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of the head. Nothing else you can do. A nervous laugh. It’s what Dad would have wanted, right? I’ll be okay. Really.
    You’re looking so much better! You are so brave. Your father would be so proud of you.
    Thank you. It means a lot to hear that . A smile, a nod…even as I’m screaming inside, I don’t want to make my father proud …I want him here .
    Oh, yes. I could lie. I could look Drake right in the eye and offer glib words that would ease this tension, angry words that would push him away. Or I could offer him more half-truths. I had wanted to get him out of my system. It hadn’t worked.
    Now he was in my system, in my soul, in my blood. I could taste him on my lips as I slept, feel his body under my hands in my dreams, and when I woke, sometimes I even imagined I could still smell the scent of his skin on mine.
    Feeling the weight of his gaze on my head, I slowly raised my head and stared at him.
    In the bright, golden lights of the bathroom, I felt exposed and stripped bare.
    The small, scared part of me whispered… Lie. Just lie. It’s so much easier. So much safer .
    But that was the crux of my problem. I’d felt safe in Florida, and look what happened. Since then, there was rarely a day when I truly felt safe. What I felt was loneliness, anger, guilt and confusion.
    I lived in the shadows and I wrapped myself in lies, just to keep people at bay.
    In that moment, I realized how very tired of it all I was.
    But the lies, and the shadows, would continue unless I pulled myself out of them.
    Blood roared in my ears, my heart pounding in my throat. I rubbed my palms together, felt the sweat that had collected there. Clearing my throat, I looked around. Not here. I wasn’t having this talk here. In a bathroom, lush and elegant as it was.
    “Let’s go out to the balcony,” I said softly.
    He looked away, his shoulders rising, falling on a rough breath. “It’s cold.”
    “I grew up on these beaches. I know the weather.”
    He just nodded.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Cold, maybe.
    But the built-in fire pit, powered by a gas line, chased away most of the chill. Drake wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and I drew my feet up on the cushion, tucking them under me. Between the fire and the blanket, I barely felt the chill in the air.
    Not physically.
    Inside, I felt chilled to the bone. And sick at heart.
    Drake sat across from me, his hands folded, his gaze on the dancing flames. There was no delaying this. Not anymore.
    “I hated you,” I said softly.
    His shoulders tightened, his body going rigid as though he was preparing for a blow. But when he spoke, his voice was cool, the way it might be if he was addressing some of the hotshots back at Gallagher Enterprises. “I can understand why. I just want to understand what’s happened the past few months.”
    He didn’t understand.
    But then again, neither did I. Not really.
    “For the past ten years, I fixated on you. Blaming you.” I shrugged and looked away. “I had to delay college until I was nineteen. Mom wishes I’d put it off another year, but I was going crazy. She…” I paused, wondering if there was a way to say this without coming off as cruel. “She blamed herself. For a long time. It was their job, she said. To protect me. When I was hurt, it was a failing of hers.”
    Drake swore, shoving upright. He started to pace, tension coming off him in waves. “None of you were to blame. A couple of sick bastards wanted to hurt you, exploit you, steal from you and your family. The blame lies with them.”
    “I know.”
    He paused and looked back at me.
    I focused on the fire, stunned by how much lighter I felt, just by saying those words out loud. I’d never been able to do it before, even though I’d told myself I accepted that fact years before. Over the past month especially, I’d been coming to realize just how blind I’d been in my rage toward Drake. Closing my eyes, I pressed my head to the pillowed side of the chair. “It took me a very