There is no easy way to do this, but unlike Sam, I plan on telling the truth. I know what people will think of me, but I’m sick of all the lies.

  “You can forgive him, but not me?” he asks in a faraway tenor, his gaze pinned to the ground.

  “Forgive him for what?” Every part of me wants to sit beside him and console him because I’m the one who inflicted a wound so deep, I don’t think it’ll ever heal. But I don’t. I’m confused enough as it is.

  His allegation burns. “He lied to you as well. He knew the truth, but instead, like the coward he is, he didn’t say a word. If that were me, I’d fight for you…I did.”

  I hiss, taking a step backward. His words strike a nerve because deep down, I know they’re true. Saxon is at fault as well. He should have come clean, but he didn’t. They both lied to me, but was one crime worse than the other?

  I’m wrestling with what’s right and what’s wrong because both feel like a betrayal. But Saxon is no coward. He did fight for me. He has. He explained why he did what he did, and although it doesn’t excuse his actions, Sam’s betrayal feels so much worse. “He wasn’t my fiancé. He wasn’t the one I spent years with. You could have told me. You had ample time, but instead, you chose to lie. Time and time again. I feel cheated. Do you know how betrayed I feel?” I clutch at my chest, my heart constricting.

  “I know, and I am so sorry! If I could take it back, I would!” he exclaims, his face contorting. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I cry, pushing down the hysteria because I want to know the truth.

  “Because I was scared. I know what I did was wrong, but I did it for you, Lucy.”

  Scoffing, I cross my arms, sick of his excuses. “You lied for me?”

  “Yes,” he replies, without missing a beat.

  “That makes no sense!” I’m done with Samuel pointing fingers and not manning up to what he did. “Saxon…”

  “Saxon isn’t the saint you believe him to be!” he shouts, shooting upright, his nostrils flared.

  A palpable tension thrums between us, and I have a foreboding sense that I’m seconds away from opening Pandora’s box. “What does that mean?”

  Sam takes a deep breath, and the ominous ambiance almost suffocates me whole. “I saved you from a life of heartache. I’m sorry I lied, but I never lied about my feelings for you. My brother is bad news. I know girls love a bad boy, but Saxon is a bad apple. He always has been.”

  A rage whips me into shape, and I advance, about ready to slap his cheek. “How dare you! Saxon has been nothing but honest. He’s cared for me from the very beginning.”

  My rampage is put on hold, though, when Sam stands his ground. “Oh, so he didn’t think it was important to tell you he was who you first met and not me?” My fire begins to abate because Sam seems to know where my weaknesses lie. “He’s gutless, and he knew you were better off with me. That’s why he didn’t tell you.” He jabs his thumb into his chest, it echoing like the thoughts rattling in my mind. “You were and will always be too good for him. Think, Lucy. If he claims to have loved you from the very beginning, then why did he lie to you?” I chew the inside of my cheek, hating how the truth has trapped me in a web of deceit. “We both lied, but I seem to be the bad guy.”

  “You are,” I affirm, but it’s weak. “What you did to him was awful. Both our lives could have been so different if you’d just told the truth.”

  Sam snickers, tired of me defending his twin and not him. “I didn’t tell you the truth because I wanted to save you—” he shouts, charging forward and gripping my upper arms.

  “From what?” I cry, attempting to break free because his touch sparks a rage. I’m done with this conversation. But Sam won’t let me go as he shakes me like a ragdoll.

  “From him! He’s a—”

  “He’s a what?” I scream, uncaring I’ve drawn the attention of almost everyone in a hundred-mile radius. He has three seconds to explain himself because I’m done listening to his excuses.

  He tightens his hold, drawing me toward him until our faces are mere inches apart. He makes no secret of his anger toward me or Saxon, but as he examines every part of me, I see that underneath the rage is sheer torment. “What you think you feel for my brother…what you think you know…” He takes a steadying breath, which leaves me parched, gasping for air. “…Ask him about Ivan Preston.”

