“Dream on.” I force out the comment, trying to hide the slight waver in my voice—my only tell that I’m affected by his proximity, by that magnetic draw of his that seems to always be a losing battle for me to fight.

Our eyes lock, with amusement dancing in his as he makes that slow lean into my body. My hands are immediately on his chest, pushing him away, trying to protect myself from everything I usually want. From the temptation I don’t need, but holy fuck, I could use to eradicate those little tentacles of need burrowing beneath the surface in regards to Becks. That need to snuggle into him this morning, make lazy love under the heat of the sun’s rays coming through the window, and the instant swarm of butterflies that fluttered in my stomach when I thought he had come back to the house.

Dante chuckles low and soft, the sound vibrating against my palms pressed against the firmness of his chest that I used to know and use handily like a road map. He knows what he does to me, knows that he’s pegged every number of mine from sixty-nine on down.

“Dante …” My voice trails off as he grabs my hands from his chest and presses them to the counter with his on top of them, holding me there. I glance down, warning bells going off, and when I look up, I don’t even have a chance to speak before his mouth captures mine.

My resistance is fleeting. I’m not sure if it’s the confusion, the need, the what-the-fuck-ever but within seconds his tongue has pressed between my lips. I don’t respond at first, don’t react, but when his tongue connects with mine, it rekindles everything to life. Parts Becks sparked to life last night.

No strings.

I push the thought away and move my body into him. And when I start to respond, Dante takes control. He groans deep in his throat and presses the hard length of his body into mine, hips pinning me to the counter. One hand fists in my hair, and the other presses against my lower back. I accept the domination of the kiss, the command of his touch, a part of me enjoying the current that zings through me. The one that knows just how wild of a ride Dante can be—good, bad, pleasurable, and painful.

And I want to welcome it. The taste of his kiss, the complete chaos he’ll unleash in my life because I’ll be so busy focusing on the scattered mess that I won’t even notice I’m wading through the broken parts of myself that Lexi’s death left behind.

That Becks began to help piece back together last night.

Becks.

Last night.

What in the hell am I doing? I struggle to pull myself from the drug of Dante and the ever-apparent need to lose myself. I press my hands on his shoulders, attempting to pull back from his mouth, but his hand holds firm on my neck. My body tells me it wants this: My heart and head tell me to get my shit together and have some damn dignity. That being festive is fine, but there’s no need to be a twenty-four-hour Mardis Gras.

“No,” I murmur against his lips, knowing that the longer I drink him in, the harder it is going to be to walk away. “No!” I say again with a defiant shove against his chest.

He steps back from me, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. His shoulders move with the force of his panted breaths. I can see anger stemming from my rejection vibrating just beneath the surface, and for a moment, I think it’s going to escape but he reins it in.

My lips tingle from his kiss, but I know this is no good. Would be no good. I push off the counter decisively. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“What the fuck, Had?” There’s an annoyed exasperation in his voice, but I couldn’t care less.

I keep walking out of the kitchen that now feels so small from his presence. “You want a place to stay? Don’t touch me again.”

His laugh—empty and hollow—follows me out of the kitchen. And there’s something about the sound of it that tugs at me, causes me to stop after I turn the corner to the hallway. I lean my shoulder against the wall momentarily when I realize why it bugs me so much.

It’s the emptiness and hollowness that resonate the loudest.

His laugh echoes what mine has sounded like for the past six months. A false pretense—sounding fine when I’m anything but. I stand there in indecision. The compassionate part of me feels like I need to go back and see what’s wrong, ask what has stolen the warmth from him. I should make sure he’s okay because I sure as fuck know that I’m not. And then the find-another-doorstep-to-cry-on part of me says I need to run like the fucking wind the other way, high heels and all.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the other way led to Becks?

What the fuck? Jesus, Haddie, get a grip.

I sigh and shake my head as I start moving down the hallway toward my bedroom. My head is all over the place, and the all too familiar burn of threatening tears is there.

Again.

I enter my room and flick on some music. Something, anything to concentrate on other than the quick flash of desire downstairs and the slow burn from the man whose telephone I accidentally grabbed.

The problem is that when you purposely want to forget someone, you remember them the most. Lexi. Dante. Becks. All three ride the wave of thoughts crashing around in my head.

It hurts too damn much to think about Lexi. I’ll have the whole goddamn day tomorrow to struggle with her memory, fight the tears, soak in the only part of her I have left, so I push her as best as I can from my head.

The door to the backyard slams shut, and my thoughts are drawn to Dante. Delectable Dante. Damn if there isn’t just a main line from that man’s mouth straight to my crotch. But alongside that is the wrecking ball on a direct path to my heart. So good but so damn bad.

The night we met should have been an indication of our volatility when he mistook me for the wrong girl outside a club. Spun me around and knocked me breathless with his kiss long before he realized I wasn’t who he thought I was. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he realized it, eyes wide with shock and jaw slack. But then that lazy, arrogant smirk grew as we gave each other the once-over, and the look on his face mixed with the fuck-if-I-care attitude emanating off of him … I was lost to lust and not long after falling in love.

