Like a biker clubhouse? I laughed to myself.

  “I mean, it’s the deadfuck of winter,” he pointed out, gesturing to his arm. “I’m useless on a snowboard, and I know you two won’t have any fun on the slopes without me, so what do you think?” He held out his arms like we were eleven and he’d found us a treehouse. “By summer, we could elevate the hell out of this place. Clean it up, a little paint, a bar…”

  “Someplace away from girlfriends…” Drew chimed in.

  And Lance added, “…with our other girlfriends.”

  I shook my head, knowing exactly what would happen in this place, and all of it with the express purpose to fuck something.

  Might be fun for a night, but…

  I don’t know. Maybe we could put in a pool table. A gaming system. Could be cool, I guess. Someplace to hang out—away from family and school—where we could relax. Maybe that was what I needed. A home of my own with a family I made.

  Madoc never made me feel like an outsider, but it’s been a long time since he didn’t have to stretch his attention. Fallon, his brothers, the kids… I’ve wondered for a while if I should still be one more person he has to tend to.

  Maybe it was stupid that I still hung around? I was an adult, after all. And they weren’t my family.

  “Do we rent it?” I asked.

  “We can buy it,” Lance told us, lowering his voice as if he was telling a secret. “The bank that owns it is out of Chicago, and they consider the real estate here a non-starter. If we get approval from the remaining city council, it’s do-able between all of us.”

  Or Lance and me, anyway. Drew didn’t have any money, but Lance was trying to be nice. I wouldn’t have to use all of my inheritance from my dad for college.

  But still… “Why do I want to own a run-down, old building before I own a house?”

  “This is a house.”

  “It’s our house, Lucas.” But it wasn’t Lance who said it. I glanced at Drew, his hands still in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed.

  He approached and gripped my shoulder where it connected to my neck, squeezing with a light in his eyes.

  I’d known these two since we started college two-and-a-half years ago. Now, here we were, last half of our third year, and we’d kept our circle small and close. I liked my friends, and for the first time, I had people I chose rather than people who were obligated to care about me. Not that I’d ever felt like a burden to my mom, but it was nice to create my own circle. Madoc would never tell me I wasn’t welcome anymore, but his life was very different from when it was just us. I was a responsibility he didn’t need anymore.

  “What do you want to do here?” I teased.

  “Oh, I plan on being my own worst enemy,” Drew replied with a smirk. “And you can handle security.”

  Security?

  I pinch my brow. “You want cameras outside?”

  I’d installed them for my mom a few months ago.

  “And in my room,” he added.

  Lance snorted, and I just drew in a breath that felt heavy already. He said shit like that to make me nervous, but I knew he wouldn’t film girls in his bed.

  And definitely not without their knowledge.

  Drew headed to the back, toward a staircase, and spun around. “First dibs!” he called.

  Lance darted after him, and I followed, joining them in exploring and daydreaming of the possibilities. My mom would freak if she found out I spent money on something like this. Madoc, on the other hand, would want in. He never really grew up, in all the right ways.

  Staring out an upstairs window, I spotted a little girl, maybe eight, with a ski cap covering the top of her head and dressed in an oversized hoodie as she carried a backpack. She trudged through the snow in what looked like broken Doc Martens and stopped in front of a darkened shop window. Quickly surveying the area, she jammed her elbow into the glass. It broke, and she reached in, unlocking the door before she opened it and disappeared inside.

  Drew and Lance were in another room, no one but me seeing her. And to my surprise, I didn’t move. Didn’t call the police. Didn’t run to stop her.

  Madoc has showed up for me for years. Made sure I was seen. Remembered.

  No one in the Falls remembers that Weston is still here. It’s my turn to show up for others.

  Weston became my cause, like I had been Madoc’s. I had the best of intentions, but in the end, my intentions weren’t the legacy.

  Hours later, and I wake up in my teenage bed for the last time. Tonight, I’ll be on a plane.

