Fiercely Emma

(Cake Series Book Three)

J. Bengtsson

Copyright © 2017 by J. Bengtsson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Contents

1. Emma, 2004: A Table for Eight

2. Emma, Present Day: Resting Bitch Face

3. Finn: Head First

4. Emma, 2004: Forty-Eight Hours

5. Finn: Lord of the Flies

6. Emma, Present Day: Stranger Danger

7. Emma, 2004: A Mother’s Destruction

8. Finn: The Golden Ticket

9. Emma, Present Day: Living Dangerously

10. Emma, 2004: The Un-Supporting Characters

11. Finn: A Great Trier

12. Emma, Present Day: Feeling the Chill

13. Emma, 2004: Remember Me

14. Finn: Breakfast Of Champions

15. Emma, Present Day: Netflix and Chill

16. Emma, 2004: Night Terrors

17. Finn: Light ’Em Up

18. Emma, Present Day: Letting Go

19. Emma, 2004: Making Contact

20. Finn: Moving On

21. Emma, Present Day: Two Percent Chance

22. Emma, 2005: Glen

23. Emma, Present Day: Full Circle

24. Finn: The Fixer

25. Emma, 2005: Summer of Healing

26. Emma, Present Day: Family Unit

About the Author

Also by J. Bengtsson

1

Emma, 2004: A Table for Eight

I should have known better than to take a shortcut through the kitchen. The smell of ground beef sizzling on the stove ought to have been warning enough to find an alternate route. Dinner preparations were underway, and if I were spotted wandering through, there’d be no escape. Mom always had a long list of chores to dole out to those stupid enough to get caught. And with the crappy day I’d had, I was determined not to let that happen. Channeling my inner feline, I silently rotated and stealthily crept back toward the door I’d just traveled though.

“Oh, good, Emma,” Mom said, relief evident in her overworked voice.

Don’t look up. Avoid eye contact of any kind. Fiddling with my MP3 player, I hoped the earphones in my ears would fool her into thinking I hadn’t heard my name being called. A getaway, however ugly, was still possible.

“I know you can hear me.”

It was a shameless bluff. Unless she’d crawled into my ears, there was no way my mother could know for sure that I’d heard her. The door was a step away; I could still make it if I tried.

“Emma! Do I need to take your CD player away?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, veins pulsing in response to my mother’s ignorant threat. How many times did I have to tell her it was an MP3 player? It wasn’t the 1990’s, for god’s sake.

“What is it?” I asked curtly, purposely averting my eyes because I knew it annoyed her.

If she detected my snooty sixteen-year-old girl tone, my mother wisely chose to ignore it. Lately, it seemed, I was a hornet’s nest just begging to be poked. I didn’t enjoy the anger that slowly simmered inside, and at times, I felt powerless to control it. My parents blamed my impatience on hormones; I blamed it on their banal nettling.

“Can you please set the table for me?”

Heat burned my cheeks. I wanted to stomp my feet in protest. Why did every little thing out of her mouth set me off? Had she always been such a controlling dictator, or was this a recent development? Obviously my mother was too self-absorbed to care that I had bigger issues that needed addressing: namely, my ex-best friend, Kara, openly crushing on the guy I liked. Talk about a conniving little slut. She knew how I felt about Drake, listening to hours upon hours of my blubbery declarations of love. How could I not have seen Kara deviously plotting her deception? A wicked smile formed on my double-crossed lips. No one messed with Emma McKallister and lived to tell about it. By tomorrow morning, my former best friend would be systematically annihilated.

“Why can’t one of the boys do it?”

“I didn’t ask one of the boys, I asked you.”

“Because I’m a girl?” I said, all sass.

“No, because you’re a part of this family, and I need help.”

No, because I walked through the kitchen at the wrong damn time... and I’m a girl! I let out an exaggerated sigh of displeasure. There was no point in arguing since my mother was a world-class nagger. She’d just follow me around bitching and complaining until I did what she wanted, so I might as well get it over with now. Kara would have to wait for her punishment… but she would not be spared.

“Fine, but I’m not clearing the table afterward.”

Mom didn’t answer other than to roll her eyes and mumble something I couldn’t hear. I went to the cupboard and pulled down the plates, eight in all. Only a couple of them matched. Over the years, some would break, and Mom would buy new ones to replace them. But my mother always bought different patterns because, in her words, she “wanted to mix it up.” So new designs would be mixed with old, and fruit themes would be sitting side-by-side with floral ones.

I completed my chore and then looked down at the finished product. Four different style plates, five different size cups, and hastily placed silverware. Even the napkins weren’t folded ornamentally like in the magazines. Ours were just lying limply next to the plate. I shook my head, struggling to contain my irritation. I had recently developed an aversion to anything mismatched. For me, everything had a place and purpose, complementing each other whenever possible. Mom didn’t see it my way. In fact, when I’d brought up the issue to her recently, she’d instantly turned hostile and alleged she didn’t have time to worry about insignificant stuff like that. Geez, she didn’t have to be so testy.

When I was younger the slack attitude toward societal guidelines hadn’t bothered me as much; but now that I was sixteen, and chaos surrounded me at every turn of a corner, I sometimes fantasized about coming home to a different family – a fancier, more cultured one, or at least one that cared about the natural order of things. Someday, when I was a mom, I was going to have it all together. My table would be immaculate, and I also wouldn’t be recycling the same eight tired dinners over and over for the rest of my life. My rich husband would provide for swankier meals, like… well, I didn’t know any swankier meals, but someday I would. And those would be served on a pretty table with folded napkins and matching plates.

My baby sister burst into the kitchen, her shiny blonde hair trailing her like a cape. Before I knew what was happening, she’d latched onto my leg like a blood-sucking tick.

“Grace,” I said, mumbling as I shook my leg in irritation and attempted to unfasten her. “Get off.”

“No. I love you!” My sister squished her defiant little face harder into my flesh. Love was not why she was clinging to me now. Gracie was just being her insufferable five-year-old self.

I tried to pry her off me, but the pint-sized brat wouldn’t detach. “Let go! MOM! Tell her to get off.”

“Grace, leave your sister alone,” Mom said, but not with the urgency the situation clearly called for.

“No, I love her. I won’t let go EVER.”

Oh, but you will. Maybe Mom didn’t think it was imperative to act swiftly to extinguish such bratty behavior, but I, for one, would not stand for it.

“Get off,” I hissed, before grabbing a handful of my sister’s soft, silky baby hair and yanking. Grace screamed and instantly disengaged. Bolting to safety, she buried her head in Mom’s leg instead of mine. Good riddance!

“Emma!” Mom screeched. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” I asked, indignantly. “I warned her.”

“So you think it’s fine to resort to violence when you don’t get your way?”

“In this particular situation,” I said, crossing my arms angrily and standing my shaky ground, “Yes, I do.”

