“It was a lovely service,” Kit murmured.

  He laughed. “Why is that the first thing anyone says at a funeral? Seriously, think about it. What’s remotely lovely about putting two young, vibrant—dead—people in the ground?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “And for the record, I’m hurting every bit as much as you.” As if proving her point, she removed her oversize black sunglasses, revealing swollen, bloodshot eyes that looked as if she’d been crying all night.

  “Sorry,” he said reflexively.

  She shrugged. “I see you’re still doing it?”

  “What?”

  “Swallowing your feelings. Forcing yourself to be strong.”

  “You don’t even know me,” he said. “What the hell business is it of yours what I feel?”

  Now she laughed past a sniffle and fresh tears. After glancing over her shoulder, she said in a low tone, “I don’t know you? We spent an entire summer together, Travis.”

  “That was a million years ago.”

  “Not to me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Since he didn’t want her answer any more than he currently wanted her company, he kissed the crown of Libby’s head, then took off across the grassy knoll, sidestepping headstones, absorbing a hundred years of other families’ grief.

  “I mean,” she said, doggedly on his heels, “that for me, anyway, that summer feels like yesterday. And it’s not that big a stretch to remember that, even back then you had this knack for walling yourself off. Remember when Marlene fell from Vince Master’s tree house? And she screamed bloody murder the whole time we were in the car with Vince’s mom? The rest of us were scared out of our minds, but not you. You just kept a tight hold of her hand, telling her to calm down, everything would be fine. Like this teen grown-up, you had her insurance card in your wallet. Do you know how bizarre we all thought that was?” Out of breath, she tugged on his arm, dragging him to a stop alongside a massive white marble monument to Felix Goodwilly, one of the town’s first mayors. Dappled shade somewhat cooled the sweltering midday sun. “It wasn’t so much that you were prepared to handle any emergency but that everything did turn out all right. She only had a sprained ankle and a minor concussion. It was as if you possessed the sheer will to bend fate in your favor.”

  “If that’s so,” he said lightly rocking Libby, “I’m doing a helluva job right about now.”

  “Oh, my God, would you listen to yourself? As if there was anything you could’ve done to right this horrible wrong.”

  “But I want to,” he whispered, his voice raw.

  “What?”

  “Fix this. I want Marlie back,” he said, squeezing his sister’s baby, remembering all the times he’d held Marlene, playing surrogate parent when either their parents had been too busy or their paternal grandparents too tired. Like a slide show in his head, he saw his sister at four, hiding in a gloomy interior corner of the imposing stone church the family attended because some kid told her the gargoyles guarding the pulpit would eat her for Sunday dinner. He saw her again in third grade, when she’d accidentally superglued her fingers together and had been afraid they’d always be stuck that way. Again in middle school, when she’d bombed her first algebra test and was sure she wouldn’t get into a good college. All those times, he’d held her, told her not to be frightened. That everything would be better. And in turn, even though she’d been younger than he, there’d been plenty of times she’d returned the favor. Telling him it would be okay when a girlfriend had broken up with him or when he’d tossed a football into one of his grandmother’s prized sculptures.

  Seeing all that, reliving it heartbeat for heartbeat in his mind, snapped something deep inside him. With Marlene gone, who was left to tell him everything would be okay? Who was left to fight battles for? Who would—

  He choked back a strangled sob, willing himself not to cry, but as if in losing his sister, he’d lost the will to maintain always impeccable composure, tears fell and showed no signs of stopping.

  Kit reached out to him. And at first, not wanting to share this intensely private, painful moment, he turned his back to her, pouring out his love and frustration and loss into Libby. But Kit refused him his space, stepping up behind him, enfolding both him and his sister’s beautiful child.

  In an impossibly sweet voice she said, “Everything is going to be all right, you know?”

  He shook his head. “No. Never again. Beulah’s going to somehow win custody of Libby. And who am I to say she shouldn’t? I don’t know the first thing about raising a family, seeing how—”

  “Stop,” Kit said, turning him to face her. “That’s a load of bull. According to Marlene, you were all the family she needed rolled into one.”