  I check my phone. 9:48 a.m.

  I haven’t slept that late in years, but I blame the jet lag. And the fact that I didn’t get to sleep until almost five. Quinn was already at the bakery. I saw a small light on when I passed by. After our conversation on the phone last night, I couldn’t sleep. Even when I got into bed, I struggled.

  It wasn’t so much her words, but her tone. Playful. Inviting.

  Promising.

  Like she had a world of adventure in front of her, and she finally realized it. What I wouldn’t give for that feeling again.

  She was toying with me, but fuck, if I were Noah or Farrow…

  Where would I take her? I’m lost in my head, dreaming a pointless dream where I’m younger. A different man with a different life and a pretty young woman like that is talking to me.

  Heat rushes to my groin, and I shut my eyes. Shit.

  Climbing out of bed, I grab the compass off my nightstand and walk to the window. I find north-northwest.

  What would my life be like if Green Street never started? If I’d never met Drew Reeves, or fucked up in a way that altered my life in one moment?

  I would’ve stayed.

  The summer looms ahead, warm rain and lake days and eating outside on Madoc’s patio…

  I had it good.

  My phone rings, and I jerk my head, on alert for Hugo Navarre. I’d ignored the call last night, too worried about Quinn, but I wanted to talk to him.

  He’s not worried about the trouble that sent me away. He’s worried, because I still own that building. After a while, Lance hadn’t wanted any part of it, so I bought his half. I should’ve went with him.

  I don’t give a shit about the building. I want nothing to do with any of it.

  I pick up my phone, seeing the real estate agent’s name, instead.

  I answer. “Paul.”

  “Good morning.” He drags out the last word like a musical note. “Good news. I have someone who’d like to see the house.”

  “Already?”

  “Today, if possible,” he says.

  That was fast. Of course, it doesn’t mean an offer, but the listing just went live yesterday. Selling a house can take years in some cases.

  “Would you be able to leave it available to us?” he asks. “Around noon?”

  I’d love to know who’s interested in the house. Could it be Quinn?

  She mentioned craving a place of her own, and she certainly has all the co-signers she could ever want for a loan in her own family, but I have a hard time believing that she’d ask them.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “Sounds good.”

  What else can I say? It’s probably not even Quinn. If it is, I can talk her out of it before she signs.

  “We might have an offer today,” he tells me.

  “Yeah.” It would be perfect to get this settled before I fly away. “That’s great.”

  “Talk soon.”

  After we hang up, I throw on my workout clothes before getting busy tidying up the house. I make the bed, knowing whoever buys the house gets that too. I have no idea what else to do with it.

  I start boxing up my father’s memorabilia and pack my clothes into my carry-on, removing the laundry I threw in the dryer. I put away my laptop and chargers, and make sure the food and drinks in the fridge are thrown away.

  My old Cubs cap sits on a radiator, and I turn to toss it into a box, but I stop, staring at it. I’m supposed to give her the compass back now that I have the hat, but she’s barely asked for it. Maybe she’d rather have the hat.

  I still can’t believe she was just wearing it—eight years after I gave it to her—when I saw her the other night at the gym. She didn’t know she would see me. Pinching the bill between my fingers, the memories come flooding back from the last time I held it like this.

  When I was giving it to her…

  Dropping my gaze, I saw Quinn looking at me again, but once more, she quickly turned away.

  I let out a sigh, starting to feel some of that guilt Fallon talked about. Quinn had known me her entire life. Thirteen years. I guess I could muster up a ‘goodbye’ even when all I wanted to do was leave.

  Walking over, I stopped next to her and knelt down. “I’m going to miss your croissants, you know?”

  Her frown deepened as she continued to stare at her paper. “They’ll probably have better food and restaurants where you’re going anyway.”

  “But they won’t be made by you.”

  I was trying to soothe her, but she wasn’t having it. I didn’t want her to be mad at me, but I knew it was hard for a kid her age to understand.