“Well, that’s not the way it’s done in this house,” Mom said, through gritted teeth. “Give me that CD player and go to your room.”

“UUUHHGGG! IT’S AN MP3 PLAYER!” I screamed, slamming the electronic device into her open palm before stomping off in a display of blistering outrage. On my way down the narrow hallway, I crossed paths with my older brother Keith. It was obvious he was about to make some snarky comment, but he thought better of it as he caught sight of my expression. Keith wisely flattened himself against the wall as I passed. Good choice.

Finally at the threshold of my sanctuary, I gripped the side of my door and slammed it with enough force to ensure every person in the house could fully appreciate my fury. Even the mirror hanging on the back of my door was not spared; it swung out and violently crashed into the wall.

So intense were my emotions that tears formed in my eyes. A nagging guilt tugged at me, but I stubbornly pushed it aside. It was exhausting being this angry all the time. Why couldn’t everyone just back off and leave me alone? It was like they wanted to rile me up. Dramatically, I flung myself on my bed and spent the next hour or so of my spiteful existence spinning a web of deceit for Kara to fall into, complete with a written outline of how I wanted things to go down. She might get Drake, but that was all she’d get. By the next morning, if everything went as planned, Kara wouldn’t have a friend to speak of.

* * *

The smell of dinner that had been wafting through the confines of our cramped five-bedroom home was now gone. I wondered if Mom had not called me to eat because of what I’d done to Grace. I probably shouldn’t have pulled her hair, but a girl can only take so much. I hated having so many damn kids running around the house. Nobody bothered to ask me if I wanted any more siblings.

My stomach rumbled as I reluctantly opened my door and made my way down the hall. Knowing I was probably going to get screamed at, I readied my response. I was planning to go the sympathy route. Usually if I threw the whole You never have time for me anymore in my parents’ faces, their guilt kept my punishment light. But when I walked into the kitchen, our dinner was just sitting on the table getting cold. Mom was pacing back and forth, her face pinched in irritation and her fingers tapped nervously on the counter.

“Why aren’t we eating?” I asked.

“Because the boys aren’t home yet. Dad’s been out looking for them for the past hour. They weren’t at the skate park.”

“Oh.” I blew the tension out of my lungs. There was nothing that got me off the hook faster than one of the boys doing something stupid. Luckily I could always count on Kyle to be an idiot.

“So should the rest of us just eat, then?” I asked, indifferent to my Mom’s obvious distress.

“No. We’ll wait for Dad to get home with the boys,” she said, in a clipped tone. “And don’t think we aren’t going to discuss your behavior, Emma.”

“You need to control her better.” I spat the words from my mouth.

“And you need to start acting like a human being instead of a spoiled snot.”

The sound of tires rolling over cement caught our attention. Mom’s back tightened as she opened the door.

“Did you find them?” she called to him, her voice catching in her throat.

“No.”

Mom’s eyes widened, as her skin slowly faded to an ashen white. “Where could they be?”

Dad lumbered into the kitchen, each step more distressed than the next. “I’m telling you, Michelle, I have no idea. I’ve gone everywhere. I stopped by Drew’s, and Jason’s and Peter’s. None of them have seen the boys, and all three were at the skate park when Jake and Kyle were supposed to be there. Something’s not right. I’m actually getting worried.”

“It’s not like them,” she said, more to herself than to my father. “They know better than to be out past dark.”

I glanced between my worried parents, completely unconcerned about my brothers. They were making a big deal out of nothing. Those boys were always into something. I was hungry. When exactly was Mom planning on serving dinner?

“I’m going to call around and see if any of their other friends have seen them.”

His brows furrowing, Dad absently nodded. His thoughts were far away as he pulled the baseball cap off his head and drew in deep, calming breaths. Perhaps sensing me staring, Dad caught my eye and his pained gaze startled me. My father was the happy-go-lucky type, not the overly dramatic worrier, but the look on his face was clear: he was scared. And that, in turn, caused me to shift in my chair and experience the first prickly sensation that something bad might actually have happened.

I checked the clock. It was almost eight. I’d been so wrapped up in preparing Kara’s funeral that I hadn’t realized so much time had passed. With Kyle being twelve years old and Jake thirteen, they had a strict sundown curfew.

Keith trotted in with Grace riding on his back, an imaginary whip forcing him to move faster. “You haven’t found them yet?” His playfulness ceased once he caught sight of Dad’s frowning face.

“Can you think of anywhere else they might have gone?”

“I mean, just the places I told you about earlier,” Keith answered.

“Any new friends you know of? Is Jake playing with a new band, maybe?”

There was something so unsettling in Dad’s anxious words that shivers crept along my skin. I crossed my arms, trapping the breeze.

“No, Dad. I don’t know,” Keith said, lowering Grace to the ground. She ran to the table and dipped her hand in the cheese. Mom didn’t bother to stop her. She was preoccupied, on the phone, calling everyone she knew.

Six-year-old Quinn had joined Grace in dinner. Neither was particularly skilled at putting a taco together, and within seconds all the fillings were strewn across the table. Normally such a sight would annoy me to no end, but the nagging anxiousness settling deep in my belly kept me silent. I watched restlessly as the kids chatted happily with one another, blissfully unaware of the panic beginning to take form around them. The oxygen in the room began to thin, making it harder to breathe as my thoughts focused on Jake and Kyle. Where were they?

Mom, still on the phone, had the high pitch of a woman on the verge of hysteria. Her lips trembled as she asked the same question: “Have you seen my sons?” Not to be outdone, my father paced the floor, repeating the same words over and over again. “Should we call the police? What should we do?”

Time passed slowly as an ominous feeling of doom settled over the whole lot of us, and the longer we waited, the darker and more sinister the possibilities became. The police were called by 8:15, and as we waited for them to arrive, frantic screaming from somewhere down the street brought the four of us to our feet. We raced from the kitchen into the darkened night and followed the sounds of hysteria. There was no doubt in any of our minds that our questions were about to be answered in the cruelest of ways.

We met Kyle several houses down, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wild with fear. He flung himself into our mother’s quaking arms. He was speaking so fast and so frantically that none of us could understand the words. Mom, her face contorted in horror, gripped my brother’s small body and pushed him back, getting a first look at her injured son. Blood from a wound on his forehead traced lines through the dirt on Kyle’s face, and his arm hung at an awkward angle by his side. Mom grasped his flushed cheeks and lifted his head. All she managed to say was, “Jake?”

Kyle drew himself up and then burst into tears. “Gone.”

2

Emma, Present Day: Resting Bitch Face

Waist-deep in a pile of clothes, I clawed at the stack with increasing frustration. Hippie chic? What exactly did that mean? Could one even put those words together into a coherent whole? When I wasn’t wearing light blue nursing scrubs at the hospital, I preferred a more classic wardrobe, which was precisely why I had such a high credit card bill every month at the Gap. Their business casual or jeans and blazer looks suited me well: crisp, clean, and tailored. Just like me. Just like my life.

