When the driver came over and deposited the cup on the doorstep next to Eddie, I had to work hard not to shove the poor guy out of the way.

  This. This was what I'd worked so hard for. It had all paid off. Every sacrifice my mother made. Right there. On my doorstep.

  Emotions welled up in me, so that all I could do was manage a nod to Eddie as I picked up the cup and carried it inside. I didn't want to go too deep into those feelings just under the surface. That lonely place. Today was a happy day.

  I took the stairs two at a time, and came to a stop on the landing with a little hop.

  Growing up, this place seemed so big to me. And now it was tight and cramped. Of course, when I was a kid, I was a lot smaller. But at 6 foot 5, the ceilings were too low, the hallways too narrow. I knocked on my mother's door.

  She tugged it open. "Now, will you tell me what we've been waiting for all morning?"

  I laughed. "I should've known you wouldn't be in bed, resting."

  "Does it look like this old lady needs some—?" Her gaze went directly to the cup. "Oh, my God. Is that…?"

  I grinned. "Sure is. Happy birthday, Mom."

  Her eyes welled. Oh, shit. I'd never been good with tears. Maybe if I'd been better with tears, I'd still be married. Emotions weren't really my strong suit. I started talking, instead. "This is for you. I wanted to make sure that my day with the cup went to you. So you can take all the pictures you want with it. I would never have had it without you." I shifted on my feet, and tucked my hands into my pockets. "I also thought maybe you could finally get rid of those clippings."

  She clutched her hand to her heart. "I am so proud of you, Ransom. Against everything, you fought hard for this. You made it happen."

  "I wanted to make sure that you got this. For years, I watched you struggle when you didn't have to. And I think it sucks. You don't need to think about him anymore. I want this for you."

  She wiped away her tears and tossed her notes down on a bedside table. "No. Baby. You won this for you. You and your teammates worked so hard for this. I'll get my pictures with it, obviously, but, this is yours. You put in the hard work. You kept going. When everyone else thought you were crazy. You out of everyone deserves this cup. I'm proud of you."

  "I wouldn't have done it without you. So, come on downstairs. We are going to replace all of those clippings with pictures of this. Then we're going to take really obnoxious pictures of us drinking champagne out of this thing."

  "Ransom. We are not going to drink champagne out of this cup. Is this real silver?"

  "I think it is. Which is exactly why you're going to have a mimosa from it."

  I took her downstairs, into the sunroom that she'd informally turned into my trophy room. She kept everything. All my ribbons and trophies and participation prizes, my original skates, pictures of me at two or three, wobbling on the ice. She'd kept it all.

  And then, in one corner, she had clippings from the man who would always deny her. Rory Coulter. For years, Mom had collected clippings of him. Any mentions of him in the media. And more recently, as I'd been growing up, mentions of what I supposed would be my cousins. Rory's grandchildren. All huge athletes in their own rights. All likely unaware that I was out there somewhere. All because Rory Coulter had denied my mother. All because that man had sent her on her way.

  "So, eventually, I'm going to get a replica of this cup. But, for the meantime, I want us to take pictures with the real thing." I held up the clippings. "And we're going to take these down. You don't need these anymore."

  Her smile wavered, then straightened. "No, I don't."

  "I'm so glad you feel that way. Because we're going to burn these in the cup."

  3

  Ransom

  "Okay, Mom, now ease your foot up off the clutch."

  My mother raised a brow at me. "Are you forgetting that I taught you how to drive?"

  I forced myself to take a deep breath. She was right. She had taught me to drive, on that old, beat-up Corolla. My Maserati was one hell of an upgrade.

  When the cup had arrived, I'd set about our plan for the day. I made her write a list of all the places she'd want to go with the cup. All the things she wanted to do, the pictures she'd want. Now, we were going to do every single one of them.

  First stop had been the rink where I used to train. She'd gone right out into the middle of the ice, and taken a photo. Then she made me pop champagne, and I had to help her drink out of the thing. We'd made a mess, but to see my mother that happy had been totally and completely worth it.

