“I love his name.” I try to diffuse the tension. “Teal Masters–it’s like a painting or an actor.”

  “He’s a minor-league baseball player.”

  “That explains a lot,” Carmen quips.

  “Would you talk to him, Hana? You know Pepper as well as anyone. Feel him out, get an idea what he’s up to. I told him about you.”

  My eyebrows shoot up, and I look from Carmen back to Dirk. “Sure. I mean, I’m glad to help, but I don’t know what I could possibly do–”

  “Come on.” Dirk takes my hand, and I wave to Carmen as he drags me out of the store.

  Waiting outside on the sidewalk is a very handsome man. He’s wearing a suit, and he’s about the same height as Dirk, maybe a little shorter.

  He has a quick smile with a charming, deep dimple right in his cheek. He has a square jaw, and his sandy brown hair is a little shaggy and floppy. But what seals the deal are his big brown eyes–just like Pepper’s.

  “Oh, yeah.” I nod, speaking softly. “He’s her dad.”

  “Teal, this is my future sister-in-law, Hana van Hamilton. She and Pepper are close, so I thought you might want to talk to her.” Dirk steps back. “I’ll wait here with Carmen if you want to take a walk.”

  Teal seems stunned, and I confess, I have no idea what Dirk is expecting to happen. Still, I cross my arms and start walking slowly. Teal joins me, and we stroll down the few blocks comprising downtown Hamiltown.

  “Van Hamilton,” he notes. “So you’re one of the founding families?”

  “I guess so,” I shrug with a little laugh. “I was born in Manhattan and stayed there until I was twenty. We’ve only recently moved here, and before that, I’d only visited a few times. My uncle Hugh is the real deal.”

  He frowns up at me. “Dirk said you’re close with Pepper?”

  “Yeah, we kind of hit it off from the start. We have a lot in common. I lost my dad when I was about her age, and our families tend to be very… overprotective of us.”

  We’ve reached the end of Main Street, and I look down the hill to the left, where the softball fields are located. “Let’s walk over here.”

  Following the road to the baseball diamond, we stop at the chest-high fence, and Teal leans forward, resting his forearms on top.

  “I always loved the game.” Glancing up at me, he arches an eyebrow. “At the end of last season, I tore my ACL for the second time.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Yeah, I’m out. I could do rehab, but it’s a long recovery. I just don’t have it in me to try again at my age.”

  “So you came here?” I confess, I’m not happy to hear he’s only in town because his career ended.

  “I know, you’re thinking cocky bastard.” He nods, reading my expression. “But it’s a scary feeling to lose your reason for living. I started going back through my timeline, thinking of people I’d lost along the way. Judy stood out above the rest.”

  I think about how I’ve only recently found my purpose. Who am I to judge Teal Masters?

  Exhaling softly, I nod. “Everyone has regrets. It’s never too late to try and make up for your mistakes. At least I hope not.”

  Pushing off the fence, he straightens, facing me. “Would you go to dinner with me? You could tell me all about my daughter, swap regret stories…”

  Blinking fast, I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sort of… seeing someone.”

  Even though we’ve never officially defined our relationship. Scar and I are a thing, right?

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He holds up his hands. “I only thought it would be nicer to talk in a restaurant, sitting down with food and wine. Why is it easier to talk with a glass of wine?”

  He exhales a laugh, and remorse permeates the air around him. My empathy is at an all-time high, and I reach out to squeeze his forearm.

  “I’d really like to help you. And I love Pepper so much.” Chewing my lip, my eyes dart up the hill to where Scar’s office is located. “Let me talk to my boyfriend, and I’ll let you know what he says. If not dinner, we could meet up at Steamy Beans for coffee?”

  His expression brightens slightly. “I’ll send you a text. Then you’ll have my number if you want to reach me.”