  And there were things I couldn’t explain to her right now. She was too young. She should be happy and excited without a care in the world, and I hated that she was wasting even one minute of her time thinking I was going to be worth missing.

  “Well, stay trained up, okay?” I nudged her shoulder with my hand. “I might be back to visit soon, and I’ll expect to try some of your new recipes.”

  “You won’t be back at all,” she mumbled, still not looking at me.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because everyone lies to make people feel better.”

  I narrowed my gaze, studying her. Where the hell had she come up with a thought like that?

  She finally lifted her sad, brown eyes. “You’ll find new friends and forget about us.”

  I shook my head, no clue what to say next. Would I make friends where I was going? Probably. Was I sure I’d be back? No. Right now, I never wanted to come back here.

  But I wanted her to feel better, so, without thinking, I took off my cap and fit it over her head, chuckling when the visor part fell over her eyes.

  “I will be back,” I argued. “I’ll have to get my cap back, right?”

  She plucked the hat off her head, her eyes going wide as she studied it.

  “You can’t give me this,” she breathed out, stunned. She knew it was my father’s and how much I loved it. But for some reason, I didn’t feel like I would miss it if I knew it would mean something to her.

  “I already did,” I shot back. “So take care of it, okay?”

  Standing up, I cast her one last smile before turning around to head to my car. I needed to get out of here. I was lying to her. I was lying to everyone. I had no intention of returning, even for the baseball cap. I just didn’t want her to hate me. She was the only person who thought I was a hero.

  “Lucas!” I heard a yell behind me.

  I spun around just in time to see Quinn dig in her backpack and pull out something small. Rushing over to me, she handed me the circular metal case.

  “Now you have to come back.” She smiled and then dashed off, back to her seat on the ground.

  Pinching my eyebrows together, confused, I opened my hand, immediately recognizing the compass her mom gave to her one year for Christmas.

  Shit. This was vintage and an heirloom. If she didn’t want it back, her family would. I couldn’t keep it.

  I flipped it over, studying the piece, and saw the words inscribed on the back. “Happiness is a direction, not a place.”

  She was wise, even then. She knew that no matter where I ran, I’d bring my shit with me.

  I set the Cubs cap down next to my keys to take to the party tonight. I want her to have it. If I can’t be here, my heart can.

  I clean out the sink and wipe down the counters, hearing the doorbell ring. I toss the cloth down and head to the door.

  A FedEx driver stands on the porch. “Lucas Morrow?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He hands me a phone with a stylus. “Sign here, please.”

  I scribble my name and swap him for the package, closing the door.

  I inspect the box, recognizing the Dubai address. I sigh, wondering what emergency I missed that my assistant needed to overnight a package from across the world.

  But as I peel open the tissue paper, I don’t see a tablet or documents inside. A small white box sits on top of a soft, white twill button-down, and I pick it up, rubbing the fabric between my fingers.

  My stomach sinks. What is she up to?

  Setting the shirt down, I open the smaller package and take out a bottle of cologne.

  I cock an eyebrow as I swipe up a card with my assistant’s writing on it.

  Leave three buttons open.

  And wear the cologne. It’s lethal. I want to impregnate every man who wears it.

  Have fun tonight.

  -Isobel

  Impregnate. A laugh catches in my throat.

  And what does she mean, tonight? To the cookout at Madoc’s? How does she know about…?

  But then it occurs to me. My calendar. I’d put it in my phone. I box the shit back up, ready to get it out of the way for the real estate agent and potential buyer.

  But…

  I do need a clean shirt tonight.

  Quickly, I remove it from the box and hang it up in the closet, setting the box on the floor.

  Taking my laptop case, I walk to my car at the curb, sweeping the street for that Traverse I’ve seen twice now. I want to see it. I want to know who’s inside and that Madoc and the others are safe if I leave.

  The street is nearly empty, though. I climb into my car.

