They say real men don’t cry—well, whoever said that could take a flying leap. This right here is beautiful, and honest, and cathartic.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing my neck, my temple, my hair. “Please forgive me. I overreacted. I just…I wanted to kill that fucker for laying a finger on you. And I would have…I surrender everything I am to you. I love you.”

  I stay nestled in his lap when the police arrive, providing them with the details of everything that happened. They commend Saxon on his heroic actions, and when asked if I wanted to press charges, I said hell yes.

  I’m way too exhausted to drive, and Saxon is way too drunk, so we catch a cab. On the ride home, I never let go of Saxon, nor does he of me. I have no idea what tomorrow holds, but I can only hope we’ll face it together.

  I step from the shower, feeling like a ninety-year-old woman. My body hates me. When we returned home from Sawbuck Saloon, we both fell into bed, clutching one another with no intent of ever letting go.

  I fell into a deep slumber, too exhausted to do anything but sleep. I’m thankful Saxon was still sound asleep when I rose. The deep furrow lines revealed troublesome dreams, but some sleep was better than none, so I left him be.

  I spent endless minutes under the shower, piecing together the events of last night. I could blame the alcohol, but that would be a lie. Drunk or not, Saxon expressed exactly how he felt.

  I will fight for him, for us, but I can’t live through a repeat of last night ever again. I can only hope with everything out in the open, we can move on from here.

  Wiping down the misted over mirror, I peer at my weary appearance. I don’t even recognize this person anymore. The fire has faded from my eyes. Selling this house can’t come soon enough.

  Before I left like a raving lunatic, Sam and I somehow were able to find common ground. It’ll never be like what it once was, but I don’t want it to be. As long as we can co-exist, then I’m happy. As I reach for the moisturizer, something purple catches my attention.

  At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks, but when I lean in, I gasp and quickly pull back. Extending my arm, I look down and see bruises in the shape of finger marks marring my bicep. I turn to the right and see I have a matching set.

  “Crap,” I curse to myself, attempting to rub over the evidence, hoping it’ll wash away. It doesn’t. It only seems to highlight the fact Saxon left accidental finger marks on my arms after he grabbed me last night. I know he didn’t mean to, but regardless, if he sees these, it’ll only add to the sudden shitstorm we’ve found ourselves in.

  My makeup is in the bedroom and so are my clothes, so wrapping the towel tightly around me, I tiptoe down the hallway, hoping by some miracle, Saxon will still be asleep. I open the door, screwing up my face when the flooring creaks under my weight.

  Peering around the doorjamb, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Saxon still lost in a deep slumber. Now the hard part. I creep through the room, deciding a t-shirt should do the trick. I have one with longer sleeves so decide to put that on.

  Flicking my gaze from the dresser to the bed, I continue skulking, not even game to take a full breath. When I’m feet away, I reach for the drawer and place my hand against the woodgrain, hoping to mask the noise of it opening.

  I inch it ajar, as I only need to reach my fingers inside to pull the shirt out. When I pass over the soft cotton, I exhale, but it’s all premature because the rustle of sheets reveals my ruse is up. “Hey.”

  His sleep-laden voice is husky and raw, but that’s no surprise, considering his actions last night. “Hey,” I reply, drawing out the pause.

  I’m frozen to the spot like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I could just pull out the shirt, but if I slip it on with my back turned, it’ll be just as bad. Alas, I do nothing.

  “Are you angry with me?” His uncertainty pains me. God, how did we get to this?

  “No, Saxon, of course not.”

  “Then why won’t you look at me?” Nothing slips past him.

  I can either make matters worse by never facing him again, or I can turn and hope everything will be all right. I decide on the latter. Spinning slowly, I tighten the towel around me. It gives me a false sense of security.

  We lock gazes, and I immediately feel like he can read what’s going through my mind. Biting my lip, I look away, unable to lie. My retreat has him springing from the bed, his heavy footsteps pounding against the wooden floor.

