“Absolutely. He also arranged for my stuff to be delivered when I moved here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know my parents could have brought them over.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

  “I don't know what to do about this,” I said, a thread of anxiety tangling inside the joy.

  “Let's get ready and go for that ski,” he prompted.

  I decided to stop worrying about things I couldn’t undo. I took a swallow of my coffee and pushed away from the counter. “All right, but I have to make sure I have my ski clothes.”

  “All of your clothes are here,” he said as I strode past him.

  I laughed when he swatted me on my bottom. I was walking down the hallway when I heard the sound of his phone chiming in the kitchen and then him answering. I could’ve sworn the air itself shifted in the hallway.

  It felt as if an icy gust blew from the kitchen down toward me. I was maybe twenty feet away from Archer at this point, but I turned around and walked back into the kitchen. He was standing at the counter, gripping the phone tightly. His skin looked bleached, and his eyes were wide. I didn't know who was on the other end, but I could hear the muted sound of a voice.

  Archer hadn't even noticed me when I reached his side. His eyes swung to mine when I placed my hand on his back. The look in them was almost wild.

  “Don't fucking call me,” he said, hanging up quickly.

  His breath was shallow, and he looked strange, not himself. “Archer, are you okay?”

  He nodded jerkily, but he didn't move. He was gripping his mug so tightly I thought he might crack it. I reached for it and had to forcibly uncurl his fingers.

  “Archer?” I prompted after I set his mug on the counter. “Who was that?” I pressed.

  He stared at me, blinking rapidly. “My great-uncle,” he said.

  “Archer, you're not okay.” My stomach churned with worry.

  “I’m fine,” he insisted.

  I placed my hand over his heart to feel the beat of it racing. I took him by the hand and led him into the living room. He followed without a word, sitting down on the couch beside me. He muttered something, and I rubbed my hand on his back, wondering just what the hell was going on.

  Within a few minutes, his breathing had returned to normal. His elbows were resting on his knees, and he lifted his hands, tunneling them roughly through his hair before he straightened.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “Archer, what's going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “This is not nothing. Please don't lie to me. What happened with him?”

  His gaze dropped before he lifted his eyes to mine again. He straightened and leaned back into the couch cushions. “You remember what I told you about my cousin, Jake?”

  “Yes,” I replied carefully. He’d said Jake’s name a few times when he was asleep.

  “I think Jake had his reasons for blackout drinking. Clint used to beat Jake.”

  My hand clenched. “What?” I whispered. My stomach turned sickly. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. I don't know why, but he was the target for him. I found out, and Clint…” Archer paused, swallowing several times. “Hit me a few times.”

  “Oh, my god? Are you serious?”

  His skin was still pale, although the color was returning. He looked almost ashamed.

  “Archer. That's awful.”

  “Yeah, I know.” His tone was level, flat, almost without emotion.

  “Does anybody know?”

  “You,” was all he offered.

  I threw a hand up in the air, and it whacked against the couch as it fell. “Did your parents know?”

  “No. My cousin Rhys knows, but we don’t talk about it.”

  “Nobody stopped him?”

  Archer shrugged. “I don't know. All Jake wanted was to get the hell away from his granddad. Their father died. With so many kids, their grandparents, Clint and his late wife, often helped their mother, babysitting and so on. Jake and I had one conversation about it. We were visiting them, and my parents were out running errands. I heard voices in Clint’s den and walked down the hallway. He hauled off and slapped Jake so hard, Jake stumbled. After that, he grabbed Jake and threw him against the wall.”

  “How many times did he hurt Jake and you? And who else?” I asked, fury burning like cold fire in my veins. I wanted to chase down his great-uncle and bring the wrath upon him.

  Archer shrugged again. “Whenever I saw him, he would find a reason to rough me up. He never left marks, and I started to have panic attacks later.”

  “Archer. Oh my god,” I breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  My throat ached, and I wanted to fix this.

  My oldest friend, the man I'd fallen in love with, dipped his chin. “I don't know. It's weird, and I hate how it feels. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed, but I am. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody.”

  “Have you talked to a therapist? Maybe something can help and…”

  “I know, Phoebe, I know.” He reached for me, catching my hand in his and squeezing. Tears stung my eyes. “I handle them much better than I used to, but it's hard when I hear his voice.”

  “Do you have to talk to him?”

  “He's part of my family, and he's a part of the business.”

  “But not the mine, right?”

  Archer’s smile was crooked, and it didn't reach his eyes. “No, not anymore.”

  “Does your grandmother know?”

  “I don't know. My family isn't the chattiest. I love my parents, and they're good people, but we don't talk about stuff like this.”

  “How can I help?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Archer

  How can I help?

  Phoebe’s question repeated in my thoughts. Her hair was drying in tousled waves around her shoulders, and her pretty eyes were so concerned. I couldn't even believe I had told her.

  “I don't need you to do anything,” I said, and I meant it.

