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resentment she harbored toward him and his father, Drew had sworn to do anything he needed to help his mother achieve her goals, even as he pursued his own. By the time he’d moved back to Flint, she had finally made editor-in-chief—the position that could have been hers almost thirty years earlier if circumstances were different. He vowed never to let anyone he loved make the same sacrifices his mother had.
    Becca would never have had to make such a gesture if he had anything to do with it. He would have worshipped her and supported every sensible dream and desire she’d had.
    He wondered whether he should try to articulate those issues better for her. Maybe that would change things and they could have another chance at a happily ever after. She may have thought she had feelings for that bastard, Evan, simply because Drew had pushed too hard, too fast. It was possible that with his insistence and guidance, he’d forced her away rather than drawing her closer. He’d tried to explain it before, of course, but somehow his words always became tangled on his tongue and came out wrong. They always left his mouth harsher than he desired, providing a spark to the fire that burned within Becca.
    He planned to march over to Becca and tell her everything that was on his mind as soon as her shift finished. When she walked past him toward the staff room though, her gaze met his for a fraction of a second before she looked away again. In that brief glimpse, he saw pity and regret—not the love he deserved.
    There was no “misunderstanding” about it. He knew that deep inside. She wanted someone else, and the thought was enough to burn Drew alive.
    What was the point in trying to explain anything when she’d already made up her mind?
     
    Amity still couldn’t understand how her boneheaded brother could have made such a monumental error. Instead of releasing the cupid from servitude with a blessing to pursue his love, Michael had led him to believe that he was duty bound to pair her—to pair this Rebecca—with someone else, with the good doctor that she had to help.
    Not only that, Michael had known this cupid had revealed his true nature to his charge and done nothing to rectify the situation.
    Amity had no doubt it was all to do with Heaven’s “hands-off” policy. Let those on Earth guide themselves with minimal interference. She rolled her eyes. Sure, it was fine for Heaven to put a cupid in the path of two random souls, but God forbid you actually give that cupid any concrete instructions or a guidebook.
    She realized her brother probably assumed that her constant presence in the mind of everyone on Earth was enough to have helped lead the cupid to the truth. If he had, then he’d significantly overestimated what her influence actually did. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d made that sort of mistake either. Sometimes she wondered whether any of her brothers actually knew her, or anything about the humans in their care.
    With each new millennia that passed, it became more apparent that the angels simply didn’t understand what she was and wasn’t capable of. The same could be said for their views on humanity. She’d seen the darker elements of human nature, parts which her brothers preferred to gloss over. Some of those aspects fascinated her, but they were also a large part of the reason she’d spent so much time away from everything, and why she buried her true self beneath designer clothing and expensive cars.
    Her step faltered as the truth of that thought echoed throughout her body. Sometimes knowing every truth, being unable to fool herself for even a minute, just sucked. She took a deep breath as she pushed aside her many issues. Her brothers cared about her, she knew they did. It was just that they didn’t get her. No one ever had. She doubted anyone ever would. Maybe the sad truth was that no one ever truly understood anyone else in the universe. That those who claimed they’d met their soul