  “Then why did she leave Chicago?”

  “For her own sanity. That’s why she wanted you to leave, as well. Because she saw the futility in you trying to single-handedly maintain a billion-dollar empire. Oh, sure, you have every task delegated down to the last mop and I don’t know—” she fought for a grin “—computer chip. But at the end of the day, Marlene thought you carried the weight of the world squarely on your shoulders. She didn’t want that for herself, but most especially she didn’t want it for the brother she’d loved so dearly.”

  Her touch at first tentative, Kit raised her fingers to the furrow between Travis’s eyes. He flinched, but then the tears were back—or maybe they’d never left—and she was cupping his cheek and he was leaning into her touch.

  “That’s right,” she crooned, “let it go. No one can be one hundred percent on all the time, Travis. Not even almighty you.”

  THAT NIGHT, LYING ON THE lumpy sofa in his sister’s dark living room, thirty minutes after putting Libby to bed, blustery air-conditioning blowing on his bare chest and legs, Travis finally dared exhale. Finally allowed himself not just to listen to Kit’s words, but truly hear.

  A week earlier, if someone had told him he’d be in this position, he’d have called them a fool to their face. Less than forty-eight hours earlier, he’d been in control of everything. Had the world by the balls. At the moment, the only thing eluding him was that whole tricky issue of life and death. Even though he’d thought he had everything under control, he hadn’t been able to save Marlene or Gary. Hell, he hadn’t even known they were gone. As much as he loved his sister, you’d have thought the moment her soul left Earth he’d have, at the very least, sensed a disruption in his life.

  And so what did that ultimately say about him? The fact that it’d been Kit telling him they were gone. Did he truly have control over anything? Or was it all just a big illusion? A game in which he was someone’s pawn?

  That endless summer in IdaBelle Falls, he’d felt a powerful sense of belonging. Like his sister, he’d never wanted to leave. But then he’d gotten back to the real world and realized all good things must come to an end. Yes, for the first time ever in this small town he’d felt part of something special, but therein lay the kicker. That feeling? It’d been temporary. Intangible. There only for that all-too-brief summer. Even at seventeen he’d known he had future responsibilities that couldn’t be put aside for some sappy emotion like love—if that had even been what he’d felt for Kit. But if it hadn’t been love, why had giving her up hurt so bad? Why had his fingertips itched to dial her number so long after? Why, to this day, did he feel so guilty for not having the courage to at least make a clean break?

  And why now, when he should’ve been catching up on the latest merger news, was he in such a spiraling downward funk?

  From across the room, on the hacked-off section of shag carpet in front of the brick mantel, the littlest dog looked up and whined. Cocked her head—that much he remembered about her, that she was a she. The big dogs kept on with their naps.

  Travis never would’ve let them inside but the day had been powerful hot. And something Kit had said the previous afternoon—no, the way she’d looked at him after asking what was wrong with him, as if she was disappointed with what he’d become—had ticked him off. Made him more determined than ever to prove he could achieve as big a victory with his current responsibilities as he had with Rose Industries.

  “I’m a wild success,” he said to the goofy little dog. “Everyone thinks so.”

  The mutt just kept staring.

  “The only reason I let you in wasn’t because of anything Kit said but out of love for my sister.”

  The dog stood, stretched, then leisurely strolled to park herself under his hand, which he’d draped off the sofa.

  “Be careful,” he said, giving the soft spots behind her curly-haired ears a rub. “According to Kit, I’m not worthy of your attention.”

  The dog obviously must not have cared since she hung around for more.

  Why did he care—about what Kit thought, that is? And why had he kissed her? What had he been thinking? More to the point, why hadn’t he been thinking? Obviously a temporary-insanity kind of thing, as the kiss hadn’t meant anything. He’d just seen her standing there, drenched in sunlight, and for an instant he’d been seventeen again. And happy—if only for a brief while.

  The phone rang, and this time, instead of the dog moaning, it was Travis, because the closest phone was all the way in the kitchen.

