Driving down a long dirt road, through what can only be described as a forest, I look at the map displayed on my dashboard. The mapping system in my car told me that I arrived at my destination about three minutes ago, but I still haven’t seen a house, and I’m starting to freak myself out. It’s dark. I’m in the middle of nowhere, or I should say in the middle of the woods, and I’m pretty sure Bigfoot is going to walk out in front of my car at any moment.

  Leaning forward to get closer to my windshield, I squint my eyes trying to see through the darkness that has engulfed me, when I notice something move off on the side of the road.

  Please don’t be Bigfoot. Please don’t be Bigfoot, I pray inwardly, and then slam my foot on the brake when two deer run out of the woods and across the road. “Oh my God.” I hold my hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat hard against my palm. I pull in a breath then let it out slowly as I take my foot off the brake and start to drive forward, going much slower than I had been before.

  It’s now seven, which means I’m late. My stomach tightens, and my palms start to sweat then my breath leaves on a whoosh as I come over a slight incline in the road, spotting a house, which is not a house at all, but a cottage. A white stucco cottage with bright blue, red, and yellow trim around the windows, and doors that make it look like it belongs in a fairy tale.

  Pulling up slowly, my foot automatically hits the brake when I see Sage standing outside next to his car like he was just about to leave. I don’t know how long we stare at each other through the glass of my windshield, but it feels like a lifetime, and before I even realize he’s moved, he’s at the hood of my car then at my door, opening it up.

  “Put it in park and turn it off,” he barks, making me jump.

  “Sage—”

  “Now,” he demands, and I fumble with the shifter to put my car in park then hit the button to shut down the engine. As soon as the lights go out, he unhooks my seatbelt and pulls me out of my seat.

  “Sa—”

  His name ends on a whimper as his hands take hold of my face gently and his mouth crashes down on mine. My toes curl in my ballet flats, and my arms wind around his neck so I don’t fly away. I don’t know how I did it, but I had forgotten what it’s like to have him kiss me. I forgot that it feels like the world around me has disappeared, leaving nothing but him and me. Feeling his tongue touch my bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, my mouth opens and I moan down his throat while digging my fingers into his shoulders, trying to keep myself from falling.

  “Goddamn,” he growls, dragging his mouth away from mine and tucking my head under his chin. “Fuck me.” Hearing his heart beating wildly, I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath before whispering.

  “I’m sorry I was late. Bigfoot ran across the road.” Pulling my head away from his chest, my eyes open and I find him looking at me curiously.

  “Bigfoot?”

  “What?” I frown.

  “You said Bigfoot ran across the road,” he says, and I shake my head, trying to get my brain, which is totally fried from that kiss, to work again.

  “A deer ran across the road, not Bigfoot. Though I thought for sure it was going to be Bigfoot. I didn’t know your house was in the middle of the woods.”

  “I should have told you. I… fuck, I didn’t even think you’d show.”

  “You gave me a million dollars in Monopoly money,” I reply quietly, feeling a smile lift at the corners of my mouth. I don’t know of another man who would put their ego aside and do what Sage did. I don’t know of another guy who would care enough to even try to win back someone they barely know.

  “You know I’m sorry, right?” he asks, and I force him to let me go so I can take a step back, because he can’t be this close when I say what I need to tell him.

  “Please.” I hold up my hand when he takes a step toward me, and I watch his eyes flash right before he lifts his chin and crosses his arms over his chest. “I should have forgiven you the first time you apologized. It wasn’t right of me to tell you I accepted your apology and not actually accept your apology. It also wasn’t right of me to lie about who Chris really is to me.”

  “Who is he to you?” he questions, and I can hear an edge of jealousy in his tone but I ignore it.

  “My best friend. He’s been my best friend since I was five.”

  “Is that all he is to you?”

  “Yeah, that’s all he is to me.” I smile weakly, watching his body relax slightly. “What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry, too.” I pause, wondering how to tell him how I feel without telling him how I feel. “I just didn’t want to get hurt again. I know it’s stupid, since we don’t really know each other, but you hurt me, and I didn’t want to end up hurt again.”

  “Come here.” He opens his arms but doesn’t move to reach for me again, and I know this is when I need to go to him. This is me silently letting him know I forgive him—really forgive him.

  Stepping into his embrace, I feel his arms wrap around me and his chin drop to the top of my head. Closing my eyes, I wonder how it’s possible to feel what I’m feeling right now. I barely know this man, but I feel more connected to him than my college boyfriend, who I dated for three years.

  “Thank you for coming to me,” he says quietly, and tears burn the back of my throat as my arms tighten around his waist. I’m still scared to death, but there is now hope mixed in with the fear of what could happen.

  “Thank you for being persistent,” I say, meaning that, and his arms tighten before he loosens his hold slightly.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “I cooked,” he tells me, and I tip my head back to look up at him.

  “You cooked?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. There’s a lot about me that you don’t know yet.”

  “Yeah, like the fact you live in a fairy tale cottage,” I state, and his brows draw together.

  “What?”

