ve tried to move on. I’ve done my best to be there for Oliver, but how much can one person take?

Bone deep exhaustion weighs me down. I barely have the energy to change clothes before falling into bed, but I pull my curtains open first. With the comforter tucked around me, I watch the snow’s tumbling dance until I fall asleep.

The sound of my front door closing stirs me from a dream that fades too fast to recall. It’s quickly replaced with the memory of what Oliver said last night. I feel bad for reacting the way I did. It’s understandable, but he asked me to go with him to relive those terrible moments, and when he got confused, I flipped out on him.

Is he leaving? My room feels chilly when I climb out of my warm bed to rush to the window. He drove Alden’s truck here, and it’s still parked in my driveway, half buried in what must be at least eighteen inches of snow. I don’t see him, but footprints in the snow lead off to the right. Where’s he going? He can’t disappear again before we talk. If he still believes he’s Alden, this time I’ll be reasonable about it and convince him he’s mistaken.

A shiver runs over me as I cross the hall to look through the back window. The footprints lead across the yard, and I catch a glimpse of the back of his blue coat before he disappears into the woods. He said he went back to the treehouse before to jog his memory. Maybe he’s trying again.

It isn’t until I return to my room to get dressed that I realize the power is out. That explains why it’s cold in here. It shouldn’t be out for long. I’ll worry about starting a fire and warming the place up after I find Oliver.

Bundled up against the weather, I’m grateful it isn’t windy when I step outside. My breath heats up quickly on my walk across the backyard and into the woods. Walking in deep snow sucks, but he’s paved the way and I step in the footprints he left behind.

What am I going to say to him if he still thinks he’s not Oliver? How do you prove to someone who they are? Especially a twin. Twins don’t have identical fingerprints, do they? Sawyer would probably be able to get a copy of Oliver’s fingerprints.

No, Alden has never been arrested, never printed, and Oliver’s would only be from the recent arrest. That won’t work. Dental records? They both go to the same dentist. It’d be a weird request to walk in with, I’m sure, but if it comes to it, it may be a way to show Oliver that he’s mixed up.

It could prove it to me too. No matter how much I know that Alden is gone, that stubborn, ridiculous tug still resides in the back of my mind.

Because they’re identical.

Because they were dressed the same.

And because if I want to be truthful with myself, his personality isn’t the same as Oliver’s or Alden’s was before this happened.

Of course, it’s not. He’s had a brain injury and mental trauma. No one would be the same.

The argument blooming in my head is maddening.

He works on bikes. Only Alden did that.

He does the accounting and inventory. Only Oliver did that.

He can be funny like Alden.

He’s quiet like Oliver.

He’s sweet and caring.

Both of them were. That solves nothing.

There’s nothing to solve. Deep down I know that. It’s only desperate hope, clinging to a scrap it’s been thrown after too much devastation. Maybe I’m not mentally well enough to deal with this, but there’s no one else. It has to be me.

I’m surprised to find the footprints don’t veer off in the direction of the treehouse but continue toward the creek. This part of the woods has more pine trees that have managed to block a lot of the snow which makes the walking easier.

He’s not hard to find. His blue coat stands out against the whitened forest. He sits under a huge pine, where the hard packed dirt is only dusted with snow, leaning against the trunk. The creek flows past a few feet away, narrowed down to a trickle by the frozen edges.

Now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say. Where to start. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

A small smile slips onto his face. “No, don’t apologize. You’ve been through too much.”

I sit beside him, ignoring the chill of the frozen ground through my jeans. “We both have. Oliver—”

“Wait,” he pleads, and turns his body to sit facing me. “I want to tell you what I remember, okay? Some of it, anyway. Because it’s years worth of memories, I think. Years of moments that I can’t begin to list, but I want to tell you what I think matters right now.”

“I’m listening,” I murmur.

“I’m not trying to hurt you. I would never. And I’m sorry if hearing these things upsets you or scares you, but please, let me get them out.”

The dark circles around his eyes display his lack of sleep. He likely didn’t go to bed at all and has only been waiting to talk to me. “I won’t get angry or freak out. I’m listening.”

“The day it happened, it’s patchy in my head. It’s hard to remember the hours leading up to the robbery. I remember you in your dress. I remember how I felt. Like I could never be happier than I was right then.”

The pit in my stomach begins to grow again. He still thinks he’s Alden. Pressing my lips together to stop myself from interrupting, I try to keep my expression neutral while he continues.

“I was driving. Oliver told me to pull into The Stop Along because he wanted to get some antacids. He had heartburn and he wanted a package of antacids and water. It would only take a minute.”

His stare reaches over my shoulder, into the distance. “They came in right behind us. The Warrens. I can see their faces. I should’ve known something was wrong. They looked nervous. They were the ones holding the guns and demanding our stuff, but they looked nervous. I thought it was a joke, maybe some prank that Oliver arranged for my wedding day. You know he could be weird like that, with his sense of humor. This big guy steps out of the aisle and holds up a gun.” He winces, blinks a few times, and continues in a shaky voice. “Oliver got hit first. I didn’t realize I was shot too. I just knew I was on the floor, and I couldn’t get to him. He was dying.”

Tears overflow, running down my cheeks. Fear wells up inside me. He has to be confused but he believes every word he’s saying.

“I kept trying to yell for him, but the words got caught.” He trails his fingers over the scar on his neck. “Things went hazy and black a few different times. After that, it’s a jumble of voices and darkness.”

He pauses and wipes a tear from his face with the cuff of his coat. My breath comes out in quick puffs of steam while I fight to keep calm. To be reasonable. The tiny thread of hope is being pulled but I can’t let myself hold onto it.

“The paramedic asked you your name,” I point out. “You told him it was Oliver.”

Tortured eyes look into mine. “I don’t remember anyone asking my name, but I was calling for my brother. I was saying Oliver to anyone who would listen.”

My mind is churning, desperately searching to poke holes in his story. Not because I don’t want it to be true, but because I can’t bear the disappointment that will come with realizing it isn’t. I won’t survive Alden’s death a second time.

Things like this don’t happen. Even to twins, there’s no way that they were confused for each other and no one ever caught it.

Nothing that I come up with is helpful. They didn’t have their wallets or phones on them for identification. They’d been taken. Their clothes were cut away before we saw them, even underwear and socks. Alden’s head was covered in a bandage when I said goodbye to him. Oliver’s too, when we saw him after surgery, and his was shaved. There was no difference in the length of their hair for us to notice.

Could the hospital have mixed them up? If the paramedic misunderstood, and Alden was calling for his brother, not answering the question about his identity, could that really have happened?

He reaches and takes my hand while I stare at him, unable to form words, unable to think at all.

“I knew you’d come and find me here. It’s not the first time. It was raining the night that Dad left my family. I was so angry for what he was doing to Mom that I hit him. I couldn’t stand to go inside with Mom and Oliver, so I ran. I came here. You found me in the dark and sat in the rain with me. You held my hand. We went back to your house afterward. I wore your brother’s clothes, and we ate nachos. I fell asleep on your couch until Mom came to find me.”

My chest hurts. My head feels like a balloon that’s trying to float away.

He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand. “I don’t know what I said to you before you left for college. I can’t answer that question. I don’t remember everything. There are huge gaps, and I can’t choose what reveals itself. It's like looking into a shattered mirror. I can't see into the cracks that run through me, but I see us reflected in every shard. Every fragment of me loves you. I don't expect you to believe me right now, but I need you, Ella.” He brings our hands up and presses them to his chest while his pleading gaze fuses with mine. “I need you to leave your window unlocked for me.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer, blowing everything apart.

Oliver wouldn’t know the phrase we’ve always used to say we’ll be there for each other. Why would he? It’s always been a promise whispered in the private dark. Not even Tori knows it.

He brought me to where we first held hands, where we first started, and recounted every detail of that night accurately.

“Den,” I whisper.

He brings his hands up to cup my jaw. “It’s me, El.”

There’s no air left to breathe. A whining buzz fills my ears. The white forest turns a gauzy gray, then darkens steadily to blackness.

CHAPTER 8

The world returns to me in inches. The crunch of snow under boots. Warm arms supporting me, cold air on my cheeks. Movement. Something nips at my brain and curls around, trying to find a way to wriggle into my consciousness.

Alden! His name screams in my head, and I jerk awake.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, staring down at me.

As I look into those dark eyes, something clicks into place. A switch flips, and through all the grief and turmoil, I see him.

I see him.

It’s in his eyes that hold so much. Concern, fear, sadness, love. They’re eyes I should’ve known from the very beginning. How could I not have seen it? How could I have missed that the boy who crawled through my window and into my heart was right in front of me all this time?

Every time I open my mouth, no sound will come out. I’m waiting to wake up. For this to be another of those dreams that fades while I’m in his arms, leaving me alone in my bed. But that doesn’t happen.

Alden is alive. Alive and holding me in his arms. Every prayer to gods I didn’t believe in has been answered.

“I’m going to put you down, okay?” he says, standing me on my feet. He’s carried me all the way back to my house. All I can do is look at him while he reaches into my pocket, grabs my keys and unlocks the door. Snow is falling hard again, and a flake dissolves against his bottom lip.

I can’t stop staring at his face.

I’ve spent months trying not to find Alden in every crease and smile. Now I know why it was so hard. Not because he looks or smells or talks like Alden.

Because he is Alden.

“All this time,” I whisper. It’s on repeat in my head and falls from my lips. “All this time.” I’m frozen in place, staring at him while he takes off my coat and hat, then strips his outerwear off as well.

He faces me and the shock fades enough for the reality to set in. “Den,” I sob, throwing myself into his arms. He scoops me up and hugs me so tight I can’t breathe.

“Ella, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

My emotions are a tumbling, clashing swirl. The shock and disbelief cautiously give way to an uncertain joy and a frantic need to touch him. He carries me a few steps into the living room and sits on the couch with me straddling his lap.

Sobs rack my body, and he holds me, rubbing my back. “It’s okay, El. It’s alright.”

Finally, I manage to get a sliver of control over myself and sit up to look at him. “I can’t believe this,” I choke out, bringing my palm to his jaw. “It’s like a miracle. I keep waiting to wake up.”

His soft lips find mine in a gentle kiss. “It’s real. I’m so fucking sorry it took me this long to remember.”

“Don’t.” I run my hand through his hair. “I should’ve known. Identical or not, I should’ve known.”

He sweeps a tear off my face with his thumb. “The doctors told you I was dead, and Oliver was alive. You had no reason to doubt that.”

“I’ve missed you. Den, I’ve missed you so much.”

He holds me tight again while I bury my face in his neck. “I know, sweetheart. I watched you grieve, and I’d give anything to go back and keep you from suffering like that.”

“I have you back now, that’s all that matters. You’re here now.”

I’m not sure how long we stay there, holding each other. My hands wander over him constantly, reassuring me that yes, he’s really here. It’s the cold that finally pulls us apart. The power must’ve gone out early in the night last night because it’s almost cold enough to see my breath in here.

Alden tucks my hair behind my ear. “It’s cold. I’m going to build a fire.”

“I’ll go grab some blankets from upstairs,” I offer, and reluctantly climb off his lap.

Part of me is still scared to let him out of my sight. Like this whole thing might dissolve or pop like a bubble. I can hear him banging around, probably getting more firewood from the garage while I pull down a stack of blankets from the closet.

My notification light on my phone blinks from my bedside table where I plugged it in last night. It’s fully charged, and I have a text from Milo, checking on me because of the power outage. He tells me that most of the city is affected. I shoot a quick message back saying we’re fine.

I can only imagine how everyone else is going to react when they find out. How thrilled they’ll be to see him. The real him. And how heartbroken for Oliver.

Before returning downstairs, I change into a pair of warm leggings and a sweatshirt. The cuffs of my jeans were soaked from the snow. Alden’s probably are too. He still has a few pair of sweatpants in the dresser, and I grab one then hurry back down to him.

A fire roars in the fireplace, and he looks back at me with a sheepish grin. “I may have overdone it.”

“Nah, look outside. We’re supposed to get another six inches today. The warmer the better. Power is probably out for the duration.” I hold up the sweatpants. “I thought you might want these.”

“If you want me to take off my pants, just ask, El.”

It’s a stupid joke. But the remark along with his grin hits me right in the chest.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up,” he says, rushing over to me when tears fill my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I laugh, wiping my eyes. “You just…sound like you.”

“I am me.” He changes out of his jeans, and we cuddle in the middle of the couch, a big blanket spread over us.

“You need to tell your lawyer!” I exclaim, sitting up straight when it hits me. “They meant to charge Oliver! You won’t have to go to trial or anything.”

He tugs me back to curl up beside him. “I already left Lowell a message and sent him an email telling him everything. I’ll need his help to prove my identity.” He grins at me. “I doubt they’ll take my word for it.”

“Dental records?”

“That’s what I was thinking. I sent him the name of my dentist and tried to call them, but they’re closed today.”

The wind picks up, blowing snow against the living room window. “The second part of the storm is here,” I mumble, playing with his hand. I can’t stop touching him. “This is the second time I’ve gotten you back during a snowstorm.”

He smiles down at me. “I just showed up on your doorstep then too.”

Joy fills me every time he remembers something. “You did.”

He blinks and thinks about it for a moment. “It wasn’t here, was it?”

“No, I was living with Tori.”

“For every minute that comes back to me there’s an hour that’s still blank,” he sighs. “But I know who I am now. There’s no emptiness inside of me. I couldn’t figure out why my name didn’t fit me. No matter how long I was called Oliver, it didn’t feel right.” His small smile brims with adoration as he looks down at me. “You felt right. Being with you, talking and laughing. Touching you. Kissing you. You were the only thing that felt right.” His lips tilt into a smirk. “And the bikes.”

“The bikes, of course,” I chuckle, turning to face him.

I run my fingertips over his stubble. “I dreamed about you almost every night. A lot of them were like this. Just sitting together, talking. Being us.”

His lips brush over mine and a long look is exchanged between us. I’m the one who breaks the spell, leaning forward to kiss him fully. He pulls me into his arms. The kiss is slow and soft, reassuring. It goes on and on, neither of us wanting to pull away.

His warm hands run up and down my back, under my sweatshirt. I drag my lips from his to kiss his jaw, working my way back to his ear. I nibble at his lobe—something that’s always turned him on—and he hums. God, his hands. They feel amazing.

I pull off my sweatshirt, glad I didn’t put a bra on. He looks me in the eye and kisses me again, while his hands explore my breasts. Every move we make, every touch, is slow, drawn out. I’m turned on, and I can feel his hard cock under my ass, but there’s no frantic drive to fuck. It’s more about being close to each other. About our desperation to touch and be touched. To love each other.

Neither of us speak. Our hands and lips communicate everything that we can’t put into words. I undress him and he does the same for me. I’m underneath him and the sight of the desire in his dark eyes when he slides inside me makes my entire body burn.

“Oh, Den,” I moan, dragging his head forward so I can kiss him again. We can’t keep our lips off of each other. Each of his languorous strokes are met by a flex of my hips. My hands cup his ass, and he bends one of my legs upward, angling his next stroke to hit just right.

Slow is the word of the night. Slow and sweet and passionate.

I wrap my legs around him and move with his leisurely pace. His hot breath is in my ear once I get close. “Ella, fuck you feel so good.”

“You’re going to make me come,” I whimper, already tipping over the edge.

His steady strokes continue and waves of pleasure roll over me, building slowly until I moan with abandon, grabbing his ass.

When his movements begin to stagger, I open my eyes to watch him fall apart. I’ve always loved that moment right before he comes, when his face is slack and full of vulnerability. Before his brow furrows and his eyes squeeze shut. It’s the sexiest thing. He groans with his release, his body relaxing onto mine.

After a few sweet kisses, he moves to lie beside me, and we hold one another. That’s where we stay for a long time, caught in our little bubble while the snow falls, keeping the world at bay.

We don’t talk much. I imagine his thoughts are even more scattered than mine. There’s no need for words. There are a million things we’ll need to talk about. A plethora of problems and issues wait for us, but for now, this is all we need.

Night sneaks in slowly, dimming the room until I have to find some candles and an electric lantern. Alden and I have spent all day wrapped around one another on the couch. The temperature has plummeted—outside and in the rest of the house—but the fire keeps the living room from being too cold.

We haven’t eaten since yesterday. Alden volunteers to build up the fire and bring more wood inside while I make us something to eat. I’m thankful for having a gas stove and hot water heater at times like this. The big container of vegetable stew I made is still cold when I pull it from the dead fridge, but I’ll have to put my food in a cooler on the porch if the outage goes on much longer.

While the stew is warming up, I put some rolls in the oven to bake. When I made the stew, I was anticipating spending the storm with Oliver. It still makes me reel. Yesterday, the love of my life was dead, and I was dealing with guilt over falling for his brother. Today, everything is different. The guilt is still there. Of course it is. I’m now face to face with the person who would be hurt the most by what I did.

The one who never should’ve known. We’re going to have to talk about it. I can’t imagine his outlook on it because he knows now, that if he had been the one to die, I would’ve gone to his brother. How can he forgive me for that? Plus the baby and—

The baby! Holy fuck, it’s Alden’s baby. God, I hadn’t even thought about the pregnancy since he told me who he was. My heart swells at the thought. I’m having Alden’s baby. We’re getting the family we wanted despite all the turmoil. My hand drops to caress my stomach absently, until Alden pulls me out of my reverie.

“Something smells good.”

The lights flash on for about five seconds, then go dark again. “Well, they’re trying,” I chuckle. “Let’s eat in the living room. It’s freezing in here.”

Alden has made a pallet on the floor in front of the fireplace. We sit cross legged with the plate of rolls between us and eat.

“Nothing from the lawyer?” I ask when he checks his phone.

“No, I’ll try again in the morning.”

“Towers might be down near him, and he can’t get a signal.”

He nods, swallowing his last bite of bread. “My timing for life changing epiphanies is impeccable.”

“Right? Next time save it for a business day.”

His grin captures me and all I want to do is climb into his lap again. It’s the strangest feeling, having him back when at the same time he never left. It feels like something plucked Oliver from my life suddenly and replaced him with Alden, but the man in front of me is the same. My brain can’t grasp it, no matter how thrilled I am.

He’s only been himself since last night and memories are still coming back to him. Right now, he’s happy to know who he is and glad to be with me, but how long until what I’ve done sinks in?

After we’ve eaten, Alden looks over at me. “Why do you look sad? We’re going to be okay, El. It’ll be a pain in the ass for a while, to get the proof and go through the red tape but it’ll work out.”

“I’m trying to find a way to apologize but nothing that I can say is sufficient.”

His brow creases. “Apologize for what?”

“For sleeping with your brother. For being with you when I thought you were him.” Shame drags my gaze down to the blanket between us.

“Ella, look at me.”

My cheeks burn when I meet his eyes. “You didn’t sleep with Oliver. You had sex with me.”

“But I didn’t know that.”

“Some part of you did, deep down. You even called my name when you came, remember? Do you think I didn’t notice you’ve never said the name Oliver when we were having sex? Not once.”

“I was thinking of you, but that doesn’t excuse it. When you accused me of trying to make you into Alden, you were right. I knew it and I knew it was seriously fucked up, but I couldn’t stop.”

Alden runs his fingers down the side of my face. “When I thought I was Oliver, I knew loving you was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. You thought loving me was wrong, but you couldn’t stop either. You know what that tells me?”

I shake my head, swallowing the knot in my throat.

“That we were born to love each other. Even thrown into the worst case scenario, even when we didn’t know who I was, we couldn’t resist each other. Love doesn’t forget.” He leans to deliver a firm kiss on my lips, then looks at me with a small smirk. “And if we want to talk about being fucked up, I was horribly jealous after you yelled ‘Alden’ in bed. That’s why I moved back to the shop. I was jealous of my damn self.”

“You didn’t know,” I point out.

“Exactly, there’s no blame here. We didn’t know.”

Nodding, I reach to play with his hand. “It doesn’t bother you to know that if you actually were the one who died, I may have ended up with Oliver?”

“No.” My gaze has found its way back to the blanket and he lifts my chin to look me in the eye. “I saw what you went through. If I was gone, I’d want you to be happy and loved. With anyone who treated you right.”

How would I ever have survived the rest of my life without this man? “It was so confusing to me because I’d never been attracted to Oliver or thought of him as anything more than a friend. It makes sense now because it was you.” A smile inches onto my face. “In case you don’t remember, I’ve never been able to resist you.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and a cocky smile appears. “To be fair, El, who the hell could?” He runs a hand down his chest, making me laugh despite rolling my eyes at him.

The electricity chooses that moment to pop back on and the room fills with light. “Thank goodness. I’m going to crank up the heat so I can take a shower without freezing to death.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Want some company?”

“Fine,” I sigh, getting to my feet and heading toward the thermostat. “But if you come with me, I’m sucking your dick.”

He makes a beeline for the bathroom, and giggles spill out of me. I’m not naïve enough to think that some of this won’t surface as relationship issues in the future, but for now, we’re alright. We have bigger battles to fight.

Maybe he’s right that love doesn’t forget. Isn’t that what we are, at our core? Strip everything away from us and love is what’s left. It’s what we get to keep. We’re just pure love wrapped in soft, human forms.

CHAPTER 9

Alden’s voice is the first thing I hear. For so long, my first realization when I wake has been to remember that Alden is dead. To open my eyes to the sound of him talking on the phone is a surreal and euphoric experience that I’ll never forget. I’ll never get used to it or take it for granted.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I join him in the kitchen. He sits at the table, and the look on his face when he glances up at me is worrying. All I can hear is his side of the conversation but it’s obvious he’s talking to Lowell.

“I understand that. Yes, I understand it’ll take time, but it doesn’t sound like I have time.” He pauses then scrubs his hand across his face. “Yes, Midtown Dental. It’s on Leeman Street. I can’t get them on the phone.”

The chair makes an awful sound against the floor as he stands up and starts to pace. “And how long do you think it’ll take to get the proof in front of the judge once you have it?”

Whatever answer he’s given isn’t what he wants to hear. “There’s nothing you can do to keep me out in the meantime?”