  “I am so sorry, Lucy. Last night, my behavior was…” He breaks midsentence. “What the fuck?” I don’t have time to move from the firing line because he gently rubs his thumb over my upper arm. His touch so different from last night. “Who did this?” When I remain silent, almost certain I’ve gnawed my lip clean off, he hisses. “I did this?”

  “You didn’t mean to,” I reply softly, but he inhales through his teeth, taking a step back.

  “Don’t make excuses for me. I laid my fucking hands on you and did that!” He points a finger at the evidence, clearly sickened. “And I also pushed you. Didn’t I?” It seems some things may be a little murky, but through the haze, he knows things weren’t pretty.

  “Yes.” Static fills the room, and I have the urge to cover my ears.

  All I can do is watch as Saxon runs both hands through his hair, stumbling backward, and slouching onto the edge of the bed. “I’m a monster,” he pronounces, shaking his head back and forth.

  His claim is exactly what Sam said him to be, but he’s wrong, and I refuse to allow him to think otherwise. “No, you’re not.” I rush to where he’s slumped, sitting next to him. “Look at me.” When he refuses, I grip both cheeks and force him to. “Stop it. Last night was a fucking mess, but this—” I thrust my arm in his view, but he turns his cheek, pained “—this was an accident,” I press. “You didn’t do this deliberately. Same goes for when you pushed me.”

  “Says the girlfriend with battered wife syndrome.” He yanks his face from my hold, his guilt almost suffocating us both. He rises and begins to pace like a caged tiger. I watch, wishing I’d stayed in bed. “Sorry doesn’t even seem to cut it anymore.”

  “Then don’t say it,” I counter firmly. “I’m sick of hearing sorry.”

  He thankfully stops trudging and stands in the middle of the room. “I will never forgive myself for what I did.”

  “Well, that makes the two of us.” My confession has nothing to do with last night, and it seems to calm the storm. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, but the key is to learn from your mistakes so we don’t make them again.”

  We all get a second chance, and that’s called tomorrow, and our tomorrow is today.

  Saxon’s bare chest rises and falls, the sight almost hypnotizing. “What I’ve learned—” he steps toward me, dropping to the floor “—is that I worship you. No more saying sorry. I won’t mess this up. I promise. If I’ve done anything right in my life, it was when I gave you my heart.” He wraps his arms around my calves and rests his cheek against my knee. God, the sight of utter surrender.

  Running my fingers through his silken hair, I sigh, the end finally in sight. Our relationship hasn’t been smooth sailing, but I suppose our circumstances are rare, which is why I want to hold onto it, nurture it, and watch it grow.

  Just as the air settles, the door bursts open and in charges Sam. I recognize that look. This can’t be good. “You son of a bitch!”

  Saxon jolts, surprised Sam is in our bedroom, but quickly defends himself when Sam marches over, fists clenched. He springs upward and holds out a long arm, using it as a barricade to stop him from advancing farther. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to leave. Now!” He slams his chest into Saxon’s makeshift blockade, not at all deterred.

  “Sam, enough!” I also rise, standing by Saxon. This madness cannot continue. Asking him to stay was a bad idea. Someone has to go.

  “No, not this time. I heard about what he did,” Sam shouts, his gaze flicking down my body. I automatically fold my arms, using my hands to cover the bruises, but it’s too late.

  “Jesus Christ! Good news travels fast in this town. Let me guess, mother dearest?” Sam advances forward, intent on murder, but Saxon shoves him. “You can’t do anything to me that I haven’t already done to myself.” This is Kellie’s doing? What, is she spying on me now?

  “I can try!”

  “Enough! This bickering has to stop!” I intervene, stepping between the brothers—a place I always seem to find myself in.

  “She could have gotten hurt! She clearly did,” Sam snarls, ignoring me as he peers around my frame to eyeball Saxon.

  “Don’t you think I know that!”

  Sam is seething, and when he finally decides to include me, I see just how much so. “I told you he was bad news. This is why I have done everything I did! To protect you… from this.” He grips my upper arm, shaking me gently. I yank out of his hold.