  “Your house, it looks like a fairy tale cottage right out of a book.”

  Turning us to the side, he looks at the house. Even though it’s dark, the bright colors around the windows are in stark contrast to the white of the stucco. It’s all accentuated by the outside lights that are coming down off the edge of the roof and others that are shooting at it from the garden.

  “The couple who built it was from London. They wanted to have a little bit of home in the US. When they moved home after their first child was born, they let it sit with plans to come back and visit, only that never happened. Eventually, they realized they would never come back, so they put it on the market.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Sad for them. It worked out for me. Come on.” He takes my hand and begins leading me toward a stone walkway to a heavy-looking wood door that is curved at the top. Pushing the door open, we step right into a small living room with gold and white wallpaper on the walls that has began peeling away. There are plastic drapes all over the floor and a ladder in the middle of the room under one of the many large wooden beams that run across the ceiling.

  “I’m in the middle of re-staining all the beams,” he explains, pulling me past the living room and down a hall.

  Reaching the kitchen, I blink. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined it would be when he showed me the things he picked out. The cream cupboards and countertops go perfectly with the light gray walls. The large stove off to the side looks amazing with the huge decorative vent above it that blends in with the cupboards. All the appliances look awesome in the space, and they tie in perfectly with a huge metal-top table that is off to the side with coordinating chairs placed around it.

  Taking a step farther into the room, I see a second living room with a large stone fireplace as the centerpiece with a TV mounted above, and one large sectional in front of it that is a dark gray suede material. Fur pillows of different shades are stacked up in the corners, and a few fur throws are tossed over the back. The whole space looks like something out of a high-end magazine ad for housewares. Spinning to face Sage, I shake my head.

  “This is…” I look around again, trying to come up with a word that means more than beautiful. “This is spectacular! This could be in a catalog.”

  “My mom and aunts will be happy to hear that.” He smiles.

  “They did all of this?”

  “Yeah, they love shopping, so I gave them my card and a budget and told them to let loose as long as they didn’t show up with anything pink.”

  “No, this is… this is you.”

  “If you think this is nice, you should see the view from my bed,” he says, and I feel my face go soft.

  “You put in a skylight?”

  “Yeah.” He holds out his hand, and I place mine in it and let him lead me down a short hall that is just off the kitchen. Opening the door to the room, I walk in ahead of him and go to the bed. Climbing in without asking if it’s okay, I lie on my back and look up at the night sky that seems to be a hundred times brighter than it does from the skylight over my bed.

  “I knew this place would be beautiful when you were finished with it,” I say quietly. Then I turn my head when the bed moves and watch Sage crawl up next to me to lie down on his back, just far enough away that we’re not touching.

  “I still have a lot to do, but it’s coming along.”

  “Have you done it all yourself?” I ask, lifting my head to find him already looking at me.

  “You know my uncles own a construction company, so they did some of the work, but my brothers, cousins, and I did the kitchen and floors ourselves.”

  “You guys have done a great job.”

  “Thanks,” he tells me, and then he rolls toward me, putting an elbow to the bed and looking down at me. Watching him study me with the light through the skylight and the open door of the room, I fight the urge to squirm under his stare. “I’ve imagined this.” He tosses his hand out to encompass everything. “I’ve imagined sharing all of this with you hundreds of times. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Feeling my lips part, I lift my hand and rest it softly against his cheek. “Me, too,” I confess without thinking, and he turns his head and touches his lips to my palm.

  “Come on. I made lasagna,” he urges, sitting up and getting off the bed, pulling me along with him, and I feel my stomach twist. I can’t eat lasagna, and I can’t even tell him why not without exposing too much.

  “I’m not really hungry anymore,” I lie, and he stops at the door to look at me, frowning.

  “You’re not hungry anymore?”

  “I forgot I had a big lunch today.”

  “Oh.” His frown deepens.

  “I’ll try to eat some, but I don’t want you to think I’m being rude if I don’t eat much,” I say, and he shakes his head.

  “It’s all good. You can watch me eat and we can catch up,” he assures, and so that’s exactly what I do. I watch him eat and tell him about Chris, my parents, and even a little about Kelly, before it’s time for me to leave. And when I go, he gives me a kiss goodbye that puts his kiss hello to shame.

  Chapter 4

  Kim

  HEARING SOMEONE KNOCKING on my door, my eyes open and I roll to the side to look at the clock. Seeing it’s not even five in the morning yet, I sit up and put my feet to the floor then hurry out of bed. I only know one person who would show up at my house at this time, and that person is Kelly, and seeing how my last conversation with her ended, I’m not really looking forward to going through that again.

  I put on a long sweatshirt over the top of my nightgown and head for the living room, where the morning sun has just started to light the room. Walking toward the sliding glass door, I see it’s not Kelly. It’s two men wearing suits, and they both look like they haven’t slept in hours. I stop in place when they notice me and watch relief flash through their eyes as they hold up black leather wallets, pressing them to the glass. Seeing both of them say FBI, I hurry across the room, flip the latch, and open the door an inch.

