Then he sighed heavily…and I didn’t like that at all.

“Look, Traina, don’t get all huffy and impatient on me, okay?” I said, my high voice rising even higher with indignation. “I’ve had some memory loss. There’s a lot I can’t recall.”

“I’m sorry, of course.” His face softened. “But if there’s anything you can remember about Jo, about that night, anything…you’ll call, right?”

I nodded, a soundless lie.

“I don’t know—” he began to say, then stopped before trying again. “I don’t know if she told you about our date, or if she got the chance, or—”

He swallowed hard, and I watched his throat work. The throat I’d kissed and nuzzled just weeks earlier. I knew what it smelled and tasted like, and suddenly I knew the words that were going to come from it. “Olivia, forgive me for dredging up the past, but there’s something I’ve wanted to say for a long time now.”

I shook my head, felt the mass of blond hair bounce. “Ben—”

“Please, let me say it. I should have said it to Joanna, but I didn’t, and now—” He broke off, face crumbling.

I bit my lip, nodded once, and braced myself for what I was sure would be a heartbreaking speech.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Genuinely surprised, I drew back. “For what?”

“Being weak. For not standing by your sister when she needed me. I caused you both pain.” His voice broke again, and the words I’d been expecting came through in that awful sound.

Tears welled in my own throat and eyes. “She never blamed you, Ben.”

“I know. I hated myself enough for the both of us.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up further in wild, curly tufts. “God, I think I was afraid she’d end up like my mother, just this shell who’d once been vibrant and beautiful and solid but who’d let one man change her, and hollow her out.”

Ben never talked about his parents. I was so surprised he was doing so now, with Olivia, that I remained silent.

“He told me it was my fault, you know. He said that’s what happened when a man couldn’t take care of his woman, and as much as I know he was just saying it to hurt me, I think a part of it sunk in. Not here, but here.” He pointed to his head, then his heart.

“Your father was an ass, Ben.” I didn’t care if it sounded like Olivia. It was something he needed to know.

“I know.” He nodded. “But those words stayed with me. I let them torture me, just like my mother let his words destroy her, and I lost out on the chance to know who Joanna had become—lost a whole fucking decade—just so I could imagine her as she was.”

“You were young.” A tear slid down my cheek, and I brushed it away, hoping he hadn’t seen.

“She was younger,” he said vehemently. “So were you.”

“What happened that night made us all who we are today,” I said, trying to calm him. “And Jo…Jo liked who she was.”

He nodded after a bit. “I liked who she was too.”

He’d stopped ranting, but the sorrow rising off him was twined with such guilt and fury and denial that the sickly combination, oily and raw, would eventually eat him alive. “Ben, please,” I said softly, moving closer. “You have to let her go.”

“She did not come back into my life in the eleventh hour just to let me know what I was missing!” The words burst from him so fiercely, it was as if they’d been gathered on the tip of his tongue, waiting for a lit fuse to ignite them.

“Shh.” Jesus, I thought, stepping back. “Okay, Ben. It’s okay.”

But that was a lie, and he shook his head violently, knowing it. “And there’s more to this whole thing than a botched break-in and two people falling to their deaths. I know it!”

“How do you know?” I said quietly. “You weren’t there.”

“I know because I know Jo!”

What could I say to that? A part of me thrilled to hear those words. But if he didn’t leave this one alone, he was putting us both in danger again. I hardened myself to his sorrow. “This isn’t one of your mysteries that need to be solved, Ben. You can’t put a happy ending on this one.”

“Then I can at least get an answer that satisfies me.”

“The police say she died.”

“I don’t care. She came to me that night, Olivia! She came to me and we made love, and she was supposed to be dead already—” Shit. He was right. “But she was in my arms, warm, alive, and—”

“I saw her, Ben,” I finally said, hating to hurt him, but seeing no other way. “I saw her fall.”

He was silent for a long moment. “The papers said you couldn’t remember anything.”

Oops. “That’s the last thing I remember,” I said. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”

His jaw clenched stubbornly. “Then I want to find out why. Why’d she return to your apartment, huh? Why didn’t she just go home? Why did she leave me at all?”

I turned away to pace, to try and think this whole thing through, though I hardly knew where to begin. I didn’t know how to act because this life as Olivia, as a crime-fighting heroine, was not yet fully mine. But there was one thing I did know. I glanced back at him. “You’re not working with the police on this, are you?”

“I told you,” he said, not meeting my eye, “I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

I shook my head. My God. He’d gone vigilante. The department said it was an open and shut case; I was sure Warren and Micah had worked hard to make it so. Now Ben, of all people, was opening that door again.

“No, Ben. This is not what she wanted,” I said, before correcting myself. “It’s not what she would have wanted.”

“Oh, Olivia.” He looked at me like I was hopelessly naive. For one moment I actually thought he was going to rumple my hair. “Vengeance is exactly what she wanted. And I’m going to get it for her.”

“Ben,” I said, my voice a sharp contrast to his overly solicitous one. “That wasn’t what she was doing. That wasn’t the goal.”

“Really? Did you ask her? Because I did. I asked what she’d do if she ever found the man who attacked her, who attacked you both. She said she’d kill him.”

I had said that.

“Joanna was often glib that way.” I swallowed hard, thinking fast. “But what she really wanted was to face that man down and let him know she’d survived it. That she’d survived him. She wanted to look that…that monster in the face and let him know not only didn’t he kill her, but he didn’t break her.”

Ben’s jaw set stubbornly. “‘It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence.’”

Yeah, and thank you, Mahatma Gandhi, for that one.

I pretended I didn’t hear him, and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Don’t let this break you, Ben. Joanna wouldn’t want that.”

For a moment I thought I’d gotten through. His face cleared and he looked young and lost, but it was only for a moment. His expression hardened again, and shadows seized his eyes.

“Stop looking at me that way,” he said softly, jerking back from my touch. “Everyone’s looking at me like I’ve lost it…”

You mean like the way they used to look at me.

“…like I’m crazy, and I don’t know what I know. But I know what I saw, Olivia! Joanna was in my bed and in my arms at the time they’re saying she was already dead…” Shit. I was going to have to ask Warren how to clear up that one. “And I may be angry, sure, but I’ve never been clearer on what I need to do. In fact, I think I’m more in my right mind now that I’ve been in, oh, at least a decade.”

And I couldn’t help but notice his eyes did look clear. But his scent was that of futile regret, and his guilt had soured upon him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, catching my look. This time he was the one to lay a hand on my arm. Olivia’s arm, I reminded myself as his touch shot a tremor through me. “I shouldn’t have come to you with any of this but…you’re all that’s left of her.”

“I know.” And at least I could give him that comfort. I pulled him into a hug, resting my palms on the hard plane of his back, and for a moment—just one—I let myself go. I shut my eyes and hugged him like I was me and nothing had changed and there was still a storm brewing on the far horizon. I pretended we’d never left the restaurant that night, and wondered if Ben could feel the regret of that decision in my arms. I squeezed harder, because maybe through the force of that hug I could put him, us, back together.