“What do you think, Cynthia?” I asked, holding up a chiffon top I’d dug out of the pile. My initial search for the perfect outfit had begun in an orderly fashion, but then I noticed some items falling off their hangers and decided this was as good a time as any to rehang and reorganize everything in my closet – hence the messy stack of clothing now fanned out around me. “I need your opinion, pretty boy. Is this hippie enough? Do you think I’ll look good in this?”

With his signature blasé arrogance, my fluffy gray and white cat glanced between the shirt and me and, for a moment there, I thought he might actually be considering my options. But then he went all predictable feline on me, folding his limber body into a scissor pose before getting down and dirty on his furry little behind.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

I guess I couldn’t fault Cynthia for his lackluster approach to life. He had never really forgiven me for his feminine moniker. I blamed my father and his stupid pet-naming policy. By the time we’d realized that Cynthia was really a Charles, it was too late. Every suggestion I presented as an acceptable alternative was met with overly enthusiastic booing by my opinionated family. So Cynthia it remained. I figured since he was strictly an indoor kitty and wouldn’t need to worry about getting name-shamed by a gang of macho alley cats, what was the harm, right? Wrong! My brothers never gave poor Cynthia a break. He’d become a running family joke, and my misunderstood little fluff ball didn’t like it one bit.

I held up my favorite light gray pantsuit, the one I’d rocked at the hospital Christmas party the year before last – seriously low-cut and clinging to all the right curves. I recalled feeling incredibly sexy that night. I also remembered the males loving it; so much so that I’d been rewarded with a steamy night in the arms of Logan, our hospital’s Dr. McDreamy. All I can say about that was, with a few drinks in me, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. I should have known better… on so many levels. Logan was one of those guys who knew he was hot and wanted the rest of the world to appreciate his scorching awesomeness right alongside him. And that night, after he’d rolled off of me for the final time that balmy winter’s evening, we both immediately realized our mistake, and neither one of us could get away from the other fast enough.

He’d spent the following week trying to hide from me. It really was quite humorous to watch him morph from a mature professional into a commitment-phobic adolescent the moment our tryst was completed. Avoiding me seemed his only mission, even going so far as to duck behind the nurse’s stations or escape into storage closets when our paths would invariably cross. What Dr. Chickenshit hadn’t realized was that he’d met his fornicating match. I didn’t want a relationship any more than he did, and once he figured that out, the randy physician was more than happy to keep reaching out for snacks… or asking for tickets to my brother’s concerts. As if. Asshole. That’s what I got for picking the winners. I scrunched my nose in protest of the memory… yeah, maybe not the pantsuit.

So that was my last coitus, not that you probably cared. Not that I even cared. When it came to men and sex, I could take it or leave it. And more often than not, I left it. It wasn’t that I was some hardcore feminist who reveled in pummeling men in their nether regions just for the sake of it, although that did sound strangely entertaining. No, my reasons were far simpler and less violent. I’d found over time that the only men with balls big enough to approach me were cocksure dipwads. And despite what my appearance and demeanor obviously said about me, I wasn’t used to men like that. All the guys in my life, my father and my brothers, were dynamic and sincere. Sure, they made mistakes, and could at times be giant walking, talking assholes, but at least they tried to do the right thing. I liked to think my brothers treated women with as much respect as could be reasonably expected, given they were of the male species and thought primarily with their frontal genitalia.

Even if the nice guys were to come hither, it’s not like I’d know what to do with them. I’d spent my adulthood avoiding congenial men. The fact that I didn’t want what nice guys wanted – namely, marriage and a family – pretty much excluded them from my rather empty playbook.

So, what should I do? my sister Grace texted. She was having boy problems and naively believed her big sister had all the answers. Ahh, bless her. Honestly, she’d have better luck asking some middle school hussy than me but, sure, I’d pretend for her. Why the hell not? Okay, so let’s see, the guy in her English class just told her he thought she had a thick ass – thick, for all you pre-Kardashians out there, now meant deliciously scrumptious. Does she a) engage him in conversation; b) ignore him and make him want more: or c) rub her thick ass all over the douche to give him a taste of what he’s been missing? Okay, seeing as this was my baby sister, c) was most definitely off the table. Selection b) would be my standard protocol, and we certainly didn’t want Grace to be anything like me, so there was really only one option...

Find someone else. This guy sucks.

Emma! He’s one of the hottest boys in school.

All the more reason.

You’re not helping. I really don’t know what to do. Does he just like me because of my last name or does he like me for me?

It sounds like he likes you for your ass, which means my earlier advice stands.

Ugghh… you’re impossible sometimes. I’m going to ask Amber instead.

Fine. I didn’t want to be her Oprah anyway. Relieved, I shifted my focus back to the pile of clothing and begrudgingly acknowledged that it really didn’t matter what I found in my closet; nothing was going to get me out of a shopping date with my brother’s fiancée, Casey. I’d been putting her off for too long, and now it was crunch time. Somehow I’d agreed to let her help me pick out two ‘music festival appropriate’ outfits for the coming weekend. My brother Jake was headlining the three-day line-up and, because it was our father’s birthday, had invited the entire clan out for some fun in the desert sun. But although I’d been looking forward to the event for weeks, finding something to wear was another story altogether.

The Sun Desert Music Festival was known as much for the fashion stylings of its concertgoers as it was for the music. And that’s where Casey came in. Since saying yes to my brother four months ago, my future sister-in-law had been trying her best to bond with me. I was fine with our friendly arrangement of seeing each other only when Jake was around – after all, I wasn’t known for having female friends – but apparently that didn’t fly with girlfriend-centric women like Casey. She wanted a deeper connection with me, and even though I had trust issues with other women, I’d promised Jake during our last phone conversation that I’d try harder to get to know his soon-to-be bride.

I mean, how difficult could it be? Casey seemed fairly straightforward. I couldn’t imagine there being some hideous beast hiding under all that smiling. Normally I didn’t trust anyone whose lips were perpetually curved upward, but with Casey, I truly believed she couldn’t help herself. Don’t get me wrong – I didn’t dislike Casey or her bubbly personality. On the contrary, I found her a breath of fresh air in my brother’s previously stale life. She’d found a way to pierce his steely surface to find the person inside – not the rock star or the crime victim, just the man I knew and loved. And for that I bowed down to her. But becoming best buddies? That didn’t seem likely.

I guess selfishly I’d always just pictured Jake and me, lonely and unloved, living out the later years of our lives together in some swanky old people’s home in Florida, complaining about the freezing temperatures and arguing over whose walker was fastest. But with Casey in the picture, that lofty dream was all shot to hell. It was now looking like I’d be getting a table for one in old folks’ heaven.