We were a predictable disaster: a mixture of spontaneity, recklessness, and youthful, carefree nature. The problem is, with Dante love was never easy. Our relationship came with tempers, constant unpredictability, and the attitude that attracted me eventually turned me off when the fuck-if-I-care was directed my way. He sabotaged us with his disregard for every staple that is needed for a successful relationship. And yet I loved him despite the emotional chaos he unleashed in my heart.

But love isn’t always enough. Especially when the one you love up and leaves without another word and disappears for months.

Hell yes, I loved Dante, but he taught me that when it comes to men, there are only three moods to be had: fuck you, fuck off, and fuck me. Thank goodness the fuck me part was pretty damn good or else the positive memories would be few and far between.

Fuck Dante.

Fuck Beckett.

I snort out a laugh because that’s exactly the problem—my body wants to do just that. And now, of course, I’m thinking of fucking, so my mind can’t help but wander to Becks and his adept demonstration last night. I adjust my hips as a sweet ache settles there at the memory of his hands on me, mouth on mine, cock buried in me. And the way he looked at me while waking up, the iota of hurt in his voice earlier on the phone.

I groan and throw an arm over my eyes as I try to block out the image of him, tan skin against white sheets, hard muscle against soft bedding. It’s useless. I don’t want any strings. None. So why the hell do I feel like he’s already woven them through my thoughts, binding us together somehow?

He’s a keeper. No doubt there. Too bad I’m looking for the disposable version. A Mr. Right Now. But the man won’t leave my mind. I lick my lips, taste Dante there but find myself wishing it was Becks.

This is so not fucking cool. My head had better start giving my body a damn road map and directions on how to get to the same place, and that place is nowhere connected to Beckett Daniels.

My onetime lap around the track with Becks is over.

Fuck.

Time to grab the wheel with both hands again and get control.



Chapter 7

I pushed myself too damn hard this morning. Ran too far at too accelerated a pace, and now my muscles are screaming with fatigue. But I was able to run out the emotion, put it at bay so that I can get through the initial sucker punch to the gut when I walk into the house.

The California sun is warm, beating through my windshield as I shift my sore muscles and stand from the car. I look down the street for a moment, take in the trees lining it and the dogs barking. The sounds of moms calling to their children and life being lived. I try to focus on that, try to block out the thoughts of elevated white blood cell counts and tumor markers. I force myself to remember Lex so brave and strong, saying, “Fuck cancer.” Her fighting like hell to beat, then to prolong, then to steal a few more moments, a few more breaths.

My fingers grip tightly to the top of the car door. Tears burn my eyes, and memories flicker to the unwelcome thoughts I wish I didn’t have. Ones I wish no one would ever have. Ragged gasps and morphine drips. Hushed promises and silent pleas for more time, for less pain. For a miracle.

The memories are still so raw, her touch still so tangible after just six months but so vague at the same time. Holding her hand, watching her slip away, telling her I loved her, promising her Maddie will grow up with her spirit a constant reminder. That it would be my mission in life for her daughter to know her, remember her, live a full life for her. Saying good-bye to her one final time as peace settled over her.

I suck in a deep breath, drowning in the grief when I should be dealing with it, moving on. But every time I come here, it hits me with such force. Walking into her house, seeing the touches of her personality when she’s gone forever.

And then I hear the squeal from the front door—the patter of little feet and cries of excitement—and it all eases some when I look down into my sister’s eyes mimicked in her daughter.

I catch the running bundle of love and life in my arms and squeeze her to me. Breathing her in, in that quick second I get before she starts in on me with the barrage of questions and smiles full of love.

“Whoa!” I nuzzle my nose into her hair and just breathe her in for another moment as she starts wiggling to get down.

“Auntie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, the words tumbling out in a burst of excitement as I set her down on the ground. Her hand finds mine immediately, brown eyes fringed with long lashes look up to me, and her heart-shaped mouth spreads in a grin. She begins tugging on my hand toward the front door and her love, her happiness, her ability to thrive are contagious, even if only momentarily.

We clear the foyer, Maddie’s incessant chatter sounding sweet, heartwarming, and overwhelming all at once. Hand in mine, she pulls me into the family room, never breaking stride in making her requests for the day.

“Daddy! She’s here! She’s here!”

I hear Danny’s chuckle before I see him, my eyes slowly taking in the wall across from me, where pictures clutter the area. My heart squeezes at the images, the memories, the lack of new ones, and I force myself to look away and over to my brother-in-law.

I meet Danny’s gaze, the soft smile on his lips, the love for his daughter evident on his face, but when his eyes meet mine, the devastation is there, a reflection of the constant sadness. “Hey, Danny, how’s it going?” I say the words, the simple greeting, but what I’m really asking, what my eyes are saying, is How are you holding up?

“Good. I’m good,” he says as I start the count of how many times he’s going to use that word in the next five minutes. My gauge of how crippling his grief is today. “Good,” he reaffirms with a nod of his head as Maddie releases my hand and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Good,” I say softly, my own anguish weighing heavy on me. Emotions war within, not understanding how he can live day to day in this house full of her and at the same time feeling like I’d never be able to live anywhere else.

He breaks eye contact and looks over at Maddie, who is bouncing with excitement. “So what are you two going to do today?” he asks, enthusiasm forced but sincere.