The doors burst open and I found myself being peeled off Tommy. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” I screamed.

“Hey, you need to calm down,” the corrections officer said to me as he shoved me out of the room.

Even in the hall, I lunged for the door. My plan had gone to shit. There would be no visit from the Attorney General’s office now. But really, that plan had gone to shit the minute he started talking. We weren’t buddies. I wasn’t going to help him. This was never going to end well.

The officer shoved me against the wall. “You need to leave, now.”

Leave.

Yeah, I needed to get the hell out of there.

Hyped up, I moved quickly. My shoes slapped the pavement until they reached the parking lot. Hopping in my truck, I gunned it. Slamming on the gas. Go. Go. Go. I opened the window so I could breathe. Go. Go. Go. A sharp breeze whipped around me and jolted me out of the crazed reality I was swimming in. My hands gripped the wheel and my foot slammed on the brake as I skidded to a stop at the traffic light. Change. Change. Change. That burning red circle felt like a hot poker searing my skin.

Change. Change. Change. My eyes were shifting. Looking for signs of the oncoming traffic slowing. That’s when I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My shirt and face were splattered with blood. With one hand on the wheel, I yanked off my tie and wiped my face.

That’s when it hit me.

Killian can’t be dead.

Killian isn’t dead.

Killian will not be dead.

But even as I said it, I had a sickening feeling in my gut.

No. Tommy was fucking with me. This was a game to him. This whole thing was a fucking game. My frustration was escalating. My desperation to get to my grandfather felt so crippling that my hands were shaking.

The light changed and I didn’t hesitate to pound the gas. Back on the road, I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial.

“Brighton House. How can I help you?”

My voice was shaky. “Can you connect me to Killian McPherson’s room?”

“One moment please.”

It started to ring. One, two, three times.

Come on, answer the fucking phone.

Four, five, six.

Answer the fucking phone.

Seven, eight, nine.

No answer. I threw my phone at the windshield.

Weaving in and out of the lanes of traffic, speeding as fast as I could, I finally arrived at Brighton House.

My head was swimming as I bolted out of the car and ran into the building.

“Judy, have you seen him?” I asked, trying not to sound as panicked as I was.

She smiled. “Yes, he had a breakfast date with a nice younger gentleman.” She looked at her watch. He arrived over an hour ago.”

There was no time for niceties. I took off like a bat out of hell toward his room. Fuck, I left my gun in the truck. No time to turn around. My breath was coming in short, ragged bursts and my eyes were stinging by the time I reached his door.

I froze with my hand on the knob.

Somewhere deep inside me, the spark of hope I’d held onto the entire drive over here died.

What replaced it was a really bad feeling that Tommy wasn’t lying about anything and my blood felt like ice in my veins.

Images flickered through my mind.

A little boy in a Red Sox cap walking down the street and holding the giant palm of a man he wanted to be just like. “Understanding what it’s like down here will help you make better decisions from up there,” he said, pointing to a high-rise office building.

A child sitting next to a much-respected older man learning what a flush was, what it meant to fold, and what it meant to bluff. “The bluff is key,” he told me.

A young teen at the top of a mountain named Wildcat who had decided to walk down the mountain instead of ski down. “You have to conquer your fear, Logan—it’s the only way to survive in this world.”

I drew in a deep breath and pushed the door open.

My stomach heaved.

My body swayed.

My vision blurred.

Lying on his bed with his bloodshot eyes wide open was the lifeless body of my grandfather. On the floor was a pillow. Someone had smothered him to death.

I wanted to scream louder than I ever had in my life, but I knew I couldn’t. It had to look like he’d died of natural causes. The last thing he would want was a police investigation into his death—he’d had enough of those during his life.

It was my turn to take care of him.

Thoughts hummed in my head. My heart slammed against my chest. A sound leapt from my throat. I picked up the pillow. Made sure everything was in place. And then I threw myself beside him, pulled him onto me, and closed his eyes.

No. No. No.

No. No. No.

No. No. No.

ELLE

I know what they say about secrets.

That nothing good can come from keeping them. That they’ll eat you alive. That they destroy even the strongest of relationships.

All of which worried me because I was keeping one from both of the men in my life and the time had arrived to come clean.

The secret I had yet to share with Logan would reveal just how broken I am, and then, as with my first boyfriend, it might just tear us apart. I could only hope it wouldn’t. To be fair, I should have told Logan before I ever let those three little words slip from my mouth. I should have learned from my mistakes. But everything that happened between us happened so fast and it never felt like the right time.

And then there’s my brother-in-law. Michael held all the cards when it came to my niece. If he decided I shouldn’t see Clementine again, there was nothing I could do about it. So pissing him off wasn’t something I wanted to do. But after yesterday, I thought it was time he knew I was involved with someone. No, not just someone—Logan McPherson. I wasn’t sure how he would react, but I hoped he knew me well enough by now to know that my relationship with Logan wouldn’t impact my relationship with Clementine in any way.

My mind was a web of worry, sorrow, and confusion. And I took the quiet of the morning to contemplate everything in my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

It was well after eleven before I drifted into the bath to let the steam and heat take away some of my hesitation about the confessions I planned to make today. After a long while, I submerged myself and allowed the scented water to wash me clean. I took my time shaving my legs and rinsing the soap from by body.

When I finally emerged from the tub, I felt much better about what I had to do. My secrets were eating at me and I had to get them out. Telling Logan about Michael’s advances didn’t rank high on my priorities, and I figured once I told Michael about Logan and me, that issue should naturally put itself to rest.

That was if there was something to tell him—if Logan stayed with me.

My skin was a warm shade of pink and the steam in the room was still thick. I wrapped a towel around myself, patted my wet skin until it was dry, and then I ran a comb through my still damp hair.

The door creaked loudly when I opened it and stepped into my darkened bedroom. I had yet to open the blinds and let the sunshine in.

The dark figure in the room caused my heart to stop and I screamed at the top of my lungs. Its beat didn’t even jump-start during that one moment it took me to realize it was Logan sitting on the end of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

At the sound of my scream, his head jerked up.

“It’s just me.” His words were barely audible.

Even in the darkness, I could see right away that something was wrong. A flip of the light switch confirmed it. I’d never seen him like this before. His face was drawn, his eyes red-rimmed, and his body looked utterly defeated.