Obviously, the issue I had with Casey was more a reflection on me. I simply couldn’t keep up with the girl. The last time we’d hung out, she’d done 90% of the talking. At some point I’d retreated to a safe place in my mind far, far away from the endless words. Again, my fault, not hers. No doubt my reserved demeanor had made Casey extra chatty that night.

The phone calls for this current round of attempted bonding had started last week. Of course, Casey initiated each and every call. There’d been three in all, if you didn’t count the ones I’d let go straight to voicemail. She wanted to set up a shopping date with me, which required a trip to the mall or something equivalent. Noise. Lines. People. Yuck, double yuck, and shoot me now. All my go-to excuses were depleted after call number one. I dipped into the reserves for call number two. But by call number three, I was weak and defenseless, and in no position to refuse. Yep, there was no way out of the trip to the mall.

The only type of shopping I enjoyed was done from the comfort of my own home… and in a pair of colorful pajamas. Almost everything I desired could be ordered through the click of a mouse. The painless efficiency of online shopping sent happy flutters through me. Nothing was more satisfying than coming home from a long day of work and finding brown packages waiting for me on my doorstep. It was like Christmas every day.

My aversion to the mall came at the onset of puberty, when I grew to my full and ridiculous height. Pushing six feet tall in seventh grade, it was a challenge to find flattering outfits that fit my long, pencil arms and Stretch Armstrong legs. And don’t even get me started on my size ten flipper feet. That’s why I stuck to the brands I could trust, with the online stores specifically tailored to beanstalk girls like myself.

Casey didn’t have to worry about such things, as she was the south to my north pole. Her cute little personality was matched by her cute little body. She could rock any outfit and look cool doing it. Add to that her flowing brunette locks and easy smile, and Casey was hard to resist. She definitely had a way of growing on you, sort of like a staph infection – you didn’t even know she was invading until you had a full-blown case of her.

Honestly, I just didn’t want to be embarrassed when I went into stores for normal-sized girls. Although I liked being able to reach items on the top shelf, there were times I thought life would be easier if I was short enough to fit inside a smart car. Certainly it would be simpler when it came to men. I was no troll, but my height definitely complicated matters with the opposite sex. Guys over a certain length generally found me attractive – hell, even the shorter ones had no problem flirting with me – until I stood up. Then came the sweaty foreheads and awkward excuses. Even the big guys seemed to be calculating in their heads how much taller I’d be in a pair of stilettos before committing to an evening out, not that such a scenario came around all that often.

Perhaps to offset the shock of my lofty, slim frame and bee-sting sized boobs, I had been graciously blessed with the gift of light hazel-gray eyes, high cheekbones, and lustrously long, thick tresses, which at the moment were dyed a platinum blonde, courtesy of my fashion-obsessed sister Grace. While she’d done a great job, I was currently rethinking my color choice after overhearing someone at work call me the White Witch.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only unfavorable nickname I’d earned at the hospital. I was also routinely referred to as Nurse Nasty and The Rock Star’s Bitch Sister; always behind my back, of course. For whatever reason, women didn’t particularly care for me. It wasn’t that I was ever outwardly rude to other people, but I wasn’t touchy-feely, either. I had a tendency to keep my emotions firmly in check, and apparently that rubbed people the wrong way.

When I’d first started at the hospital, I really had tried to fit in, but my brother’s reputation preceded me. A leak from the administration outed my identity, and upon arrival I was bombarded with questions about Jake. Being the fiercely protective sister I was, I immediately shut down the intrusive inquiries, and in doing so, set the course for social obliteration for the next four years.

Of course, it hadn’t helped my cause that male coworkers occasionally hit on me in front of the other nurses. Even openly rebuffing their advances to appease my female colleagues didn’t get me off the hook. In fact, it only seemed to incite them further. The Rock Star’s Bitch Sister thinks she’s too good for our doctors. I figured out pretty quickly that I couldn’t win no matter what, so I stopped trying. In fact, I had only one friend among the nurses, and that was really just by default. Everyone hated her, too.

No, I was used to not being liked by other women, and it hadn’t bothered me too much until Jake asked me to try harder with Casey. I’d never been able to say no to him, and his concern for her happiness tugged at my heart. His was a request I couldn’t ignore. Nor did I want to. I owed as much to Casey. Her commitment to my brother gave us something very important in common. And if, like Jake had said, she didn’t think I liked her, well, that was definitely something I could change.

At least I had a better chance of making things right with Casey than of fixing the other issue Jake had with me. According to him, I suffered from a condition referred to as Resting Bitch Face, otherwise known as RBF. Apparently even when I wasn’t annoyed, my expression said otherwise. As if I didn’t have enough to be self-conscious about, now I had to worry that my very aura was displeasing to others. Talk about pressure. The moment I was made aware of the fact that I was indeed suffering from the chronic pinched-lipped disease, it was all I could think about. Feeling the need to prove I was more than just a facial expression, I practiced ‘resting’ my face in front of a mirror, adopting a more pleasing wide-eyed, clueless look. If it worked for puppies, it could work for me.

Once I had my most adorable look down pat, I tried it out at work, greeting my co-workers enthusiastically. Instead of being thrilled with my delightful new outlook on life, my sudden friendliness had the opposite effect, and for the remainder of the day, I had to endure long sideways glances from women worried I might show up at their homes and boil their pet bunnies. In hindsight, it might have been best to ease them into the new me.

I hadn’t always been the odd woman out. Once upon a time, I’d had plenty of female friends; in fact, dare I say, I was a popular girl. Back then, if females hated me it was because they wanted to be me. Now they just hated me with no strings attached.

It’s not difficult to pinpoint the moment in time when everything changed for me. In fact, I could tell you the exact minute of the exact day. When tragedy stuck, it was all-consuming, and I was wholly unprepared for the aftermath. I collapsed inward, clinging to my parents and siblings, the only people who truly understood the magnitude of what we’d survived. I would have gladly stayed inside that bubble, us against the world, had the inevitable not happened and we’d all grown up. I went off to college and started my life, but emotionally, I stayed behind, watching from the sidelines as one by one my little sister and my four brothers began to spread their wings. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. Letting them go left a void in me that I’d never been able to fill back up. As my brothers fell in love, they added new members to our tight knit group, making me feel pushed out and unnecessary. Maybe that’s why I’d never embraced Keith’s ex, or Jake’s fiancée or Kyle’s girlfriend. Tears filled my eyes. I needed to try harder.

“I can always count on you, can’t I, buddy?” I said, bending down and giving my fur baby a good scratching behind his ears. Forgetting about his butthole, if only temporarily, Cynthia purred and rolled around on the floor in frenzy as if my fingers had been dipped in catnip just for his petting pleasure.