  “Who?” I’ve never heard this name before, but I have a feeling it has the capability to change everything I thought I knew.

  “He was Saxon’s best friend,” Sam finally confesses, loosening his hold. However, now that I’m free, I have no idea where I want to go.

  “What happened to him?” I’m almost afraid to ask as I rub the goose bumps from my flesh.

  Sam pins me to the spot with that lingering look of despair. “He died.”

  My heart skips a beat. Why is he telling me this? “Oh, god, that’s aw-awful.” I cup a hand to my mouth.

  “Yes, it is. Especially since…”

  These drawn-out pauses are grating my already frazzled nerves. “Since what?”

  “Just ask him.”

  “Ask him what? Why can’t you tell me?” This is the moment I need to shut up and put a lid on my curiosity because nothing good can come from this conversation.

  Sam stubbornly shakes his head. “No, you need to see him for what he is.”

  It’s now my turn to hold him and not let go. “And what’s that?”

  My bravado is seconds away from diminishing because the resolve to Sam’s demeanor reveals that whatever he’s about to tell me has the power to undo the best memories of my life.

  “Tell me!” I’m now the one begging for the truth. But what Sam says next…I suddenly wish I could erase this moment in time.

  “He’s a monster, Lucy.” I don’t have a chance to defend his honor because his admission takes the breath from my lungs and the song from my heart. “Ivan Preston is dead because Saxon…killed him.”

  I don’t even bother turning off my car as I put it into park and leap out the door. Sam is still in the passenger seat, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay there for a while. The ride from the hospital to my home, Whispering Willows, passed me by in a blur because all I could focus on was finding Saxon and begging him to tell me the truth.

  What Sam told me, there was no way that could be true. Saxon’s warning plays over in my mind.

  “Promise me you won’t fall for Samuel’s lies.”

  This has to be one of those times because Saxon would have told me something so monumental—I know he would.

  Racing through my house, I call out to Saxon like the madwoman I currently am. The door to the guest bedroom rips open, and when I see him, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Lucy? What’s wrong?”

  My nerves are fried, and all I want to do is curl into a ball and sleep for an eternity. “Who is Ivan Preston?”

  When Saxon takes a step back, visibly dumbfounded, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought if I came in with guns blazing, he’d tell me to stop overacting because there is a reasonable explanation to all this. But his pallid complexion reveals I already know the truth.

  I stop dead in my tracks, shaking my head and hugging my torso. “No.” I gasp. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”

  This can’t be happening.

  “Come inside,” he pleads.

  But I stubbornly stand my ground. “Did you kill him?” I scream, my shrill voice almost unrecognizable.

  Saxon exhales, brushing a hand down his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, attempting to lock this nightmare out. But neither of us has the luxury of living in denial a second longer. With a flutter of movement, the stormy gray of his stare threatens to engulf us both. “Yes.”

  “Oh my god.” I can’t even begin to digest this admission without wanting to be sick.

  “Please, let me explain.” Saxon lunges forward, but I shrink back, unable to stomach that phrase a moment longer. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard it in the past twenty-four hours.

  When he witnesses my retreat, a sadness overcomes him and threatens to drag me under too. “H-how could you keep this from me?”

  His cheeks billow as he exhales and runs his fingers through his hair. “Because I didn’t think it was the appropriate time to tell you all about my fucked-up past. You had enough on your plate. You didn’t need this as well. It’s not something I’m proud of, and not a second goes by that I don’t wish it was me lying in that grave!” Tears surface, but he quickly brushes them away. “I have no right to ask you, but please, come inside.”

  I’m once again ripped right down the middle. My head and heart are dueling, but in the end, just like always, when it comes to Saxon, my heart triumphs, and I nod.

  He moves out of the doorway, allowing me enough space to pass him without making contact. The detachment hurts, but I enter the bedroom, his familiar fragrance settling my rampant nerves an iota. I stand in the middle of the room, assaulted with memories of being in here, of Saxon undressing me and making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  The kindness he showed me when I was drunk, lost, and so alone, and the way he didn’t shy away from my ugliness has a lump forming in my throat. I remember his promise…

  “Will you take care of me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as you want me to.”