Fear blooms in my stomach. It’s not like I expected this to be resolved overnight, but a dental exam to compare to his records shouldn’t be a huge hurdle to leap.

“Alright, you have Ella’s number and email. I want her kept updated on everything.” He pauses to listen. “I understand what you’re advising me to do. I need to know you’re going to do what I’ve asked.”

He must get his agreement because he replies, “Okay, I’ll be in touch again shortly with my decision.” The call is ended, and the phone gets tossed on the table.

“What did he say?” I ask, dreading the answer based on the slump of his shoulders.

His lips press together, and he comes over to hug me. I breathe him in, planting my face against his chest. His hand strokes the back of my head. “We need to talk.”

Have those words ever been a good omen?

“Lowell doesn’t believe you, does he?”

“I don’t think so, but as long as he does what I asked, it’s fine. He can believe me later.”

“The dental clinic still isn’t answering their phone?”

“No, but there’s nearly two feet of snow on the ground. Almost everything is closed.” He lets go of me and takes a deep breath. “El, the judge revoked my bail. I have four hours to turn myself in or they’ll come and get me.”

My heart drops to the floor. “No,” I whisper.

“Look at me.” He cups the back of my neck, and I stare into his eyes. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Not if you’re going to jail!”

“I don’t intend to.”

Blinking, I try to grasp what he’s just said. “What?”

“Listen to me. Lowell will keep you updated with what’s happening. Keep in touch with him. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Panic seeps into my bones. “You can’t run…the anklet.”

“I’ll take care of it. I can’t let them lock me up until Lowell proves who I am. If they have me in custody, they’ll drag their feet forever before allowing me to visit the dentist or try to get proof. Once we have the records, I’ll turn myself in.”

“This is crazy,” I murmur. I don’t want him to go to jail, but the alternative is also terrifying. “They think you’re a murderer. They’re going to hunt you down. You could get hurt.” Or killed.

“I’ll be careful. I’m sorry to drag you into this, El. They’ll definitely question you to try to find me. Please, just tell them the truth. Let them search or whatever. Don’t give them a reason to charge you with anything. All we need to do is buy some time.”

Adrenaline dumps into my system at the thought of what the next few days are sure to bring, but there’s only one thing I care about. I throw myself into his arms, and he picks me up, hugging me like we’ll never get another chance. “I can’t lose you again,” I sob.

“You won’t. Sweetheart, I promise, you won’t. I’ll be back. This isn’t the end of anything, do you understand?”

A pause. Our last pause was five years. This time could be much worse.

I release my vice like grip and slide down his body to stand in front of him. “Where will you go?”

“It’s better that you don’t know.”

“They’ll be able to track your phone if you keep it. I can keep trying to reach the dental office, but how will I get in touch with you if I do?”

“No. Let everything go through the lawyer. Not only to keep you safe but to keep the prosecution from claiming any records were tampered with.”

He leans to kiss me, and I do my best to imprint the memory of how it feels. In case it’s the last. It’s so unfair. I only had him back for twenty-four hours. “Wait!” I cry, when he starts to put on his coat. “I’ll be right back.”

I race upstairs to my jewelry box and flip it open. The two shiny coins sit where I left them, stacked together. One gets tucked into my pocket, and I rush back downstairs. Alden stares at the flattened disc when I hold it in front of his face.

“Do you remember this?”

His fingers brush over mine as he takes it from my hand and stares at it. “I know it means something to me, to us. I can feel that.” After a moment, he adds, “I carried it in my wallet. For luck.”

Tears stream down my face as I nod. “Since we were teenagers. I have a matching one. I’ll tell you the story of where we got them when you come back. So, you have to come back, understand?”

He nods and sweeps a tear off my cheek. “I promise.”

I take his hand and bring it to my mouth to kiss the coin. “For luck.”

“I love you, El.”

“I love you. Please be careful.”

I follow him to the front door and watch him trek through the snow. It’s a good thing he drove his truck. Oliver’s car wouldn’t have gone anywhere in this. He’s already cleaned it off, but it takes him a minute of rocking it forward and back to get it out of the driveway.

Once it’s on the salted, plowed road, he pulls away. I can’t bring myself to go back inside until he’s turned the corner and out of sight.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

In the weeks after I lost him before, I shut down and went through the motions without really thinking or feeling. This time has to be different. He isn’t dead, and I’m going to see him again. I need to be alert and aware in case he needs my help.

The next few hours drag by. There’s no one I can talk to or tell what’s going on. Not without risking his four hour head start. At one o’clock, about an hour after his deadline to turn himself into the police, my phone rings with a call from Milo.

I know why he’s calling before he says it. “I’m at the shop. Cops were here looking for Alden. You can probably expect them at your place before long. He sawed through that anklet and left it in his apartment.” It takes me a moment to realize he said Alden, not Oliver.

“Alden told you?”

“He did.”

“You believe him?”

“Yup. It lines up with what I’ve seen of him lately. The bikes and shit, you know? It shocked the hell out of me, but I believe it’s him. As close as they were in looks, it could happen.” He pauses for a second. “Do you have any doubts?”

“None. He told me stuff only he would know.”

“How are you handling things?”

A snort shoots out of me. “You mean finding out my fiancé has been alive all this time and right in front of my face or knowing I could lose him again to prison or being prepared for cops to breathe down my neck and to be a public spectacle again? Fine, everything’s fine.”

Milo chuckles. “I can come and stay with you if you don’t want to be alone when the police show up.”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Alden’s alive. I can handle anything now. I’d rather have you keeping Stokes Brothers running. Do the other guys know?”

His hesitation is telling. “They do, but Smith is…struggling with it.”

“He doesn’t believe him?”

“I don’t think he knows what to believe.”

“It’s alright. It’s crazy and hard to swallow. We’ll get proof soon.” We have to. My phone beeps, and I glance at the screen. “Lowell is calling now. I have to go. Thanks for believing him, Milo. He needs you to be on his side.”

“Always have been. On yours too. Take care, and call if shit gets crazy.”

When I switchover to answer Lowell’s call, he’s quick and to the point. “Is Mr. Stokes with you? I'm trying to reach him.”

“No, he left about five hours ago. I don’t have a way to get in touch with him.”

His sigh is heavy. “This is not the right move on his part. I’ve advised him to turn himself in. A warrant was issued for his arrest. He’ll be all over the news tonight and it won’t help his case in the long run.”

“What case? He shouldn’t have to go to trial. He’s not Oliver. That’s what you need to be focusing on.”

“You believe his claim to be true?” Lowell asks, and I do my best not to show how infuriating I find that question.

“Yes, he recounted things to me only Alden would know. You told him you’d get in touch with the dental clinic and arrange to have his records compared to a current exam. Do you intend to do that? Because if you don’t believe him, I’ll find another lawyer to take care of things.”

“I’m working on that, but I’d like to mitigate the amount of damage done to his case in the meantime in the event that doesn’t pan out. You realize how unlikely such a scenario is?”

“I do. But it happened.”

“Alright. With dental records, it shouldn’t be difficult to prove. Once I’ve obtained them, he’ll need to meet me at the dental office where he can get new x-rays and turn himself in at that point. Assuming he isn’t located beforehand. You’re aware the police will want to search your house and question you?”

“I expected so.”

“I advise you to let them search the house for him without an argument. To keep their suspicion away from you.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you.”

Once I hang up, I’m not sure what to do with myself. It’s maddening, waiting on police to knock on the door. All I can think about is Alden, where he might be hiding, and if he’s safe.

I’m dying to talk to Tori, to tell her that Alden’s alive, and about everything that’s happened. It’s not something I’m going to drop on her while she’s on her last day of vacation. Their plane is due to arrive in the middle of the night tonight, so I’ll call her or go see her once she’s home tomorrow.

My growling stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten all day again. That has to stop. I can’t keep letting events and stress get in the way of taking care of myself now that it’s not only about me.

While I wait for my food to cook, I run my hand over my belly. Should I have told Alden about the baby? With everything going on, it didn’t feel like the right choice. Once he doesn’t have this threat hanging over his head, I’ll tell him.

After I eat, I’m too restless to sit still. It’s getting dark and no one has showed up. Cleaning up the house after our campout in the living room kills some time, but not enough. When the ten o’clock news comes on, Alden’s mugshot looks back at me while the peppy news anchor speaks. “Our lead story tonight, police are asking the public for help in locating this man, Oliver Stokes. He’s wanted for two counts of murder and one count of conspiracy to commit murder. Stokes is accused of hiring two men to rob a local convenience store and kill his brother in the process. A clerk also died in the robbery.”

I flip the TV off while she’s rattling off the number for viewers to call if they see him. It may have taken a few days for Breanna’s original post about us to go viral, but this news report catches fire immediately. There are too many people who recognize him from the pictures that went viral before and they are rolling in the chaos on social media within an hour.

The local newscast has more shares and comments than that station has probably ever received on any story. People all over the world can’t wait to weigh in with their remarks and opinions.

Holy fuck, this is the guy who offed his brother for his girlfriend!

Do you think she ran with him?

It didn’t say she was wanted, but she could still be with him.

Is there a reward? I’ll find their asses!

The knock I’ve been expecting comes just before midnight, making me nearly jump out of my skin. Three uniformed officers stare at me after I open the door. My first instinct despite my terror—or maybe because of it—is to laugh at the sight of one of them. It’s the expression on his face as he tries to look serious and hard. It’s difficult to do when he has chubby cheeks, pink from the cold, and looks round enough for me to roll him off my porch and into the snow with a push.

“We’re looking for Oliver Stokes,” he says.

“He’s not here.” No, he’s buried in a grave marked with his brother’s name.

“We have a warrant for his arrest. We’re going to need to come in to search. If you refuse—”

“Save the threats and go ahead,” I interrupt with a sigh, suddenly exhausted.

I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do when police are searching your place. I retreat to the living room and wait. At least they’re looking for a person and not documents so they won’t tear everything apart.

After about ten minutes, they return. Mr. Pink Cheeks, who seems to be the spokesperson of the group, asks, “When was the last time you saw Mr. Stokes?”

“About ten o’clock this morning when he left.”

He scribbles in his little notebook. “Was that the last time you had contact with him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know his whereabouts now?”

“No, he didn’t tell me anything.”

After a bit more scribbling, he hands me a business card. “Call if you hear from him.”

I’m surprised that’s all there is to it, but they leave without any further questions. Alden told me to tell the truth, but I saw no reason to argue over his identity with three street cops who aren’t going to have any say over the case or charges. I’ll save that for the detectives that I know won’t be far behind.

It’s well past one o’clock in the morning when I crawl into bed. All I can think about is Den. Wherever he is, I hope he’s safe. His face is going to be everywhere. Hiding at a hotel isn’t going to be an option. Is he even still in the state?

All those comments online discussing whether I ran away with him. Maybe I should have. At least then he wouldn’t be out there alone, and I wouldn’t be lying here wondering if I’ll ever get to see him again. Alden never would’ve agreed. He waited years for us to get together because he didn’t want me affected by his illegal activities. I wonder if one of his old criminal associates or biker friends is helping him now. I hope he has someone.

Being alone and afraid is the worst.

I’m up early the next day after a fitful night of thin sleep. The first thing I do is check my phone to see if Lowell has called. There are no missed calls or texts. I’ll give him until lunchtime before I contact him to see if he’s arranged things with the dental office. In the meantime, I can’t bear to sit here and worry.

The sun is out and blinding when it reflects off the snow. It should melt the snow quite a bit today. After forcing myself to eat some oatmeal and fruit, I shovel out the edge of the driveway that’s been piled up by a plow. My car should be able to get through the rest. I’m not sure if shoveling snow is safe to do in early pregnancy or not, and I’m not going to do any more than I have to.

A squad car sits a few houses down. Of course they’re watching. Whatever. He’s not going to come back here until he can prove his innocence. Once I turn from my street, I keep an eye on my rearview mirror to see if they follow me. It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t lead them to him if I wanted to. As far as I can tell, they aren’t tailing me.

There’s nowhere I have to be. They won’t need me at Stokes Brothers but I’m going there anyway. Anything is better than sitting at home waiting on the phone to ring. I stop at the drive-thru of the coffee shop to grab donuts and coffee for the guys. When I show up, Smith looks up from the front counter and gives me a cautious smile. The reluctance in it hurts. Milo said he was struggling to believe Alden, and he doesn’t know how I’m going to react to that.

Smith has always been a good friend to me. He was someone I could talk to, especially when I was grieving. He doesn’t know the details of what’s happened, and I can’t be pissed that he’s having trouble wrapping his head around it. My initial reaction was to scream in Alden’s face never to tell me that again. I understand.

I set the drink holder and box of donuts on the counter, then walk over to hug him. He instantly hugs me back and asks, “How are you doing?”

“Good. Considering everything. How are things here?”

“Same old shit. Joanna and Hudson both called off work today, but we really didn’t need them anyway.”

“Why did they call off? Because of the news report or…”

“No,” Milo answers, walking in. “They’re snowed in up north.”

Smith looks up with a smirk. “Together?”

“Well.” Milo scoops up the coffee I got him and opens the box of donuts. “They called separately to leave a voicemail. Apparently, Joanna is stranded at her mom’s and Hudson is buried in snow at his friend’s house. It might’ve been more believable if the same dog wasn’t barking in the background of both messages.”

Smith chuckles, shaking his head.

“You know she’s the one who wants to keep that quiet,” I laugh.

“No shit,” Milo says. “Hudson would scream it from the roof.”

We spend a few minutes talking about anything but Alden and the situation he’s in. The situation we’re all in as well when it comes to dealing with the backlash and a police presence. Smith excuses himself to get some work done, and Milo asks me to walk out to his truck with him. It’s a strange request, but I follow him outside into the sunny cold.

We get into his truck, and he starts it up, blasting the heat. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but cops have crawled over the shop twice now. They could’ve left a listening device. You shouldn’t say anything you don’t want them to know at your place either, just in case.”

“Yeah, they’re parked down the street from me too. Did Alden tell you something?”

He tilts his head a little to look at me. “I just wanted to tell you he’s safe.”

“He got in touch with you? Do you have a way to contact him?”

His expression is impassive as he stares at me with kind eyes.

“Right,” I sigh.

“He’s trying to keep you safe too. He can get in touch with me if he needs to, and he has a way to communicate with his lawyer.”

That comes as a surprise to me. “Are lawyers allowed to do that? Work with a wanted person who won’t turn themselves in?”

Milo chuckles and rubs his cold hands together. “Lowell is a hell of a lawyer because he has no problem skirting the line or stepping over it occasionally. I imagine you learn a few things representing criminals and he’s defended some bad ones. But that’s the lawyer you want in a situation like this.”

That’s good to know. “It should all be over soon. Once he shows that the dental records match Alden and not Oliver, they’ll have to dismiss the case.”

“That’s the plan. In the meantime, he’s safe, and staying someplace where he won’t be seen.”

I take a deep breath. “Good. The story is all over the internet again. If you have any problems here, let me know. I’m not going to open my studio anytime soon.”

“We’ll be fine here.”

I look over at Milo. “He’s alive,” I whisper. “It’s like a miracle.”

Milo nods and tugs at his beard. “As far as I’m concerned, it is a miracle.” His voice cracks when he adds, “We got him back.”

CHAPTER 10

My anxiety grows as the afternoon passes without a return call from Lowell. How hard can it be to get records from a dental clinic? I’m tempted to call to get them myself, but Alden told me not to do that. He wants everything to go through the lawyer.

There’s something I have to do while I wait. Most of Alden’s things have been packed away and stored in the garage and the spare room. I’m glad that I couldn’t part with them. It’s time to unpack everything and put our home back to how it was.

It’s a soothing activity. Hanging his shirts in the empty side of our closet seems to really bring it home to me. My Den is coming back. Once all of this bullshit has passed, he’ll be here to kiss me goodnight every night and to smile at me every morning.

I’m returning his electric razor to its former spot on our sink when Lowell finally calls me back.

“Ella, I’ve spoken with the Midtown Dental Clinic. I’m afraid it’s not good news.” My heart falls. How could he have bad news? Have they already been in for an exam?

“What happened?”

“Midtown switched all of their records to a digital database a few years ago and the physical copies were not retained. Unfortunately, whoever does their I.T. is an idiot. Due to a server failure nine months ago, they don’t have records for Alden or Oliver. For any of their patients.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me. They’ve gone there since they were kids!” This can’t be happening.

“I know. A case could be made against them for not maintaining medical documents for the required amount of time, but that won’t help us now.”

“Does Alden know?”

Lowell pauses for a moment, and I realize the issue. If they’re listening in to my calls to try to find Alden, he can’t be heard claiming to be in touch with him. Instead of answering me, he asks, “To your knowledge, was there ever a visit to another dentist? An emergency when this one wasn’t available? A dental surgeon? An orthodontist?”

“Not that I remember.” God, I wish their mother was still alive to answer these questions. “Neither had braces,” I add.

“I’ll check with the other dental offices in the area to be sure. I’ve reached out to a forensic biologist to see what other options we have to differentiate them. Can you think of any other medical procedure or illness that one of them might have on record? A surgery, a broken bone? Does Alden have any scars? Did Oliver?”

Fear makes my stomach bubble. “The only scars on Alden are from the robbery. Oliver didn’t have any that I know of either. No tattoos or piercings or anything.” It’s killing me that I can’t help.

I can hear him tapping a pen on something while he thinks. “Okay, I’m going to need you to email me if you think of any medical providers that you can recall treating Oliver or Alden. I’ll request copies of both of their medical records from their pediatrician and family doctors. Hopefully, we’ll find some discrepancy.”

“What if you don’t?” I ask. “Then what’s the next step?”

He sighs. “I’m going to be honest. Without hard evidence of this claim, I don’t see a way to use it for his defense. Mistaken identity will get us laughed out of the courtroom. Changing his story from ‘I don’t remember if I did the crime’ to ‘I’m actually the victim of said crime’ will be torn apart by the prosecution.”

“But it’s true!” I cry.

“The truth doesn’t matter, only what I can prove to a judge or jury. I’m sorry. I’ll get back to you once I have the medical reports. Let me know if you remember anything else that may be helpful. And as I’ve said before, the best thing he can do right now is turn himself in so if you hear from him, please remind him that I advise him to do so.”

Unlike the last time I talked to him, these words sound empty, as if he’s reciting them for his own benefit. He knows Alden will do no such thing. “I will. Thank you.”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to throw my phone like a pissed off toddler. We can’t catch a fucking break. This was supposed to be simple and quick. A couple of days, at most. Who knows how long it’ll take to gather and compare medical records? And what if there’s nothing there that can be used to tell them apart?

There has to be. This is not going to end with Alden in prison or permanently on the run.

The dream I had when I fainted at the news of Alden’s death comes back to me. The words he said as he sank in the rising creek water. “It works both ways, El. You can hold hope by the throat too. Never let go of it.”

That’s what I have to do. I’ll hold onto hope so tight nothing can tear it from us. Hope that we’ll find a way to prove his innocence. And if it comes down to it, I’ll run with him and become a fugitive too. Whatever happens, I won’t lose him again.

That decision gives me a little comfort, and I return to unpacking the last of Alden’s things.

Tori calls me just as it’s getting dark, and relief flows over me at the sight of her name on my phone. I’ve never needed to talk to my best friend so badly. I can’t wait to tell her about Alden and everything that’s happened.

“What the fuck is going on!” she screeches as soon as I answer. “I turned my phone on after three days to a bunch of missed calls and messages from my parents saying it’s all over the news that Oliver ran off?”

This isn’t something I’m going to tell her over the phone. “He did, but he had a good reason. Are you home?”

“A good reason? Are you serious? He’s wanted for murder! Mom said there are cops parked outside. Have you checked your social media? It’s gone crazy.”

It didn’t even occur to me that Tori’s parents are watching all of this from next door. “I don’t care what they’re saying. Can I come over? I have a lot to tell you.”

“Get over here now!”

When I pull out of my garage, there’s still a cop car parked down the street. Unmarked this time, but who do they think they’re fooling? Random people don’t park on a dead end street and sit there. The steam from the tailpipe rising in the frigid air is a solid giveaway.

I’m preoccupied with looking at them when a man runs up to my car window, calling my name. My foot slams on the brake, stopping me at the end of my driveway.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” he says, holding up a press badge. “I’m a journalist with The Daily Observer, and I was hoping to speak with you for a moment.”

“No thank you. I have nothing to say.”

“I can give you a chance to tell your side of the story before things get ugly,” he offers, holding out a business card.

Ignoring him, I let my foot off the brake and back my car out onto the street. He watches me drive away. I suppose I should’ve expected that. The last time our story went viral, no one wanted to interview me, but this time an accused murderer is on the loose. It’s bound to draw more media attention.

I’m zoned out on my drive to Tori’s and a little surprised when I find myself in her driveway. I hope I didn’t run any red lights. My mind is stuck on Alden and how disappointed he must be about the dental records. He didn’t expect to have to hide for a long period of time. I hate to think of him holed up somewhere, alone.

I grab Tori in a hug the moment she opens her door. She hugs me back, pulling me inside. “I can’t leave you for a fucking second. Get in here.”

We head into her kitchen, and she offers me a glass of wine. Her eyebrows leap up when I decline. “Are you sick?” she asks.

No, just knocked-up and not ready to tell anyone. “No, I want to keep a clear mind. Things are too crazy.”

She looks great. Sun-kissed cheeks, bright eyes, and— “What is this?” I screech, grabbing her hand and holding it up. A diamond wedding ring sparkles in the light.

A sheepish smile crawls across her face. “I might’ve accidentally gotten married.”

“Accidentally?” My jaw hangs open. “Were you roofied?”

Tori cracks up and shakes her head while I hold her hand up to admire the ring. “We stopped overnight in Vegas on our way back. What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

Giggles spill out of her. “I’m sorry, the look on your face.”

“Well, give me a minute for it to sink in because you once said you’d rather fuck a tiger while wearing catnip panties than get married.”

Paul’s laughter mixes with ours as he walks in. “That’s my wife.”

She beams at him and turns to me. “He wanted to take my last name. How could I say no?”