The ding of the doorbell put an end to the cat worship. There’d be plenty of time for that later. Oh, yeah, there was always ample time for the cat.

“All right, all right, hang on,” I called, as I padded my way to the front door. Pulling out my phone, I clicked on the electronic doorbell app to confirm who I already assumed was there – my lunch date. He came around at least every other week after trips to LA, and although I’d never admit it to him, his visits were the highlights of my month. The camera on my doorbell app finally activated, and I gasped at the image that popped up on my screen. An ass. And not just any ass… my brother Keith’s. I wished I could say it was the first time I’d seen it so up close and personal, but sadly I couldn’t. Despite myself, I laughed at his juvenile behavior. My penchant for frat boy humor was an unfortunate side effect of growing up with brothers.

“Damn, Keith,” I said into the speaker, “you’re looking so handsome today. Did you get a new haircut or something?”

“Well, actually I did do a little manscaping. Thanks for noticing.”

“You know, I didn’t buy this doorbell so you could have your way with it.”

The naked ass that had been greeting me on my screen disappeared and was replaced by Keith’s eyeball.

“EMMMAA,” he said in a crazy voice, his giant orb rolling around in its socket. “Open up.”

“Stop,” I laughed, unlocking my front door. “You’re going to freak out the neighbors.”

Keith stepped in, a bag of oranges in one hand and the other adjusting his shorts back into place. “Have you seen your neighbors? You live in the Valley, for god’s sake.”

I pulled him into my charming yet snug, three-bedroom condominium.

“Shhh,” I snickered, and shut the door. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

I lived on a quiet tree-lined street in the Valley. Yes, that valley. Also known as the New Jersey of Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley had long been considered the place to go if you weren’t beautiful enough, cool enough, or rich enough to live in the city. Many Angelenos wouldn’t even consider stepping foot on this side of Mulholland Drive without a full set of shots on file. Home of porn stars and Moon Unit Zappa’s Valley Girl song, one might think the area had no redeeming qualities, but in recent years it had become a mecca for young families. The rents were cheaper and the vibe was considerably more laid back.

Although it was far from what others might consider a dream home, for me it was perfect. Having the finest of all things had once been my goal, but that was a long time ago. I’d long since stopped valuing the measure of life through opulence. The people I chose to surround myself with, my family, were all the treasure I needed. Sappy, I agree, but in my case, true. Yes, I was proud of my little condo. It had been through my hard work that I’d earned enough for the down payment. Because my brother was a millionaire musician, people just assumed I routinely piggybacked off his fortune and fame. That could not be further from the truth. My life was mine, far removed from my brother’s crazy, rock star existence, although that’s not to say that if I’d wanted to live vicariously through him, I easily could have. Jake was liberal with his money and never thought twice about sharing his wealth with the ones he loved.

Case in point was the owner of a skate and surf shop who was standing before me now. The money for Keith’s business had come from a very rich and very generous musician, one who just happened to share his last name. Keith might not have minded taking handouts, but I did. I liked my quiet little existence, but more importantly, I liked paying for it on my own. That didn’t mean I wasn’t open to bonuses from time to time, generally in the form of plane tickets, hotels, and all-expenses-paid family trips like the one I was about to enjoy this weekend.

By the time we’d made it into the living room, Keith was already picking items off my coffee table and rearranging them, something he did strictly because he knew it annoyed me. I purposely ignored his nettling.

“So how was work?” he asked.

“Actually, pretty good… only three death threats against me yesterday.”

“Well, now we’re talking.” Keith nodded his approval and then gave me a high five. “Nice job, Emma.”

“Thanks. It feels good to be so loved.”

“I’m sure.” Keith handed me the bag of fruit he was still carrying. “Mom told me to give these to you.”

“Oh, yay. I’m going to make fresh-squeezed orange juice later.”

“Oh, yay!” he mimicked in a girly voice, and then took it a step further by throwing his hands up in a gleeful display of faked happiness. “Nice to see you’ve got big plans tonight.”

“Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering my evening with Casey. “Never mind. I’ll have to squeeze the citrus on another night.”

“So you do have plans?” Keith raised an eyebrow suggestively. “A hot date?”

“Yep. With a girl.”

“All right. Uh huh, a bit of girl-on-girl action never hurt anyone. Oh, hold on… now all I can picture is your face in the equation. Thanks for ruining the fantasy for me.”

“Shut up. It’s with Casey, you creep.”

“Huh. Casey, you say?” He grinned.

“Keith!” I slapped him in the arm. “Do not let Jake know you’re lusting after his girl.”

“Not lusting… just appreciative. I’m a guy. Our eyes are genetically engineered to admire attractive women. It all stems back to the caveman days.”

“Somehow I feel your logic is wrong on this, but I’m going to cut you some slack because I know your elevator doesn’t stop on every floor.”

Not even the least bit offended, Keith nodded his agreement as he continued his exploration of my belongings. Picking up a colorful porcelain origami crane, Keith examined it before making a face and asking, “Why do you need this?”

“I don’t. I just like it. Put it back.”

He didn’t, instead pretending to make it fly.

I snatched my crane from his hand and returned it to the shelf. “No touching.”

“You know, Jake getting married still freaks me out a little bit,” Keith said, without taking his eyes off the damn crane. Move along, buddy. “I mean, what are the chances that out of all of us, Jake would be the first to marry?”

“He wouldn’t be if you’d gotten your act together sooner.”

Keith picked up the crane again and held it out in front of him, threatening to drop it. “Take it back,” he demanded. “Take it back or the bird dies.”

He’d just been waiting for the opportunity to murder my crane. I lunged for it but Keith was too quick, deftly skirting the breakable bird behind his back before I could save it. “All I’m saying…” – he stopped mid-sentence to smirk at my pathetic rescue efforts – “is ten years ago I thought Jake would be drooling in a mental hospital right about now, but look at him. Our little psycho has grown up.”

“Keith,” I said, shaming him with my disapproval. “Could you be any more politically incorrect?”

“What? He doesn’t care. I call him that all the time.”

“No, you don’t, because if you did, he’d beat the shit out of you on a regular basis.”

“Please. Jake’s got nothing on me.”

“You’re right. You’re so much better than him in every way. Can I have my crane back?”

“Now was that so hard?” Keith asked in a condescending manner, grinning as he replaced the bird.

It might seem that his assessment of our little brother’s state of mind back then was overly harsh, but then you wouldn’t know the full story. Jake was a mess, and no one, not even he, denied it.

“I guess it goes to show what finding love can do for a person.”

“I guess,” he said.

“You guess?”

“I mean, come on, Emma. You have to give credit where credit’s due. Casey might have changed Jake for the better, but we both know who saved him.”

I shrugged.

Keith shook his head. “You never give her any credit, do you?”

“I know what Mom did for him,” I said. “I don’t need you reminding me.”