  As I fell into a deep sleep, the word “forever” replaced good night, and I should have known from that moment forward, things were never going to be the same. The memories soothe the conflict, and I take a deep breath.

  The door closes, but Saxon doesn’t move. My back is turned, but the room is silent. He needs a moment, just as I do.

  “When I was nine, I thought I knew it all. I blame myself for Sam’s behavior; I mean, he learned from the best. Ivan was our next-door neighbor. Our birthdays were two weeks apart. We were stupid kids, always competing and trying to outsmart the other. One day, Ivan and I were riding our dirt bikes, and I dared him to make a jump. It was over an embankment with a small drop. He could have done it with his eyes closed.” Saxon pauses while I wrap my arms around my middle and get lost in yet another tale bound to change my life.

  “I went first and cleared the jump, easy. I decided to up the ante and dare him to do it blindfolded. He accepted and used his sweater to cover his eyes. If he could do it, then I was going to give him all my comics. I agreed, certain he would fall and make a fool of himself, giving me something to laugh about for the next hour. I didn’t think he’d hurt himself or that it was dangerous. If I had, I never would have agreed.”

  Finally gathering the courage, I turn and give Saxon and his story the respect they deserve.

  He’s lost in a painful past, one which I think he has stored away and not revisited for years. I wet my lips, knowing what he says next will leave me weeping for the childhood Saxon lost.

  “He revved his bike, and I watched…I watched my best friend kill himself.” His lower lip trembles. “His front tire blew, and he got thrown from his bike…over the edge. He broke his neck. He died instantly.”

  I cover my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “All I really remember is looking over that embankment and seeing my best friend’s broken body, blindfolded. At first, I thought he was playing around, but when he didn’t move…when I saw the grotesque angle of his limbs, I knew what I’d done.” He shakes his head, his shame tangible. “I rode back to my house, told Kellie what I’d done, and asked her to call the police. But she didn’t.”

  “What did she do?” My voice is barely a whisper.

  “She did what the Stones always do…bribe their way out of trouble. I thought she was doing it to save me, but I soon realized she was doing it for herself. She was doing it to save face. The scandal would ruin them, so they paid the Prestons to keep quiet. And they did. They moved, and we never spoke of it again.”

  I want to comfort him, but I don’t. I will give him all the time he needs.

  He leans against the doorway, focused on a spot on the floor. “I was always the screw-up, and this just confirmed it. So now you can see, this was another reason my mother hated me. She told me I was no good my entire life, and I believed her. How couldn’t I? Look what I did. So that’s why I never fought her, and why I accepted them treating me like dirt. Because in my fucked-up head, I thought they were saving me because they cared. But now I know that all they did was save themselves the embarrassment of having me for a son. I deserved punishment for what I did, but instead, I was not taught how to feel. I was taught not to show weakness and to forget…so I forgot. About everything…”

  The silence speaks volumes as it’s weighed down with white noise.

  As I process everything Saxon just shared, everything clicks into place and paints a very different picture. “That’s why you were so shy. Introverted.”

  Saxon nods, his long hair slipping forward to mask his face. “Yes. I kept to myself because what was the point of making friends. I’d eventually have to tell them what I did, and that’s not exactly a selling point. I also felt undeserving after everything I did. Being alone was just easier.”

  His pain hurts more than I thought humanly possible, so I walk forward at a measured pace, wanting him to know I’m here, just as he has been for me. “It wasn’t your fault. Just how being beaten wasn’t mine.” Each scar on my body aches, a painful reminder of what I endured to become the person I am today.

  My admission has Saxon lifting his head, the memory of what I told him of my childhood still slashing him raw. “I didn’t tell you because this memory…it takes me to a very dark place. I’m so ashamed of what I did.” He stands before me unguarded, and it has me loving him even more.