  A feral growl rumbles from behind me. “That’s it. We’re going to do this— once and for all. Outside. Now.”

  “Saxon, no!” I whip around, shaking my head animatedly. After last night, I can’t stomach to see him in another brawl.

  He passionately clutches the back of my neck, drawing our faces together. “Trust me.” I want to fight him, but after last night, after establishing we need trust to ensure this relationship survives, I have no choice but to back down.

  I nod, my lip quivering in fear. He kisses the dread from them softly. I watch as he slips into a pair of blue jeans and t-shirt and marches out of the room. Sam accepts the challenge and follows in hot pursuit. I’m still in a towel, so I madly race around the room, slipping into a summer dress.

  I tie my hair into a high ponytail and don’t bother with any shoes as I sprint through the house and out the back door. When I see Saxon and Sam standing in the middle of the yard, I fly down the stairs, my heart in my throat. At the moment, they look content on just speaking, but I stand on the sidelines, ready to intervene if need be.

  “I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not,” Saxon states. This isn’t starting out well. “I’ve loved that woman—” he points to where I am “—from the first moment I laid eyes on her. You knew that, but you didn’t care. So, if this is the karma train, then choo-fucking-choo.”

  Sam’s jaw clenches, but I’m surprised when he remains quiet.

  “Quite frankly, we’re both here ’cause of Lucy. I love her. You love her.” When Sam doesn’t deny it, I lower my eyes, ashamed. “But let’s get one thing straight. This is her choice, and by some miracle, she’s chosen me.” Saxon thumbs his chest while Sam exhales. “If she had chosen you, I’d have accepted it because all I want is her happiness.”

  “I want that too,” Sam affirms while I attempt to deal with this guilt-ridden weight.

  “Then accept this for what it is. You’re still here because Lucy is too kind for her own good. But make no mistake…” Saxon takes a step forward, the air spinning malevolent. “If I think for one second you’re playing an angle, so help me god…I will end you. Brother or not.”

  Sam smirks, but it’s not a pleasant sight. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t said more. But I suppose he too can sense the gravity to Saxon’s words.

  “If Kellie knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay away. Tell her to keep her nose out of my business. It’s too late to play the part of concerned parent. No one buys her act.”

  “I’m not your messenger boy. Tell her yourself.”

  “Fine.” Saxon folds his arms across his broad chest. “I thought you’d have more tact, but I’ll be sure to leave a fuck you sign on the front door.”

  Regardless of Kellie’s flaws, Sam loves his mother. He composes himself, but his poise worries me. Is this the calm before the storm?

  “I know the doctors think Lucy is the key to you getting better, but if you take advantage of her kindheartedness …” He runs a hand over his mouth, as if reining in his rage. “I will rip out your spleen and feed it to you.” I pale at his threat because I don’t think it’s empty. “I’m watching you. I don’t trust you. You may have Lucy fooled, but I see you. I always have. You can’t play me, Samuel. We’re flesh and blood, whether we like it or not. But Lucy…she is my heart.” He presses a tight fist to his chest, the sight reducing me to tears. “Fuck with my heart, and we’ve got a problem. We clear?”

  The article in question swells, and I can’t help but fall deeper in love with Saxon Stone.

  You can cut the tension with a knife. My glance bounces back and forth between them, praying Saxon doesn’t have more blood on his hands. However, when Sam eventually nods, I don’t know whether to celebrate or cry. Surely it can’t be this easy?

  But it appears it is. “So what happens now?”

  “Now, I go inside, shower, and take my girl out on the date I owe her.” I can’t wipe the smile clean. To be referred to as his out in the open is beyond liberating. “You’re not going to bitch and moan. You’re going to take it like a man and be happy for someone other than yourself for a change. I don’t like this arrangement, and I know you sure as shit don’t. But learn to live with it because I’m not curbing my behavior to spare your feelings.”

  “Here’s to hoping you’ll get sick of me and leave. We both know you’re good at that.” It’s the first quip Sam has delivered, but it pales to Saxon’s promise.