Keith put his hands up in submission, my snappy tone not escaping him. “Forget I said anything.”

I realized I was being too sensitive, but even after all these years, the subject of Jake’s kidnapping and the horrific aftermath still had adverse affects on me. Although I loved my mother to death and credited her with keeping our family intact, she and I had a complicated relationship, one that could not be explained in a simplistic exchange with my brother.

The great thing about Keith was that he didn’t linger too long on deep thoughts. In fact, the minute he detected my shifting mood, he changed the subject by walking over to my couch and picking up a glove with little spikes on it. One brow arched in question as he held it up and made spanking motions with it. “Do I even want to know what this is used for?”

“It’s to prevent hairballs,” I said.

The blank look on his face forced me to clarify. “For Cynthia.”

“Oh, right,” he said, grinning mischievously as he elongated my cat’s name. “Cyn-thi-a.”

Keith tossed the offending glove back where it came from. “Where is that sexually disoriented cat of yours, anyway?”

“He’s still in the closet, I think.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “No, literally. I was going through my clothes.”

“Oh, good.”

I tensed, glaring at my brother. “What does that mean?”

His eyes expanded as he realized his mistake. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You don’t like my clothes?”

“They’re fine.”

“Fine?” My voice rose in accusation.

Keith grimaced when he realized he wasn’t getting out of the shitstorm he’d just created. “Maybe they’re a tad bland, is all.”

“Bland? Well, duh… I wear scrubs all day.”

“Actually, Em, your scrubs are the best part of your wardrobe. I was talking about everything else. I mean, you’ve got a decent body – for a sister, I guess – but you dress like a schoolteacher,” he said, before adding, “…and not the Van Halen ‘hot for teacher’ kind.”

“Thanks for clarifying.” I offered up my most menacing scowl.

But instead of taking the hint, he just kept going. “You have a more, ‘Students, I go home after class and play with my cat’ type of a vibe.”

“Yeah, I get it Keith. I’m a boring cat lady. As if that hasn’t been played to death in our family.” I waved him off. “What about you? How are you enjoying Mom and Dad’s house?”

Now it was Keith’s turn to glare at me. Okay, admittedly it was a low blow. He and his girlfriend of six years had recently split, and he’d moved out of their apartment and into our parents place a little over a month ago.

“You just had to go there, didn’t you?”

“What? I’m simply being conversational.” I feigned innocence.

“It’s a big house, Emma. I’m fine.”

“And Sam? How’s she doing?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Keith said curtly. “Ask her.”

“So still no communication?”

My brother headed for the door, ignoring my question completely.

“I just thought the two of you would work it out.”

“Well, you thought wrong. Sam and I aren’t together anymore. End of story.” His tone was short and snippy, but something in the way he said the words made me think he had only just recently realized what he’d lost in her.

“Okay,” I mouthed, raising my brows as I silently mocked his attitude.

“You know the best part about not having a girlfriend?”

“What?” Leave it to Keith to find the positive in his obvious heartbreak.

“I can finally take advantage of Jake’s fame this weekend. Cool music, hot chicks, free liquor…”

“Name-dropping your rock star brother,” I added.

“Of course.” He grinned. “That’s the best part. The women will be stripping off their clothes as they come running.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t uh-huh me. I’m the full package: single, hot, and I live with my parents.”

“Wow, you’re going to be beating them off.”

And, honestly, he probably would be. Attracting females had never been a problem for my older brother. He had a charm to him that was apparently hard to resist.

“You know I will.” He smiled, pretending to swing a bat. “You want my advice, Em?”

“Nope.”

“Have a little fun this weekend.”

“I said I didn’t want your advice.”

“When was the last time you went out? Oh wait… never,” Keith said, ignoring my protest. “Do yourself a favor. Kick back this weekend. Let your bun down.”

“Um… I don’t wear my hair up in buns.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“You’re so tense all the time. Let loose a little. Hang with some wild drummer. Pound the liquor.”

“None of this sounds like good, solid advice, Keith.”

“And good god, Em, go buy yourself some new clothes that aren’t out of the men’s department.”

* * *

“Can I ask you a question?” Casey’s sunny demeanor turned instantly serious, and I felt my stomach do a nervous little flip. Up to this point our shopping trip had been fun and light-hearted. I’d even go as far as to say she might have actually changed my mind about visits to the mall. I’d found three awesome outfits with Casey’s help and was feeling pretty good about our connection. Jake would be pleased.

But then, out of the blue, she changed the rules of the game, and my mood turned instantly sour. “Okay, what?”

“Why are you alone?”

It took effort to force my face to stay neutral when, in reality, I wanted to blast obscenities at her. Why I was alone was none of her damn business.

“You’re a beautiful woman… smart and successful. Men fall all over you. I mean, you could have anyone you wanted. So why don’t you?”

Oh, she was going right for the jugular, the answer to her question hitting to the very core of who I was as a person. Certainly I wouldn’t be discussing my hang-ups with the world’s most perfect woman.

“I guess I just haven’t found the right guy.” I shrugged, hoping she’d take the hint, all the while knowing Casey wasn’t the type to let things lie.

“Are you looking?”

“Why do you care?”

Casey appeared startled by the hostility in my voice, but she bravely held my glare. In that moment, I knew. She and Jake had been discussing me, and for whatever reason, that was infuriating. It was like Jake went and got himself engaged and then immediately turned traitor. My issues were not his to share, especially seeing as I’d spent my life safeguarding his.

“Why? What has he told you?” I asked, looking away in irritation.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m just trying to understand you better.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Now I was really pissed. “You don’t think I know that you and Jake are having little powwow sessions about me? I’m telling you now: stop it.”

Casey raised her brows. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” I asked, grumbling.

“Sensitive subject. Sorry I said anything.”

I didn’t care for the tone. She was the one who’d brought it up, and if she didn’t like the response, well, too damn bad. “Not everyone is you, Casey. Not everyone gets the fairytale.”

She looked away and silence ensued. If Jake wanted me to work harder with his fiancee, then he’d better stop throwing me under the bus with her. He was going to get a swift talking to this weekend.

“You know,” Casey started, but then the words stopped suddenly. She placed her hand over her heart, looking up at the ceiling as emotion played out over her face. “If you mean fairytale in the sense that I found the man I love more than life itself, then yes, I would have to agree with you. But if you mean fairytale in that everything is always perfectly perfect… well, then, you don’t know your brother as well as you claim to.”

Her words hit me. Of course I knew Jake had issues, but for whatever reason, I guess I didn’t see them spilling out into his relationship with her. Certainly they’d always portrayed their unity as near perfection, and her confession both surprised and intrigued me. “Are you and Jake having problems?”

“You first.”

“What?”

“You answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” Casey sat back in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her. “Why don’t you date?”

