“I have to finish buttering the bread to put in the oven, Daddy. I need to go. I love you!” Sarah’s voice came over the line, and I managed to respond appropriately.

  She was telling me she loved me. She sounded like she meant it. She was happy.

  I should be relieved. Not ready to strangle the woman giving me my daughter back.

  Ten Years Ago

  Oakley wanted me to react. This was her forcing me to admit that what I felt for her went deeper than friendship. I told myself that I couldn’t give her that. Telling her that I was fucking in love with her and wanted to murder my own cousin for touching her wasn’t going to help either of us.

  I put the empty glass of whiskey down harder than necessary as I turned to walk outside. Go anywhere but stay in this fucking house, watching my little cousin—who I knew had cheated on Oakley just last week—act as if she belonged to him.

  The smell of berries, pine, gingerbread, and sugar cookies filled the air at Sebastian’s mansion. Their annual Christmas party was always massive and over the top. I didn’t want to be here. My father had informed me in so many words that I had to be. This was family business. We came to all family business. So, here I was, enduring it. Hating every motherfucking moment of it.

  I wanted to go inside and snatch Oakley away from Wells. Take her with me. Somewhere our age difference didn’t matter. Where I could hold her, kiss her, tell her that, yes, I loved her. I was infatuated with her. She owned me. All the things I knew she wanted to hear, but I couldn’t say.

  The cold night air hit me as I stepped onto the back veranda, covered in twinkling holiday lights, several Christmas trees, and a decorative fire centerpiece. Few people were out here due to the frigid temperature. It rarely got this cold in the winter in Georgia. I ignored the bite of the icy wind and stood with my hands jammed in the front pockets of my dress slacks. The deep green sweater I was wearing wasn’t enough warmth, but my anger was doing a pretty damn good job of keeping me warm.

  “I know you don’t fucking smoke, so why are you out here?” Thatcher drawled behind me.

  I glanced back at him as he lit up a cigarette he’d just stuck between his teeth. The ridiculous bow tie and tux he was wearing would be comical on anyone else. However, Thatcher held his threatening persona just fine in it. He’d first come down to the party in a brown leather jacket, jeans, and boots. His mother had been extremely unhappy about it, so this was his response to it. The man never did anything halfway. It was all or nothing.

  “I needed some air,” I replied, turning my attention back to the fire.

  He let out a hard laugh. “Bullshit,” he replied. “You needed to get away from the sight of Oakley Watson and Wells.”

  I clenched my teeth and wished like hell I smoked. I could use something right now to take the edge off. He was right, and there was no use in arguing with him. King might be my best friend, but we were all tight. Thatcher was no one’s best friend because he didn’t allow anyone close enough. There was a darkness in his soul that warned you to stay back. Not to dig too deep. We respected it.

  “She’s too young,” I said when he walked over to lean against the railing in front of me.

  “Yeah, she is. But she’s hot as fuck, and she wants you. That’s hard to resist.”

  I inhaled deeply through my nose. It was difficult to hear that her want for me was strong enough that even my friends saw it. I was doing my best to respect her. Just be her friend, but the more she threw herself at me, flirted with me, found reasons to be near me, the more my self-control was slowing chipping away.

  “She’s with Wells,” I said, knowing that meant nothing to me. Wells didn’t deserve her.

  Thatcher cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, and Wells knows she wants you too. Why do you think he’s fucking other girls? He’s not even being careful about it. He wants her to find out. He’s trying to hurt her because she wants you,” he finished, then stuck the cigarette between his lips and inhaled.

  “He’s fucked other girls? I thought it was just the one last week.” My anger turned into full-blown fury. I was going to hurt him.

  Thatcher let out a humorless laugh. “Girls, my friend. Many. He’s become a fucking whore. I’d be surprised if Oakley doesn’t already know. It’s not like she’s paying any attention to him in there. All she’s done is look at you all night. The needy look in those pretty blue eyes was making me fucking hard, and it’s not me she wants to crawl up and play with.”