  Then, of course, we'd gone to my old high school. There were more pictures. And because it had been right before school started, there were lots of kids milling about, so of course, I'd stopped for photos. I'd even gotten a good photo of her and Coach. Old Coach Trainor was still coaching. I was glad about that. He'd been a good coach to me.

  After the high school, I'd taken my mother to the one place she'd always wanted to go in town. She'd never openly said anything. But I'd known some of the other moms used to look down on her. Hope, New York was by and large, a more affluent town. Our high school had the kinds of sports teams that only rich neighborhoods had. Swimming, hockey, water polo, lacrosse. On top of that, Hope also had a country club, and a majority of the houses, especially the ones built in the last twenty years or so, cost a pretty fortune.

  The house I'd grown up in bordered the next town, which was not nearly as affluent. And technically, before district lines were redrawn, our house had been in the other town. But luckily for me, the lines had been redrawn and now our house was part of Hope. Which meant I had access to the high school I'd gotten in to start my dream.

  Unfortunately, that also meant that my mother had been looked down upon by some of the other moms. The ones who ran around wearing matching workout outfits, but who never seemed to actually work out. The ones who had the perfect manicures and appropriately coiffed hair. The ones who had been more than happy to hire me to mow their lawns and tend to their pools when I was growing up, so I could earn extra money.

  Even then, though, I knew what they were doing. The way they ogled me. I might've been a kid, but I wasn't stupid. I understood the way they looked down on her. So today, I wanted it to be all about her. It was a big old fuck-you to all those women who couldn't have given her a smile back then.

  First lesson, the Maserati. My baby. The one I'd bought and had shipped here from New Orleans, so we could use it while I was here. And right now, my mother was stripping my clutch.

  "Mom, I know you taught me how to drive. But this is a precision instrument. And it’s a stick shift. And I want you to be the one to drive it down the street. So, let's try this again.”

  It took three more tries before she had the hang of it. She coasted around the parking lot at the high school, with the cup strapped into the backseat of my car, a humongous grin on her face. A chuckle burst forth, and she looked happier than I'd ever seen her. I'd done that. I put that look on her face. And I was proud that I'd been able to do that.

  As it turned out, the moment my mother got the car on the road, she was sort of a terror. It seemed I might have gotten my love of speed from her. She tore down the winding back roads of Hope as though the devil was chasing her. Laughing maniacally the entire way.

  I directed her straight to the country club. Of course, being a hometown kid who'd become famous, I'd been offered an automatic membership, and could bring as many guests as I liked. I hated that place, but it mattered to my mother. After a couple of hours of using the facilities, and making sure that my mother was waited on hand and foot, I took her into town for lunch.

  "Wow, Sherry Cox."

  Mom and I looked up to see Lillian Harvey approaching our table at the café. "And Ransom. You know we're all very proud of what you've done."

  I could barely conceal my sneer. Lillian Harvey had actively tried to sleep with my father. I had been seven. I still remembered the feeling I had when I went looking for my dad that night after Boy Scouts was done, only to find Lillian exposing her breasts to the old man.

  Of course that memory had stayed with me for all these years.

  I'd never told my mother about that day, but she had reason enough to hate the woman, too. Lillian had taken every opportunity to be rude to her.

  "Ms. Harvey." I nodded. "How's Brett these days?" That was a low blow. I knew how her son was. Everyone knew how Brett was. The kid was serving an eight-year stint for armed robbery.

  If you grew up in Hope, you knew the story. A bored kid, with some of his stupid friends, falling in with the wrong crowd. They thought breaking into houses would be fun. Too bad for Brett one of his friends had a gun. When they got picked up, he got charged. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, as far as I was concerned.

  My mother’s voice was icy. "And I wish I could say it was nice to see you."

  It was the closest I'd ever seen to my mother being rude. I was kind of proud of her. Lillian Harvey hadn't been nice. But I wanted to make the day about my mother, and to keep it as positive as possible.

