I blinked. “Darien?”

“Oh, sorry, love—I’ve got an annoying client on the line.”

“Where are you?”

“Waiting for my bags. Is something wrong?”

“It’s Uncle Sears,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “They think it’s a heart attack.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

“He’s at Temptation Memorial.”

“Go on,” he told me. “I’ll grab a cab and meet you there.”

After we said our goodbyes, I was about to hang up, when I heard the audible click on his end, then…. “All right, I’m back,” he said in the same irritated tone I’d heard when he answered my call. “Look, Sears is in the hospital so don’t show up. Okay? You’ll only make this harder. We’re over.”

My breath caught.

“Kate? Are you there?”

Something in me…died. “No,” I bit out. “Try again.”

Ignoring Darien’s, “Oh, my God” and “Let me explain,” I pitched the headset and phone across the dashboard. The gadgets shattered on impact.

TRACE

____________________________

“Hi.” The soft voice reached out from the shadows.

I was walking past the first bay in the garage when I jarred to a stop. Angling around, I found Bev in the driver’s seat of a Speedster. Its door lay ajar. She wore black pedal pushers and an oversized sweater. Her legs were crossed, with one foot planted on the concrete, the other doing a frantic wag.

“What’re you doin’ here, Beverly?”

“We’ve got some things to settle.” Her husky voice echoed. “Cholly said you’d come back for your bike.”

I dragged my jacket off and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. “You got two minutes.”

She stood and approached me with caution. “Do you know what it’s like to be in love with the wrong person?”

I stared into the darkness for a long while. “Yeah, I just might.”

“Maybe you can give me some advice then.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Patrick is like a drug to me. How do I turn it off? How do I make it stop?”

Sadness welled. “Wish I knew.”

“I had that abortion ‘cause I was scared. Mama said if I didn’t, I’d be stuck with a baby and no husband. Least not a fit one.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “If I had to do it all again, I’d have my baby, with or without Patrick.”

I glanced off. “Beverly—”

“No! Hear me out. We’ve had enough heartache to last us a lifetime. Daddy’s gone. Mama. Cole….” She stood before me, trembling. “I left Patrick yesterday, so you’re all I got now. Don’t let me lose you too. I’m sick with missing you, Tracemore. Please, forgive me!”

She threw herself at me and buried her face in my shirt while I stood with my arms at my sides. Tears soaked the fabric, just like they had the day I was released, when she’d lifted the weight of the world off my soul.

This was Bev, warts and all. She’d stuck by me. Visited me in prison every week. Wrote. Called. Gave me strength to carry on. I had to forgive her, even though I knew she’d be back with Icky in a few days—a week tops.

That was a certainty.

The ice around my heart melted as I gathered her in my arms. “It’s all right, Bevy.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” I squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. “Blood’s thicker than bullshit.”

TRACE

____________________________

“How long ago did she ring the bell?”

Amber tossed a toothbrush into her purse. “I dunno. Maybe five minutes.”

“Shit!” I threw a towel around my waist. Water poured off me onto the bathroom floor. “Why didn’t you just let her in?”

“I don’t like drama, shug.” She walked out and started toward my room. “Have you seen my ankle bracelet?”

“Check the dresser.”

I barreled into the hallway, raced down the stairs, and skidded to a stop at the landing. Winter stormed the house when I flipped on the outside light and tore the door open. The chill sliced into my shower-damp skin like a thousand blades. I swiped the wet hair from my eyes and the pitiable sight of Shannon came into focus.

She stood hunched over on my porch bathed in yellow light; the street beyond her was nearly pitch black. Her coat lay open. Corpse-pale, she shivered and her eyes were huge in her face. She appeared lost, dazed, and vulnerable. A strange sensation pierced my chest.

She was in pain and I felt it.

I drew her inside with one hand, my other fisted in the towel, holding it firmly around my hips. After I kicked the door shut, I braced her shoulder to steady her, then stooped until we were eye level.

“Hey. What happened?” She gave her head a violent shake, and buried her face in my chest. “Shannon?” I said in between her sniffles. “Aw, don’t cry. It’s gonna be all right.”

I glanced beyond her, to Amber, who descended the stairs, knapsack slung over her shoulder, car keys in hand. Shannon frowned at the sound and stared up at me. A question floated in her eyes when she looked from me to the woman who stood frozen in the middle of the staircase.

Shannon swallowed convulsively, her gaze darting from Amber to me. Red flamed her cheeks as her eyes canvassed my body, seeing it as if for the first time. Before I could explain, she’d slammed out of the house.

SHANNON

____________________________

I flew off the porch. Couldn’t get away fast enough. Couldn’t see for the blinding tears. Shoving my hair from my face, I stumbled down the sidewalk fighting delirium. Where the hell had I parked? East or west? North or south? Which block? Which side of the street? The synapses in my brain fired all over the place.

I was completely disoriented.

Turning a corner, I dug into my purse and snatched my keys from a side pocket. I stabbed the black remote in every direction and listened for my car’s answering chime, then searched the darkness for the familiar flash of gold and red lights. None came.

Had I gone the wrong way? I stopped in my tracks. Cold keys dangled against my temple like icy fingers when I propped my wrists atop my head and scanned the block in a frantic haze.

Car. Where was the car?

Tears poured out of me as I trudged on blindly. I was so damn tired of crying! The image of Trace and that woman floated before my eyes. Dr. Rosen. Rainbows. Mrs. Campbell. Mother. Uncle, Auntie, and the sheriff plotting. Darien and Kate screwing each other.

Trace shower damp. Trace darn near naked, wrapped in a towel—that beautiful woman with the stylish black hair, violet eyes, and sultry mouth.

The same leggy woman I’d seen him with at Home Depot, but this time, she was in his house, descending the stairs, having just left his bedroom, no doubt—the bedroom where they’d obviously done God knows—

“Shannon!”

Trace’s voice jolted me as his hand gave my elbow a sharp tug. I crashed into what felt like a bus, but it was him—all six-feet-three-inches of hard-bodied man. His misty breath sawed in and out. Water beaded off his skin, his hair. He looked cold, breathless, and mad as hell.

Mad at me.

He was still dressed in a towel, but he’d had the sense to throw his wool peacoat on. No shoes though. His bare chest pumped up and down while he struggled for words.

“You…didn’t give me…a chance…to explain,” he breathed. “It’s not…what you think.”

The blood was pounding so hard in my head, I could barely concentrate. “What am I thinking, Trace?”

“That I was doin’ stuff.”

“Well, weren’t you?”

“No!” he roared over a sudden chorus of dog barks.

“You badgered me about breaking up with Darien. Made me feel absolutely horrible. But you’re still seeing her even though you told me it was over! I have had it up to here—” I jerked my hand level with my chin. “—with everybody. Darien. My family. You. You’re all liars!”

“Hey, shut that noise up!” someone screamed from a window.