  Dammit, I didn’t need that image in my head.

  Turning, I headed back inside.

  I had to make a decision. If Wells was cheating on her, she needed to know. I couldn’t have her yet, but whoever did was sure as hell going to respect her. Treasure what they had. Or I was going to kill them and enjoy it.

  Nine

  Oakley

  We had spent the past two days painting the mural on Sarah’s bedroom wall, then making dinner, followed by watching a Halloween movie. Tomorrow, we were going to go to the Halloween store so she could pick out a costume for trick-or-treating. I wouldn’t be here for that, but I wanted her to have what she needed. I wasn’t sure Wilder would think about it. He clearly hadn’t thought to decorate for the holiday.

  Once she was bathed and in the bed with Belladonna at her feet—in the room I was sleeping in because I didn’t like her sleeping with the paint fumes in her room—I went back downstairs to clean up the kitchen, then get to work on the orders I had to fill from my Etsy store. Although I preferred painting, I had found I made more money using my artistic ability digitally.

  I made a comfortable living by creating and designing greeting cards, invitations, stationery, gift cards, place setting name cards, and custom orders for specialty items to sell on my online store.

  Sure, I had moved out of my nice, fancy apartment with a gym and Olympic-sized pool, but I had my grandparents’ house that Granny had left to me. I sold Dolly—my Lexus that I had loved—and bought ol’ Betsy, who was dependable most of the time. I no longer had health insurance or a 401(k), but I was young still. What mattered was that I was now available for Sarah. She had needed me when Sylvia got off her meds and started acting unstable. I was using my artistic side now, too, and making money with it.

  I was proud of the fact that I could make a living with the things I created.

  Tonight, I had to finish up a custom design for bachelorette party invitations, Hogwarts acceptance birthday invitations, and return address stickers for a baby shower. It would take me about three hours, and I would clear a little over two hundred dollars. All things I could do and still be there when Sarah needed me. I just needed Wilder to allow me to do that. I was hoping, this week, I would show him how good I was at this and he’d call me when he needed someone for Sarah. I had considered going back to the corporate world after Sarah moved to Florida with him, but that would mean I would be limited and not always free when Wilder called me to stay with her. I chose Sarah. I would always choose Sarah.

  I focused on cleaning up the mess we had made while making cheeseburger mac and cheese, then sugar cookies shaped like ghosts, witch hats, and pumpkins before adding Halloween sprinkles to them. We’d had another good day. I didn’t mind the mess. Just being here with her made everything else worth it.

  The sound of a text alert went off, and I knew my phone was back in the living room with my computer. I scanned the room and found Sarah’s phone lying on a barstool. I picked it up just as it dinged again.

  It was Wilder. The contact said World’s Best Dad. I stood there, holding it for a moment, trying to decide if I should answer it or leave it alone. He had clearly worked late and missed talking to her before bed. But then he might want to make sure she was okay.

  Sliding my finger over the text, I typed in her passcode, which was her birthday.

  Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?

  Then:

  Sorry it’s late. I had work that kept me out longer than usual.

  My finger hovered over the keys before I responded.

  Sarah is in bed. I’ll let her know you texted when she wakes up in the morning.

  Setting the phone on the counter, I went back to finish what I had been doing. Just as I picked up the dishcloth, the phone dinged again. I hadn’t expected him to respond to my text. I glanced back over my shoulder and figured it was something like thanks, then told myself it could wait. But the girl I always said was long gone seemed to peek out from under the rock she had been under, pushing me to go see what he had said. It was Wilder. With obvious frustration, I went to read his response.

  I hate that I missed her. Did she have a good day at school? What did she do this afternoon?

  Okay, wow. He was asking me? Shocking.

