My thoughts were racing as I tried to comprehend what he had explained. Trying to determine whether this wasn’t some wild fabricated story. I anticipated further imbalance from our conversation, and listening to him only reaffirms it.

He looks at me and continues. “Once I agreed to the plan, Caleb took care of everything. He arranged for someone to take the fall for shooting me, arranged my new location, my new identity, he arranged it all.”

Raking my fingers through the sand, I turn to watch a surfer as he rides a wave. “Wait—so Caleb knew this whole time that you weren’t really dead? He helped you?”

“Yeah he did. He also promised me he’d watch out for you.”

I have to ask, “Did he also know you were coming back?”

“No he didn’t. I saw him for the first time yesterday. He hasn’t been involved with my case for a while.”

Shaking my head, I’m still trying to understand everything. Ben is a case? Is he still working with the FBI?

He inches closer to me until he’s much too close, it feels too familiar, and I need to put some distance between us. But he captures my attention and I don’t move. He hesitates for the slightest moment, stopping inches from me. “So now do you see—I left for you. It was the choice I had to make.”

Gasping in disbelief, I move back and the apprehension I felt earlier turns to anger. “What do you mean ‘choice’? You had a fucking choice? Dying was a choice? Leaving me all alone was a choice?”

Talking over me with the same commanding tone he always used when I’d get riled he says, “Choice wasn’t the right word. Just calm down.”

I can’t take it anymore. “No, I’m not going to calm down!”

He tenses, his shoulders rising. “Dahl.”

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore!”

“Okay. Alright. Just let me finish.”

I swivel in the sand to narrow my eyes at him. “No Ben, it’s my turn. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? What you put me through? You died in front of me and you weren’t even dead? You aren’t dead!”

Watching the different emotions pass over his face is too much. I divert my gaze to the water. Staring at the waves, I can feel his eyes on me. “I don’t know. I only know what I went through and can only imagine what you had to endure was much worse. I’m so sorry you had to live with my death for so long. But I had to disappear.”

I snap my head back up and look right into his deep blue eyes, feeling the anger seep through every pore of my body. “You didn’t just disappear, Ben—you fucking died in front of my eyes. I saw him—the asshole that shot you. I saw the coroner take your body away. I went to your goddamn funeral knowing we had to have a closed casket. And you weren’t even in there! While I cried for you, mourned for you, loved you, missed you. At times I just wanted to die without you. Are you kidding me?” Trembling, I scream even louder, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t know writing the article would lead where it did. If I had, I never would have stuck my nose into it. I swear I would have just let the FBI deal with it.” He leans closer to me and I stand up. He grabs my hand and forces me to look at him. A strange feeling runs through me, but it isn’t love.

I step back, forcing him to drop my arm but it doesn’t stop his words as he stands and says, “I’m so sorry that I didn’t share my secret with you before I left. No, actually sorry doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. I don’t think I will ever find the right way to express the remorse I feel about what I’ve done.”

I shake my head and open my mouth to say something, but he moves forward and touches a shaky finger over my lips. “Through everything, after all this time, you need to know . . . I have never ever stopped loving you, not for one second. And it scares the shit out of me to think that you don’t still love me. That you might actually love someone else.”

That’s when I lose any sense of control. Unable to listen to anymore I scream, “‘Might love someone else’?” After taking a deep breath I continue, “What did you think would happen? You died three years ago and it took me so long to move on. Getting past the grief, the sorrow, wasn’t easy, but I was finally able to move forward. So yes, I’m in love with someone else. You can’t come back here thinking . . . ,” I motion between us, “. . . that we’re going to just pick up where we left off. You can’t possibly believe that! Why did you even come back?”

He steps into me. He runs the tips of his fingers over the scrape on my cheek before I can move away and says, “Because I finally could, when I never thought I would be able to. Dahl the FBI caught the people that were after me. The ones who threatened your life. They fucking caught them. And I was free to come home. Don’t you get it?”

“I get it, Ben, but it’s crazy—FBI, free to come home. It’s just crazy.”

“I know it sounds that way, but it’s all true. All of it. It’s one big clusterfuck. You were never supposed to know any of this. I was dead—you were safe. That’s what was supposed to happen. But they suspected there was still information out there and they wanted it. They broke into our house looking for it, how they knew I have no idea. Then when the paid-off shooter was released, they went after him for it. He was scared and told them he didn’t have the information, but I was alive. They wanted to know where I was so they threatened his family if he didn’t find me. He went after you assuming you knew where I was.”

I feel my jaw drop. “Wait a minute! Is he the one who attacked me?”

Flinching, he says, “I’m so sorry. I never thought that would happen. I didn’t make the right decisions back then. Even when I was planning to leave, I still didn’t understand the full scope of the danger. So when Caleb asked me to hand over all the evidence I’d gathered, I stupidly kept some of it.”

Not even hesitating, I tell him, “Do you know when he attacked me, I thought I was going to be raped? And now I find out he was looking for you. Looking for information you kept.”

Ignoring my questions he doesn’t falter in his resolve. “I did it for you . . . I kept it as an insurance policy . . . just in case.”

Screaming at him, my whole body shaking, I tell him what I really believe to be the truth. “You didn’t do shit for me, Ben. It was for you. You’ve always done everything for yourself and don’t try to fool yourself into thinking anything different because I don’t. And what you just told me proves it.”

In an attempt to redeem himself he says, “You’re not hearing me. I didn’t do anything for myself. In fact, I wish I was there when that asshole attacked you because I would have fucking killed him. But I’m back now to protect you so it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t need that kind of protection from you. Don’t you get it? I have someone who will protect me.”

I see his jaw tighten and he moves to grab my left hand. At the sight of my engagement ring his eyes narrow. “Then why didn’t he protect you?”

I look at him in disbelief. “Protect me from what? The mess that you made? How would River even know?”

With a cocky grin he says, “You don’t know—do you? He knew. Caleb chased the shooter out of our house the night before your attack. Then he told that prick you’ve been playing house with to watch out for you, but obviously he didn’t. Luckily, the FBI caught the shooter, the guy that attacked you, that same afternoon. I guess you weren’t told that, either. That’s how all of this transpired. My shooter was the key, once they caught him all the pieces fell into place and the cartel’s operation was brought down.”

I yank my hand away and yell one final time, “Enough! Just stop!”

“No Dahl, I won’t. You need to hear me out.”

I can’t hear anymore. Or think anymore. Right now I’m feeling only one thing—betrayed. Any residual pain from my injuries is completely subdued as this new pain courses through my body. Ben left me all alone, left me to mourn him, and he was never really dead. River knew who attacked me. Someone broke into my house again. And River didn’t tell me any of this. As this despair courses over my deepest wounds, the word trust rings in my ear. I trusted Ben—was I wrong? I trust River—am I wrong? I have an overwhelming urge to escape this madness.