  My heart had kicked up again, but it wasn't panic. I seldom spoke about this. It was fucking stressful to talk about it to anyone. I felt as if I were crossing a boundary, kicking through a wall of steel that fell behind me. I still hadn't told her the whole story. Except for my great-uncle and my therapist and Jake, I wasn’t sure if anyone else knew the whole of it. Rhys and I had only spoken of it once after Jake drank himself to death. Even then, our conversation had been vague.

  Rhys knew Jake had been his grandfather’s target, but to this day, I didn't know if he knew the whole truth. I felt as if I were carrying a heavy secret, a cold ball of darkness, weighing down a corner of my heart.

  I didn’t know what Clint would do. I never knew. I didn't fear for my safety even though I still had panic attacks. I just knew the worst thing about him, and I knew that was why he hated me.

  “I'm sorry he showed up at the reception.” I heard myself saying.

  Phoebe squeezed my hand. “You don't need to apologize.” She lifted her chin, and her eyes took on a gleam I knew well. It was the look she got when she would beat me in a race when we were kids. She would get the same look when she stood up against a bully who had been targeting a new kid in our class.

  That look was why she was a hotshot firefighter. My wife was a fucking badass and didn't back down from a challenge.

  “I'm even more than glad that we got married now,” she said.

  I chuckled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Hell, yeah. He doesn't call the shots anymore, and he has no power over you.” She paused, cocking her head to the side and studying me. “I think you should tell your grandmother.”

  “Phoebe—” I began.

  “Listen to me,” she pressed. “Secrets make things worse.”

  I swallowed and took a breath. “It's long over, and Jake is dead. I'm fine. I'm not afraid of him anymore.”

  “You have panic attacks!” she yelped.

  “Fair enough, but I'm rational. Because I did see a therapist, I know that’s just my unconscious nervous system reacting. She told me his voice was a trigger. It flicks a switch and turns off my thinking brain.” I tapped my forehead. “That's the frontal lobe.”

  “I know,” she said dryly.

  “Maybe someday I'll talk to my grandmother about it. Rhys knows. I don't think it's a secret in the family. It's just not something I want to talk about. Who will it help anyway?” I knew I was glossing this over, but I meant what I said. “Jake is dead. Clint’s not going to assault me now. He's fucking old.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He's like, seventy or so. He's got arthritis.”

  “Yeah but—”

  “Phoebe, you asked what you could do. I will talk to you about it, but please don't try to make me do anything about this.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Her lips twisted to the side, and she leaned over, sliding her arms around my waist. It was a little awkward on the couch. She rested her palm over my heart, circling it just like she had last night. She’d put me back to sleep. I never remembered those dreams, but I usually woke up feeling unsettled and anxious and thinking I was dreaming about Jake even though I couldn't remember the details.

  “You still want to ski?” I asked.

  She straightened, peering up at me and studying me. “Do you want to? It's not just my day,” she said.

  “I know. I’d like to ski.” She smiled slightly. “I haven't been cross-country skiing since I was here. I used to love it. It’d be a great way to take my mind off that stupid phone call.”

  “Why does he even call you?”

  “To be an asshole. He’s not pleased I’m taking over this entire branch of the company.”

  “Why is it that way? I’m honestly curious.”

  “When my grandparents started the business, it was just a vineyard, but they invested in real estate and mineral rights in areas all over Alaska, and things got big. My grandfather gave his brother a job but no power in the company. Long story short, Clint was a placeholder until I got married. He’s just always had it out for me, I think, because of what I know.”

  Phoebe muttered something under her breath.

  “What?”

  She glanced up. “I'm just mad. He's an asshole.”

  “Tell me something I don't know,” I said dryly. “It's all about control with him.”

  “Will you at least call Rhys and make sure he's not going to muck stuff up while you're taking the next two weeks off?” she asked.

  “Already taken care of. Now, let's go skiing.”

  I really needed to snap out of this mood. I shifted and stood, catching her hand in mine as her arms slid away from me.

  An hour or so later, I leaned my head back and let out a whoop, the sound echoing in the crisp, cold air. Phoebe laughed, and I looked over at her. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her breath puffed in the air.

  The sky was a sharp blue. It was a perfect day for cross-country skiing. We had just come through some trees out into an open valley.

  Phoebe lifted her ski pole, pointing at a groomed trail. “You remember that?”

  I held up my own ski pole, twirling it in the air. “I think so.”

  “It's a fun downhill, but there's a jump at the bottom because we have to cross a creek. You up for that? Or, has it been too long?”

  “I might not have been cross-country skiing lately, but I've kept up on my downhill skiing.” Race you?”

  Phoebe bit her bottom lip. “Of course. I'll beat you.”

  I watched as she pushed off. I knew she might beat me, but I wasn’t going to make it that easy. I bent low as I pushed off my own poles. We flew down the hill, curled tightly with our ski poles tucked to our sides. She started to gain a little speed on me, and I watched as she reached the bottom of the hill, lifting her legs just in time to fly over the narrow creek. I followed suit, landing maybe a second behind her.

  We were laughing as we slowed. When I stopped as close as I could to her, she caught my eyes. She was breathing hard, and her smile was wide. Pure joy gusted through me like a fresh breeze.