We stared each other down. Oh, she was good. For the first time, I was seeing this girl in a different light. Something told me she was stronger than I’d ever given her credit for. I contemplated how to answer her question but then opted for full disclosure.

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Your turn. Are you and Jake having problems?”

“Not problems, necessarily.” Casey sighed heavily. I could clearly see the weight bogging her down. How had I not detected it earlier? “I’m just worried about him. I’m going to tell you something, but it’s just between the two of us, okay?”

I nodded, leaning in.

“He stopped seeing the therapist a while back.”

The information surprised me. Jake had seemed so positive about the sessions. Why would he stop going just when he was seeing results?

“Your turn,” Casey said, a smile forming on her face.

I smiled back. It was as if we’d come to an understanding. We were on a level playing field, both carrying secrets the other wanted to know.

“I don’t want to get married and have kids because I already basically raised two, and I have no need for more.”

It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know everything.

Casey seemed to consider what I said, and then nodded like she didn’t quite believe me.

“Jake told me you had a lot of responsibility. He feels bad that you had to pick up the slack because of him.”

“He said that?” I whispered, heaviness tugging at my heart. I always hated when he blamed himself for the things he’d had no control over. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“Well, Jake carries a lot of regrets.”

“Why did he stop seeing the therapist?” I asked.

“All he said was that he didn’t feel comfortable going anymore. It was weird because it happened so suddenly. One minute he was totally positive about the progress he was making, and the next, he refused to go back.”

“When did this happen?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

Dammit. Now I was worried. When Jake retreated too deeply into his own mind, things got hairy. Did Casey understand this? Could she handle the fallout? Perhaps sensing my concern, she reached over the table to cup my hand.

“It’s true. I have been asking Jake questions about you, and, yes, I did ask him to broker this meeting, but it’s not because he and I are ganging up on you. I genuinely want to get to know you better. I’ve never had a sister, and I really want to have that close relationship with you… but I also need you.”

“Why?”

“Because you know Jake… maybe better than anyone.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m thinking you do.”

Casey slowly lifted her head, leveling her serious eyes to challenge mine. “Who is Glen?”

It was a gut punch of a question that took my breath away. I had to think. What had Jake told her? What could I say about Glen? Nothing, that’s what.

“How do you know about Glen?”

My quivering voice was enough for Casey to drop her own to a near whisper.

“He has notebooks filled with songs in the music room. They’re just lying in an unlocked drawer. If they were private, why would he have them in such an open place, right?”

“They’re in a drawer. I’d hardly call that open.”

“That’s not really the point now, is it?”

“Okay, so I take it that you read them.”

She nodded, a guilty pout puckering her lips.

I would have liked to lambast her for snooping into Jake’s personal property, but I was too anxious for an answer to the Glen question to wait.

“This one notebook was pretty old and worn, like he’d spent a lot of time working in it. The writing was dark and chilling; not the stuff he sings up on stage nowadays. I knew immediately these were his private thoughts about the kidnapping.”

“And you didn’t shut the notebook and put it back? You know damn well he wouldn’t want you reading it.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I’m not proud of what I did, but now I’ve read things that I can’t unread. This one song was about Jake watching something bad happen to someone else. He didn’t go into specifics. It was more his own feelings about what happened. At first I thought it might have been written about Ray, but then it became clear that Jake seemed to care about whoever this person was. Here’s where you come in… at the end of the song was a note in his handwriting that said, ‘Never should have told Emma about Glen.’”

Yes, he should have.

Suddenly I was burning up, my cheeks hot and flushed. Upon seeing my horrified expression, Casey sat back, looking somewhat stunned herself. “Jesus, Emma, what happened to Glen? Who was he to Jake?”

Everything.

I hadn’t realized tears were rolling down my cheeks until Casey dabbed them with a napkin.

“Oh, god, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

My sudden waterworks weren’t about being hurt, they were about getting caught with a secret and feeling as though I’d been the one who’d blabbed it. Rest assured, my loyalty was absolute. I’d held his truths in silence all these years. In fact, up until just now, I wasn’t even sure Jake remembered telling me about Glen, as we’d never discussed it since. He’d been in a terrible state of mind, ready to end it all. That secret needed to come out, and even though it broke my heart, I listened. I like to think I absorbed some of the pain for him… so that he could go on living.

“Jake’s secrets have never been mine to tell,” I said.

“I know that.”

“And” – my voice was suddenly weary with exhaustion – “if you think I’m going to betray his trust, you don’t know me very well.”

“What I think is that Jake is lucky to have you… to talk to.”

“He doesn’t talk to me, Casey. Not like you think he does. When we were younger, there was an… incident, and I basically blackmailed him into talking. We’ve never discussed the kidnapping since. If you really want to know, bring the notebook to him and ask. But I’m warning you, be prepared for the answer.”

“I don’t think this is the right time to push him. Something spooked him into quitting therapy, and all I want is to get him back on track. That’s why I asked you to meet me today. I need your help – to help him. But for that to happen, you and I have to be friends… allies. We have to trust each other. So I’ll ask again. Why don’t you date, for real?”

My eyes narrowed in on my future sister-in-law. At this moment I both hated and admired her. She had me over a barrel because she knew I would do anything for my family, especially Jake, even if it meant revealing why I was determined to go through life a lonely old hag.

“Because, Casey…” I said, coldly, “If I meet a man and fall in love, he will want kids, and I refuse to bring a child into this world if I can’t protect it. There! Are you happy now?”

3

Finn: Head First

I was a toilet baby. You know the ones. You read about them in the news ever so often, those innocent little faces looking up at the camera in bewilderment as if to say, “Um, hello people… what the fuck just happened here?” If a picture had existed of me at that fateful moment, I’d like to think I displayed a little more attitude – maybe even flashing the middle finger salute or something equally as badass – but I’m sure I was just as confused as all the other newborn commode divers who’d come before me.

Logic would dictate that since I’d started my life dropping head first into the porcelain throne, there really would be nowhere to go but up… but then, you wouldn’t know my family. My mother, Shelby, who was sixteen years old at the time of my unconventional birth, had kept my existence a guarded secret until I accidentally tumbled out of her vagina on a quick pee break during her shift at Hot Dog on a Stick. The story I’d been told, over and over my whole entire life, was that after scooping me from the murky depths and cutting the cord on the edges of a sanitary napkin bin, my mother had then shoved my naked body into her tall, striped Hotdog on a Stick hat and gone back to work.

I wish. That would have been the mature thing to do, yet Shelby was anything but mature. Instead, my dear old ma wrapped me in a bunch of paper towels and ‘gently’ laid me in the trashcan. I loved how when she retold the story of disposing of me in the garbage bin she always emphasized the word gently… as if that were more than enough to make up for THROWING ME THE FUCK AWAY!