“I’m so happy for you!” I tell her, hugging her again before regarding Paul. “Congratulations. I’m thrilled for both of you.”

Paul thanks me, then drops a kiss on Tori’s head. “I’m going to go start a load of laundry. Do you want me to empty your suitcase?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I’ll get it later.”

“Oh, you picked a winner,” I remark as he heads for their laundry room.

“Now,” Tori says, hopping up on the bar stool. “Tell me what happened with Oliver. Because from what I’m seeing online, he cut his ankle monitor and took off. Is that true?”

I take a seat at the counter across from her. “Yes and no. The judge revoked his bail, and he was going to be held until trial. That could take a year.”

“Did they find more evidence or something?”

“No, but they found him competent to stand trial. Lowell called and said he had four hours to turn himself in.”

“So he cut and ran? What the hell does he plan to do?”

“It’s a long story and I’m going to tell you everything, but Tori, something amazing happened. He showed up at my door Wednesday night. He’d spent the whole day going to places he thought might jog his memory and he wanted me to go to The Stop Along with him.”

“Oh wow.” She sips her wine. “Did you go?”

“Yeah, we caught them right when they were closing. We came close to getting arrested there, I think, because I sort of locked the clerk outside when he didn’t want to let us in, but Sawyer showed up and let us go.”

Tori gapes at me. “You did what?”

“It doesn’t matter. It worked. He had a breakdown and freaked out, but once it was over, he remembered! His memories came back.” I reach across the counter and grab her hand. “Tori, Alden didn’t die. They got mixed up. Oliver is the one who died. He remembered who he is. He’s not Oliver.”

Paul stops in his tracks nearby and hovers in the doorway to the laundry room, listening.

Tori stares at me like the words don’t make sense. Then she pours another glass of wine and takes a long drink. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking until she looks me in the eye and says, “Ella, tell me you don’t actually believe that.”

I’m not sure how I expected her to react. She was becoming suspicious that he might be guilty before. Maybe I thought that my elation and excitement about it would be enough for her to know that what Alden claims is true. That’s not reasonable. She needs to know how I know.

“Listen, I didn’t believe it right at first either.” The laugh that comes out of me sounds a little unhinged, and I try to tone it down. “I screamed at him, actually. Then questioned him about the night before I left for college. He couldn’t remember so I told him he was wrong. But he wasn’t wrong! He doesn’t remember everything, but memories are still coming back to him.”

Tori sighs, sips, and shakes her head.

“He knows things only Alden would know! He remembered the night his dad left, me chasing after him, the things we did afterward. He told me about what happened in The Stop Along. He saw Oliver get shot. He was calling for him when the paramedic asked him his name. That’s why the paramedic thought he was Oliver. It just got passed on from there and when he woke, he couldn’t tell us any different!” My voice is rising in my desperation to convince her. I need her to believe me.

Her gaze darts over to Paul, then back to me. “Ella, he’s lying. I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. I never would’ve thought he was capable of being so cruel, but—”

“He’s not lying!” I shout, hopping off the stool. I can’t bear to sit still. “How would he know those things?”

“He and Alden were close. You don’t know what he might’ve told him.”

“No, I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s him.”

The patience she’s trying to hold in her voice irritates me. Like she’s talking down to a toddler. “You think everyone is wrong? That the paramedics, the hospital, his therapists, the court, the lawyers, everyone got his identity wrong?”

“His identity was never under scrutiny. The doctor said it was Alden who died, and we had no reason to question it. But they were dressed identically. They had no identification on them, even their phones had been taken. They were mixed up from the very beginning and—”

“Stop!” She holds up her hand and takes a deep breath. “Ella, you started to doubt him. I saw it in your face when you told me about the money transfer and the phone records. If I saw it, he did too. Now that he’s been caught and the amnesia angle didn’t work, he wants to claim he’s Alden. It’s genius really. They can’t test his DNA, can they?”

Anger rushes through me. “What do you mean amnesia angle?”

Tori stands up and throws her arms up. “My god, can’t you see what he’s doing? I know you’re hurt and traumatized but for fuck’s sake open your eyes! He’s found a way to get everything he wants. You, his freedom, everything. How do you know he ever lost his memory at all?”

“You’ve seen what he’s gone through!” I shout.

She nods. “I have. I’ve seen what you’ve gone through too. That’s why he’s using you. Because you’re the person to convince. If he can make you believe him, others will too. And I could kill him right now if he was in front of me, for doing this to you.”

“Tori,” Paul says softly, intervening.

“No!” she snaps. “This has gone on long enough! She has to face the truth. Alden is gone. Oliver is lying. Maybe he just came up with it to save his ass, or maybe that was the plan from the moment he woke up and saw everything went wrong. Fake amnesia, then miraculously remember and take over his brother’s life. He won’t get away with it.”

I’m stunned by her reaction. Stunned and enraged. How could she think that? We’ve known these guys since we were children.

Paul breaks the frozen tension. “Is there a way to tell the difference between identical twins? Fingerprints?”

Tori flashes him a look. “Don’t entertain this. She needs to face reality.”

My blood pounds in my ears. In our whole friendship, I’ve never been this angry at her. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry at anyone. “No fingerprints on record,” I tell Paul. “But the lawyer is looking for medical records now to find a way to prove his identity.”

Tori faces me from across the counter. “He’s already cost you your business and your reputation. How much more are you going to let him take from you before you accept Alden’s death? Do you want to end up in prison too, for aiding and abetting?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me but love me and suffer because I didn’t recognize him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“And what if you’re wrong and he’s a cold-blooded murderer? A psychopath?”

My hand goes instinctively to rub my stomach as if I’m protecting the baby from her horrible words. It doesn’t escape her attention. As her gaze goes from my abdomen to the wine I refused, then back, I watch her put the pieces together.

“No,” she whispers.

“It’s Alden’s,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “I can’t do this with you anymore. You need help. Professional help. I’m sorry.”

My heart has been broken so many times, I’m not sure how it still beats. Tori’s reaction and accusation shatters it once again. “Go fuck yourself, Tori.”

Both of them call my name as I stalk out, but I’m done. I’m not staying to fight with her when there are people I need to fight for who are depending on me. One of which is growing inside of me.

I stroke my hand over my stomach as I slowly drive home. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “Your daddy is going to be okay. We’re going to get him back, and he’s going to love you so much.”

When I get home, there’s a business card tucked into my door from the journalist who stopped me. I tear it up and leave the scraps blowing around the porch.

It’s been such a terrible day. No dental records. No way to know when or if we’ll be able to prove who Alden is. And now I’ve lost my best friend. She thinks I’m crazy. The house is silent and empty as I strip off my clothes, climb into bed and cry myself to sleep.

CHAPTER 11

I’m not sure how I’ve managed to make it through this week without losing my mind. Every day things only get worse as Alden’s evasion catches fire with the media. An online community of true crime enthusiasts latch onto the case and the rumors fly about where he might be hiding and whether or not I was involved with hiring the Warrens. Their involvement only feeds the virality.

Theories and conspiracy theories begin to pop up. People swipe old pictures of me and Alden from friends’ social media and debate over whether it’s Alden or not. They’re trying to prove I was cheating with Oliver before Alden died. One of the most ridiculous ones I’ve seen a group of “internet sleuths” run with is that we had a three way relationship and I’ve been switching off between them our whole adult lives, while only being public with Alden.

The last time, it was my studio that was getting recognized and talked about the most. As long as I wasn’t at the studio, no one seemed to recognize me. Sure, they talked shit online, but that can be ignored. Now, I’m getting recognized in public. It’s mostly been stares and whispers, but I’ve seen people taking my picture or recording me. Two more journalists have tried to contact me since the first guy. Apparently, the amnesia element makes for a really good story.

It's exhausting. I barely leave the house but today I need to get some things. Instead of shopping for groceries, I do a pick-up to avoid people. Afterward, I run inside the drugstore for the prenatal vitamins the obstetrician told me to take. I’m relieved that there are very few customers and no one appears to give me a second look while I pay for the vitamins.

Police are almost always parked at one end of my street or the other—sometimes it’s a squad car, sometimes an unmarked car—but when I return this time, Detective Ramos is waiting in front of my house with another officer.

“He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since he took off, and I don’t know where he is,” I announce, popping my trunk and grabbing my three bags of groceries.

Ramos steps up. “Let me help you with that.”

“No thank you. If you came to search, go do it, so I can get back to my day.”

They follow me up the steps and inside. The officer with him begins to walk through my house while Ramos accompanies me into the kitchen. “Do you really think he’s stupid enough to come back here?” I ask.

“Probably not.” He loiters in the doorway while I ignore him, putting away my food. He crosses his arms and stares at me. “I don’t understand you. You were devastated at the death of your fiancé. I saw it. It was the main reason I never suspected you.”

“Are you telling me I’m a suspect now? Because that would be news for my lawyer.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve found no evidence you were involved, but you’re protecting the man who killed him.”

Alden’s voice is in my head. Just tell them the truth.

“He ran because he’s not Oliver. There’s been a huge mistake. Alden wasn’t the one who was killed in the robbery, Oliver was.”

Ramos stares at me for a long moment then rubs his hand across his face. “You realize how easy that would be to disprove? A DNA test.”

“I realize you need a basic biology class. Identical twins have identical DNA. Neither one was fingerprinted, and there are no dental records. He’s not hiding because he’s guilty. He’s hiding until he figures out a way to prove his identity.”

He sighs and the pity in his voice infuriates me. “He’s conned you. You were an easy enough target after everything you’ve been through.”

I take a deep breath and count to five to control my temper. “I’m not going to try to convince you and I’m not answering any more questions. Do your search and go. You won’t find him here.”

“No, I expect he’s trying to get as far away as possible. We’ll see how he does once we cut off the funds to his business and freeze his accounts.”

The other officer joins us and shakes his head at Ramos. Did they actually think they’d find him tucked in a closet or stuffed under a bed?

“If you’ve completed your search and I’m not being detained, I’d like you to leave. Now.”

Without another word, they walk out. After I lock the door behind them, my first move is to call Lowell and tell him what they said about freezing accounts.

“Stokes Brothers belongs to me as well. Can they do that?”

“They can freeze Oliver’s personal bank account but they’re more likely to track it to see if it could help locate him. As for the business, they could claim the income is facilitating his flight, but it’d need a judge’s order and I find that highly unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“No. I’ll look into what they’re attempting and get back to you.”

“What about the medical records? Have you found anything?”

“So far nothing that helps. I’m waiting on the file from their former pediatrician. I’m not confident there will be anything of value. They only went to her until they were three. The files from their other pediatrician and both of their current doctors don’t contain anything that can be used to set them apart. Same childhood vaccinations, both had chickenpox, both still have their tonsils and appendix. The forensic biologist is examining everything now.”

There’s nothing else he can tell me but to wait.

My next call is to Smith to advise him to pay whatever invoices we have outstanding and place any orders for supplies and parts they might need. I’m truthful with him when he asks why. It’s only fair. The threat of having the accounts frozen would affect their job security too. I also instruct him to move the next month’s payroll into my personal account so I know I’ll be able to pay them in the interim.

He agrees to get it all done immediately, then adds another layer of we’re fucked to my life. “We had protestors out front today. Milo scared them off, but we’re also getting clients cancelling their service appointments. Probably because ‘hashtag don’t fund a murderer’ is trending, calling for a boycott of Stokes Brothers.”

“Well, that’s not even catchy.” Smith snorts out a laugh, and I ask, “Is it safe for you guys to be there? Do we need to close?”

“No, we’re good for now. Milo didn’t even want me to bother you with it, but this is your place now.”

“Thanks. Let me know if things get out of hand. If you feel unsafe.”

Stokes Brothers escaped the backlash last time, since I was the focus of the online hate and ridicule. Now it’s coming for all of us.

After we hang up, I sit at my counter, staring at two business cards. One is from a journalist with the Evansville Gazette. The other is from a producer of Wake Up Indy, a morning show based in Indianapolis but broadcast regionally.

Wait. That’s what Lowell told me to do.

All I’ve been doing is waiting. It’s time to try something else. This is being played out in the public eye. If we’re going to be judged in the court of public opinion, then I’m going to plead our case.

I’m aware it’ll draw more attention, but it could win some over to our side. If I can make them see we aren’t murderers, maybe I can save Stokes Brothers. Gnawing my lip, I pick up the card from Wake Up Indy and dial the number.

A taped interview was what I expected, but two days later, I find myself walking into a studio three hours away from home to appear live on the Wake Up Indy morning show. Live TV. I’m terrified.

A smiling intern accompanies me as soon as I arrive. He takes me to a dressing room to have my makeup done and then shows me where to wait in the green room. I clasp my hands together to stop myself from picking at my nails. What I’d give to have Tori here beside me now. Doing this alone is hard, and I even considered calling my parents, but I haven’t told them yet about Alden. Maybe I should have but after Tori’s reaction, I can’t bear to have another person that I love think I’m crazy.

The intern returns to fetch me, and I follow him to the small area where two chairs face each other. There’s no in-studio audience, thank goodness. Knowing that every word I say is going to be broadcast and then torn apart on social media is intimidating enough.

The host is Sally Greene, a thin, perky, raven-haired woman with a quick smile. After introducing herself and sitting across from me, she advises me not to worry or think about the cameras. There’s no certain direction I need to look or anything.

Her smile expands. “We’re just going to chat.”

I’m not naïve or stupid. I know how this works and that the questions she asks are likely to be aimed at sensationalizing things as much as possible or getting me to react in a dramatic fashion. I’m going to be careful and think about my answers.

A man counts down and gives the signal that the cameras are on. My entire body tightens up and I take a deep breath through my nose while Sally speaks to the viewers.

“We’ve been bringing you updates on the hunt for Oliver Stokes, a man charged with multiple counts of murder, including that of his twin brother, Alden Stokes. Our guest today is Ella Booth, the fiancé of the late Alden. Welcome, Ella.”

“Thank you.” At least my voice is steady. I can do this. For Alden and myself.

“Let’s begin with the question that everyone wants to ask. Do you know the whereabouts of Oliver Stokes?”

“Yes, I do, but not in the way you’re inferring. While I understand why the public is invested in our situation, the false theories and stories being passed around online are doing untold damage to both of us. That’s why I wanted to come here today and explain what has actually happened.” This interview is only due to be six minutes long. I have to get to the point and make sure I say what I came to say.

“Do you understand you could be arrested for withholding his location from authorities? Does that not concern you?”

“I’m not withholding anything. Oliver Stokes is located at Springhill Cemetery. When the robbery took place, the brothers were mistakenly confused for each other. The doctors and everyone thought that Oliver was the surviving twin and Alden had passed. With the amnesia he suffered, it wasn’t until his memories began returning that we realized the horrible mistake. Oliver is dead. Alden is alive and certainly had no involvement in committing the robbery or murders. He hasn’t been accused or charged but is being pursued because of a mistaken identity.”

I’ve caught her off guard, but her eyes light up with excitement. “That’s an extraordinary claim. You believe your fiancé is alive?”

“It’s not a belief. It’s the truth. He recounted things to me only he would know.”

She blinks and leans forward. “That must’ve come as such a shock to you.”

“That’s an understatement. It was a very difficult thing to accept, that I hadn’t recognized him during the months of his recovery, but he has a traumatic brain injury. It took time for his personality to reappear and for his memories to return. Getting him back…” My voice wavers and I swallow. “Was like a miracle. But things have only gotten harder. In addition to trying to prove to the authorities that he’s not guilty of anything, we’ve had to deal with constant public scrutiny and accusations against us. A post online suggested Oliver and I had killed my fiancé so we could be together. Once that went viral, everything fell apart for both of us.”

The look of sympathy on her face is as fake as a plastic plant. “Have the authorities been made aware that they may be pursuing the wrong man?”

“Yes, I’ve told the detective in charge of the case, and Alden’s lawyer is working to find a way to prove his identity. DNA isn’t an option with identical twins and their dental records were lost by an irresponsible clinic.”

“Do you know Alden’s whereabouts?”

Nice try. It’s clear she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “No. I haven’t heard from him since he ran.” Our time is running out. “I just wanted a chance to tell our side of what’s happening and ask the public to please reserve judgement for the time being. We’re dealing with a nightmare. All the hateful phone calls, protesting outside our businesses, and even showing up at my home is only making things worse. My photography studio has already been closed down since December because of safety issues to my clients. We may have to close Alden’s business as well if we can’t provide customers with a safe environment. We’re losing everything over something horrible that happened to us, not something perpetrated by us. All we want to do is find a way to physically prove that Alden is not Oliver and get back to our lives.”

Sally nods, and despite her empathetic tone, I see the glint in her eye as she says, “It must be hard not to be able to contact Oliver and be left to deal with all that on your own.”

“Alden,” I correct through gritted teeth.

Her smile is instant and bright. “Alden, of course, my apologies. Do you think that turning himself in would be the best choice when it comes to your safety, especially considering your condition?”

Her question freezes me in place. She can’t know I’m pregnant. Tori and Paul are the only ones who know, and they’d never spread a rumor, whether we’re speaking or not. “Condition?”

“Is he not aware you’re pregnant?”

My stomach drops to my feet. How the hell does she even know? The cameras are on me, and I don’t know what to say. It takes everything in me to resist the urge to hit this bitch in her face for what she just did. Instead, I count to five and answer the former question.

“No, I don’t think turning himself in would affect my safety one way or the other.”

Maybe it’s my glare trying to cut her in half or the fact we’ve run out of time, but she doesn’t pursue it any further. Instead, she beams for the camera, thanks me for the interview, and talks directly to the viewers.

“For more updates as we have them about this shocking twist in this remarkable story, please follow us online. You can also download our app.”

While she’s rattling off their social media and websites, I remove the microphone they’ve attached to me. The second the cameras are off, I’m out of my chair and on my way out of the building.

I have to get out of here. I should’ve known better. No matter how outrageous the story, they had to try to make things worse. All I can think about during the drive home is how the hell she knew. No one but Milo even knew I was going on the show today. Even if I couldn’t trust Tori and Paul, she wouldn’t have known to contact them with that tip.

The secret is out now. If people hated me before for thinking I either wanted Alden dead to be with his brother or hooked up with his brother right after he died, they aren’t going to like that I’m having his baby. All I can do is hope my explanation changes the narrative. What really pisses me off is that Alden is likely to find out I’m pregnant before I can tell him.

The cops have started to come and go instead of having a constant presence on my street. Maybe they’ve realized it’s a waste of time and he won’t come striding up the street waving to them. There are no cops parked nearby but an unfamiliar truck sits in my driveway.

My hackles are up and I’m ready to tell whoever it is to leave me the fuck alone when Milo gets out of the passenger side.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I ask, getting out of my car.

“Sorry, this is my friend, Gary.” The driver, a skinny guy with a shaved head and some horrifically amateur tattoos on his neck, nods at me. What’s going on now? “He’s here to scan for bugs in your house.”

My shoulders droop with exhaustion. It’s been a long day and it’s not halfway over. “Milo, thank you, but honestly, I’m tired and if they’re listening, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Alden asked me to. He’s already cleared the shop. It’ll only take an hour or so.”

In my current mood, I feel a pang of hurt and annoyance that Milo gets to hear from him when I don’t. I know Alden is trying to keep me out of things, but it’s impossible. I’m about as involved as one can get. “Alright, come on in.”

They follow me inside where Gary pulls a long black wand out of the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Is it okay if I start on your second floor and work my way down?” he asks, donning a pair of headphones.

At my nod, he jogs upstairs, and I turn to Milo. “Do you know this guy well or should I be following him around my house?”

“He’s trustworthy.”

“If you say so.” Milo accompanies me into the kitchen, and we sit at the counter to wait for Gary to do his work. “Did you watch the morning show?”

He runs his hand over his thick beard. “I saw it. You did a good job keeping your cool. Especially at the end.”

When I don’t reply, he tilts his head at me, and I nod in response to his silent question. “It’s true. I have no idea how she knew, though.”

“You didn’t stay to watch the segment after the interview?”

This can’t be good. “No, I left so I wouldn’t knock her fake ass smile off.”

“Good call.” Milo takes out his phone and taps it a few times, then shows me the screen. On it is a perfectly clear video of me. It was obviously taken from the drugstore’s security camera. It doesn’t show me committing a crime, but whoever posted it has zoomed in to show the bottle of prenatal vitamins in my hand.

Sighing, I rest my head in my hands. “I hate everyone.”

“It was a shitty move, for sure. On the following segment, they showed the video and were taking calls from people to get their opinions on the situation.”

“Great. Glad we could entertain them. Do you think Alden saw it?”

“I don’t know.”

We’re quiet for a few minutes, listening to Gary’s slow footsteps make their way through each room above us. He gives us a thumbs up when he comes downstairs to show it was all good, then starts scanning the other rooms.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” I ask Milo. “Doing that interview?”

He gets up and puts his empty coffee cup in the sink. “No, you’ve been silent from the beginning and the public seems to take that as a sign of guilt. I don’t know whether it’ll help Stokes Brothers in the way you’re hoping it will, but it did sow some doubt among the mob. At least half of the calls they were taking afterward were from callers who believed you.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Once Gary has finished and pronounced the place clean, they leave. The rest of my evening is spent watching the viral shitstorm my interview has caused. Milo doesn’t think it’s a mistake, but I’m not sure. The top subject trending for my state on every social media site is the interview. Every post contains the clip of the interview where I asked that the public leave us alone, along with the shot of me buying the vitamins.

The comments seem to be evenly split between supportive and ridiculing.

It’s his twin? Who was in a coma? What romantic B-movie does she think she’s in?

It could happen! The hospital confused a teenage girl for her friend when they were both in a car crash and their injuries made them unrecognizable.

You’re all delusional if you believe her bullshit. Trying to paint themselves as victims.

To get your boyfriend back then lose him again? That poor woman!

Right? And to be pregnant on top of it?

Hey, I have an identical twin. Does that mean I can murder without consequence? My boss has been pissing me off.

Finally, I make myself look away from the phone long enough to eat and shower, then crawl into bed. The last comment I see before I toss it aside reminds me that I’m going to be a villain in this no matter what.

If she’s far enough along to know she’s pregnant, then she was fucking him before she knew who he really was. Still a scandalous whore.