  She got an A+ on her math quiz, didn’t miss one of her spelling words, and is supposed to bring cookies for her Halloween party next week. I can place an order at the bakery in town if you want me to. This evening, we made cheeseburger mac and cheese for dinner and watched Halloweentown.

  I reread it to check for mistakes, then pressed Send. It was very unlikely he’d respond to me, so I put it back down and turned to finish cleaning up. I’d left out the mural painting and decorating we had done. He could see it for himself when he got home on Thursday night.

  Even my best efforts to think of anything other than Wilder failed. My thoughts went there anyway. Sometimes, it was just hard to forget the past, and being here, in his home, made me weak when it came to warding them off.

  Ten Years Ago

  Cheerleading practice had been brutal. I wanted a hot shower, my favorite pajamas, and a cozy blanket. Instead, I was stuck sitting under a tree in front of the high school, waiting on Wells. He was supposed to pick me up thirty minutes ago. I had texted him three times and tried calling, but had gotten no response.

  Groaning in frustration as I stared down at my phone, I wondered where he was and if I needed to call my dad. He wouldn’t be thrilled about having to leave work to give me a ride. He’d probably tell me to call Sylvia. She was the daughter with a car. Her mom had made sure she got one when she turned sixteen. I was seventeen and still had no car.

  I’d rather walk the seven miles home than ride in her stupid car. The rumble of an engine filled the silence around me, and I stood up, hoping this was Wells. I didn’t want to be here when it got dark. The sun was already starting to set.

  Squinting, I noticed the black Ford truck pulling up to the curb in front of me. That wasn’t Wells. He drove a dark blue Mustang. The truck belonged to Wilder. My heart rate sped up as I watched him. The passenger window rolled down, and without the tinted window hiding him, I could see his face. The flutters in my stomach were on high alert.

  “Get in,” he called out.

  I bent down and grabbed my pom-poms and book bag, then headed to do as he’d said. Wells must have sent him. I didn’t care why; I was just happy he had. I should feel guilty about it, but that was difficult when Wilder was there, looking sinfully handsome.

  Opening the passenger door, I tossed my things into the backseat, then climbed inside. I didn’t miss the way Wilder’s gaze traveled down my body slowly. Taking advantage of the attention, I crossed my legs, making my cheerleading skirt ride up even more. If he wanted to look, I would happily let him.

  “Where’s Wells?” I asked, causing him to snap his eyes off my legs and return to my face. I bit back the grin tugging at my lips.

  “Not here,” he replied, then nodded his head toward the door. “Put on your seat belt.”

  I reached back and grabbed it, then slipped it over me to buckle it at my side. “I can see he isn’t here. But where is he? Not that I am complaining,” I added the last part with a flirty smile.

  Wilder turned to look straight ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Was he angry? Had he not wanted to come get me? The thought that I was a burden felt like a lead weight in my stomach. I had lived most of my life feeling like a burden to my father and stepmother. Unwanted yet there. I didn’t think I could handle it if Wilder felt that way about me too.

  “Why do you stay with him?” he asked me. His voice sounded odd. Strained almost.

  That was not something I’d expected him to ask me, but then I had gone out of my way to try and get Wilder’s attention for months. A few times, we’d had a moment. At least, I liked to think so. The kind where you believed things would change, but they never did. Did he think I flirted with all guys? Or that I was cheating on Wells?

  “Why?” I replied. “Why ask me that?”

  Wilder didn’t put the truck in drive, but slowly looked back at me. As if he’d rather be anywhere else. That stung. The intense, burning kind that left a painful memory. As if I didn’t have enough of those already.

  “How long have you been waiting on him?” Wilder asked me.

  I frowned. “Uh, a little over thirty minutes.”

  Wilder scowled then, and a darkness in his expression scared and excited me at the same time. “It’s almost dark.”

  I nodded. I was aware of that.

  “Did you not have someone else to call?”

  The accusatory snarl in his voice snapped me out of my Wilder haze, and my back stiffened. If he hadn’t wanted to come get me, then why had he? I could have walked.