  Grunting, Travis pushed up from the sofa and wound his way into the equally dark kitchen, lit only by the wash of moonlight eking past open curtains. He would’ve just let the phone ring, but seeing how his cell had gone missing—he halfway suspected either Lincoln or Clara ate it—he figured the caller might be someone from his office trying to track him down.

  “Hello?” he said on the seventh ring.

  “Hey.” The soft, wholly feminine voice belonged to Kit. His chest tightened, fingers clenching around the old-fashioned handset.

  “Yes?” he asked, resenting the hold she apparently still had on him after all these years.

  “I just wanted to…”

  “I’m listening,” he said, perching on the edge of a step stool. Cocoa had wandered into the kitchen and now used his right dark-sock-clad foot for a pillow.

  “I don’t know why I called,” she said. “I just—I felt sad about the way we left things.”

  “Me, too,” he said, kneeling to pick up the dog, hugging it close. The warm fur felt nice against his bare chest. Comforting, like a heated fuzzy blanket. Crazy. Calming, the way Kit’s hugs had been healing at the cemetery. The ultimate tranquilizers—until Levi wandered up, suggesting they get a move on so as not to be late to the wake.

  “For the record,” he said, “again, I’m sorry about…you know. The kiss.” The equally crazy—albeit wonderful—kiss that’d been so out of character for him he might as well have been having an out-of-body experience. It was nuts, but what was he supposed to do about it? It was a little late for takebacks now.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a raspy—and yes, sexy—whisper. “I know. But that isn’t why I called.”

  “Oh?”

  “Travis…Guess it’s my turn to apologize if I’m overstepping here, but Marlene, on her deathbed, asked something of me, and at the time I chalked up her request to pain meds.”

  “And…?” He squeezed the little dog tighter, and as if it were a baby every bit as much as Libby, Cocoa fell asleep with her head on Travis’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, no longer fighting tears for his lost sister, for the lost promise of her life. He didn’t want to cry for her, but he silently did. Openly mourning felt like an admission of her death, and he wasn’t ready for that. Not anywhere near ready. Granted he’d had a meltdown at the cemetery, but part of him still thought that any second she and Gary would burst through the back door, shouting Surprise! He’d find that all of this had just been some whacked game designed by Marlene to get him out of the office and into her small town way of life she’d been forever trying to convince him might’ve been a viable option for his own life’s journey.

  “I keep asking you if you’re okay,” Kit said, jolting him from his grief to the present. “And you keep assuring me you are, but—”

  “You’re right,” he haltingly, begrudgingly said. “I’m not well.”

  “Are you sick?” she asked, alarm in her voice.

  “No,” he said, stroking the dog’s right ear. “At least not the way you think. Guess I’m just having a tough time coming to grips with…”

  “Don’t rush it,” she urged. “Losing your sister has to be quite a shock. It’s only been a few days, Travis. You can’t expect yourself to—”

  “I know.” It’d been on the tip of his tongue to fight. To tell her he had responsibilities he couldn’t just up and abandon. But a funny thing had happened at the funeral that afternoon. It’d dawned on him that he was fallible. He was human. Life was short. Rose Industries was a well-oiled machine that, last time he’d checked, was chugging along fine without him. “I know I should take time to grieve, but that doesn’t mean I can hide here forever, wiping noses and making bottles and—”

  “Two days, Travis,” she’d softened her voice, and in the dark kitchen, even over the static-filled phone, her velvety tone stroked him like a caress. “Give yourself room to heal. Let me help.”

  How deeply attractive that sounded. Returning to her for more of her special brand of comfort. But was it smart? The woman was engaged. Yes, he might’ve had an epiphany regarding his lot in life, but that didn’t mean he was about to throw in the towel on his career and hang out on street corners, singing folk songs.

  “I’ve got to go,” he lied. “Libby’s crying.”

  “O-okay,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. I just—”

  “Thanks, Kit, but I’ve really got to go.”