  “Kimberly Cullen?” the man who is standing closest to where I am asks, studying me.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Special Agent Torres, and this is Special Agent Kace. We’re with the FBI,” he says, and my stomach fills with anxiety.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Can we come in?” Agent Torres asks, and I check them out. They look legit, but I just don’t know.

  “We’re here about your sister,” Agent Kace explains, and my eyes move to him.

  “What happened?” I question, and I watch both their eyes change in a way that makes my heart feel suddenly heavy. “What happened?” I repeat, pushing the door open to let them inside.

  “Do you have someone you can call to come sit with you?” Agent Torres asks, and I shake my head as I walk across the room to stand on the opposite side, away from them.

  “It would really be best if you called someone.”

  “Just tell me,” I whisper, twisting my hands nervously in front of me.

  “Your sister’s been murdered.” My heart stops, and my eyes close as those five words penetrate. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I open my eyes back up, not really seeing anything. “We haven’t been able to find her body at this time, but we have men out looking for her.”

  Oh, God. I move to the couch to take a seat, because my legs feel like they are about to give out from under me. Dead? Kelly’s dead? How is that even possible?

  “We’re very sorry for your loss, Miss Cullen.”

  “How?” I finally get out through the sudden ache in my throat.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t discuss that with you at this time, but know we are close to catching her killer.”

  “Her killer.” I drop my eyes to my lap. Kelly isn’t just dead; she was murdered. Someone killed her. Someone took her life. “Will I know when you find the person who did this?” I ask, lifting my eyes to look at the two men who have now moved closer to where I’m sitting.

  “We will make sure you are given the news as soon as we apprehend him.”

  “You already have a suspect?” I ask to confirm, needing that information more than my next breath.

  “Yes,” Agent Torres states, and I drop my eyes to my lap and pull in a few deep breaths, trying to get myself under control.

  Nodding, I lift my head then shake it. “Does… does her mom know?” I ask, and they both look at me with confused expressions. “I… I was a-adopted when I was born. I… I don’t know my birth mom.”

  “We were unaware of that,” Agent Kace says, and I blink up at him in bewilderment.

  “How? How did you find me then?” I don’t know my birth mother, but I know she has my number, because Kelly gave it to her along with my address when she first started coming around. She thought her mom—our mom—would want to contact me, which she never did.

  “An eyewitness believed she was you,” Agent Torres explains, getting down on his haunches in front of me. “When we went back to examine who our suspect had been in contact with, we found out it was your sister Kelly.”

  Pinching my thigh, I try to see if that will wake me up, but it doesn’t. This isn’t a bad dream I’m going to wake up from any second.

  “Please call someone and have them come over. You shouldn’t be alone right now, Miss Cullen, and as soon as we are able to give you more information about the case, we will set up a time to meet with you.”

  Nodding, because I can’t talk, I reach out to take a card Agent Kace hands me.

  “Call someone,” he orders gently, and I nod again. “We’ll be in contact soon.”

  Watching them leave with quiet goodbyes, I sit here hearing their words continue to ring in my ears.

  “God,” I whimper, dragging my hands down my face and covering my mouth with my shaking fingers. “Oh, God.” Looking around the room, everything blurs together while tears fill my eyes, and bile builds in the back of my throat, making it hard to breathe. Squeezing my tear-filled eyes closed, wetness tracks down my cheeks and onto my chest. I get up on shaky legs and head to my room to grab my phone out of my purse where I left it last night. Pulling it out, I see it’s dead. Finding my charging cord, I fumble with it until I get it plugged in then wait for it to turn on. I have a few voice mails and a lot of texts but I ignore them, pulling up my mom’s phone number in my call log and pressing send.

  “Honey,” she answers on the second ring, sounding like I just woke her up.

  “Mom,” I choke out through my tears. I wish she were here. I wish she could wrap her arms around me and tell me everything will be all right like she has done since I was little.

  “What’s happened? Are you okay?” she questions, sounding more alert than she did moments ago.

  “No.” I fall back on my bed and squeeze my eyes closed. “Kelly. Kelly’s dead, Mom,” I get out, right before a loud, painful sob breaks loose.

  “What?”

  “She was murdered. The FBI was just here. Kelly was murdered.”

  “Oh, God,” Mom breathes, then the phone goes quiet before I hear her talking to my dad, but I can’t make out what either of them are saying over the sound of my blood pumping through my ears.

  “Baby,” Dad says, and my eyes tighten. “Your mom is booking us a flight right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be strong, honey.”

  “Okay,” I agree on a whisper.

  “Be there soon. We love you.”

  “Love you, too,” I say, right before I let the phone fall from my grasp, and then I roll to my side and curl myself into a ball.

  Your sister’s been murdered.

  My eyes burn as those words replay over and over in my head while I watch the ceiling fan spin in circles. I should get up. I should go shower and call my parents back so I can tell them they shouldn’t worry about me, but I can’t force myself to move. All I can do is think about Kelly, my identical twin. We shared the same hair, the same face, the same everything, down to the freckles across the bridge of our noses, and yet with all of that in common, I hated the person she was.