  I’ll kill time at the gym, catch up on some emails, and maybe get some lunch before I head back here to shower and see Madoc for the last time.

  It would be better to blow it off and leave now.

  But I know I’ll go to the party, and I know why, even if I push the thought away before it can take form.

  I just want to make sure she gets the hat back. That’s all.

  A breath stuck in my chest, I drive to Madoc’s.

  I go through the list in my head. Say goodbye to Tate, Juliet, and all the kids. Madoc and Fallon will be last. Don’t forget Jason and Katherine.

  Farrow Kelly and Noah Van der Berg will probably be there as friends of the families. I don’t need to address them.

  And give Quinn the hat. Assuming I can keep the compass.

  What if she’s not there? I punch the gas, telling myself it’s better if she’s not. I’m a little worried about looking into her eyes and saying goodbye again.

  It’ll be good to get back home, though. To the salty sea air. The spices and sunbaked desert. The sounds of the music pouring out of shops and the feel of my sheets.

  Unable to stop the image before it comes, I see Quinn in my head, on top of me and barely shrouded in the shadow of the drapes over the moonlight that streams through my window in my apartment. The sheets fall down her legs like water as she presses her body into mine.

  My mouth falls open. What would it be like to have her out there with me, all to myself, for a visit? I could. No one would think a thing if I looked out for her while she travels. And we wouldn’t be here, so I wouldn’t have to be on guard. I mean, why not?

  All to myself…

  Another image flashes through my mind, her in my bed, every night…

  Her moans hit my ear, and my groin swells and aches, making me groan. The car swerves, and I jerk the wheel, tires screeching under me.

  My chest caves. Fuck.

  What the hell? Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I breathe hard, trying to keep the car straight.

  It’s Quinn.

  Quinn!

  Dammit.

  I pull up to Madoc’s house, halting quickly, and leave the Cubs cap on my passenger seat this time. It’s the last business I have with her. Later. If she shows.

  I grab the bottle of top-shelf Scotch whisky instead, unopened and left over from my father’s things, that I want Madoc to have.

  The massive, circular driveway has nothing in the center—no fountain or flowerbed—just a basketball hoop on the far left where I played with Madoc a few times. I loved being here, and in my memory, I still hear the ball bounce and the leaves blow on the crisp fall days.

  The space is now filled with cars. I take inventory of Jared’s Dark Horse, Jax’s McLaren, a couple of JT Racing work trucks, several others I don’t recognize, and three motorbikes.

  Quinn’s bicycle isn’t here.

  Madoc opens the door as soon as I reach for the handle.

  I smile, holding up my bottle. “Brought the good stuff.” I step inside. “Let’s compare.”

  He takes the liquor out of my hands. “Happily.”

  Fallon had warned me he distilled some of the worst Irish whiskey her father had ever tasted, but Madoc made sure to also add that her father drank it every time he visited. I’ve never tried Irish, so cheers. I just hope I stay sober enough to get myself on a plane tonight.

  He closes the door, and I walk with him through the foyer. “You invited too many people, didn’t you?”

  “Psh…”

  I cock an eyebrow. That wasn’t an answer. He knows I don’t like to be the center of attention. He has Kade for that, unless that kid has changed.

  Jared’s wife Tate approaches, followed by Fallon, Jax, and his wife Juliet. I glance behind them, taking in the patio full of people. Music vibrates against the sliding glass doors.

  I embrace Tate. “Hey.”

  She squeezes me and then pulls back. “Oh, you smell good.”

  I chuckle. Good call on the cologne, Isobel. But I look around, making sure Jared wasn’t in earshot of that.

  Dylan, who I’d seen briefly at the camp a couple of days ago, pushes through and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a quick hug. “Lookin’ good,” she says, pulling back and surveying me. “But the boys are gonna mess you all up. They want to play football.” She tilts her head side to side. “Well, Kade wants to play football.”

  Quinn isn’t here. I almost ask where she is, but it’ll seem like it’s the first thing on my mind.