CHAPTER 12

It’s past midnight when my eyes pop open at the sound of a thump down the hall. Did I hear something? I’m so on edge lately, I was probably dreaming. I reach over to flick on the bedside lamp and my heart drops into my feet when the doorknob slowly turns.

Before I can fly into a panic, the door swings open and he steps in.

Alden!

My jaw drops, and I scramble off the bed to throw myself into his arms. “What are you doing? You can’t be here! How did you even get in?” My questions are being thrown at him while I cling to him like a baby monkey, and he hugs me tight.

“You left the window unlocked for me.”

I vaguely remember leaving the window unlocked after my little meltdown when I found out I was pregnant. Not a bit of me expected him to ever actually crawl through it again. I’m so thrilled to see him but terrified for him. “The cops are watching the house! What if they saw you?”

“There’s one squad car at the end of the road. I came through the woods. It’s okay.” He puts me down and grabs my face in his hands. Intense eyes stare into mine. “I had to know. Is it true? Are you pregnant?”

Oh god. That’s why he risked being caught.

I swallow hard, trying to make the words come out. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips. “Have you…are you going to keep it?” The even tone of his voice doesn’t reveal what answer he’s hoping to hear.

“I want to,” I confess. I’d understand if he doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t know where he’s going to be tomorrow, much less if he’ll be able to raise a child.

He looks like he might burst into tears. A smile blooms on his face a second before he slams his lips to mine. Relief floods through me. I put my arms around his middle while he holds my face and kisses the life out of me.

Afterward, he presses his forehead to mine. “I’m going to be a dad. After all this hell, I needed some good news, and it doesn’t get better than that. Thank you, Ella.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” I remind him, and he chuckles.

It tears my heart out to say it, but I have to. “You can’t be here, Den. It’s not safe. What if the cops come?”

“They would’ve already been in here if they’d seen me. Milo’s buddy checked for bugs, so they won’t hear me.” That’s why he sent them. So he could sneak in tonight. “It’s okay. I’ll go before it gets light outside.”

That’s hours away. We have hours together. It’s then I realize his clothes are damp and he’s shivering a little. “How long were you in the woods?”

“A few hours. I had to be sure they weren’t watching.”

“You need to get warm. Go jump in the shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”

The corner of his lip curls up. “Trying to get me naked already?”

“Do I ever have to try?”

“Good point. Be right back.”

God, I’ve missed him so much. I find him some clothes and take them to the bathroom. His outline is visible through the shower door. The blurry sight of him with his arms raised to rinse his hair is irresistible. I want a clearer view.

He’s faced away from me as I quietly slide the shower door open and watch. Water runs over the muscles of his shoulders and back. I’ve never found a man’s back so attractive. My gaze follows the water down to his nice round ass. My hands itch to squeeze it.

We only have a few hours and I need to make them count. I need to touch him, feel him inside of me. Be close to him.

He turns and catches me ogling him. A wicked smile leaps to his face and he grabs me, pulling me into the shower.

“Den!” The warm water rains over me, soaking my thin shirt and panties until they stick to my skin.

“Huh-uh,” he murmurs, gently catching my bottom lip in a kiss. “You started it.” His gaze darkens when he looks down to see my breasts clearly visible through the wet cotton. He licks his lips. My nipples harden instantly at the feel of his hands on them.

I can’t let him touch me too much or I’ll be dragging him to bed to fuck me, and that’s not my plan. Not yet. First, I want to make him feel good and take some of the stress away that I see in his firm set jaw.

My hands can’t resist his chest. His skin is warm now. Warm and wet, and I need to kiss every scrap of it. Starting with the cock that’s risen between us.

Looking him in the eye, I kneel down in front of him. His lips part and his breaths come faster when I wrap my hand around him and stroke lightly. “You said you remembered your cock in my mouth before?”

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips while he nods. “Was I sucking you like this?” He takes a short, stuttering inhale at the feel of my mouth wrapping around him with a gentle draw. I peek up at him. “Or was it like this?” He threads his fingers into my hair when I guide his hand to the back of my head. Sliding my lips over him with a tight seal, I suck him back deep into my throat. His hand fists in my hair and curses fall around me.

It's all the encouragement I need to continue. The hard shower floor digs into my knees but I couldn’t care less. The noises he makes when I increase my pace is almost as satisfying as the way he grasps the bar on the shower door when he comes with a sudden, deep moan. So fucking sexy.

I’m on my feet, and my hand slips down into my panties at the sight of him trying to recover his senses. After a moment, he turns to face me and grabs my hand, stopping me from touching myself. His gaze invades mine and he shakes his head back and forth. He grasps the hem of my shirt and pulls it off, then leans over to put his lips to my ear. “Take your panties off and lie on the bed. Spread your legs and wait for me.” His hot tongue swipes the cool skin just beneath my ear.

I’ve never been so turned on in my life. It’s a wonder I don’t bust my ass on the wet floor in my hurry to do as he says. He finishes his shower while I crawl onto my bed. Every second that ticks by while I lie there, exposed, pushes my anticipation higher. My heart races when the shower shuts off. Finally, he appears.

Without a word, he stalks over, crawls up the bed, and buries his face between my legs. His soft tongue on my clit sends a spasm through me, almost making me come at its touch. His lips vibrate against me with his deep chuckle. Yeah, he definitely felt it and knows how close I am. He goes slowly, teasing with strategic swipes of his tongue before driving me to a frenzy with his lips around my clit. He holds back every time I get ready to come, until my entire body feels like a desperate aching ball of fire.

“Don’t stop, please.”

My plea earns me a scorching look. His palms hold my thighs apart, his mouth finds the right spot yet again, but this time he keeps going. The orgasm smashes through me while I claw the sheets, trying to hang on when it feels like I’ve been flung out into the ether. His name is a curse and a prayer on my lips.

“Oh fuck, El, I love to make you come.” His words light me up as he crawls up and nudges me onto my side. He moves my leg up a little, then pushes his cock inside of me. His hands and his movements are gentle. Slow, long strokes. I’m overtaken by the feel of his body loving mine. Loving me.

I know in that moment, there’s nothing I won’t do to be with him. We’re going to find a way through this. We deserve it. Our baby deserves it.

After we’re both satiated, we lie in a tangle of limbs. I play with his hair while his hands wander over me, caressing. “Den, if we don’t find a way to prove your identity, what then? Would you turn yourself in and hope for the best at trial?”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you should do.” I peek up at him.

He pinches my chin and turns my head until we’re eye to eye. “You’re hesitating. Say whatever it is you’re trying to say.”

“I’m afraid you’ll disappear. That you’ll decide to run, and I’ll never see you again. Don’t leave me. If things get bad enough, I’ll go with you.”

A smile stretches across his face, and he plants a soft kiss on my lips. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, and maybe that realization should scare me, but it doesn’t. It feels like I’ve been fighting for this love since I was thirteen. Nothing will stop me now.

I nod, and he cuddles me closer. “It’s not going to come to that. I haven’t done anything wrong and we’re going to prove it. We aren’t going to live our lives on the run, especially now.” He strokes his fingers over my abdomen. “I’m not going anywhere without you. And her.”

“You’ve decided it’s a girl?” I ask, amused.

“Yeah, Ella Junior.”

“We’re going to have to work on that name,” I giggle.

The minutes turn to hours while we talk, planning out a future we both dream of, but fear will never exist.

Alden excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and I scoop up my phone to see what fresh new hell awaits me online. I’m lying on the bed, scrolling through social media when he returns. He crawls up beside me. “What are you looking at?”

“Just trying to judge what level of whore I am now. Last I checked, it was scandalous, but I may have been upgraded to dirty.” I turn the phone around to show him the meme someone has made. They’ve taken the photo of him with his arm around me and added a random baby at the bottom. The text above the baby’s head reads, “That’s just my uncle daddy.”

“Creative but lacking. I give it three stars.”

“I shouldn’t have gone on that stupid morning show.”

“Hey.” He lays his finger on my chin and turns my head to face him. “That was brave as hell. You told the truth when you knew it would be ridiculed. You did it for me. For us. I’ll never forget that.” His lips press to mine for a brief kiss, then he takes the phone from my hand. “Don’t let these idiots get to you.”

“It’s hard not to. They all hate me. More than they do you, I think. You might be a victim in all of this. They think I’m a disloyal slut either way.”

“Sweetheart, you have to consider the source.” His arm loops around my shoulders, pulling me close until my head is on his pillow. “Let’s look at these keyboard warriors.”

He chooses a rude comment and clicks on their profile to see the middle-aged woman’s picture. “Look at Rebecca. She has her high school listed as School of Life which is code for ‘I didn’t graduate and failed the GED test twice.’” A smile inches across my face as he goes back and clicks on another profile from the comments.

“And Daniel, you can’t listen to him. He’s clearly mad about his severe aesthetic deficiency.”

“Den,” I chuckle.

“No, but seriously, tell me he doesn’t look like the type of guy who does finger guns when he’s dancing.”

Giggles spill out of me as he clicks on another comment. This one is from a young woman calling for us both to be “buried under the jail.”

He scoffs and shows me. “Out here judging others when her face screams listless hand job. I don’t understand it.”

“Okay, I get it.” Tears of laughter are building in my eyes.

He clicks to see a man’s profile who has written that we’ll both burn in hell for what we’ve done. “Fine, I’ll stop, but if you ever come into contact with Kyle, guard your IUD. He looks like he steals copper.”

That’s one thing about Alden that hasn’t changed. He can always make me feel better, often by making me laugh. “I don’t have an IUD but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“There are some people trying to help,” he points out. “This one is asking if they can track what strain of flu shots I might’ve had. She isn’t far off. The forensic biologist asked if Oliver or I had been vaccinated against or infected with something the other hadn’t. The medical records rained on that idea. We both had all the typical shots and diseases.”

“Where’s a good case of Ebola when you need it?” I quip, taking the phone and setting it on my nightstand.

He runs his hand through my hair. “I have to go soon. Before the sun comes up.”

“Like a vampire,” I murmur, trying to tamp down the despair and the fear I may not see him again.

“I’d be one of those sexy vampires, not the old crusty ones that turn into a bat.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grins at me while I play with his fingers. A sudden memory strikes me, and I jerk to sit upright. “Rabies!”

“What?”

“You had rabies! I mean, not the disease, but you were vaxxed and had the prophylactic treatment for rabies after you were bitten by a bat!”

His eyes are wide when he sits up. “I don’t think that was mentioned in the medical records.”

“It was done at the Clearview Community Hospital, in their emergency room, and they referred you to their outpatient clinic for the follow up. It wouldn’t have been on your family doctor’s records. But you’ll have the antibodies! They can test your blood.”

I can see the wheels spinning behind his eyes. “We’d have to prove Oliver didn’t have the same thing,” he mumbles. “I need to talk to Lowell.”

Panic seizes me when he leaps out of bed and starts getting dressed. “Don’t leave! Contact him from here. He doesn’t have to know where you are.”

“I’m not going to put you at risk.”

“No, listen to me.” I grab his arm and try to take the hysteria out of my voice. “Stay today. We’ll keep the curtains closed and stay inside. That isn’t out of the ordinary for me. Even if the cops do park outside or watch, they won’t see a difference. They’ve gotten lax anyway. They don’t think you’d come back here since it’s fucking insane. You can leave after dark tonight. Just don’t go now.”

Indecision furrows his brow, and he hesitates before replying. “El, one day together won’t be enough. You still won’t want me to go.”

He’s right. I’d keep him hidden here for as long as it takes if it were up to me. “I know. With you, only forever is enough, but I’ll settle for today. I want to know what’s going on once you tell Lowell.”

With a sigh, he finally nods and sits on the edge of the bed. My jaw falls open when he pulls out a phone. I knew he was keeping in touch with him, but I figured it was by email or something. He left his phone at the shop.

“It’s a burner phone. Not in my name,” he says when he sees me staring. He pulls out a battery and a sim card from the pocket of his jeans that are lying on the floor. “It’s supposed to be hard to trace but I keep it completely inactive between calls just in case.”

“He won’t be in his office yet,” I point out. “It’s barely five a.m.”

“I’m not calling his office. I’m not the only one with a burner phone.” He puts a finger to his lips, and I nod.

All I can hear is Alden’s end of the conversation as he explains everything to Lowell. I scribble down the name of the hospital and the approximate date when he had the rabies treatment done, then hand it to him. He relays the information to Lowell, and they talk for another couple of minutes. Finally, Alden says, “Okay, three o’clock. Got it.”

It takes every ounce of self-control not to pounce on him for answers the second he hangs up. He pops the battery and sim card back out, then puts it all on the nightstand.

“He’s going to call me back at three.”

“Did he say how long to get the records?” Please don’t let this be another “give me a week” situation.

“No, he said he’ll request the records from the hospital and get in contact with the forensic biologist to see the best way to go about using the information, testing and everything. I’ll find out more at three o’clock, hopefully.” He shucks off the clothes he just put on. A small smile grows on his face, and he reaches out to me. “In the meantime, I could use some sleep. You look exhausted too. Nap?”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I can sleep now,” I scoff, crawling into bed with him.

He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. “Ella?”

“Hmm?”

“How the fuck did I get bitten by a bat?”

CHAPTER 13

Despite my claim to the contrary, once I’m cuddled in Alden’s arms, watching his chest rise and fall peacefully, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep. It’s been such an emotional night. We sleep until noon and he’s inside of me again moments after our eyes open. Neither of us can stop touching the other for very long.

We finally head downstairs to make something to eat and wait. Both of us check the clock way too often, waiting for three o’clock to see where we stand. A couple of minutes before three, Alden reassembles his phone while I step outside to my mailbox. It’s something I do every day and lets me check to see if we’re being watched.

“No sign of police,” I report to Alden.

His phone rings, and I grab his arm when he reaches for it. “Please put it on speaker this time.”

His nod is reluctant. I know he doesn’t want me involved but we’re past that. I’m about as deep as it gets.

“I have good news for you,” Lowell begins.

Alden flashes me a hopeful half smile. “Thank fuck. Let’s hear it.”

“The state tracks all vaccinations and prophylaxis treatment when it comes to rabies. All doctors, hospitals, and clinics are mandated to report to the health department. I’ve obtained the necessary records from the state health department.”

My hand finds Den’s and squeezes tight as Lowell continues.

“It shows that you were vaccinated for rabies. According to these records, Oliver was not. I’ve been advised by the forensic biologist that a titer test will show whether or not you have antibodies in your blood from a rabies vaccine. If your blood contains antibodies, it should be sufficient to prove you aren’t Oliver.”

Alden’s shoulders relax, and I see relief wash over his face. “What do I do now?”

“First things first, you need to turn yourself in. We don’t want the court to drag its feet on testing so here’s what I need you to do. Kincorp Lab is willing to draw your blood today, but they’re only open for another hour. I want you to meet me there for the titer test. I’ll text you the address. Once we’re there, I’ll contact the prosecution to let them know you’re surrendering, and they can come and get you. There’s no other way, Mr. Stokes.”

My stomach sinks. There’s no way to avoid him going back to jail, at least temporarily. “Couldn’t they argue that Oliver was vaxxed too and there’s no record of it?”

Lowell doesn’t quite manage to hide his exasperation at hearing my voice, but he answers me. “Possibly, but Oliver lived in Indiana his whole life, even through college. If he were vaccinated, it’d be on file. I can’t promise that the prosecution will drop the charges, but it’s likely. We’ll also be petitioning to legally declare his identity, so we can essentially bring him back to life on paper.”

“Okay.” Alden runs his hand through his hair. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Don’t get out of your vehicle or go inside until you see me,” Lowell cautions, before they hang up.

Alden looks at me, then pulls me into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s going to be over soon. No more running or hiding after today.”

I nod against his chest and steel myself not to burst into tears. He’s right. This is good news.

“I have to go. The car I’m using is parked in a strip mall on the other side of the highway. It’ll take me a bit to get to it through the woods.”

“No way. I’m taking you.”

“Ella…”

“Either I take you or I go there anyway. You aren’t going alone. You’re turning yourself in. The lawyer will be there. I won’t be in any danger.”

His frown deepens. “And if we get caught on the way there?”

“We won’t. You’re more likely to be caught crossing the highway on foot.”

He stares at me for a moment, then finally nods. “Okay, let’s get ready.”

My car is parked in my garage so there’s no worry over him being seen getting into it. I fold one side of the backseat down and he climbs in, then wriggles back into the trunk. He grabs the back of the seat and pulls it up to conceal himself. Police have never stopped me or searched my car before but it’s better to be safe.

“Are you okay?” I ask, before starting the car.

“There’s something poking me in the ass, but yeah, I’m good.”

It’s a good thing we took the precaution. When I pull out of the garage, a squad car is back in its usual place at the end of the street. My heart is in my throat, but I act natural, ignoring them like I usually do.

Once we’re on the highway and I’m sure we’re not being followed, he crawls out of the trunk but stays low in the back seat. It’s a good thing the lab isn’t far away because I don’t dare to speed and chance getting pulled over.

I spot Lowell leaning against a silver SUV as I pull into the parking lot. “He’s here.”

We get out and Alden takes my hand while we walk to meet him. They exchange a quick greeting and Lowell leads us inside.

They clearly know we’re coming. Once Alden has filled out a sheet with all of his information, we’re taken back to a room to have his blood collected. When Lowell excuses himself to step out into the hall, Alden and I exchange a fraught look. He’s calling the cops. Our minutes together are numbered now.

The tech is friendly while she draws three tubes of blood from his arm. “How long do results usually take?” Alden asks, as Lowell joins us again.

“Three to four weeks is our typical turnaround.” She glances up at Alden. “Unless a test is expedited. That’s up to the lab director.”

“Where can I find him?” Lowell asks.

“Turn right and his office is the last door on the left.”

“Thank you.” He regards Alden before going to hunt down the director. “If you have anything on you that you don’t want to possibly lose during your detention, leave it with Ella now.”

Alden nods and reaches into his pocket. He hasn’t bothered to bring the burner phone. It’s lying disassembled back at my place. The only thing he hands me is our shiny, oval coin. His smile is sad. “Hold onto our luck for me. I can’t chance losing it.”

Nodding, I let the tears that have been threatening run down my face as I accept it and tuck it into my pocket. Alden stands up and pulls me into a hug. “Are you scared?” I ask.

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ll be okay. I’m ready to get all of this over with.”

Lowell opens the door. “They’re moving him to the front of the line. Results will be in Monday.”

Alden smiles down at me. “Six days. We can do that.”

The lump in my throat won’t be swallowed. “I love you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

He gives my hand one last squeeze before stepping out into the hall where two officers wait, along with Detective Ramos. He’s cuffed and taken out the front door.

Lowell stays by my side as we follow him out and watch while he’s put into a squad car. He gives me a reluctant smile as the car pulls away, and then he’s gone.

This has to work. This can’t be the last time I get to see him.

I’m not sure why they thought they needed four cars and all these cops, but the remaining officers stand around talking.

Detective Ramos strides up to us. “Just happen to run into him here, Ella?”

Lowell doesn’t give me a chance to say anything, not that I would’ve. “Mr. Stokes contacted Ella and she contacted me immediately to alert the proper authorities. As she was ordered to do. We agreed to meet here for him to surrender.”

Ramos looks me in the eye, doing his best to intimidate me.

I jerk my thumb toward Lowell. “What he said.”

Lowell’s lips turn up in an amused smirk, and Ramos shakes his head. “I’m sure that’s how it went down.”

Lowell puts a hand on my shoulder and walks me away from him and toward my car. “You can head home. I’ll call as soon as I hear anything. Don’t speak to the media. I’m going to give a statement.”

“Thank you. For everything. I know you’ve taken risks to help him too.”

“That’s what I do.”

My first call when I get home is to Milo to let him know what’s happened. We talk briefly about the shop. He assures me everything is under control for the moment and promises to call if that changes.

I’m too keyed up and anxious to sit down so I spend the next couple of hours cleaning and organizing. It helps distract me. The next six days are going to be endless. When I finally wear myself out and flop in front of the TV, it’s to watch the news. Lowell said he’d be making a statement to the press because Alden’s arrest is bound to make the news. He was right.

Alden’s arrest is the top story. They even have a new mugshot taken tonight. The sight of it pulls at my heart. He looks so tired. After the newscaster explains that he’s been arrested and does a quick run down of the charges, she announces, “We’ve reached out to Mr. Stokes’ counsel for comment and this is what he had to say.”

They cut to a video of Lowell that looks like it’s been recorded at his office. “My client surrendered to the police peacefully this afternoon. We maintain that this is a case of mistaken identity. My client has undergone medical testing and when the results are in on Monday, they’ll prove that he is Alden Stokes and that Oliver Stokes, the man accused of these murders, was killed in the commission of the crime. I’m confident charges will be dropped against my client once the results are available and the state realizes what an atrocious mistake has been made. Thank you.”

Now all I can do is wait.

The racket and voices outside wake me the next morning. Two news trucks sit in front of my house and a small group of people begins to form. What the hell? He’s locked up. We’re waiting on test results. There’s nothing more to tell. Why are they all over me all of a sudden?

A bang on the front door makes me jump. I hurriedly dress and rush down the stairs as they knock again. There’s no way I’m talking to the press right now, but they aren’t giving up.

“Ella! Open up!”

Dad?

I jerk the door open to see my father standing there with a scowl. A reporter hovers behind him. "Dad!” I cry, hugging him and pulling him inside. The reporter starts rattling off questions, and I shake my head. “No comment. Get off my porch.” I close the door in his face while he’s still trying to talk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, hugging Dad again.

“We saw the news last night and caught an early flight.”

Blinking, I stare at him. “It was on the news in Florida?”

“It’s national news. On every news channel. Yet somehow your mother and I had no idea.”

Of course they didn’t. Neither of them use social media. As far as they knew, Oliver was out on bail with his anklet and everything was fine while we waited for trial. “I didn’t want to worry you. A lot has happened.”

“You think Alden is alive?”

“I know it, Dad.”

He nods. “Your mother and I have a suite at the Preston Hotel. They have good security. It’s going to get crazier, sweetie. We want you to come and stay with us until we see what happens on Monday.”

