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and hail hit the roof loudly. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.
    I turned my head and listened. The tapping noise sounded different than the rain and hail. It was more rhythmic than chaotic. A low sliding sound as if a window was being opened cut through the sound of the rain.
    “What was that?” I whispered.
    “What?”
    “It sounded like a window being opened.”
    Nate rose from the bed and bent over, lifting up the hem of his pants. He pulled a gun out of an ankle holster and switched the safety to off.
    “Nathan, what are you doing?” Panic rose inside me. “It’s just a noise. It’s probably nothing.”
    I hoped it was nothing. Nathan was starting to scare me. Was he reacting this way because of his PTSD, or was there a real threat? I had no way of knowing.
    “Stay here,” he said.
    He opened the door slowly and moved out into the hallway. I jumped up and pulled a dress on over my head. It fit tighter across my chest than it used to. My breasts had definitely started to swell. I frowned as I straightened it. The secret I carried felt like a ticking time bomb.
    Barefoot, I crept up to the door and listened. The house had fallen quiet. The hail stopped; rain still fell gently on the roof. I opened the door a crack and peeked out. Nate wasn’t in the hall.
    I closed the door gently, turned and screamed. A man stood outside my window. He was soaking wet; his hair clung to his face, hiding his eyes. When he saw my expression, a smile twisted his face into a gruesome sneer.
    He slid his hands beneath the windowpane and pushed it open. I backed up against the door.
    “Nate!” I screamed.
    At the sound of my voice the man looked up sharply. It was then I recognized him.
    “Jackson?”
    He lunged for me so quickly that I didn’t have time to react. He grabbed my arm and twisted it around my back then pushed me facedown onto the floor. I screamed and kicked, but it was useless. He dug his knee into the small of my back and pressed down, immobilizing me. Jackson’s hand slid over my mouth; he leaned in close.
    “I’m not going down for you,” he whispered. “Do you understand? I won’t take the fall.”
    I had no idea what he was talking about. When I didn’t respond, he shook me.
    “Do you understand?” he shouted. “It’s not fair and I won’t let it happen again.”
    I nodded as if I understood.
    “Good.”
    He rose off of me, pulling me to my feet. Jackson opened my bedroom door and pushed me out into the hallway. He still had my arm twisted around my back. I saw a gun and a large knife in the waistband of his pants. Fighting back seemed pointless; he was too strong and well-armed.
    As we made our way to the living room, I started to panic. A chair was turned over and several of my mother’s books were scattered across the room. Nate was nowhere in sight.
    Jackson pushed me out the front door. It had started to rain hard again. A black SUV was parked in front of the house. The backdoor opened and I caught sight of Nate. He was bleeding and wild-eyed. A man sat beside him with a gun. When Nate saw me his expression shifted to barely concealed rage.
    “You don’t need her,” he said. “You’ve got me. I won’t fight back.”
    I trembled in the rain. I was barefoot and soaked. The memory of Nate’s body on mine still echoed across my skin like a ghost. Things were happening so quickly. I had no idea how to react.
    Jackson shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let her get away with this.”
    “That happened a long time ago. Olivia has nothing to do with it.”
    It was like they were talking in circles around me. What happened a long time ago and why did Jackson think I was a part of it? For a split second, I thought this was about Mia, but apparently it ran deeper than a love triangle.
    “It ends now,” Jackson said.
    He pulled out his gun and put it to my head.
    “No!” Nate screamed. “Listen to me: it was my fault, not yours or hers. Put down the gun.”
    Jackson shook his head. “Sorry,