  I understand his shame and guilt all too well. Being Baby M haunts me every day, as do my scars. I know the answer, but I ask anyway. “Have you spoken to anyone? About what happened?”

  He laughs, but the sound is anything but pleasant. “And taint the Stone name even further? I don’t think so.”

  Something which can only be described as a miracle suddenly happens. I peer over at the bed, where an open journal sits. To most, this innocent sight wouldn’t mean a thing, but to me, it’s just confirmation of my choice. Saxon and I are truly two fractured halves that have finally become one. “That’s why you write in your journals?”

  He nods once. “It’s my way of talking, of unloading my sins and never being judged for what I did.” He has summed up every single word I’ve written. “You’ve always been my light, Lucy. You always saw the bright side of everything. That is so refreshing when you’re constantly cloaked in darkness.” A single tear traces a path down his cheek, which is my undoing.

  Unable to stand the distance between us a moment longer, I charge forward and throw myself into his arms. I bury myself deeper than I’ve ever burrowed before because this has just heightened what I thought I felt for this man.

  I don’t just love Saxon. It’s clear to me that his love has always roared louder than my demons. And it appears I’ve done the same for him. “No matter how bad your memories, it’s still your history. It’s your legacy. You should write it down. This way, you can always look back and remember that you survived. You lived.” These words are ones he said to me—ones I’ve lived by.

  He slowly wraps his arms around me, appearing to savor each second. I think he really thought he’d never experience this again. “You’re not a murderer. You’re a survivor. We both are. What happened was an accident. You were just a kid, and you wanted to do the right thing.” I nestle into his chest, my heart weeping when he trembles in my arms. “For someone who was taught not to feel…you sure as hell have made me feel un-fucking-believable. Every minute I’ve spent with you has been a true miracle. I love you, Saxon Stone.”

  He presses his cheek atop my head and sighs, the sound appearing to lift something heavy from his soul. “You’re the only person who has ever made me feel…good. I don’t deserve you. But I want you…so much. It’s like I can finally breathe again with you in my arms.”

  How can one not fall deeper in love with the man who professes such heartfelt confessions?

  “So many times, I wanted to tell you it was me, but I guess, deep down, I felt Sam would be the better man. He doesn’t have the bullshit past I do. I’m not perfect, Lucy.” Why he didn’t tell me now makes sense. He felt undeserving, and in a way, I think he believed he was doing me a favor.

  “I don’t want perfect,” I state, slowly pulling from his embrace. Placing a hand on his cheek, I run my fingers over his scruff. He leans into my touch with an echo of a moan.

  I’m witness to another miracle—a smile.

  A lopsided smirk tugs at Saxon’s supple lips, and it’s my light in the storm. “I promise…that’s the last of my secrets. If you still want me…” He places his palm over mine, the warmth sending goose bumps from head to toe. “Then I’m yours.”

  The static is setting me alight, my body desperate to feel his naked flesh pressed to mine. “I want you,” I candidly confess because it’s true. “Do you want me?”

  My question catches him off guard, but I need to know. He has baggage, but so do I. This will be anything but perfect, but our imperfection is all I crave.

  He’s silent, which suddenly makes me nervous. He appears to consume me, taking his time, which has me squirming on the spot. Wrapping a hand low around my waist, he grins, reading my heightened state of arousal.

  Just as I’m about to ask what he’s going to do, he pulls me forward, pressing us chest to chest. I instantly get lost in his signature fragrance, and the way his heart beats in cadence with mine. My breaths push out in embarrassingly loud pants, but I couldn’t rein it back even if I tried. I’m pinned by that stormy look.

  With the slowest of movements, he leans forward and runs his nose along my flesh. It’s a flutter, a mere whisper of a touch as he inhales me, but it’s enough to leave me mewling and demanding more. His lips take over, and he leisurely kisses across my cheek, leading to the shell of my ear. He nuzzles low and suckles it into the warm cavern of his mouth.