It’s tempting. He’s right that this is going to be a circus now.

“Mia and Luke have promised to keep an eye on things. Once the media and the people see you aren’t here, they should stop stalking the house.”

I’m sure the rest of the neighbors would appreciate me leaving as well. “Okay, yeah. Let me pack some things.”

He waits downstairs while I throw my clothes, bathroom items, and phone charger into my suitcase. Alden’s coin is in my pocket and the one on my dresser joins it. We need our luck more than ever. I give my room another look to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. When I come back, it’ll be with Alden. The thought raises my spirits.

“Go ahead,” I tell Dad. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Other than having questions shouted at us, neither of us has any trouble getting out of my driveway and away from the house. I follow him across town to the Preston Hotel.

Dad barely has the hotel room door open before Mom tackles me in a hug. “Ella! I was so worried! You’ve been all over the news. They said your studio has been closed down and you’ve had threats and—”

I squeeze her tight. “Mom, stop. I’m alright. I promise.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m sorry. Let’s sit down and I’ll fill you in on everything.”

It feels good to get it all out. We sit on the balcony while I tell them everything that’s happened. I don’t sugar coat my part in it. Mom looks like she might hunt down the interviewer who told the world about my pregnancy when I show them the video.

“So, it’s true?” Dad asks, rubbing his chin. “We’re going to be grandparents?” A sweet smile is his response to my nod.

After another twenty minutes of questions, I’ve covered everything. “What can we do?” Mom asks, and I reach out to squeeze her hand.

“You’re doing it. I’m glad you’re here. Monday seems like a lifetime away.”

My phone rings with a video chat request from Milo. He never calls that way. Something is wrong. “It’s Milo,” I announce, answering it.

Milo stares at the camera. “There you are. Can you see me?”

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Other than the obvious.

“I thought it might be better to show you.” He flips the camera and steps outside of the shop.

Holy shit. The entire parking lot is full of people. They hold signs and some are screaming at each other. It’s madness. An empty strip runs down the middle of the crowd where multiple police officers patrol, keeping them apart.

He turns the camera back to his face. “It happened fast. Half of them are here to support Alden and you. The other half are screaming them down for supporting murderers. There’s a news truck out there too.” He notices the background of where I’m sitting. “Are you okay? Are you somewhere safe?”

“I am. My parents are in town and I’m staying at a hotel with them.” There’s no doubt about what the right decision is now. “Send the guys home. Cancel any appointments for the next week. Put up a sign that Stokes Brothers is closed until further notice. Hopefully, after the results, things will calm down. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “People need to get a fucking life.”

“Is Smith there?”

Milo walks inside as he answers. His lips twitch and a smile flashes on his face for a second. “Smith’s right here. He about shit himself when he looked outside and saw the news camera. I guess he thinks he’s too pretty to be on TV for free.”

“Fuck off,” Smith says, snatching the phone from Milo.

“Hey, we’re going to close for a week, but I wanted to see if you can release the payroll before you go. Take the business laptop home with you, if you wouldn’t mind. In case the following week’s pay needs to be sent before you can return.” At least they never froze the business account and paying them their next week ahead of time isn’t a hardship.

“No problem. Anything else?”

“No, you guys just get out of there and be safe.”

Now both of our businesses are closed. This has to end soon. Our lives are never going to be the same.

The last time I stayed at a hotel with my parents was the week after I lost Alden. Being here brings back the memories of that horrible time, but I’m still glad to have them here. I don’t want to be alone. They’ve rented a big suite with two bedrooms so I still have some privacy.

Dad may be the therapist, but Mom is best at distracting me. We keep the TV off and she insists I stay off my phone. There’s nothing going on that I need to see. Not if I want to keep my sanity.

I’m surprised to get a call from Tori the next day. My finger hesitates over my screen for a few seconds before I accept the call. “Hello.”

“Ella.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I know you’re pissed at me, but I saw the news about…his arrest and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She hesitated because she wanted to say Oliver and couldn’t bring herself to say Alden. “I’m alright. I’m with my parents. We’re waiting for the blood test results.”

“I hope they come back the way you want. I really do.”

“But you don’t think they will?” Her silence screams the answer to that question. “If the test comes back positive for antibodies for the rabies vaccination, will you believe he’s Alden?”

“Yes.” Her instant reply surprises me. “If the science shows it, it’s not a matter of belief.”

“We’ll know on Monday.”

“What about you, Ella? If there are no antibodies, I’m afraid you’ll find another way to believe it’s Alden.”

“I’ll believe the science.” Even as I say it, the doubts creep in. Because I know he’s Alden now. What if his body didn’t produce enough antibodies or they didn’t last long enough? “I need to go. Thanks for calling.”

“Take care of yourself.”

My chest aches when I hang up the phone. I hate the tension between us. She just got married. I have a baby on the way. I hate that we can’t talk about any of it, can’t be excited and happy about the major changes in our lives. Maybe after this is over, once Alden is free, we can find our way back to rebuilding our friendship. After over twenty years, I can’t imagine my life without her.

“Ella” Mom calls, stepping into my room. “The pool is empty this time of day. Let's go swimming.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“I have an extra that’ll fit you.” She brushes my hair out of my eye. “It’ll pass the time.”

“Okay.”

That’s the thing about time, no matter how well or bad things are going, it still passes. Whether every second feels like torture or pleasure, they still tick away. The next four days pass at a snail’s pace while I do my best to stay off social media. I swim in the pool and use the hotel gym. Every night, I kiss our lucky coins and sleep with them under my pillow.

On Monday, I pick my phone up every few minutes, terrified I’ve missed Lowell’s call. Now that we’re so close, I can’t stop thinking that something is going to go wrong. They’re going to botch the test or deny the results. Then what? He’s already in custody. Running isn’t an option anymore.

I’m sitting on the small sofa, trying to read a book but failing, when my phone finally rings. In my haste to grab it, I nearly knock it to the floor. Fumbling, I manage to hit the button to answer it on speaker.

Mom and Dad step in from where they were sitting on the balcony.

“Ella?” Lowell says.

“Yes?” The word comes out as a whisper, and I clear my throat. “I’m here.”

“The test results are back.”

It’s hard to hear him despite the silent room because my heart is beating in my ears.

“It’s positive. The blood is positive for rabies antibodies. Teeming with them was how the woman described it to me,” he says, and happiness is audible in his voice. “I’m on my way to meet with the prosecution now. If they refuse to drop the charges, I’ll file a motion to dismiss.”

Overwhelming anxiety accompanies my cautious joy. It’s not over yet. It’s so hard to focus. “What does that mean?”

“If the prosecution doesn’t accept this as proof of Alden’s identity, a hearing will be necessary for a judge to decide whether to dismiss the case, and that could take up to two weeks to take place. If the prosecution agrees that they’ve mistaken Alden for Oliver, they’ll withdraw the charges, and I’ll walk him out of the jail today.”

“You’re at the courthouse? That’s where he’s being held too, right? I’m on my way.”

“I already have a car on the way to you, along with security. They’ll bring you inside. The courthouse and jail annex are closed to the public due to the demonstrators.”

“We’re coming with her,” Dad announces.

“That’s fine. Either way this goes, the media will be watching. The more family on his side the better.”

After I hang up, I stand there with the phone in my hand, still stunned that something has gone our way.

“Ella?” Dad says.

He and Mom stare at me and tears burn my eyes. “I knew it. I knew it was him.”

Mom grabs me in a hug. “Your heart knew.”

CHAPTER 14

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the level of chaos taking place outside the justice building. It looks like all the demonstrators moved from Stokes Brothers to here and brought a fuck ton of friends with them.

The car that Lowell sent circles the building, taking us away from the crowd and to a side door. Two security officers lead us inside and through a small maze of hallways with shiny wooden floors. I’m familiar with the courtrooms section but I’ve never been in this part of the building before. We pass by rows of offices and judge’s chambers before the security officer stops and nods toward a row of chairs. “Wait here.”

Alden is here somewhere, maybe with Lowell, maybe still in a cage on the opposite side of the building. My stomach churns as we take a seat and do what it feels like I’ve been doing forever. Wait.

I’m not sure what to expect. Lowell said he was meeting with the prosecutor. That was nearly an hour ago. Has the decision been made? Is he busy filing a motion to dismiss that will send me home without Alden again?

We’re quiet, and no voices come from the rooms around us. They appear to be empty. Whatever is happening isn’t taking place in one of these rooms. They probably put us here to separate us from the nightmare our case is causing outside.

Mom and Dad sit while I pace. It feels like my whole life is being decided by one man right now. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Ella,” Dad says softly. When I look up at him, he gestures to my left.

I turn my head and there he is.

Alden walks toward us with Lowell at his side. If the fact that he isn’t cuffed or being led by officers wasn’t enough to tell me he’s free, the smile on his face would do it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. He holds his arms out when I race toward him.

Strong arms scoop me up and squeeze me so tight I can’t breathe. “It’s over, El.”

My sobs are triggered by his words, and I can’t let go of him. He rubs my back and murmurs in my ear. “It’s okay. It’s all over.”

Finally, I manage to release him. Lowell wears a self-satisfied smile while he fills us in. “All charges have been withdrawn. The proof of his identity has also been presented to the judge, who will start the process of cancelling the death certificate and reissuing one for Oliver. It’ll take some time to sort all of that out and legally bring him back to life, but there’s no doubt about his identity.”

Lowell chuckles when I grab him in a hug too. “Thank you so much.”

He grins down at me. “It’s what I do. Just make sure Matthew McConaughey plays me in the movie. I’ll never have a case as outrageous as this one again.”

Laughter fills the air. Mom and Dad both hug Alden, but the catching up will have to wait. Lowell advises us that the media is waiting out front. “The prosecutor is preparing to make a statement to hopefully clear the crowd and stop the demonstrating. Afterward, I think Alden should say a few things. The more you try to avoid them, the crazier things are likely to get. My advice is to give a simple statement now, thank the public for supporting you, and ask for them to respect your privacy.”

It's a terrifying thought, facing that crowd when a portion of them are vitriolic, but it’s the first step toward trying to return to a normal life. Alden slides his hand into mine and looks down at me. Squeezing his hand, I agree. After everything we’ve been through, we’ve got this. Together, we can do anything.

Mom and Dad are led to another room to wait for us to meet them. Lowell escorts us to the front doors of the courthouse, but we don’t walk out right away. The prosecutor stands on the top step with microphones pointed at him. The crowd is hushed, but the reporters jostle each other, shouting questions.

“Have the charges been dropped against Oliver Stokes?”

This is the question he chooses to answer. “The prosecution maintains that Oliver Stokes is guilty of conspiracy to murder his brother and of the murder of Kevin Thornton. However, biological testing has now shown that the man we had in custody is not Oliver Stokes, but his twin brother, Alden Stokes. The perpetrator of the crime is deceased and so there is no case to pursue against him.”

I’m not sure how he deciphers the myriad of questions thrown at him when he stops talking, but he holds a hand up to quiet them then points to a woman from a local station to repeat her question. “Do you expect to file charges in any capacity against Alden Stokes?”

“No. Alden Stokes was the victim in this unfortunate crime. He is not a suspect.”

A man shoves his microphone forward and shouts, “And what about the girlfriend, Ella Booth? Will she be charged in the deaths?”

The prosecutor’s lips press together. “No. There has never been any evidence that Ms. Booth was involved in this crime. I would suggest that you get your information from more credible sources than social media. Dean Warren and Connor Warren have been charged. The state’s case against them is ongoing. That’s all I’m going to say about this matter. Thank you.”

It’s more than enough. He told them that Alden is innocent. That I’m innocent.

The journalists continue to clamor after he turns his back and retreats inside. He gives Alden a perfunctory nod as he passes us. Alden flashes a smile at Lowell. “That man’s not having a good day.”

“I’m surprised he answered the question about me,” I remark. He certainly wasn’t under any requirement to do so.

Lowell chuckles. “He knows this is going to be big news. He doesn’t want to be seen as a total asshole when the whole story starts coming out.” Lowell reaches for the door handle and looks at us. “Stay behind me and ignore any negative questions or accusations.”

A roar comes from the crowd being held back on either side of the courthouse steps when we walk out. The reporters rush to be the first to get to us. One of the men gets his feet tangled and trips into the woman next to him, who scowls and nearly drops her microphone. The urge to laugh is tough to resist, despite my nervousness. Maybe because of it.

Lowell holds his hands up until it quiets down. “My client would like to make a statement, but he will not be answering questions at this time. As you can imagine, it’s been a very trying few weeks, and he’s eager to get back to his life and family.”

When we step up, the silence falls quickly. Alden squeezes my hand and his voice projects into the crowd. “I just want to thank my lawyer, Mr. Lowell Richards for everything he’s done to get the truth of the matter in front of the eyes of the prosecution. I also appreciate that the prosecutor moved quickly to withdraw the charges after he was presented with the evidence. Most of all, Ella and I want to thank all of you who have supported us. I appreciate it more than I can say. I realize this is a crazy situation and very entertaining but please bear in mind what we’ve been through.” He slides his arm around my shoulder. “It’s no secret that we have a baby on the way. I want to ask you to please respect our privacy and give us space to recover. Thank you.”

Lowell said not to answer any questions but as we turn to start back inside, someone shouts. “Do you believe your brother hired the Warrens to kill you?”

Alden turns and stares at him for a long moment before answering. “I don’t know.”

More questions are shouted as we retreat inside, but we ignore them. We’re taken back to the hotel with my parents by the same security officers who picked us up. Alden borrows my phone to call Milo while Mom tries to convince me that we should stay with them for a few days.

“You’re going to be hounded if you go to your house,” she points out.

“We won’t be going home yet. I have a place for us to stay until things die down,” Alden explains, joining us. It’s news to me, but I don’t care. As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we are.

I hug Mom and then Dad. “Thank you both so much for always being here when I need you. I promise after everything is sorted out, we’ll come and visit.”

Dad regards Alden. “You call if you need anything or if you need someone to talk to. If you aren’t comfortable talking to me, I can refer you to someone.”

Alden grins at him. “Have you worked with a lot of patients who thought they were their dead brother who actually may have tried to kill them?”

Dad shakes his head with a wry smile. “Good luck finding that experience in anyone, but both of you should find a therapist once it’s feasible. You’ve been through unimaginable trauma.”

“We will,” Alden promises.

It doesn’t take me long to pack up my things and we say goodbye. Alden drives my car since he knows where we’re going. “Milo has a property across the state line in Kentucky. Just south of Henderson. It’s out in the boonies but it gets cell reception and has satellite internet. That’s where I was staying.”

“And I was worried you were camped out in the cold somewhere,” I reply.

“Milo saved my ass. I owe him.”

“He was there for me too. Plus, he’s the one who referred us to Lowell when you were arrested.”

“That grizzly fucker loves us.”

Alden grins over at me when I laugh. “Have you heard from Tori?”

“She called a few days ago to check on me.” My failure to elaborate earns me a sideways look, and I sigh. He knows that Tori didn’t believe that he was Alden, but I didn’t tell him everything she said.

“Smith didn’t believe it either, El. I’m not taking it personally. It was a crazy thing to wrap their heads around. You and Milo were the only ones who believed me from the very beginning.”

“She didn’t just not believe it. She thought I was crazy, said that I needed help, and was horrified to find out I was pregnant. She had this whole insane theory that maybe you faked the amnesia from the beginning so you wouldn’t be charged with murder and then pretended to discover who you are once it didn’t work. She said pretending that you’re Alden was a way for you to get everything you wanted. Your freedom and me.”

After a long moment, he throws his head back, laughing so loud it startles me at first.

What the hell? Did he not hear me correctly? “It’s not funny! She thought you might be a psychopath!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s kind of funny. Did she mention me twirling my moustache while tying a woman to the railroad tracks?”

A giggle escapes me at the thought.

“Look, I can’t blame them for not knowing who I was when it took me so long to figure it out. I don’t want to keep any hard feelings over it.” He peeks over at me. “She’s your best friend.”

“She said she’d believe it if the science proved it, so she probably does realize who you are now.”

It only takes us about thirty minutes to get to our destination. A long winding driveway takes us up to a shiny trailer perched on a hill. The front half of the property is heavily wooded, lending it privacy from the road. There are no neighbors in sight.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it,” he grins, shutting off the car. “It’s Milo’s vacation property and where he intends to retire.”

The sun is starting to set, and instead of going inside, Alden takes my hand to walk me around the back. My breath catches. Behind the mobile home the ground falls into a gentle slope, leading down to a misty pond. The sky is a blaze of orange.

Alden wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I sat out here to watch the sunset every evening when I was missing you. You were all I could think about.”

“I missed you so much the days were a blur,” I confess, tilting my head so I can catch his lips in a kiss.

“The worst is over, sweetheart.”

I lay my hand over his on my abdomen. “And the best of us is on the way.”

We stand there in the chilly air, watching the sky put the sun to bed while his hand caresses my stomach.

Milo’s mobile home is spacious and modern—clearly not more than a couple of years old. The minimal furniture is comfortable and practical. It’s a good place to hide from the world for a while.

A popping sound draws my attention, and I look out the window. Or attempt to. Rural dark is not like the city. I can’t even see my car that’s parked right out front. My body jerks when Alden walks up behind me.

“It’s just the trailer. The metal underpinning pops and cracks in the wind.” He pulls me back and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “We’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”

My body relaxes a little. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that everything is over. I’ve been running on adrenaline and anxiety for so long, my brain hasn’t had a chance to catch up. I feel hyper and tired at the same time.” I turn and hook my arms around his waist. God, those eyes that stare into mine, how could I not have known them? They’re everything. He’s everything. “How are you feeling?”

“So happy that I’m not sure what to do with myself, but…scattered. I know what you mean.” He steps back. “I think I’ll start with a shower. The jail stinks.”

“I mean…I wasn’t going to say anything.”

His lips curl up and he slaps my ass. “Don’t get naked or anything. Milo is coming to bring my phone and some of my stuff.”

“Damn, and I was going to be ass out on the kitchen table when you came back.”

He groans as he heads off to shower, and I peruse the fridge, trying to see what I could make for dinner. I’m not the least bit hungry. Things feel weird, for lack of a better word. I suppose we can’t just flip a switch and go on about life after what we went through and expect everything to feel normal. It’s another adjustment. If there’s one thing I’ve learned to do, it’s adapt.

I turn on the TV and find a mindless sitcom to keep me company. Anything but the news right now. Curiosity will get the best of me eventually, but for now, my phone is in the bedroom and that’s where it’ll stay. No social media or doom scrolling.

Alden returns wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a tee shirt that’s a bit too small. It hugs his chest and abdomen, showing the outline of every muscle. My gaze climbs up his body until it reaches the smirk on his face. “You tell me not to get naked but then come out here looking like a slut.”

“Milo and Smith loaned me some clothes. It’s either too small, or too large.”

“Good choice.”

There’s a tap on the door and Alden pulls it open. Milo steps in, sets down the bag in his hand, and grabs him in a bear hug. “Congratulations, you son of a bitch. You’re officially alive again.”

Alden chuckles and slaps him on the back. “Not according to the government yet, but I will be.”

“That means you don’t have to pay taxes.”

We all laugh but mine stops short when Tori walks in behind Milo. She hesitates, her nervous gaze jumping between me and Alden. Her hands fumble with the hem of her jacket as she regards Alden. “Milo said you wanted me to come.”

Alden walks over to her. They’re both silent while she looks up at him. She reaches up and touches his jaw. “Alden.” His name is barely a whisper. Astonishment and anguish live in equal measure in her expression. He nods, looking her in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she says, bursting into tears.

He pulls her into a hug. “It’s okay.”

Tears fill my eyes as I watch them. She loves him too. Nearly twenty years of friendship between them—between all of us—has built a bond it took a lot to crack. But it isn’t broken.

She mumbles something against his chest, and he replies softly, “I understand. It’s alright. You don’t need to apologize.”

She swipes at the tears on her face and looks over at me. It tore my heart out when she didn’t believe me. But Alden is right. It was a hard thing to believe, especially after everything that had happened, and the way I dumped the information on her.

Milo and Alden exchange a look. Alden picks up the bag and Milo follows him down the hall toward the bedroom, leaving Tori and I alone.

Before she can say anything, I stalk over and hug her. Her arms instantly go around me and she squeezes tight. “I’m sorry I told you to go fuck yourself.”

“I’m sorry too. I just couldn’t believe it and I was worried about you. That you’d ruin your life.”

“I know.”

We release each other and she looks toward the hall where Alden’s laugh echoes. “They really were that identical. It’s unreal.”

“If the brain injury hadn’t changed him, we would’ve known. He’s more like his old self every day.”

“I’m thrilled for you, Ella. This has all been so horrible, but you got him back.”

“It’s like a miracle, I know.”

After a quiet moment, she runs her teeth over her lip. “Are we okay?”

“Of course we are.”

“Is it safe to come out?” Alden asks, peeking his head around the doorway.

“That depends on if you’re still wearing those slutty sweats.”

“Nah, I changed clothes.” He steps out in the hall and starts toward us wearing darker pants and a white tee shirt that fits him. “Milo likes to watch me undress. I just remembered that.”

“You need to work harder to remember I’ll kick your ass,” Milo gruffs, following behind him. There’s another knock at the door and Milo pops it open without asking who it is. “About damn time. Did you get lost?”

Smith and his husband, Harry, stand there with their arms full. “These country roads are a maze and my navigator tried to kill us. It sent us down a road that dead ends by turning into a fucking lake.” They come inside and Smith smiles at me over a pile of grease spotted bags in his arms. “We thought you might be hungry.”

Harry holds up a case of Alden’s favorite beer. “And that Alden might be too sober.”

“Get your asses in here,” Alden calls.

Tears turn to smiles and laughter as the night progresses. With everyone together for the first time since finding out who Alden actually is, it’s a celebration and a reunion rolled into one. We eat the two tons of fried catfish and fries that Smith brought. Alden, Smith, and Milo get into the beer while everyone sits around laughing and talking. I know they feel the same as I do. Just happy to have him back.