  Walking through the foyer at Uncle Hugh’s, I can’t help thinking about Pepper and her dad, and wondering how in the world I might be helpful in that situation. Teal seems nice enough, but I know all of us are hyper-focused on keeping that little girl safe.

  Maybe dinner would be a good idea. I could grill him and find out his intentions, if he really means to be a dad to her or if he’s just satisfying some biological curiosity.

  Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I quickly text Scar. Dirk introduced me to Teal Masters. He invited me to dinner. Hitting send, I chew my lip, reconsidering my hasty dismissal. I can be a private investigator, too.

  My phone dings, and I look down to see Scar’s reply. Not tonight. Need to talk. I’m heading your way, then maybe tomorrow we can all have dinner?

  His possessiveness makes me smile, and a surge of anticipation at seeing him so soon heats my stomach. I love how just the thought of seeing him again is like a hit of dopamine straight to my brain.

  I like that idea. See you soon.

  Sliding my phone into my pocket, I walk to the kitchen, where Blake is pouring a cup of coffee. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk.”

  “Everyone needs to talk these days. What’s on your mind?”

  She gives me a little smile-frown. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m talking about your art show. Jill called from the gallery, and they need us to come in for a planning meeting. I told her we could be there on Monday. Will that give you enough time to prepare?”

  My stomach jumps, and nervous jitters race through my limbs. “I think so? What do I need to do for a planning meeting? Will it just be me?”

  I’m talking too fast, and Blake puts her mug on the island, closing the space between us. “Of course not, I’ll be there with you. Don’t worry. I’ve seen what you’ve done, and the prints are gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” I blink up at her, feeling self-conscious. “I wish I had more of you.”

  “What you’ve got is amazing. They’re going to love them all. I really like the ones you took of Scar. They’re passionate and exciting.” She pauses, giving me a sly smile. “Speaking of, I walked down to check on you the other day, and it sounded like you were having a little passionate excitement.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I try to act coy, but I can’t hide the smile splitting my cheeks. “I’m very professional.”

  Blake’s smile melts into affection, and she pulls me in for a hug. “Yes, you are. I was worried you might have trouble when it came to, you know… because of what happened.”

  Nodding, I trace a nail along the wooden countertop. “We had a little hiccup starting out, but he helped me work through it. He’s helped me so much.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I was worried his past might be triggering for you.” She exhales, shaking her head. “It was a little for me. It’s still hard for me to think about, but Hutch vouched for him. I guess, if Hutch trusts him…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My sister’s gray eyes flicker to mine, and her slim brows lower. “That he was Victor’s bodyguard?”

  “What?” The word escapes on my last breath. Clutching the bar, my head goes light.

  Blake catches my arm, and I manage to stay on my feet. “He didn’t tell you? It’s why we’re pretending to go to New York alone. They’re hoping we might draw out the rest of Victor’s crew.”

  He didn’t tell me. Shards of glass rip at my chest from the inside. He was there? He protected that demon?

  “Hana, are you okay?” Blake gives my arm a little shake.

  Swallowing the bile in my throat, I shake my head, holding onto the counter as I take a step back. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Really. I just remembered, I need to do something.”

  She doesn’t believe me, but I can’t stand here anymore. Catching the door jamb, the wall, I make my way to the stairs. I need to be alone.

  “Jill said they’d like to know your theme–if you have one.” Blake calls after me, but roaring is in my ears.

  I can’t seem to breathe, and the staircase feels like it’s stretching higher the more I climb. Finally, I’m on the landing, and I just make it through my bedroom door when my lungs give out. I don’t turn on the light. Dropping to my hands and knees, I crawl to the corner beside my dresser. It’s a narrow, dark space.

  It’s how I would hide when Victor would come to my room.

  Pressing my forehead against my knees, I squeeze the sides of my arms, drawing into the smallest version of myself.

  No one can stop him. No one is stronger than him. A shudder rattles my chest at the memory of my childish words.

  Someone was there. Someone protected him.

  Scar was the reason no one could stop that demon.