  "Yes, well…we're all very proud of you and the work you put in," Lillian said, fumbling over her words, her cheeks coloring.

  "Well, all the props go to my mom. It wasn't easy for her. And now I get to take care of her in style." I grinned. Yeah, I was being a dick. But I didn't care.

  Lillian's smile was stiff as she nodded. She looked like she wanted to hang around, to ask something. But I wasn't interested in any of that. "If you'll excuse us. I kinda want to spend some time with my mom."

  She blinked rapidly, as if confused. "Oh, okay, fine. See around then, Ransom." As she walked past and headed for the mailbox on the corner, I looked up at my mother and gave her a sheepish smile. "I really shouldn't encourage you."

  My mother's smile was broad. "Oh, come on. You think I don't know that your dad cheated on me for years with her? That woman has never been nice to me. I have to indulge this part of myself just a little bit."

  I leaned forward. "Don't worry. I don't ju—" I stopped short. Holy hell. Across the street, a familiar figure caught my attention and held it. The thick, dark hair was recognizable anywhere. Recognizable to you, maybe. It was her. Lexa Carlisle. Walking into the Hope Gazette’s office. I couldn't fucking breathe.

  "Ransom? What do you think?"

  It was like I could hear Mom, but her voice was coming from the other end of a tunnel. But I couldn't force my brain to come back online and answer her. It was only after she turned her head to see what I was looking at, that she sat back.

  "Ah. I see Lexa's back in town. You should go say hi."

  "Mom!" I snapped my gaze to hers. "I barely know her."

  "I know. But you should get to. And besides, you two went to high school together. You have plenty to catch up on."

  "Mom, I do not need you setting me up."

  She sighed. "I swear, no need to make this so difficult. She's single. You're single. You clearly think she's cute, because you can't stop staring at her."

  No. We were not doing this. Through the years, I'd managed to successfully avoid doing this, and I sure as hell wasn't going to start now. "Mom. Let it go. Not gonna happen."

  She rolled her eyes. "Fine. At least let me go on over to the newspaper. I left my laptop, and I need to grab it. Storm's coming tomorrow, and I want to make sure I get it home."

  "A storm might be coming. But it’s unlikely. I checked the weather report myself. You just want an excuse to go in there."

  "No. Actually, I do need my laptop."

  I heard my mother, but my gaze had reluctantly followed Lexa. Not long after she'd walked into the Gazette, she came trotting out, walking briskly down the street. "Do you want to get it now?"

  Mom shook her head. "No. I’m famished. Maybe you can pop in and grab it for me later?"

  I knew what she wanted. But sooner or later, she would have to understand I liked being alone. I preferred it. And shoving me at Lexa Carlisle wasn't going to change that. All it was going to do was give me some seriously vivid dreams later. Not like I was even going to see her. But that didn't mean that I didn't want to see her.

  4

  Lexa

  I wasn't exactly running away. I had a perfectly good reason for packing up my stuff and coming home for a couple of weeks. A really, really good reason. Other than being cowardly, that was.

  Who was I kidding? After my boss humiliated me in front of the entire office, calling my work amateurish and second-rate, after deliberately torpedoing my story, I had needed a little dose of home.

  You did this to yourself. Yeah, I had, but in all fairness, how was I supposed to know my new boyfriend was my boss's fiancé? And in typical bullshit fashion, I had gotten the blame. Not the cheating asshole. You are at fault, because you always choose wrong.

  Hope, New York was just like every other sleepy suburb in upstate New York. It was quiet, and full of white houses and picket fences. But what Hope had over any other town was my sister. And right now, I needed some family. Something familiar. Manhattan was chewing me up and spitting me out, then grinding me into baby food, only to have a baby spit me out, too.

  I'd made wrong turn after wrong turn. I thought I’'d be happy at Blink Magazine. It had seemed fun and energetic, and I’d occasionally gotten to write features… So what if those features were on the latest reality TV star’s hot makeup line?

  I'd made a life for myself. And I'd even found love…or thought I'd found love. I’d thought I was happily living my version of a Sex and the City life. And I was. Until I found out I was dating a liar.