Once it gets late, Tori and I sit in the living room while the guys hang out around Milo’s little kitchen table. Their laughter filters in, making me smile.

Tori tilts her head at me. “Do you know when your baby is due? Or how far along you are?”

“I’m just at three months, due in early August.”

“Do you know the sex?”

“Not yet, but I have a scan next week. Are you ready to be an aunt?”

A hesitant grin blooms on her face. “That depends. Are you?” Her hand falls to her stomach, and my jaw falls to the floor.

“Seriously?”

“Due the second week of August. I found out right after we got back from our trip.

“Oh my god. We’re going to have our babies together!”

She beams at me. “They’re going to be best friends.”

It’s the best night I’ve had in a long time. Once everyone leaves, Alden takes me to bed. Our sex is slow and passionate. Loving. It’s another celebration of sorts, a way to remind ourselves that this is real. We’re going to be okay.

Afterward, Alden lies beside me and caresses my abdomen. “How are you feeling with the baby? Have you been sick?”

“No, it’s been hard to eat sometimes, but I think that’s better now.” I sure attacked that catfish tonight. “It was stress, not morning sickness.” I cover his hand with mine. “I’m supposed to have a scan next week. We can find out the sex. If you want to know.”

“I do if you do.”

“I do. There’s no way I can wait. Tori said it’ll be twins because it runs in your family.”

He chuckles and kisses my shoulder. “As far as I know, we were the only set of twins in the family tree. Not very likely.”

After a few moments of silence, I ask him something I’ve been wondering. “Do you remember much about Oliver?”

“More of my memories are about him than anyone else.” The crack in his voice puts a matching one in my heart. “They hurt the worst.”

“I’m sorry.” My fingers thread through his hair. “Even when you were at odds, you were close. I know you miss him.”

“I loved him. And he may have tried to kill me. I don’t know what to think.” He rolls toward me to look me in the eye. “The evidence says he did. That was what scared me so much when I thought I was him. It was hard to believe I didn’t do it when I couldn’t remember.”

“I was struggling with it too. We may never know for sure. Can you live with that?”

His lips brush over mine. “As long as I have you and our baby.” He leans over to kiss my abdomen. “I can live with anything.”

CHAPTER 15

Alden lies stretched out on the couch, his head in my lap. He hums as I thread my fingers into his hair and scratch my nails across his scalp. We’ve barely left Milo’s place since Alden was freed over a week ago. Most of our time has been spent like this, cuddled together on the couch or in bed. We’ve taken walks around the pond in the afternoon and watched the sunset every evening. It’s been wonderful. Unfortunately, we can’t avoid the world forever. Tonight, we’re heading home.

Alden peeks up at me. “I heard from Lowell earlier.”

“Please don’t tell me it was bad news.”

“Both of the Warrens took a plea deal to avoid the death penalty. Forty years without the possibility of parole.”

“How do you feel about that?” I ask, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. It’s getting long again.

“I’m okay with it. Life in prison is worse than death row from what I’ve heard, and this means there won’t be a trial. We can put it all behind us.”

If he’s satisfied with that, so am I. “It’ll be good to get back to normal. I think we’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

He grins up at me. “Milo and the guys have been back at the shop for the last couple of days, working on some bikes that were already in progress. A few journalists have shown up asking to talk to me, but there hasn’t been any trouble. We’re going to reopen to the public tomorrow. I told Milo I’d be there after your ultrasound appointment.”

“And if I decide to chain you to the bed so we can stay here forever?” I tease.

He laughs and grins up at me. “I’m not opposed. Unless you’re planning to start a harem like that woman on the news.”

“What woman?” I’ve avoided the news and kept my phone set to do not disturb, only using it to check in with my parents to let them know we’re safe.

“It knocked our story out of the top news spot, finally.” He sits up and props a foot on the coffee table. “A man was found running up a street on the west side of Indianapolis wearing a metal collar. He led cops back to a house where a woman had five other men chained up.”

“Holy shit. Poor guy. People are fucking crazy.”

“It gets worse. A neighbor was filming when they busted her. As they were dragging her out of the house, she was yelling about not having enough yet.”

“Enough what?”

“According to one of the men that they rescued, semen.” My mouth falls open. He must be kidding. He holds his hands out and his eyebrows rise. “That’s what he said. He told the reporter she was milking them for sperm twice a day.”

“What the hell for?”

“To impregnate herself? To sell? To rub on her skin or use as coffee creamer? Who knows? She’s clearly off her fucking rocker.”

“Ew!”

I get up to fetch my phone and he calls out after me. “It’s horrible, but it’s taken a lot of the attention off of us. It’s much more interesting to the keyboard warriors and amateur internet detectives.”

He’s right. It’s the top trending story statewide and nationally. When I check my name and Alden’s name, posts and comments still pop up, but they’re fewer and most are a day or two old. Thank fuck the public has the attention span of a puppy.

It’s a relief to come home to an empty street a few hours later, but it’s also late at night, so I’m not confident there won’t be people stalking us or taking pictures once they realize we’re back. It’s so good to have Alden home and to sleep in our own bed.

We’re up early the next morning and I’m relieved to see there isn’t anyone parked outside. Alden sits at the kitchen counter, looking through a pile of envelopes when I come downstairs. “Mia dropped off our mail.”

“Are there any threats or anything to worry about?” I ask.

“No, but there are multiple offers for an interview and business cards from ten different journalists.”

“You can toss that shit.” I’ve learned my lesson about interviews.

When we leave for my ultrasound appointment, the street is still empty, and I start to relax a little. Maybe the worst of the madness is really over.

Alden stays by my side when I’m taken to a room by a chipper ultrasound tech. If she recognizes us, she doesn’t mention it. She starts by moving the fetal doppler over my stomach until a whoosh whoosh sound fills the air. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that sound, but it’s the first for Alden.

His eyes widen. “Is that its heartbeat?”

“It is. And a nice healthy one,” the tech replies.

Alden looks down at me and interlaces his fingers with mine. The expression on his face is adorable. I’m watching the reality set in for him.

The tech angles the screen to where we can see it, and Alden squeezes my hand at the sight. She talks to us as she takes measurements, pointing out the head and spine. “Everything looks good. Right where we’d expect you to be. Are you wanting to know the sex?”

I look up at Alden to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind. He nods at me, his eyes stuck to the monitor.

“Yes, we want to know.”

The tech smiles at me. “You’re having a baby girl.”

Alden beams at me and my heart swells in my chest. “You called it.”

He seems lost for words. Both of us are quiet as she wipes the ultrasound jelly off my stomach and prints out a few pictures for us. Alden can’t take his eyes off one of them as we take the elevator down and exit the building.

Bitterly cold wind cuts through my coat, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. He stops just outside and looks up from the picture to me. “It was worth it, El. Every moment of terror and pain. Every day of fighting my own brain. All the times I looked in a mirror and saw a wounded stranger.” He runs a hand absently over the scar on his neck. “Running, hiding, going to jail. It was all worth it to get here.” His finger trails over the picture. “To get to our daughter.” Glassy eyes catch mine. “To us.”

There are times when I think I can’t love this man more, but he always proves me wrong. I kiss his cool lips and lay my hand on his scruffy jaw. “You’re going to be a wonderful father and I can’t wait to see it.”

He takes my hand on our walk back to the car. With the heat blasting, I rub my hands in front of the vent to get feeling back in my fingers. “Do you still want to go to the shop?”

“Yes, my truck is there too.”

“I’ll drop you off then and see you at home later.”

I can feel his gaze on me as I pull out into traffic. “Where are you going?”

“I want to check on my studio. Clear out my voicemail and email, try to decide my next step. I was in the middle of rebranding when the protestors showed up.”

“You’re going alone? It may not be safe. It’s only been a little over a week. People haven’t forgotten us. Two different people sneaked a picture of us while we were in the doctor’s office, did you notice? A woman in the waiting room and a guy while we waited for the elevator.”

“I saw the woman in the waiting room. I’ll be careful. I’m not opening the studio. I’ll lock myself in.”

“I can go with you. They don’t need me at the shop today.”

“No. I’ll be alright. If anything is off, I’ll call you.”

He’s quiet until I pull into the Stokes Brothers parking lot. “I don’t like this.”

I know what he means. After everything, it feels like we’re waiting for the next disaster to strike. Every bit of me wants to stay connected to his side, but that isn’t realistic. “Neither do I, but we both have lives to get back to and we need to get started. It’s only going to get harder the longer we wait.”

He reaches over and runs his hand over my stomach. The small smile on his face shows me he knows he’s being unreasonable. “Have you considered the option of staying at home under armed guard for my peace of mind? I’ll bring you donuts.”

“Tempting, but how about instead we both go to work, I bring home Chinese food for dinner, then you fuck my brains out before bed?”

“Deal.” He leans over to kiss me. “Be careful. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Despite the brave face I put on for Alden, anxiety has me gnawing my fingernails while I circle the block around my studio. Everything looks fine. No protestors. No visible vandalism. I pay attention to my surroundings while I park out back and let myself in. The door gets locked behind me immediately.

The musty smell of the place is depressing. After sitting closed for two months, it feels so lifeless. My intention was to start by sorting through my voicemails and emails but instead, I spend the next couple of hours trying to bring some light and life back to the space. Some cleaning, scented candles, and airing out does wonders.

Finally, I sit down at my desk to listen to my voicemails while firing up my laptop. Most are deleted before they finish playing. There are old hateful messages from weeks ago. They gradually turn to inquiries from journalists and even one woman who was calling to ask when I plan to reopen. She doesn’t leave a callback number, but it’s good to know there may be some clients waiting. The final message is interesting, but my first instinct is that it’s probably a scam.

A man claims to be a producer for a major streaming service. He wants to discuss the possibility of turning our “remarkable story of love and loss” into a limited series. I jot down the information he leaves to research him later.

My email isn’t quite the horrible mess I feared it might be. After an hour of sorting and deleting, I come across one I received yesterday that’s asking if I’m currently taking appointments.

Sitting back, I look around. When should I reopen? Waiting doesn’t really tell me anything. If protestors are going to reemerge or I’m going to get hassled, it isn’t going to happen until I open my doors again. After considering it, I return her email and ask her when she’d like to come in. It’ll be a good start.

My first day back in my studio wasn’t bad at all.

Alden is fresh out of the shower when I get home with our dinner, and we sit across from each other at the kitchen table to eat.

“How are things at the shop?”

“No major problems. We stayed overbooked before so even with the loss of some business, we should bounce back pretty quickly. It felt good to be back. How did your day go?”

“Surprisingly good,” I chuckle. He listens while I fill him in on what I got accomplished. “There’s something you might want to look at. It’s nothing that we have to decide now though.”

I’ve pulled up the info on the man who left a message about a streaming series. Turns out it was legitimate. “It might be the last thing we want to do, since it would draw attention to us again down the line.”

He nods, considering. “Couldn’t hurt to get in touch. From what I understand, they don’t need our permission to use our story in a true crime documentary. It might be better to be involved and at least make sure they get it right.”

“That’s a good point. Also, we might need the money. Even if we get our businesses back where they were, I’m going to have to return your life insurance payment, and I know you must owe Lowell a good amount.”

There was a time when money worries would’ve kept me up all night, but it seems paltry after all we’ve been through. Not life or death.

We discuss it for a few minutes then move on to other subjects. After dinner, Alden takes the trash out and I wash our few dishes. After I shower, I find him waiting for me on the couch to watch TV with him.

This is what we missed. This normal, everyday, domestic life we both wanted when we got engaged. It makes me think about what it’ll be like once we add kids to the picture, and I lean my head against his shoulder with a smile.

For the first time since I got that horrific phone call from Sawyer, I feel at peace, content.

CHAPTER 16

Two months of those glorious, unremarkable days pass and not one of them is taken for granted. Alden and I fall into a comfortable routine of spending our days at work, our evenings together, and most of our weekends with our friends.

Not everything is perfect, of course. It’s taking a lot of hard work to get our lives and businesses back in order. We still get an occasional person taking our picture in public or a shitty post getting passed around online. Alden still doesn’t have the paperwork from the government to show he’s legally alive. A financial attorney is helping him get things straightened out.

It also helps that we signed a contract with the streaming company a few days ago. We got a pretty hefty lump sum up front for that and we’ll get royalties based on the number of streams. Neither of us agreed to appear in it but they were fine with that since they planned a docudrama with actors, not a documentary. The show won’t release for a year and I’m glad for the peaceful interim.

Alden walks up behind me while I’m standing in front of the bedroom mirror. He wraps his arms around me and runs his hands over the belly I was marveling over. Just past five months pregnant, and suddenly, my belly seems to have doubled.

“I swear, I was barely showing yesterday. Now I need some maternity pants.” I lay my head back to grin up at him. “You’re going to love me no matter how much I balloon out, right?”

He frowns and turns me back toward the mirror. “Look at how beautiful you are.” He caresses my belly. “Carrying our baby. You have no idea how sexy that is. I want to jump on you every time I see you.” His lips brush over my ear. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I wanted to, El. I think I was born for it.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?”

“You’re right. Let’s change the subject. Get naked.”

Laughing, I shrug out of his grasp. “I have to go. I have a client in thirty minutes.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just put it in your ass real quick. It won’t take long.”

“Very funny.”

“Refresh my memory,” he says, running his hand under the back of my skirt. “Have we done that before?” His hand kneads my ass.

“You don’t remember, huh?” Doing my best to ignore his hands roaming over the back of my thigh, I wrap a hair tie around my ponytail. “We tried anal, and you absolutely hated it. You swore you never wanted to do it again.”

His mouth is a perfect O for a second until he catches my eye. “You liar,” he laughs, smacking my ass.

Giggles spill out of me while I sit down to put my shoes on. “Yes, we’ve done that a couple of times,” I confess. Both times I was shitfaced drunk but there’s no need to volunteer that information.

“You didn’t like it?”

Shrugging, I find my feet interesting. “I didn’t dislike it.”

“You’re blushing. You’re never bashful about sex. This embarrasses you?”

“It’s different. It feels more…vulnerable that way.” I peek up at his amused expression. “It’s not funny. What if I wanted to bend you over?”

His eyebrows jump up. “You want to fuck me in the ass?”

“No, not like with a strap-on or anything, but I’d like to use my fingers to make you come that way. It’s supposed to turn guys to jelly.” He stares at me, trying to decide if I’m serious. “It’s only fair. If I can take an entire cock, you can handle one little finger.”

“This conversation did not go like I expected.”

Laughing, I get to my feet, drop a kiss on his lips, and give his ass a quick squeeze. “I’ll let you in my ass if you let me in yours. It’s up to you.”

I keep smiling on my way to my studio and randomly throughout the next few hours when I remember the look on his face at my suggestion. I was mostly teasing with him. Not that I haven’t always wanted to try to give a prostate massage. I’ve even watched a few videos that show how, and the way the guys lose their minds is hot. But I don’t expect him to agree to that. The thought of giving him my ass again turns me on, but I’ve never done it sober.

He's already home by the time I get in, and I freeze in place when I walk into the bedroom to see a large bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand.

He leans against the doorjamb, smirking at me. “So, who goes first?”

I’ve been turned on ever since we talked about it earlier. “Give me half an hour to get cleaned up.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. “Really?”

“Are you chickening out already?”

A grin leaps to his lips. “Hell no.” He whips out his phone. “I’m setting a timer for thirty minutes.”

“Get out of here and go make me a virgin margarita. Maybe I can trick my brain into thinking it has alcohol,” I laugh, gathering my clothes to go and shower.

When I emerge from the bathroom wearing only a towel, Alden waits in our bedroom with a strawberry margarita in hand, completely naked. It’s a mental picture I’ll pull up on many solo sessions that’s for sure.

“Your strawberry slushy,” he says, handing it to me.

“We’re pretending it has alcohol.”

A wicked smile flashes across his face. “I have an idea. Let’s give you the spa treatment. As a little warm up.”

“Dare I ask what the spa treatment is?” I giggle, sipping the drink.

He whips off my towel. “You recline naked in the chair and drink your margarita while I lick your pussy.”

“What kind of spas have you been to?”

He throws a towel over our easy chair in the corner and orders me to sit. He’s not going to get any argument from me. His eyes are on mine as he grabs my ankle and pulls my leg to hook it over the arm of the chair. My breath heats up when he does the same with the other leg, leaving me wide open and exposed.

“Your drink,” he says, picking it up from the table beside me and handing it over.

His hands run down my legs, caressing as he kneels in front of me. “You have until I make you come to drink it.”

“Then what?”

“Then your time is up because I’m going to bury my cock in this gorgeous ass.”

My face ignites at his words, and he smirks before licking over my clit. The man is a goddamn genius. If you’ve never had a tongue between your legs while sipping a delicious margarita, I can’t recommend it enough. It is a little difficult to focus and I keep forgetting about the drink.

My breath catches at the feel of his fingertip massaging my asshole. I didn’t even notice him bring the lube, but his finger is slick with it when he works it inside my ass.

Oh god. The glass bangs on the table as I set it down too hard to grab Alden’s hair. His tongue flutters over my clit, driving me crazy. And his finger. Fuck, I’m bombarded with sensation. There’s a burn when he adds another finger, but his mouth distracts me.

There’s no warning or buildup this time. Instead, I’m seized by a sharp, powerful orgasm that pulls a loud cry from deep in my chest. The spasms go on and on. When I open my eyes to see the look Alden’s giving me, I know I’m in for it.

He scoops me up and tosses me on the bed. Before I can move, he pulls me onto my side and sidles up behind me. “Raise your knee up,” he orders, leaving a sucking kiss on my neck.

His lubed fingers are pressed back inside of me, and I gasp. He kisses my neck and shoulders while his fingers work to get my ass ready.

“You almost made me come when you screamed like that. So fucking hot,” he breathes in my ear.

“It’s your fault. You made me come so hard,” I pant.

His fingers pull out and the thick head of his cock take their place. He goes slow, pressing steadily forward until he gets the head inside. Licking kisses rain down on my neck and shoulder while I breathe deep and do my best to get my muscles to relax. Fuck, I forgot how much this hurts.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yeah, just keep it slow.”

It gets better once he gets past a certain point, and my hands fist the blanket as he slides all the way in.

“Fuck Ella, you feel so good.”

Anal is never going to be a preference for me. I don’t hate it, but it doesn’t get me off. The noises he makes and the way he starts to lose control once I can take those faster, harder thrusts makes it worth it.

He rolls me onto my hands and knees without missing a stroke. A minute later, he pulls out and warmth splashes across my back.

I slide down to lie on my stomach and he leans over, caging my body with his while he regains his equilibrium. “You could’ve come inside me,” I point out.

His chuckle is deep, and he plants a kiss under my shoulder blade. “Your back is beautiful. I couldn't resist. Hang on.”

He grabs the towel from the chair and wipes off my back. “Shower with me?” he suggests.

“Sure. Then it’s my turn.”

After showering, we take a little break and I try not to be jealous of the fact that Alden can have a glass of bourbon before we get back to it. So unfair.

“Lie on your back,” I order.

He stretches out on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head on the pillow. His cock is already hard, jutting up between us when I sit between his legs. Fuck, he looks sexy, especially that little grin that’s trying to hide his nervousness.

His thighs twitch when I run my palms over them. With my fingertip, I trace up the long muscle of his left thigh and continue all the way up his cock. He jerks and watches as I rub my thumb over the sensitive spot under the head.

His chest rumbles when I lean over and lick that same spot. “Are you ready to learn how much you can come?” I ask.

“Fuck, El,” he groans, closing his eyes.

If he wants to do this again, I’ll take my time to tease him and torture him first, but I’m afraid he’ll change his mind if I don’t get to it. His body gives a little jerk when I rub one lubed finger over his hole, and he slings his arm over his eyes.

It’s different to be on this side of things. I know exactly how he feels in this moment. That’s alright. He can hide from me for a little bit.

He moans while I suck and lick his cock, my finger rubbing and pressing. He stiffens up when I slip the tip inside but relaxes again when I show his dick more attention. One of the instructional videos I watched said you’ll have no problem locating the prostate because your man will react when you hit it.

Whew, was she right.

My fingertip runs over the smooth, soft lobe and he grabs at the bed with both hands. “Right there,” I murmur, running my finger over it again.

“El!” he pleads, grabbing my left wrist. His chest rises and falls with a pant.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, brushing over it in a slow, even pace.

He squeezes my wrist, “Yes! No. Oh fuuuck.”

“Wrap your legs around me,” I order, and he locks his thighs around my waist while I sit between his legs. Taking my time, I continue working my finger over that spot, using my other hand to stroke his cock. The result is sexy and goddamn fascinating. He squirms and curses, sweat popping out on his skin. I slide my finger out to apply more lube, then press two back inside.

He hisses and stiffens up.

“Relax, don’t tighten up.”

“Your fingers feel huge,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, your cock felt like a tree trunk.”

His laugh dissolves into a moan when I sweep both of my fingertips over his gland. “That’s going to make me come,” he says, the words falling out of his mouth lightning fast. The loud groan he lets out is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. As he comes, I stop touching his cock but keep my fingers where they are, slowing their movement.

His whole body trembles, and he writhes against the bed. His eyes are squeezed shut, and my name comes out in a plea. “Ella, oh fuck. I can’t anymore.”

“Look,” I order, and he opens his eyes to see, yes, he can come some more.

When I finally slide my fingers out, I sit back to look at him while he catches his breath. He looks destroyed, sweaty and shaky. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He covers his face and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, we can definitely do this again.”

Alden walks in the restaurant and the smile on his face grows wider when he sees me. “Sorry it took me so long. The lawyer was late.”

“It’s okay. I ordered for both of us. Did everything go alright?” Alden wasn’t alarmed to get a call that his financial lawyer wanted to meet, but things have been going so well that I keep waiting for something to go wrong.

“That depends. How do you feel about being in love with a zombie?” He beams at my confusion. “Because I just came back from the dead.”

There was a lot of red tape to get through and things to get sorted out. After all, everything that was in Oliver’s name should’ve been in Alden’s, from the hospital bills to his bank accounts. It was a stressful mess.

“Really? Everything is official?”