  “I have a reason to stay.” He turns to look at me, a longing lingering in his gaze. “And she’s the only reason that matters.” I want to run to him and throw my arms around him, but I stay put. “I don’t want to discuss this again.”

  Saxon waits for Sam’s response, but he doesn’t get one. Sam just pins him with a look that turns my blood cold. “Consider it done then.”

  Saxon nods once, but make no mistake, if Sam could murder Saxon with a look alone, he’d be a smoldering pile of ashes where he stands. I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping that this is really it. I don’t have any fight left. I just want to move forward.

  When Saxon appears satisfied, he turns and walks toward me. I stand still, not sure what happens next. “I’m going to hit the shower.” He kisses my forehead and then ambles up the stairs as if something explosive didn’t just occur.

  Both Sam and I are quiet, digesting everything Saxon just said. His delivery may have been harsh, but there is no nice way to express what he did. “You’re sure?” Sam’s question shatters the silence.

  “Yes,” I whisper, wishing there was a way everyone wins.

  “Your happiness is all I ever wanted… so we’re really over?”

  I nod slowly. “No matter what, I did love you, Sam.” I know this feels like he’s the runner-up, but what I felt for him was real. “I will never forget what we shared. You’re a part of me.”

  Sam scoffs, clearly not appreciating the finality of my words. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, the hair standing on the back of my neck.

  He turns his back, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “You become what you surround yourself with.”

  He and the horse he rode in on can go fuck themselves. “Well, that’s love, honesty, and integrity. Maybe you should try it on for size.” I don’t bother waiting for a reply because I have nothing left to say.

  Turning on my heel, I walk up the stairs and decide to have an Irish coffee without the coffee. As I ransack the liquor cabinet, my cell chimes. Reaching for it off the counter, I smile when I see who the caller is.

  “Is it safe?”

  “For the moment. Hi, Piper.”

  The past few days have been beyond crazy, and knowing Piper, she gave me breathing room because I had to fight this battle on my own.

  “I wanted to give you space to sort out your shit.”

  “I know. There’s no need for you to explain. I get it. How have you been? I miss you.” My life has slipped into a time warp, and I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.

  “I miss you, too. I’ve been good. Just worried about you.”

  Finding a bottle of whiskey, I unscrew the lid and the woodsy smell wafts through the air. “I’m okay. Just taking one day at a time.” I pour a splash of the amber liquid and wonder if I should eat something first.

  However, when Piper says, “How’s Sam?” I skip the notion of food and throw back the shot.

  “Ugh,” I groan into the phone, screwing up my face and wetting my lips. “Sorry. That shot of whiskey was probably a bad idea.”

  “You do realize it’s nine a.m.?”

  “I know,” I reply with a sigh, refilling my glass. “I really have no excuse other than it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “That bad?”

  I throw back another shot, the burn bringing tears to my eyes. “You have no idea. I expected Saxon and Sam to have killed one another by now, but I think they’ve reached an agreement. For now, anyway,” I add.

  “We have to catch up. Do you have any plans tonight?”

  “Saxon and I were going to go on a date.” I can’t help but smile at how natural that felt.

  “Wow,” she gushes, her surprise clear. “We really need that catch up ASAP. Sam is okay with this?” And just like that, I’m hit with the aftertaste of something else—guilt.

  Slumping onto the stool, I pour myself another drink. “No, but he doesn’t have a say. He knows everything. I’ve told him.”

  “How did he react?”

  “Not great, but this was never going to be easy. I suppose I could have eased him into it, but I didn’t want to be wrapped up in yet another lie. There’s been enough deceit between us.” I toss back the shot, the burn doing nothing to appease the scalding within.

  “That’s fair enough. And besides, stop being so selfless. You deserve your happily ever after too.”

  I want to believe her. “I know. I just feel like the villain in this story. That’s why I did—”

  “What did you do?” she interjects.

  Pulling the label off the whiskey bottle, I confess, “I said he could stay here when he offered to move out.” Oh gosh, saying it aloud highlights how outrageous this situation is.