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Contents ( 30)
  1. Dedication
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen
  17. Chapter Sixteen
  18. Chapter Seventeen
  19. Chapter Eighteen
  20. Chapter Nineteen
  21. Chapter Twenty
  22. Chapter Twenty-One
  23. Chapter Twenty-Two
  24. Chapter Twenty-Three
  25. Chapter Twenty-Four
  26. Chapter Twenty-Five
  27. Chapter Twenty-Six
  28. Epilogue
  29. About the Author
  30. Discover other titles by Kristen Ashley:

Sure, I thought Lowe did. And I thought Trent did.

But now I knew.

So yes, fuck yes, I was beginning to feel panicky.

All this filled my head on the way up the stairs and it kept filling my head as Merry walked me down the landing. It continued to fill my head as he let my hand go and let us in his place, throwing the door open for me.

I walked into the dark, but it wasn’t dark for long because Merry hit a switch and a not very attractive chandelier came on over a dining room table to my right.

Beyond that was essentially a galley kitchen, the “essentially” part because one side of the galley was not closed off but opened to the rest of the space, which was a living room. But it was still tiny.

The furniture was of decent quality, comfortable but sparse.

And I’d been right in my imaginings—Merry had a huge TV.

But other than a couch, a recliner, some end tables with lamps, a dining room table, some stools at the bar, and a media center, there was nothing.

No seascapes on the walls. No gun racks. No personality. No nothing.

Except some DVDs and CDs stacked in the shelves around the TV with three frames set amongst them.

Merry moved to a lamp in the living room and I moved to the only things that might give me insight into Merry.

On my way, I dropped my wrap and my purse in the seat of the recliner. I stopped at the first frame.

I saw, not surprisingly, that it was a photo of Merry, Rocky, and their dad, Dave Merrick. Dave was sitting. Merry and Rocky were leaning over his shoulders. I could see Merry’s arm around Rocky. All of them were smiling at the camera.

He looked younger, so did Rocky. It was definitely before I’d met him.

And the only thing it gave me that I didn’t already know was that Merry was hot ten, twelve years ago.

Not a surprise.

But he’d gotten better with age.

I looked to the other photo and it was a picture of Merry in a big, comfortable-looking chair, looking up at the camera, smiling beautifully, a wrapped bundle of baby held tight against his chest.

Merry and his niece, Cecelia.

Proud uncle.

I knew that too.

I moved across the front of the TV to get to the pictures on the other side.

This was a triple-frame spread across the shelf, the only thing in the space.

Center frame, a formal picture of Rocky and Tanner at their wedding, surrounded by Merry in his groomsman tux, Dave, Vera, Devin, and Tanner’s sons with his first wife, Jasper and Tripp.

Right frame, Tanner and Merry, arms around each other’s shoulders, far less formally posed but still taken by the wedding photographer in the same location as the middle picture.

The left frame, Merry in his groomsman tux and Rocky in her wedding dress. He held her in both arms; she’d wrapped hers around him. Her cheek was to his shoulder, their eyes aimed at the camera. Both of them were smiling, but Rocky looked like she was also crying.