  Reaching for the buckle on my seat belt, I released it. I would rather walk than be a hardship for Wilder Jones.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Getting out. I didn’t ask you to come get me. I’m sorry to have caused you any trouble or put a strain on your plans. I can get home myself.”

  I didn’t look at him, for fear I would burst into tears. Having no one to depend on was something I should be accustomed to, but unfortunately, that was a woe that never went away. No matter how immune I should be by now.

  “Oakley, wait.” Wilder’s hand wrapped around my upper arm. “I didn’t ask you because I hadn’t wanted to come get you.”

  A small twinge of hope stirred in me even though I knew better than to let that happen.

  I glanced back at him. “It sure sounded like it,” I pointed out.

  He sighed. “Yeah, it did. That came out wrong. I’m just … I got here, and it’s almost fucking dark, and you were all alone, sitting there. It’s not safe. If I hadn’t seen Wells’s missed text messages, you’d still be here. It pisses me off that no one thought to come get you.”

  Oh. That was … nice. He had been worried about me. My chest felt warm. Was this what having someone care about you felt like? If so, I had been missing out on more than I’d realized.

  “If I hadn’t come, what would you have done?” he asked me.

  I shrugged. “Walk.”

  His frown deepened. “How far away is that? Like, ten miles?”

  “Seven.”

  His grip on my arm tightened. “Have you had to walk that before?”

  I nodded my head. More times than I wanted to admit.

  “Fuck,” he swore, still holding on to me as if I was about to bolt from his truck, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I might climb up into his lap, but that would be the only move I’d make.

  “Wells didn’t send you to get me?” I asked him, wanting to clarify what I thought he was saying about seeing my texts to Wells.

  A fierceness darkened his face. “No. He was busy.”

  I didn’t reply because, honestly, I didn’t care. Wilder was here. This was better than anything else.

  “Oakley, you’re too good for him. I know he’s my cousin, but … he’s not faithful to you.”

  I’d already known this. I had heard the rumors, and a few of the cheerleaders had made sure I overheard them talking. The one time I had brought it up to Wells, he had denied it, but the truth had been there in his eyes. He was a terrible liar.

  “I know. People talk,” I told him.

  Wilder’s eyes widened. He had clearly not been prepared for that response. I imagined he had thought I would burst into tears and fall apart. Not my thing. I wasn’t one to cry and feel sorry for myself. I’d found out early in life that it was a waste of time. No one was going to care, and I would have a headache afterward.

  “You could have any guy in that fucking high school. Why are you with him if you know he is cheating on you?”

  Wilder’s annoyed tone almost made me smile. How did he not know this already?

  A smile curled my lips as my eyes locked on his dark brown ones. “Because if I am with Wells, then I get to see you.”

  The silence that followed would have been uncomfortable if the tortured expression on Wilder’s face hadn’t given him away. He wasn’t mad, nor did he look like he wanted to escape. He wanted me. He could lie about it, but his eyes were telling me all I needed to know. I wasn’t the only one who felt something.

  “Oakley”—his voice was hoarse as he said my name—“you’re too young.”

  “Maybe for now. But my birthday is only five months away, and then I’ll be eighteen.”

  He closed his eyes, and the muscles in his neck flexed. “That might be legal, but in eight months, I’ll be twenty-five. Still too young for me.”

  I slid over closer to him, and his eyes snapped open. The nervous gleam I saw made me want to laugh. I affected him. He might be making up reasons to stay away from me, but he didn’t really want that. Placing a hand on his chest, I stared up at him. His heart was racing under my palm.

  “If my age bothers you, then we could be friends for now. Until the day comes when you think I’m old enough.”

  He studied me. His eyes dropped to my hand against him. “Friends, huh?” He swallowed hard. “If we were friends, then you would break up with Wells. Stop letting him cheat on you?”

  I nodded. “Happily.”