  When it all came out, I'd been on a story in Alaska. Apparently, Inuit women had discovered some amazing beauty product that had them looking forever young. So Amelia Chase, the TV star known more for her physical assets than any real talent, had started a beauty company up there to exploit their assets and hers.

  I'd come home to find the guy I was dating was actually engaged to my boss. And that wasn't the worst of it. I'd been devastated, but willing to keep it quiet—after all, I liked my job. Liar. But oh, no, the lying asshole wanted to head me off at the pass in case I decided to come clean, and told Amanda that I'd been hitting on him.

  After that, Amanda had torpedoed my stories at every turn. Adding in her own angles, turning them into empty shadows of what I wrote. Less exposé and more US Magazine.

  I had tried to fight. I'd even gone over Amanda's head. My boss had been reprimanded, but everything had culminated in Amanda screaming at me and calling me a whore in front of the whole team. Something like that should have gotten Amanda fired, but the Editor-in-Chief was her uncle. So that meant I was put on a forced leave.

  I saw the writing on the wall. I was never going to become a features editor like I dreamed. At least not at that magazine. Unless I found something good and a way to pitch it over Amanda's head. It was a risky move. But if I had something really good, I could make my name. The problem was, I had nothing. And the forced vacation was making me antsy.

  "Hey, babycakes, you want lunch?"

  I smiled up at my sister. Ella owned the hottest café in town, called Babycakes. They made the best sandwiches with handmade garlic aïoli. For years, I had tried to mimic it, but always got it wrong. Babycakes had even been rated by the New York Times. "Hey, Ella. Sure. I'll be right over once I finish up here."

  I'd worked for the Hope Gazette for years, since I was sixteen, as a cub reporter delivering the stories of our small, sleepy town. As an adult, whenever I came home, I always stopped in to help. This time, though, it was the Hope Gazette helping me out, giving me a desk and letting me figure out my next move.

  Ella shook her head. "No sister of mine will come in like every other patron. I'll have someone bring it over. Do you want your usual?"

  "Hell, yes. And I want that garlic aïoli recipe."

  "You can have it when I'm dead."

  "Dammit, Ella. Just tell me what's in it."

  "I won't tell you what's in it, but I will tell you that a certain someone is back in town. I saw him with his mom yesterday. I don't know how long he's here, but he is looking fine. He picked up some lemon bars for his mom's birthday yesterday. I nearly peed myself when I saw him. I'll tell you what, Handsome Cox is looking good." Ella fanned herself. "They had the cup with them, so they were mobbed."

  I groaned. "Do you have to call him that?"

  "You're the one who gave him the nickname when you wrote that article for the New City Post. Come on honey, that's some clever wordplay of yours."

  I groaned. "Somehow, I doubt Ransom Cox will see it that way. I was just goofing around. I never thought they'd actually go with it." It was the nickname I'd secretly given him in high school. I'd used it as a joke in a sports column I'd been contracted for, and it had stuck.

  "I think it's pretty awesome that my little sister nicknamed a sports great."

  I shook my head. "Well, I doubt I'll do anything that stellar ever again if things keep going this way."

  "Look, push comes to shove, you can always come back home. The Carlisle sisters back in action. You can help me open another café."

  As much as I loved my sister, and loved being home, I would go insane. Sleepy-town life was not for me. I wanted the energy, the excitement. "I'll think about it. You know I need to write."

  "Have you figured out a story idea, yet?"

  I sighed. "I keep coming up against dead ends."

  "I have an idea for you. How about a full exposé on Handsome Cox? The man, the cock, the bedroom legend. Like, is his dick really as big as his ex-wife says it is?"

  I snorted. "Oh, my God. Would you stop?"

  "It's not me. I mean, I read. Women everywhere want to know these answers. Did you hear what that model said? That she couldn't even get her hand around it? That is serious girth we're dealing with. Inquiring minds want to know. You know I always thought he had a thing for you in high school."