“Yep. My social security number is active again, my old bank accounts have been pulled out of probate, and there’s no death certificate in my name anymore.”

“That’s fantastic. What a relief.” The waitress drops off our food, and he instantly steals a fry off my plate. “You have your own fries!”

“Yours taste better.” It’s so good to see him all upbeat and happy. He hasn’t gained as much memory back over the last couple of months as he hoped to, but his personality has come crashing through.

“Now you owe me a pickle.”

He plucks two slices of pickle off of his burger and slides them onto my plate. “How was your day?”

“Good. Tori and I went shopping for maternity clothes. She had another ultrasound this morning since they couldn’t tell the sex of the baby last time.” I lean forward with excitement. “Want to guess?”

“Boy?”

He cracks up at the sight of the two fingers I hold up. “Two boys.”

“After her teasing us that we’d have twins! The irony.”

“I know! I don’t know how they missed it on the first scan. She’s happy about it. Losing her mind a little, but happy.”

Once we finish eating, Alden suggests we take a walk since we’re near the river. It’s a beautiful day, chilly, but sunny. As we walk along the riverfront, I wonder if he realizes what day today is. What day it should’ve been.

“It’s been a year,” I say.

Alden looks over at me and interlocks our fingers. “I know. A year since the worst day of our lives, and what should’ve been our wedding anniversary.”

I’ve given it a lot of thought over the past week. It’s unbelievable that everything we’ve been through has happened in only a year. A lifetime of grief, fear, and pain stuffed into twelve months. It’d be so easy to feel sorry for ourselves. To mark this as a day of tragedy. But what good is screaming into the void about the unfairness of it all? What matters is that we made it. “It’s the anniversary of the day you lived. That’s how I’m going to look at it.”

His smile is soft. “I like that idea.” He tugs my hand, leading me over to a bench. I cuddle into his side, borrowing his warmth as the chilly wind sweeps over us from the water. “Now that the government recognizes my existence again, I want to talk to you about something.”

Maybe it’s because I’m always waiting for that second shoe to drop, but dread trickles into my stomach. Lately, I’ve had more and more trouble with anxiety. It’s like it waited until after everything was over to really hit me. My expression must give it away.

“Relax.” He wraps his arm around me. “Nothing’s wrong.” His fingers pinch my chin and turn my head until we’re eye to eye. “Do you still want to marry me, El?”

In my head, I see him dressed in a dark suit and tie, kneeling in my dimly lit bedroom to ask me that question a lifetime ago. I was a different person then. We both were. The tragedy has twisted and molded us into these new versions of ourselves that we’re still discovering, but our love and need for each other has never wavered. There’s nothing we can’t get through.

“There’s nothing in this world I want more.”

“Be sure, sweetheart. There’s still a lot that I don’t remember, and the memories coming back are few and far between now. This might be as far as I get. I may always be a puzzle with missing pieces.”

Concern creases his face, but all I see is our future reflected in his eyes. “There’s nothing missing when I look at you. I see the whole, beautiful picture. I see you. And I want to be your wife.”

Soft lips brush over mine before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gorgeous engagement ring. Taking my hand, he slides it onto my finger. “I know we already had rings, but it’s a new beginning for us. I thought we should start fresh.”

“I love it.”

We sit cuddled together, watching the river flow past. An occasional person passes, chatting on their phone or jogging with earbuds tucked in their ears. Soaking in the early spring sunshine. A couple make their way past with their toddler in a stroller. He’s bundled in a jacket, sleeping while they talk and laugh. That will be us soon and I can’t wait for all those sweet family moments to come.

The peace is broken by an excited cry. “Oh my god! It is him!” Two girls rush up to us, nearly tripping over each other. They’re young, maybe around fourteen years old.

“You’re Alden Stokes!”

“I know,” he chuckles, nodding at them.

Their mother stands back a bit, holding a baby on her hip while the girl continues, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to tell you we’re so happy for you. We followed your story on social media. It was the most romantic thing ever.”

“You didn’t know who you were, but you remembered you loved her,” the second girl gushes. “It’s like a fairytale! We shared all the positive posts and reported the nasty ones.” She produces a sheet of paper from her bag and tears it in half. “Can you please sign these for us? I’m Lora and she’s Kelly.”

Alden glances over at me while I cover my smile with my palm. He reluctantly takes her pen and scribbles on both sheets. “Thanks for the support, girls.”

“Come on now,” their mother calls, giving us an apologetic smile.

They rush back to her, giggling and acting like they just met a rockstar. “Oh my god, he’s so cute!”

They walk away down the path and the baby looks back at us over the mother’s shoulder. Alden waves at him and we both grin when a chubby little hand waves back.

“So, how many kids do we want? Three? Four?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Are you sure you’ll have time for parenting while you’re signing autographs for your adoring fans?”

He shakes his head at my teasing smile. “A fairytale,” he scoffs.

“We did get our happy ending.”

He stands up and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s go home. I’ve got a happy ending for you.”

CHAPTER 17

Alden looks over at me from my passenger seat as I make the left turn into the cemetery. It’s a place he avoided, even when he thought he was Oliver. We’re both struggling in small ways to move on, and an idea struck me of something that may help give both of us some closure.

“What are we doing here, El?”

“I talked to the cemetery’s service director and the records have been updated to show that Oliver is the one buried in the plot. He told me that they could remove the headstone and have it disposed of or we could come and get it.”

He looks at me, alarmed as I park. “You want to keep my headstone?”

“No.” I reach down and hit the button to pop my trunk. “Come with me.”

It’s clear that he’s uncomfortable here, and before I pull the trunk open, I squeeze his hand. “If you want to leave, we can, okay? I’ll call and have the director take care of it. But I thought this might be therapeutic.” I open the trunk and nod to the large sledgehammer lying beside a bouquet of flowers. “It helped us both at the rage room.”

Comprehension dawns on his face, and he reaches in to pick up the heavy hammer. After holding it for a moment, he glances over at me. “And the flowers?”

“For your mom. I thought you might want to visit her while we’re here.” His expression is stoic while he considers it. Finally, he nods, and I pick up the flowers. “You’ll have to do all the smashing.” My hand runs over my baby bump. It’s more than a bump now, and she’s become much more active, kicking me day and night. We were reassured this week at my six month checkup that we’re both healthy. Swinging a heavy sledgehammer is definitely not allowed.

It's a bright, warm day, a little taste of summer to come. I’ve never felt so torn about a place. So much of my time was spent here, especially last summer. It gave me comfort to sit and talk to Alden at the time. It was peaceful. It was also horrible and thinking back to those days makes me want to cry. Now he’s here beside me, walking across the grass to wipe away the last trace of that awful time.

A shift happens in my stomach, sending a short wave of nausea through me when his headstone comes into view. Alden approaches it slowly, lays the hammer aside, and squats down in front of the shiny marble. He does the same thing I’ve done many times and traces his finger over his name.

It must be surreal to see your own grave. It’s hard to imagine what he must be feeling right now. He puts his hand on mine and looks up at me when I squeeze his shoulder. His grin is forced. “The motorcycle was a nice touch.”

“It isn’t your grave.” I’m not sure whether I say it for him or for me.

His fingers run over the scar on his neck. “It was meant for me. This is where Oliver wanted me.”

His words break my heart. We haven’t talked much about that. There’s still a part of me that can’t believe it. That can’t accept it. Oliver had his problems, but he was kind and he loved Alden. The theories that were passed around online are crazy. That he wanted him dead to be with me, or to inherit Stokes Brothers. He was an equal partner. They were successful together. It doesn’t make sense.

“Do you believe that?”

He stands up with a sigh. “I didn’t, not completely. I had the financial lawyer and another forensic accountant look into the spare funds and crypto accounts to see if there was any other possibility.”

“They didn’t find anything?”

“Nothing new, but the first time Lowell showed me, I didn’t notice the username for the crypto account.” He looks over at me. “Spare Parts.”

Tears spill over and I press my lips together to hold back a cry. “You used to joke that you kept him around for spare parts. In high school. They called him spare for four years.” Tori thought it meant something when the savings account was named spare funds. She was right.

“I know. I remember that.”

His eyes are glassy as he picks up the hammer and waves his hand for me to move back. Once I’m far enough away to avoid any flying debris, he swings the hammer. I watch the arc of it through the air and feel a semblance of satisfaction when it lands on Alden’s first name, obliterating it.

He raises it again and strikes his last name, splitting the stone in half. Grunts of effort precede some of his swings, and I know he’s putting everything he has into them. The marble chips, splinters, and crumbles. It goes on and on, until there’s not much left but chunks and dust. Nothing legible.

It’s not his grave. Not anymore.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as I approach him. The hammer is tossed aside, and he stares at what’s left of the headstone. I run my hand down the back of his arm and he cups my face for a second, brushing his thumb over my jaw. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

“Take as long as you need.”

The flowers are plucked from my hand, and as I walk away, I see him lay them by his mother’s headstone. He sits between the graves, his back to me.

After about fifteen minutes, he reaches over, takes a flower from his mother’s bouquet, and lays it on Oliver’s grave. I’m not sure what he says or if he talks at all. What do you say to a mom you barely remember and a brother who wanted you dead?

The hammer rests on his shoulder when he walks back to where I wait, leaning against the side of my car. He places it back in the trunk, then wraps his arms around me. I hug him tight, and he buries his face in my neck. We stand there like that for a long moment. Holding on and letting go.

In the car on our drive back home, he turns to me. “Do you know where I had the sign made for Stokes Brothers?”

“No, but Milo would know, why?”

“I need a new one.”

“You’re going to change the name of your shop?”

“I am. I know it’s not as simple as changing the sign but it’s a start.”

“Do you have a new name in mind?”

“I’m keeping Stokes. I’ll change it to Stokes Custom Cycles and Repair.” His smile is half-hearted. “I always regretted not adding ‘and repair’ before but it seemed too long.”

“I think it’s perfect.”

Alden is quiet when we get home and he seems a little disconnected the next morning, but as the days pass, his mood gets better.

We’re both excited for the baby and working on the nursery is a great distraction. We’ve spent all weekend painting and now that it’s dry, Alden works on building the crib while I clean out the closet. I didn’t want to have a baby shower, but Tori and I have made many trips to shop for baby clothes and items.

Alden curses, tightening a bolt. “Whoever wrote these instructions needs to be mauled by angry lions. I need a bigger hex key,” he says, and heads down to the garage.

I’ve put off cleaning out this closet. It holds the stuff from my tragic almost wedding. Alden has brought up the new wedding a couple of times, trying to set a date, but I’ve brushed it off by saying that I need some time to plan with Mom first.

It’s not the truth.

I’m not getting cold feet or changing my mind. There’s nothing I want more than to be Alden’s wife but thinking about a wedding only brings me back to that horrific day.

My chest aches, and I pull in a deep breath when I spot my dress hanging at the end of the closet. Mom put it away in here, along with all the other stuff. With a hard swallow, I pick it up off the hook and step back into the room. It’s covered in a plastic slip, and my hands tremble as I remove the covering.

When I chose this dress, I was so in love with it. It was beautiful and perfect. Now looking at it makes me feel sick and dizzy.

A scent washes over me when I hold it up in front of me, and it’s more than I can bear. I throw the dress across the room and quickly sit on the floor before my weak legs can drop me there.

Fear grips me from nowhere and I squeeze my eyes shut.

It stinks in here. Like the hospital.

That’s impossible. The dress has been dry cleaned. It can’t have carried the scent of the hospital with it. The lights feel too bright. My lungs ache from trying to breathe the dry, antiseptic air and my ears are filled with the distant beep of machinery. The sight of myself in the mirror on the closet door, with wide eyes and messy hair is too familiar. It’s the same woman who stood in that hospital bathroom in her wedding dress, the same woman who kissed his still, blue lips.

“But he’s not dead,” I gasp, needing to hear the words aloud. “He’s not dead.”

I slam my hands over my eyes, my body quaking.

Strong arms wrap around me and lift me off the floor. “El, baby, what is it?”

When all I manage to do is shake my head, he carries me down to our bedroom. He sits in the easy chair with me on his lap. His soothing voice is in my ear while I slowly calm down. “I’ve got you. You’re alright.” His hand stroking the back of my head is comforting.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s my wedding dress. I can’t stand to look at it. All I see is myself in that bathroom mirror after they told me you were dead.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, holding me tighter. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not. I thought I could get past it or just get a different dress, but anytime I even think about putting on a wedding dress or planning the wedding…” I shake my head and bury my face in his chest. “I’d give anything to go back and not let you get in that car.”

His hand rubs up and down my back and he murmurs, “That’s why you haven’t wanted to set a date.”

“I want to be your wife. More than anything else in the world, Den. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can get through a wedding. I’m so sorry.”

He stands up, turns around and places me back on the chair. My heart falls when he walks away, but I can’t blame him. After all we went through, now I’m telling him I can’t marry him?

My face is buried in my hands when he returns, and he pulls them away. “Look at me, Ella.”

His dark eyes, full of emotion, stay locked on mine while he slips a wedding ring onto my finger. He holds up his hand and slides his own on as well. “You’re my wife now. Do you understand? I don’t need a legal declaration telling me you’re mine forever any more than I needed one to tell me I was alive. When you’re ready, we’ll have whatever ceremony we want eventually or none at all. We can elope to Vegas or go down to the courthouse to sign a sheet of paper. Fuck the wedding dress and decorations and all that. You can wear whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

Tears stream down my face. “I can never lose you again, Den. I don’t care about a wedding. Just you. All I need is forever.”

“I beat death to return to you. Nothing gods or men throw at us could keep me from coming back to you. I’m not going anywhere.” He touches his ring to mine. “Not without my wife.”

Even after two months of wearing it, it feels surreal to look down and see a wedding ring on my finger. It’s like I have to keep reminding myself that yes, Alden is my husband now. The courthouse option was as easy as he predicted. Just yesterday, I got my driver’s license with my updated name. Every now and then I take it out and stare at it. It’s right there in print. Ella Stokes. My name change came through just in time. With our baby due in a month, I wanted our last names to match.

Despite the growing discomfort of late pregnancy, these last months have been the best of my life. I’ve lightened my schedule significantly at work and in two weeks, I’ll be closing my studio temporarily for a much happier reason than the last time.

Today, I’m restless. My appointments are finished, and I don’t want to go home. Alden has been preparing to clean out Oliver’s old apartment above the shop. He’s not thrilled that I want to help, but since I’ve promised not to overdo it or lift anything heavy, he agreed we’d work on it together this afternoon. He can handle the heavy stuff while I sort things and decide what can get tossed or donated.

Seeing Alden’s motorcycle parked in front of the shop puts a smile on my face. He’s only recently gone back to riding it. It’s always been such a part of who he is and yet another piece of himself that he got back.

Milo, Hudson, and Joanna are standing around the front counter when I get inside the shop. Hudson calls out as soon as I enter. “Good lord, girl, you got big fast! That baby is going to crawl out.”

It’s been a while since I’ve been here during business hours and my belly has really grown recently. Before I can say anything, Joanna steps up beside him and backhands him in the chest. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t ever say that to a woman!”

“What? She’s pregnant not fat! I didn’t say she was fat!” His eyes dart around, and he nods toward Milo. “Milo has a girlfriend. She’s moving in with him.”

A snort of laughter escapes me at his effort to throw Milo under the bus to take the focus off himself. Milo’s deadpan expression when he turns to look at him just makes it funnier. Hudson sneaks a sideways glance at him then takes off toward the back office.

“You look great,” Joanna assures me.

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you. Did you get a new tattoo?”

She holds her arm up where I can see the detailed owl with outspread wings. “It’s just healed.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Alden comes up behind me, sliding his arm around my neck. He kisses my cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming this early. It’ll be a couple of hours before I can help.”

“My two o’clock rescheduled. I figured I’d go ahead and start sorting.” Milo and Joanna head into the garage. Once Milo is out of earshot, I turn around to regard Alden. “Milo has a live-in girlfriend?”

He grins, nodding. “Kathy. Seems to be pretty serious. She’s visited him here a couple of times too.”

“I can’t believe you’ve held out that information. Wives are supposed to be privy to every bit of gossip. What’s she like?”

“Nice, about his age I’d guess, mid-forties. Tall with red hair. Real pretty.”

“Good for him. We should invite them over for dinner.”

“Sure.”

“Ok, I’m going upstairs. See you in a little while.”

He reaches out to rub my belly. “Don’t pick up anything heavy.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to clean out the drawers and cabinets. Small stuff.”

After poking my head into the office to say hi to Smith, I go up to Oliver’s old apartment. Alden has already assembled a bunch of cardboard boxes that wait in each room. It occurs to me the last time I was here doing something similar, it was after the cops had torn everything out in their search. It simultaneously seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

A smile grows on my face as a realization I’ve had a lot lately strikes me again.

I’m happy.

Alden and I are both happy and safe. We’ve managed to come out on the other side, put our lives and businesses back together. We’re starting the family we always wanted. Both of us have an occasional bad day with a panic attack or memories that drag us down, but overall, we’re good. We’re almost us again. How quickly things can change.

I start sorting in the bathroom, working my way through the medicine cabinet, closet, and the items under the sink. Most of it gets tossed in the trash. My phone rings with a video call request from Tori and I answer, propping it on the kitchen counter while I start removing and boxing up dishes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, then quickly adds, “Never mind, whatever it is, stop because I have some news that I’ve been dying to tell you.”

“It’s triplets, not twins?” I tease.

“Fuck no, bite your tongue.” Her smile reaches from ear to ear. “We’re going to be neighbors again.”

“What? Are you moving into your parents’ house?”

“No, you know Alden’s mother’s old house was on the market again? I didn’t want to tell you until we knew for sure, but we closed on the sale today. We bought it!”

The guys downstairs probably hear me squeal. “Oh my god! You’re moving in across the street.”

“Yes! I’m so excited.”

“That’s the best news. When do you get to move in?”

“Whenever we want. We’re going to do some work on it first, but I’d like to get moved before the babies come.” She turns around and talks to someone, then looks back at her phone. “I have to go, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. I’ll call you later.”

She hangs up and nothing can wipe the smile off my face for the next couple of hours while I sort and box Oliver’s things. Alden calls up the stairs to ask if I want pizza for dinner as if that answer would ever be no. He leaves to go pick it up while I start on Oliver’s bedroom.

I’m relieved not to find any sex toys or lube tucked under his bed. It’s dusty though, and I retreat, sneezing. His dresser is mostly full of clothes, but his desk drawers contain a bunch of paperwork. At one time, this would’ve been neat but after the cops tore it out, I shoved most of it back in haphazardly. Keeping things organized wasn’t a priority.

I sort through it, tossing old receipts and bills. A green sheet of paper catches my eye because half of the writing is in Spanish. Oliver couldn’t speak Spanish. None of us do. When I scoop it up for a closer look, I realize it’s directions for how to treat an animal bite written in Spanish and English.

That isn’t what sends my heart into my feet. Another half page is stapled to the back of it. It’s a receipt from a clinic in Cahuita, Costa Rica. Oliver’s name and date of birth are printed on the patient line. On the section for treatments administered, three things are listed.

Animal bite on right foot cleaned and bandaged.

Tetanus vaccination administered.

Rabies vaccination administered.

Rabies vaccination.

The words seem to grow larger the longer I stare at them.

Oliver was vaccinated for rabies when he was in Costa Rica with his father. He never mentioned being bitten by anything. Not that I can remember, anyway. He didn’t talk much about the trip when he returned since he didn’t discuss their father around Alden.

The cops overlooked this receipt when they searched, but why wouldn’t they? They were looking for bank statements, financial documents, not medical paperwork.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the receipt. In my mind, I can see it all falling apart.

This sheet of paper could destroy everything. If the wrong people saw it, Alden could end up charged again with no way to prove his identity. They both had the antibodies. There was no record of Oliver’s at the state health department because it was administered in another country. Alden’s titer test proved nothing.

If I gave this to Alden, would it make him doubt his identity again? I can’t imagine it would. Even without gaining new memories back, he’s more himself every day.

What should I do?

The choice turns out to be surprisingly easy.

This means nothing. It’s a coincidence. They both had antibodies. So what? I never needed it proved to me. He did that long before the test was an option. That was for court, for people like Tori and Smith, not for us.

“El!” Alden calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Do you want to come down and eat with the guys? Or I can bring ours up.”

“No, don’t come up!” I exclaim. “I’ll be down in a second.” My voice sounds too high and probably suspicious. Toning it down, I add, “Grab me a Sprite from the machine.”

“Okay.”

Once I hear the door close, I scrabble through a small box where I’ve tossed odds and ends until I find a lighter. It’s dusty, but it ignites with one flick. I take the papers into the bathroom and light one end over the sink.

Relief fills me while I watch the words disappear in a swirl of silver-blue smoke. No one will ever know. Nothing will ruin what we’ve fought so hard to get back. The ashes wash down the drain, taking the past with them.

None of it matters now. All that matters is my husband waiting for me downstairs, and the future we have together.

EPILOGUE

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Emily Stokes! What have I told you about charging down those stairs like a herd of buffalo?” I scold, as my daughter rounds the corner of the living room and bounces into the kitchen.

“You said herd of wildebeest last time. I like that better.”

“You should pick something with more feet! Like a centipede! That’d sound real cool running down the stairs,” A.J. pipes up, following her in.

Her expression says he’s probably been tailing her for quite a while. Emily is patient, but there’s only so much of a pestering little brother she can take. “Centipedes are tiny. You wouldn’t hear anything.”

“Not if they were giant, monster centipedes.” He scrambles his fingers across the table, and she rolls her eyes at him.

With a sigh, she pushes her hair back off her shoulder. That little movement gives me a peek of the woman she’s about to become. At twelve going on thirteen years old, she’s already a confident, beautiful young lady. “Why don’t you go tell your dad he wants you?”

He blinks at her suggestion, then darts away, bellowing, “Dad! Emmie said you want me!”

Alden’s chuckle travels through the open kitchen window, and we hear him call A.J. over.

“I can’t believe that worked,” she says. “Do you need me to help with anything before I go to Rosa’s?”

Rosa Martin moved in two doors down when she and Emily were in kindergarten, and they’ve been best friends since.