  Scar was the monster protecting him.

  A sharp inhale rips through my lungs, and a sound like a wounded animal echoes in the empty space. It’s part wail, part audible gasp. It’s my heart, breaking into pieces.

  “Hana?” The deep voice drifts to me from the door, and I let out a little yelp before clapping my hand over my mouth.

  I was always bad at hiding.

  Heavy boots sound on my dark wood floors, then they’re muffled by the fluffy white rug. I squeeze my arms harder, doing my best to grow smaller.

  “Hana, where are you?”

  I don’t answer, and he stands in the center of the room, waiting.

  Seconds tick past, but I don’t move.

  He exhales deeply, speaking into the emptiness. “Blake told me you know about my past.” A heavy pause, the sound of movement. “I never wanted you to hear it that way. I wanted to tell you myself, but I kept waiting for the right moment.”

  More silence.

  Heavy silence.

  Impermeable silence.

  Only his voice, saying my name.

  20

  Scar

  I hear her breath trembling in the dark. I hear her silent tears, and I don’t want to leave her. I want to sling every piece of furniture out of the way until I find her. Then I want to hold her in my arms, protect her from the truth. I want to dry her tears, absorb her sadness.

  But I put it there. She wouldn’t be in this place if it weren’t for me.

  I should have told her.

  I didn’t want to tell her.

  I didn’t want it to be true.

  But it is.

  I taught her to trust me, then I ripped it all away. without any warning. I was so consumed by her light, lost in learning every part of her body.

  When she gave me everything, I actually wanted to believe we’d erased the past, it was only us and nothing else existed.

  It was never only us, and I knew I was playing a dangerous game.

  So I force myself to give her space. I will my boots to move, to walk away from the sound of her sorrow, tearing out my insides and leaving them at her feet.

  Rocks are in my throat, grinding out my voice. I place the can of pepper spray on her nightstand and pull the door open.

  Looking back one last time, I summon the only words left to say. “I’m sorry.”

  Such a feeble offering in the face of my mistake.

  Blake isn’t in the kitchen when I return. I arrived with the can of pepper spray, all prepared to come clean, and she merely glared at me and walked out the room.

  She didn’t have to say a word. I knew what had happened, and I knew she was right to be angry with me. I should have told Hana about my past, my connection to Victor Petrov, before I ever touched her the first time.

  I should have given her the choice to be with a man who would protect someone like that.

  Continuing out, I walk the grounds to the stables. The quiet beasts lean their heads over the doors of their stalls, and I walk to the small stadium where I tried to teach her self-defense.

  My body warms at the memory of hers in my arms. She kissed my cheek. She scrubbed her little ass against my cock. A growl rises in my throat when I remember how happy she was, trusting me completely.

  I had planned to tell her that day. If I weren’t so caught up in my lust, consumed with wanting her, afraid she might walk away, I’d have spared her this pain, spared us both.

  Clenching my fists, I walk away from the site of these recent memories. I understand the old ways of self-flagellation. I think I’d feel better if someone kicked my ass right now. I’ve never felt so deserving.

  The black thoroughbred slips his long nose over the stall door, and I pause, sliding my hand down his shiny face. For a time, I behaved like a beast, going and doing whatever I was told.

  Until I broke out of my cage and ran to this town.

  “I heard Blake fussing at Hutch about something you’d done.” Hugh’s gravelly chuckle greets me. “I have a stable manager, and a bodyguard. I could possibly use a driver.”

  “As far as I know, I haven’t been fired yet.” I glance up at him, forcing a tight smile.

  “That's good. The girls have a tendency to overreact at times.” Using his cane, Hugh walks closer to where I stand. “I suppose we all do.”

  I reach up and scrub behind the horse’s ear. “He’s a beautiful animal.”

  “His running days are over, I’m afraid.”

  I have a feeling I know the reason, and my mind drifts to what he just said. “Why do you have a bodyguard? Hutch checks on you regularly, and he’s close enough if something happens.”