  “This is awesome. I'm glad you're back, Archer.”

  It wasn't easy. In fact, the angle was downright awkward when I leaned sideways on my skis to kiss her. Her lips were warm, a contrast to the icy cold air.

  “Any more hills on the way home?” I asked when I straightened.

  She shook her head. This day was perfect, and I forgot everything about this morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Archer

  “What the hell?” I adjusted my earbud.

  Rhys’s sigh filtered through the line. “I know. My granddad's a fucking ass. He's flipping out, but it's already a done deal. Our attorneys looked it over. The will is locked tight. He can't contest it.”

  I paused, collecting my thoughts. “You know what? I'm going to shut down that office.”

  “The building?” my cousin asked.

  “Yep. I don’t trust his staff.”

  “Nobody likes him.”

  “Look, we can reassign them, but this prevents his bullshit. I'm going to shut him out electronically this morning.”

  I felt torn about Phoebe’s suggestion that I talk to my grandmother about him. Clint was her brother in law, but maybe that was the only way to put a stop to this. The whole thing was wearying.

  Rhys chuckled. “I think that's your best move. Do you want my help relocating the staff?”

  “Let's figure out who we plan to keep and who we can’t trust. I hate firing people.”

  I could feel my cousin’s eye roll through the phone line. “Yeah, it sucks. Honestly, from what I know, the two main ones to worry about are his assistant and the VP.”

  “Seriously? His assistant has always been nice to me.”

  “Yeah, because he likes to get all the gossip. He thinks he's good at it, but he's not.”

  “Okay, so they’re both gone. Anyone else?”

  “I’ll check with my assistant. She usually knows the scoop. Let's have the meeting together with the VP.”

  “I don't mind handling it,” I said.

  “I thought you said you hated firing people.”

  “Well, I don't mind firing people for a reason. If he's undermining others, that’s a good reason. Plus, I know he's comfortable financially. It’s when I worry about people's income that I get stressed, even if they deserve to be fired.”

  “You need to work on your ruthless streak,” my cousin teased.

  This time, I rolled my eyes. “I'll get right on that, dude. You're so fucking ruthless.”

  We burst out laughing.

  An hour later, I had electronically locked Clint, his VP, and his assistant out of everything, including the buildings. Although I could have had someone do it for me, plunking around on the back end of computer programs was personally relaxing for me. I loved finding solutions. Not that I needed a solution in this case, but I didn't want there to be any missteps. I knew if I did it, there wouldn’t be.

  I glanced at the clock. It read 11:30 a.m. I expected a phone call within the hour, if not sooner. As I predicted, he called within forty-five minutes. My phone vibrated on my desk. I stared at it, watching his name flash on the screen. For the first time in years, maybe since the day I'd started carrying his secret, I didn't experience a jolt of fear. Oh, that old panic was there, hovering under the surface, but he no longer had the power to influence me or my life, not directly at least.

  I contemplated ignoring his call, but I was only delaying the inevitable. I put my earbuds in and tapped the call button. “Hello.”

  “What the fuck, Archer?” he opened with.

  “What's up?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

  “You locked me out of all the systems, and my VP and assistant.”

  “I did. You're fired, effectively relieved of all your duties. HR is handling the details for it.”

  “I need access to things. You need my help with the transition.”

  “No, I don’t. I don't trust you.”

  The phone went silent. If it was possible to feel anger from two-thousand-plus miles away where he was in Seattle, I could feel it. Lord knows how many cell towers relayed the signal. The line was silent, heavy, and dark.

  “You fucking prick. You've always just been a little shit,” he muttered.

  “It is what it is. We've already reviewed it with the attorneys. You can't contest the will, you know it, and I don't want to work with you, so I'm not going to.”

  “I'm going to talk to—”

  Even though my pulse was racing and my throat felt tight, I managed to cling to my anger. “Who are you going to talk to? Rhys already knows what I'm doing.”

  “I’m going to talk to your grandmother.”

  “And what is she going to do? There's nothing you can fucking do. You manipulated your way in and bullied my dad as much as you could, but I don't want any part of this. I know you're not going to fuck with me,” I said flatly.

  “You don't know what you saw that day.” I was instantly shocked he spoke aloud about that moment.

  “Oh, I know exactly what I saw.”

  This was the first time he'd ever even alluded to that situation. It had always hung in the air between us. My heart was pounding in a sickly beat, and my gut was churning.

  “Fuck you.” The line went dead.

  I checked the phone to make sure the call was officially off. I even powered it down. That was a lingering paranoia I had with him. There were too many mistakes as far as technology was concerned. I didn't want to accidentally leave a call line open with him. That was a habit I’d learned he used at the office, so he could listen in on conversations.

  Leaving my phone off, I stood from my desk and paced in a restless circle. I shook my arms to discharge the panic churning in my chest. My fingertips were tingling, and I felt that static cold rolling through me.

  “Archer.”

  Phoebe's voice reached me from the door. When I turned and met her eyes, I knew I couldn't mask what was going on,