“You and Rosa could grab the chairs that Tori is loaning us from across the street.”

“Okay, sure.” She tucks her phone in her back pocket and heads out the front door.

Alden and I have carried on the tradition of the yearly bonfire party started by our parents when we were kids and tonight is the night. We’ve both been busy all day getting everything set up and ready. This one is special because we’re also celebrating Alden’s birthday.

Next year, I’ll be forty. It doesn’t seem real sometimes, especially when I think back. I was only a few months older than Emily when Alden first kissed me. It’s as clear in my mind as the kiss he gave me this morning. How can it live over twenty-five years in the past?

“Grandpa Milo!” A.J. shouts. “Mom! Grandpa Milo is here!”

Alden walks in the back door. “I lost him. Nobody comes before Grandpa.”

At forty, Alden is as sexy as ever. I can remember wondering when I was a kid if what attracts you to someone ages along with you. For me it certainly did, at least when it comes to Alden’s gray temples and salt and pepper scruff. Working out has remained a habit for him and his body is fit and muscular.

He grins when I slide my arms around his waist and plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Aw, tossed aside for Grandpa. I still love you.”

Milo was a big support for Alden and became much more of a father figure to him once we had our kids. When Emily was five, right after A.J. was born, she hopped in Milo’s lap and asked if she could call him grandpa. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen tears in the man’s eyes, though he’d deny it to hell and back. He became Grandpa Milo, and his wife became Grandma Kathy.

Alden kisses me back then bites at my earlobe. “I told Emily she could stay at Rosa’s tonight, and A.J. is sleeping over at Kyle’s.”

“Really? Got something in mind? Tea and Scrabble?”

He squeezes my ass. “Birthday sex is a tradition, El. We can’t break a tradition.”

“Hmm, I thought you might be too old for such strenuous exercise now.” A second later, I’m pinned against the kitchen wall, his hips flexing into mine. “Den! Someone could walk in!”

He runs his lips up my neck. His knee applies pressure between my legs, and he smirks when my breathing instantly heats up. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you and you’re turned on.”

“You always turn me on.” My hands wander down over his ass.

“You need a reminder that I’m still in my prime. Tonight, we’ll see how strenuous things get when I bend you over that table. And the couch. Then the banister. And whatever else gets in our way before I get you to the bed.”

My mouth goes dry at the promise that I know he’ll keep. I’m ready to send everyone home now. “Alright, but I had plans of my own.”

His eyebrows rise and he bites back a smile. “Oh? Like what?”

I trail my hand down and brush lightly over his cock, then nod toward the kitchen chair. “Like making you sit in that chair, kneeling between your feet and sucking you senseless.”

I’m not the only one worked up now. He steps back a little. “Okay. We’ll do that first.”

Giggles spill out of me. Thirteen years since I married this man, and he still makes me laugh every day.

A.J. bursts through the back door. “Dad! Grandpa Milo says you have the charcoal piled all wrong.”

Alden rolls his eyes. “You tell Grandpa Milo he needs new glasses for his old ass eyes.”

“Den!” I laugh, and A.J. races back outside. No doubt to proudly follow that order. “You’re awful. Let’s go out. It’s late enough to light the bonfire.”

A.J. sits beside Milo, his chair pulled up close, swinging his legs.

“How’s Kathy?” I ask, kneeling to light the bonfire while Alden goes to the grill.

“She’s good. She’s visiting her sister this week in Illinois or she would’ve come.”

Tori arrives and pops open the cooler, grabbing a beer. “I put the baked mac and cheese on your stove. Paul will be here in a bit.”

“Did you use breadcrumbs?” Alden asks from his spot at the grill.

“Yes, I put breadcrumbs on top. Against my better judgment and only because it’s your birthday and you’re old as fuck,” she calls back.

“I’m one year older than you!”

“You’re in a whole different decade than us, grandaddy.”

Both of us crack up and Alden grins, shaking his head.

It’s quiet for a moment before A.J. looks at Milo and tells him in a dead serious voice. “I saw tits on TV.”

To Milo’s credit, he manages not to laugh. “Did you now?”

“Alden Junior! They’re breasts. Women have breasts,” I correct.

His head tilts as he thinks about it, and damn if his father doesn’t shine in his face in moments like these. “But that’s what dad called them. He told me to turn my head because there were tits and I’m not supposed to watch rated R shows.”

Milo takes a drink of his beer. “If you turned your head, how did you see them?”

An impish grin creeps across his face as he shrugs. “In the mirror behind the couch.”

“A.J.” I say, shaking my head.

He looks toward Milo for support. “Dad told me to turn my head. He didn’t say I had to close my eyes.”

Milo points his beer at me. “He’s got you there.”

Kyle Franklin, A.J.’s friend from down the street, runs up and saves us from any further tit talk when A.J. takes off with him.

Paul joins us, grabbing a beer and standing beside Tori. “The boys are over at Rosa’s with Emily.”

“I’m sure they’ll end up over here,” Tori says. “Finn is lucky he isn’t grounded. I’ve been called to the school twice this month for his fighting.”

“They’re almost teenagers. It’s the hormones,” Paul says. “We should try to get him into some kind of physical sport. Let him get his aggression out. I was the same way.”

Eli and Finn Porter are as night and day as Oliver and Alden were. Maybe that’s the way it usually goes with twins, even when they aren’t identical.

“How did your sibling shoot go today?” Tori asks, while Paul wanders over to hang out with Alden.

“It was a challenge, but wait until you see the shots,” I gush, pulling out my phone to show her the pictures of three adorable little girls.

Getting my studio back to where it was took a lot of patience and work but it’s been worth it. It doesn’t bring in the money that Stokes Custom Cycles does, but I love my work and my business is successful. The infusion of cash from the streaming deal paid off our house and funded a college account for the kids. With no house payment and thriving businesses, we live very comfortably. It was pointed out we could easily afford to move to one of the higher income neighborhoods. The ones with access to community pools or parks. But this is where we belong. Where our kids belong.

It's the dream we had when we bought my childhood home from my parents, and it’s turned out better than we ever hoped. Emily, Rosa, and Tori’s boys are inseparable, the same way we all were. Paul and Alden rebuilt the treehouse and there are plenty of other neighborhood kids that get to enjoy it.

More of the neighbors show up and the party is in full swing a couple of hours later. The younger kids run around, chasing each other, but I haven’t seen Emily or the twins.

“They’d better not be in the woods,” I remark, sitting next to Alden beside the fire.

Tori shakes her head. “They know they aren’t allowed at night.”

Alden snorts and looks at her. “Like we weren’t allowed?”

Tori curses and everyone laughs.

A.J. races up to us. “Eli and Finn are fighting!”

Paul gets up, swearing under his breath. “Where are they?”

“In the front yard!” A.J. tries to follow as Paul heads to break up his boys, but I grab his wrist. “Oh no you don’t. What happened? Why were they fighting?”

“Eli hit Finn in the eye because he kissed Emily.”

“Oh boy,” Milo mutters, glancing at Alden.

Alden’s head jerks up. “What?”

A.J. is thrilled with his sudden status as center of attention and nods, smiling. “I swear! I saw it! Finn kissed Emily on the mouth and then Eli shoved him and pow!” He swings his fist through the air.

Alden stands up and I grab his arm. “Nope. Let Paul break it up.”

“She’s twelve.” His shock is adorable.

“She’s a few months younger than I was the first time you climbed in my window.”

He groans and flops into his chair. “I’m nailing her window shut.”

Laughter rings out from everyone, and he looks over at me with a smirk. “I have a sudden urge to call and apologize to your father.”

Paul returns to report that he sent Eli home, and that Finn, Emily, and Rosa are sitting on our front porch.

“You should go hang out with them,” Alden tells A.J. who is only happy to oblige.

I shake my head at him, biting back a grin. “Den, they’re about to be teenagers. It’s going to be a long ride. Better get ready.”

I understand how he feels. It’s hard to watch your children make that leap when you remember how it felt. They have so much ahead of them. So many strong emotions to battle, both good and bad. It’s a strange feeling to be happy for them, for all the adventure and life coming their way, all the things they’ll experience for the first time. While also being terrified because life is also hard and bitter and not everyone gets their happy ending like we got ours.

Not that our lives have been perfect. Alden and I have had our struggles like most couples. We had a lot of trauma to work through that we didn’t always handle in the right way, but we never wavered in our love and devotion to each other. There was never judgement.

I’ve learned that everyone is damaged. Everyone is struggling. Most of us just distract ourselves from it. You have to love people where they are, flaws and all. That’s never been an issue for us. Loving each other came as naturally as breathing.

A lot of memories never came back to Alden. So many special moments that we shared belong only to me now. But we’re creating new memories together. A lifetime of them.

I’m reminded of that every time I walk in our bedroom where the broken trellis hangs on the wall. It holds a picture of Alden kissing me the day Emily was born. Two shiny coins, pressed flat by a train over twenty years ago, adorn either side.

Love and luck.

The End

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FOR THE ALMOST DUET

I wanted to write this story for well over a year before I began working on it. So I want to start by saying thank you to my best frenemy S.K. Rose for dealing with a year and a half of late night messages and discussions while I changed my mind a hundred times.

To my alpha and beta readers, Nicole Everett, Serena McDonald, Jami Kehr, Aimee Degagne, Chantal Baxendale, and Kelly Tucker. You all really did what you do best and tore the story apart so I had to put it back together where it actually made sense. Thanks so much for all the feedback.

Serena McDonald, I also want to say thanks for all the yelling messages that made me laugh my ass off as you read. It is indeed, the first time I’ve been called a cocksucker by a beta reader.

The cover pictures were done by Melissa Gill of Melissa Gill designs and when I saw them, I had to have them for this duet. The models are exactly how I pictured the main characters. Thank you!

To my PA (Five years now, Mel!) thanks so much for all you do. I hope BTS comes off of hiatus soon.

The formatting was done by Abigail Davies, who is always amazing. I can’t recommend her enough. Thank you for making my mess of two different fonts and horrible spacing look professional.

To my group, Shady Ladies, thanks for being so patient and not losing interest when it took me a while to get these ready. I really wanted to release them close together because I know how you feel about cliffhangers. I hope the wait was worth it! Love you all.

Finally, thank you to Wordsmith Publicity and everyone else who helps me get my books out there. Whether you’re an author, blogger, influencer, page owner, or reader, thank you for sharing and supporting me.

WHERE TO FIND S.M. SHADE

I love to connect with readers! Please find me at the following links:

Website: www.authorsmshade.com

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/S.M.-Shade/e/B00HZZP9MM

Facebook page: https://facebook.com/smshadebooks

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorsmshade/

Sign up for my newsletter: https://www.authorsmshade.com/newsletter

I also have a private book group where no one outside of the group can see what you post or comment on. It’s adults only and is a friendly place to discuss your favorite books and authors. Drama free. I also host an occasional giveaway, and group members get an early peek at covers, teasers, and exclusive excerpts.

You can join Shady Ladies here. https://www.facebook.com/groups/shadyladiesplace

MORE BY S.M. SHADE

Tragic Duet (Rockstar. Enemies to Lovers. Single Dad. Alpha Male.)

Rock Star, Interrupted

http://mybook.to/RSI

I found my stillness, my space between breaths, when I was a kid. The answer is simple. If it hurts, I pour music on it.

After years of hard work, it's finally happening. Tragic has a number one album and we've gone from being discussed as one hit wonders to hearing words like meteoric mentioned alongside our name.

With two tours planned and another album on its way, we have a lot to look forward to. Playing in a different city every night, the shimmer and roar of the crowd, after parties and endless women.

My lifelong dream is in the palm of my hand until one phone call leaves everything hanging in the balance.

Rock Star, Unbroken

http://mybook.to/RSU

I knew better and I let it happen anyway.

I was drawn in by her kindness and the way she sees into people. The way she looks through their motivations, their fears, into the heart of them where the good waits. One glance and she’s stripped away the layers we wrap ourselves in to keep from being unique.

She saw into me.

Then used it to her advantage.

Now, my son is in danger and if she’s behind it, there won’t be a hole deep enough for her to hide in.

I broke my own rules for Naomi.

My son will not pay the price.

Rock Star, Confined (Standalone novel, spinoff of Tragic Duet. Rockstar. Forced Proximity. Sweet Hero.)

Get it Here: http://mybook.to/RSC

Description:

He’s a musician on his way to the top. She’s a woman scraping herself from rock bottom. An unbelievable year brings a love that changes everything.

Opening for Tragic, one of the most famous bands in the world, catapulted me from mediocre anonymity into the limelight. The leap from struggling musician to successful rock star happened quickly.

Just as suddenly as my career began, it slammed to a halt, stopped by a word uttered worldwide.

Pandemic.

With my tour postponed, it looked like my year wasn’t going to be a promising one, until I ended up quarantined with Geneva Rowe. Sexy, funny, and a frustrating mystery, Geneva made the days fly by.

Now if only I could convince this stubborn woman we could have more than a temporary isolation fling.

The Dark of You (Standalone Dark Romance. Stalker, Alpha Male)

Get it Here: http://mybook.to/TDOY

Description:

He stalked me.

He broke my peace, and I embraced the noise.

He tore apart all I believed about myself, and I reveled in the chaos.

He brought me back to life.

His promise remains with me, even now.

Wherever you are, I am.

In Safe Hands Series (Alpha Male, Protective)

Landon

Get it here: http://mybook.to/landon

Zoe

I’m not interested. I’m not interested in his blue-green ocean colored eyes, his lean muscular body, or that crooked smile that can be so infuriating. I have more important things to worry about, like how to keep myself in college and my sixteen year old brother fed and sheltered. We all know life is hard, some of us just learn that lesson younger than others, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. I intend to succeed and make sure my brother has the opportunities he deserves, and no privileged jerk is going to distract me.

Landon

I don’t date. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from celibate, but my condition makes carrying on any kind of normal relationship impossible. My life revolves around In Safe Hands or ISH, the underground hacker group I work with to track down and take care of predators and sex offenders who beat the system. I’m satisfied with my life until the day I meet the smart mouthed, compassionate, determined woman who opens my eyes to possibilities I never thought existed.

Dare

Get it here: http://mybook.to/Dare

Ayda

I hear him.

His deep voice and rumbling laugh. The bang of the headboard slamming the wall and fake screams from yet another woman. Derek is a pile of muscle and ink, a bad boy fantasy only a few layers of wood and plaster away. It’s all I expect or want him to be.

Until that irresistible voice begins talking to me.

Dare

I hear her.

The clicking of her fingers on a keyboard, her music or TV playing in the background. Her musical laugh and soft cries of pleasure, accompanied by a low, steady buzz. Ayda is a good girl who keeps to herself, and I have no business pursuing her, but I’m not a man known for doing the right thing.

I’m an ex-con. I’m a criminal.

And I want her.

Justus

Get it here: http://mybook.to/Justus

Justus

I’m not conceited.

Really, I’m not. It just so happens I have a body a Greek God would be jealous of, and a face that could make an angel weep. Other than that, I’m just your everyday normal guy who happens to take his clothes off for money. Sure, I’ve had to dispose of a few guys for In Safe Hands, the organization I work for that helps track predators and child molesters, but other than that, completely normal.

Women flock to me, screaming and paying for the right to touch me, so why is this woman so stubborn? Sadie Belmont’s curvy body and sharp tongue have haunted me since I met her a year ago. There’s something about her that gets stuck in my head like a bad song, and I’m determined to find out why I want her so badly, and why she can’t stomach the thought.

Sadie

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Of all the men in the world, I’m taking Justus Alexander to my childhood home in Oklahoma to meet my mother. A stripper who has a revolving door of women jumping in and out of his bed. Nine months ago when I lied to my mother and told her I had a steady boyfriend, I didn’t expect it to come to this. She doesn’t have long to live, and her only wish is to know I have a husband before she goes.

I can’t disappoint her, and male escorts cost way more than I can afford, so when Justus volunteered, I took him up on his offer. I know what he wants. After annoying me with constant pick up lines for a year, he sees an opportunity to get me in bed. It’s not going to happen. I just need to get through this week with my sanity intact.

Tucker

Get it here: http://mybook.to/tuckerbook

Tucker

She’s beautiful.

She’s young.

She’s driving me out of my mind.

I’ve always done my best to avoid Leah Bolt. I have enough problems without having to deal with a young woman with a crush. My life has been a disaster since I was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged from the military. After spending a year living on the streets, I’m finally starting to pull things together.

Now, I’m stuck with her, living side by side in my house with my complete opposite. If spending every day with this peppy, optimistic, energetic woman doesn’t kill me, her brother will. Dare is a friend and a member of In Safe Hands, a group that tracks down sexual predators and brings them to justice. He has also done time and is the size of a mountain.

I’ve survived combat, but I may be taken down by a perky blond.

Leah

He’s gorgeous.

He’s older.

He’s a stubborn, broody jerk.

Tucker Long is every woman’s dream…until you talk to him. He may be sexy when he’s out sweating in the sun with sawdust clinging to him as he hammers and saws, but try to hold a conversation and all you get are grunts and nods.

He was the one who wanted a house sitter and just because his plans fell through doesn’t mean I’m changing mine. My future is up in the air while I try to decide who I want to be, and Tucker’s farm is the perfect place for me to do it. He calls me kid, but the way he looks at me doesn’t lie.

I may be ten years younger, but I can still handle him.

Jeremy

Get it here: https://mybook.to/jeremybook

Melissa

I escaped.

For the first time in almost four years, I’m free. My freedom came at a steep cost, leaving me on my own with no family or friends. I have a lot of healing to do, and this beautiful lake house seems like a perfect setting to find myself again.

I can do this.

The only thing I have left is hope.

Jeremy

I ran.

For the first time in my life, I’m alone.

I failed to appreciate what I had until it was too late, and now I can’t bear the grief of my friends while suffering my own. That’s not the only reason I’ve relocated.

Twenty-two people were murdered, including the woman I love.

The only thing I have left is revenge.

The Violent Circle Series (Romantic Comedy. Can be read as standalones)

Scarlet Toys

Get it here: http://mybook.to/scarlettoys

Living on Violet Circle, a place that’s less of a neighborhood and more of an insane asylum poured into the street, I thought I was prepared for anything. After you’ve seen a woman strip down at the laundry room to wash the clothes she’s wearing, then saunter across the street naked, you’ve seen it all, right?

How naïve I was.

After the factory closed, leaving me and a good portion of the town unemployed, I took a job managing Scarlet Toys. I knew it wouldn’t be a typical work environment, selling adult toys in a town more uptight than a constipated nun, but some things you just never see coming.

Like the protesters covered in poison ivy, screaming about smut peddlers.

Or a dancing dinosaur named Fappy.

Or the allure of the man standing in the center of all the chaos.

Wyatt Lawson, a six foot, four inch heap of muscle with a quick smile, ignited my interest in more than the available manager position. Like the missionary one. Or the rodeo. Maybe the side rider. What can I say? I’m an overachiever.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t scare easily.

Frat Hell

Get it here: http://mybook.to/frathell

Frat Hell.

That’s how the whole neighborhood refers to the apartment where I live with three other college students. It’s a bit judgmental, considering the neighborhood we live in is more like a zoo than an apartment complex, but not inaccurate. If you put that many young guys together, things are bound to be interesting. I still maintain that the giant water guns filled with poison ivy water were not my idea.

January Dixon.

She’s the girl I’ve lusted after for years. A smart mouth and sharp tongue surrounded by soft beauty and a body I’d give up an organ just to touch. An important organ, like a kidney, not one of those lame ones like a gallbladder.

It’s a tricky situation since she lives right down the street, and dating a neighbor generally isn’t a good idea. But this is Violent Circle, where normal may as well be a dirty word. Thanks to an impromptu fashion show where I tossed all self-respect aside and strutted my stuff in full bondage gear in front of our small town, she now owes me a date.

And I plan to collect.

Clean Start

Get it here: http://mybook.to/cleanstart

Everyone knows the rumors about Violet Circle and the crazy inhabitants, but becoming a resident was my best option. These are the kind of decisions you’re faced with when you have a baby at eighteen, and your knight in shining armor turns out to be a deadbeat dad in saggy boxers.

Don’t get me wrong, my five-year-old son, Aiden, is the love of my life, even when he’s telling random strangers I’m constipated, or lecturing his preschool friends on the differences in their anatomy. I wouldn’t trade him for anything, but raising him as a single parent while cleaning motel rooms for a living is like walking a balance beam made of sand. One wrong slip, and we’re homeless.

It doesn’t take us long to adjust to our new home with all its eccentric people, and Aiden is happy here, but danger lurks right across the street. Not in the apartment of the odd woman who always wears a floppy sun hat and trench coat, or the crazy apartment full of college kids. I wish it were that simple.

Neal Chambers, the single father who is ten years my senior, sets off alarms in my head.

Mainly because he sets off other things in my panties.

Zero Fucks

Get it here: http://mybook.to/Zerobook

Mr. Rogers did not prepare me for the people in my neighborhood. A cut in financial aid for college and a lot of bad luck have landed me not only on Violent Circle, but in the apartment known as Frat Hell.

I can handle myself, so living with three guys isn’t a problem. Even the madhouse disguised as a low income neighborhood isn’t an issue. The trouble is Denton, the man with the mischievous grin in the room across from mine.

I can resist the lean, muscled body. I’m stronger than the quick smile and adorable dimple. But his kindness, that may be the straw that breaks the vagina’s crack.

I just need to keep my head down and my legs together while I focus on making my dream of owning my own tattoo shop a reality.

Level Up

Get it here: http://mybook.to/LevelUp

It's hard to believe it's almost over.

After three years of living in the wildest apartment in the craziest neighborhood, the clock is ticking down.

College is ending.

My friends and I, known around Violent Circle as the Frat Hell Guys, have managed to make it to graduation without a major injury or arrest record. It was a close call.

My career path as a video game designer is laid out clearly before me, but I have one more objective to achieve before the school year is over; show the beautiful, stubborn, infuriating woman I’m in love with that she’s mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Acknowledgements for the Almost Duet

Where to Find S.M. Shade

More by S.M. Shade