  Before she said anything to stop him, he hung up the phone. Before he grew one heartbeat more attached. What they’d shared had been amazing, but they’d been kids. Now, he suspected he was using her as a sort of instant replacement for his sister. Kit had been Marlene’s best friend. They were similar in so many ways. It was only natural he’d be attracted to her—as a friend, right?

  To keep whatever he felt for her in check, he needed to put on a happy face and prove not just to her but to the world that he had a complete handle on this entire situation. Even if inside he feared he might be falling apart.

  KIT HUNG UP THE KITCHEN phone and stared out at her overgrown backyard, awash in moonlight. How many happy times she and Levi and Marlene and Gary had spent on the patio. Laughing over homemade sangria and nachos. They’d planned future vacations and new avenues to explore with the daycares. What they hadn’t planned on was half their group not making it to their thirtieth birthdays.

  Arms crossed, letting tears slowly fall, Kit ached not only for herself but for Travis. And Libby. Poor, poor Libby.

  As the child’s godmother, Kit, too, had a stake in the girl’s life. At a simple private christening ceremony Travis hadn’t been able to attend, Kit had sworn to protect and watch over the infant. Travis had done the same, making them an oddly matched team. Did that explain her all-consuming compulsion as of late to be with him? Talk to him? Touch him?

  Marlene had been good friends with Levi, but it hadn’t been a secret she’d really wanted her brother and Kit to end up together. When it’d appeared that was about as likely as IdaBelle Falls hosting the Olympics, Marlene had given up. At least Kit had thought she had.

  Stinging eyes closed, Kit journeyed back to the night of her best friend’s death….

  “Come closer…”

  Kit had abided by Marlene’s wish, inching closer to the emergency room bed, trying so hard to look past the severely bruised right side of Marlene’s pretty face. The left had been bandaged to such a degree Kit had feared what was beneath the garishly white gauze, but not as much as she’d feared her friend’s prognosis.

  Only an hour earlier Marlene and her husband of three years had been out for a much-anticipated night of two-stepping. Ever since giving birth to Libby, Marlene had been so wrapped up in being a great mom she’d seemingly all but forgotten how much fun she used to have being a great dancer and wife.

  For Marlene, that night was supposed to have been about reconnecting with the fun and still vibrantly sexy woman inside—not about losing her best friend and soul mate, Gary. Certainly not about then losing her own life to something as senseless as fog and a too-tired semi driver cutting a curve too close on an unseasonably cool Saturday night.

  “Don’t you give up,” Kit had said. Though tears had flowed freely, she’d made no attempt to hide them or wipe them away. “You have so much to live for…Gary might be gone, but little Libby. Don’t you leave her…”

  “She’s yours now,” Marlene had said, her raspy voice barely rising above the erratic beeps and hums of the machines keeping her alive. “You and Travis. Together…”

  “No,” Kit had said with a sniffle and a vehement shake of her head, somehow finding air past the cloying scents of iodine and antiseptic. “Libby needs you—her mom.”

  “I always thought you’d make a beautiful couple. J-just like Gary and me.” She’d paused for a faint smile.

  “Don’t you die,” Kit had implored, gripping her friend’s hand tighter, as if pleading could keep her alive.

  “Together…you and Travis raise Libby. He needs you. Save him, Kit. No matter what he says. Keep him in IdaBelle Falls long enough for him to learn there’s more to life than—” Her words had melded into a fit of harsh coughs.

  “Libby needs you,” Kit had repeated, barely able to see her friend through messy tears. “I do. The kids at the daycares. You mean so much to so many people.” With her free hand Kit had gingerly cupped her best friend’s cheek, trying not to notice how the whites of her eyes were blood-streaked or that her pupils weren’t focused in the same direction. The beep indicating Marlene’s pulse had sped up, then slowed, slowed until Kit’s own breathing mirrored the beep that was now down to one every three or four seconds. Throat tight, stomach sick, Kit had swiped more tears with the back of her free hand. “Don’t you die on me. Don’t…”

  Too late. Her best friend was already gone.