  The old man’s eyes level on me. “This isn’t your first visit to my stables.”

  “I was here just the other day–”

  “You were here seven years ago, before you started working with Hutch Winston.”

  Tightness grips my stomach, but I can't deny it. Even back then, when I wore long-sleeves and suits to hide my more distinctive features, I was still too tall to blend in with the scenery.

  “Yes.” It’s all I care to say.

  “My nephew Charles had a horse he occasionally kept here, Shadow of the Moon. You brought a doctor to see him.” Distaste is in the old man’s tone. “Is that what they call them? Doctors do good, but that man seemed intent on evil.”

  Shame burns in my neck, cementing what I already felt about myself. “I was his security detail. Victor Petrov’s brother Simon gave me my orders.”

  “Your orders.” Hugh nods, and we walk slowly up the path to the big house. “It was not a military position from what I could tell, so it must’ve been something else.”

  He stops at the edge of the driveway, where my black truck is parked. “It was something like servitude.”

  The old man’s lips tighten, and he lifts his chin. “I don’t judge a man for his mistakes. I judge a man for what he does to make up for them. Hutch trusts you. You’ve made an enormous impact on my niece. I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye. I hope you don’t let me down.”

  With that, he carries on, swinging his cane as he strolls to the front door.

  My eyes float up to the window of Hana’s room, and grief aches in my chest.

  I don’t want to let him down, but how can I make this up to her?

  21

  Hana

  At some point, I crawled from my hiding place between the dresser and the wall and into my bed. My old friends were waiting, lurking in the dark corners of my mind, swiping their cold hands at my ankles as I tried to sleep.

  Kicking my feet, I curled into a ball under the heavy blankets, pushing back on the whispers that I would never be free, I could never trust anyone, I only attracted demons and liars.

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to sleep in a tense ball, back in that house on fire, searching for safety.

  Finally, the glow of sunrise lit the edge of the horizon. As it rose higher, the shadows receded, and a fist of anger rose in their place.

  Yes, I’d been dealt a bad hand. I’d been abused. I grew up afraid, going to bed every night not knowing who might enter my room.

  I’d also left that behind. I’d spent months in therapy. I moved to this town, got away from the people who kept me in the dark. I’ve worked so hard, and I have come a long way, dammit.

  So I trusted someone who lied to me. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He barely told me anything about himself–other than he isn’t a hero.

  He’s not.

  And I’ve learned to stand on my own.

  My gallery show is coming up, and I have friends who care about me, who are counting on me. I’m wounded, but I have to be strong now. I know how to shoot a gun. I know how to escape an attacker–run like hell and scream my head off.

  It’s time to be my own hero.

  Throwing back my blankets, I go to the armoire and take out black leggings and a sleeveless chambray shirt. I’m going to eat breakfast, and I’m going to stand on my own two feet. Maybe I did love him, but like my sister said, I’ve come so far.

  My hand grazes something cold on my nightstand as I head for the door, and I almost falter in my newfound determination.

  A can of pepper spray sits on my nightstand.

  Breath hiccups in my chest, and I cover my mouth to hold back the sob. Tears sting in my eyes, and I blink fast.

  It hurts.

  It hurts so much. Oh, God… I’m not sure I can do this.

  A sinkhole where my heart should be opens. The soil crumbles and tries to drag me down, but I close my eyes and grip the doorknob.

  “Come on, Hana,” I whisper shakily.

  A tremor is in my voice, but I tighten my stomach muscles, preparing to fight. Closing my eyes against the pain, I picture a bird, one of those little chicks pecking and fighting so hard to get out of that shell, struggling to survive with wet wings and ugly scars.

  “Come on,” I urge. “You have to keep moving.”

  Pushing my feet to move, I step out the door. I take one step, then another, then another until I’m moving faster. I will face this day, and I will keep moving forward.