Moments after she’d pissed me out of her womb and shoved me into a waste receptacle, Shelby, thinking she was so sly and all, slipped out of the bathroom and resumed her shift in the mall’s food court. It took all of two minutes for someone to find me and another ten for the surveillance cameras to identify the young girl in a clown hat who’d walked into the women’s bathroom pleasantly plump and exited all shifty-eyed and pasty-faced, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

* * *

I eased my aching body into the ice bath, performing the customary gasping for breath panic attack I always did when the frigid waters licked up my heated skin and encased my timid gooch. A volley of pornographic words tore from my mouth as I settled into my own personal arctic hell. The throbbing in my ribcage intensified for a few short, excruciating moments before mercifully going numb and giving me the first blessed relief of the day.

It was times like this that I wondered if my neonatal toilet plunge had just been a preview of things to come. Certainly I’d spent a fair share of time picking myself up off the bathroom floor; yet for whatever reason, I was constantly surprised when things didn’t go my way. I guess you could say I was a glass half-full kind of guy, and despite what my environment and upbringing might have dictated for the future, I’d always thought more of myself.

Even as a child, running around unattended in a virtual junkyard, I’d been an optimist. Sure, my outdoor playground was a giant pile of trash, but even garbage had its treasures… No way! Check out this broken chair! Take off the legs and it will be perfect for the fort or It’s still in the wrapper, so of course it’s edible.’ No matter that I’d get scrapes, bruises, and tetanus shots transforming the landfill pieces into riches or spend hours throwing up the ‘edible’ food item, the important thing was that I wasn’t afraid to try; and that positive outlook had followed me through the good times and the bad, and had afforded me the unique ability to find fun in all the craziness.

Admittedly, the last year had tested my fortitude, chipping away at my idealism. Being a nice guy didn’t always work to my advantage, especially when pessimists attached themselves and tried to drag me down with them. Alexis – the memory of her betrayal was still fresh in my mind. Flicking an ice cube off my nipple, I shook my head at the nasty memory. She’d forced me to reevaluate who I was and what I wanted out of life. One thing I knew for certain, it definitely wasn’t this: soaking in a tub of slushy, mind-numbing regret with an icy side of subzero balls.

Trying to distract my mind from the things I couldn’t control, I played back the events of the day, and was pissed at myself for not reacting sooner. It was mistakes like this that ended careers… and in my line of work, the ending sometimes proved fatal. Every day was a new bruise or ache or swelling. Some days I loved my job; others, like today, I thought maybe a nice, boring nine-to-five sounded pretty damn appealing.

The bathroom doorknob jiggled.

“I’m in here,” I called out.

“I gotta shit,” my roommate, Richie, said. The desperation in his voice was clear, but I was hardly in the position to vacate the premises quickly.

“I’m in the tub. I bruised my ribs today at work. Give me ten minutes.”

“No can do, Finn. I’ve been prairie-dogging it since Orange County.”

Oh, sweet Jesus! Panic consumed me. A shit-needy Richie was not something I ever messed with… at least, not since the Freeway Shart Debacle of 2014. I now clearly understood that when my roommate had to go, he had to go. We’d been driving down the freeway on our way back from San Diego when a simple, harmless fart went horribly awry. Before I even understood what was happening, Richie was sitting in a pile of crap, and I was hanging out the passenger side window trying to keep from passing out. With few options, Richie stepped on the gas and swerved through traffic to get us to safety. The lights and sirens of the motorcycle cop behind us could not have come at a more inopportune time.

“License and registration, please. Do you know how fast you were going back there?” The officer started in on his standard spiel before taking a whiff of the vehicle’s interior. His eyes immediately watered over as he covered his nose with his gloved hand. “Good lord, son, you need to eat more fiber.”

So amused was the officer at Richie’s predicament that he gave us a police escort to the nearest gas station and let us off with a warning, explaining through his uncontrolled laughter that we had bigger issues at hand.

The pounding on the bathroom door jarred me back to my present Richie-induced predicament.

“Okay, I’m getting out,” I said, gripping the sides of the tub and gritting my teeth with the effort it took to lift my battered body out of the water. “Just give me one second.”

“I can’t wait. I’m popping the lock.” Richie grunted like a sumo wrestler intimidating the competition.

“No, you aren’t!”

“Sorry, dude, I’ve crowned. You’re getting company, like it or not.”

Not! Naked and exposed, with my ice-shamed dick retracted up into my throat, the last thing I craved was companionship of any kind, and especially not the foul-smelling kind Richie was offering. The lock rattled as I grabbed for my towel. My roommate, his face beet-red and sweaty, burst through the door, his pants already around his ankles. We wore matching horrified expressions.

“Do not!” I demanded, scrambling for safety.

He did.

Yes, it was days like this that optimism came in handy. While I could’ve chosen to beat my roommate to a bloody pulp, I decided that getting even with him when he’d least expect it – like, say, when he was sleeping – would bring me more pleasure. The monster mask I’d seen lying around work and the police siren app should do the trick.

“You wanna get some burritos?” Richie asked, all freshly showered and feeling good. His megawatt smile told me he’d completely marginalized our bathroom meet and greet, no matter that our dual nakedness in such a confined space had come dangerously close to crossing the gay line.

“Mexican food seems a bold choice for a man who’s just given birth to a ten-pound baby turd.”

“You’d think,” he said, slapping his hard abs. “But I’m as good as new.” Of course he was. Nothing fazed him. Whereas I had a tendency to fall flat on my face, Richie always made a graceful landing. “What do you say –my treat?”

Richie and I had been friends for seven years now, and had been roommates on and off for most of them. We’d met on the audition trail while still struggling young actors. Little had changed except the fact that we’d gotten older and the trail had become overgrown with weeds… at least for me. I’d all but given up on my starry-eyed delusions. Richie, having been only slightly more successful in his pursuit of stardom, was still plugging along and had just recently wrapped up a movie where he’d played a brutal gang thug. It wasn’t the first time he’d been cast in such a role, and it always made me laugh to watch him rough people up on camera when the closest he’d ever come to a fight in real life was when the middle-aged lady next door accused us of piggybacking off her Internet connection. Hey, we were between carriers.

Richard Cortez the third was no badass. The privileged son of a very successful businessman and his fashion designer wife, Richie hadn’t grown up on the mean streets of Compton but in the lap of luxury in a gated oceanfront community. Watching him so convincingly nail the role of a vicious Mexican drug lord hours after getting a salon pedicure attested to his exceptional acting skills. More impressive was the fact that he’d been typecast to play south of the border characters, presumably because of his Latino heritage, even though he spoke less Spanish than I did.

Still, I was happy my friend got any work at all. Being an unemployed actor was not for the faint of heart, and Richie pounded that pavement full time, never giving up hope that his moment to shine was waiting right around the bend. Of course it helped that he had the world’s most supportive and deep-pocketed parents. At least, they had been up until a month and a half ago, when their patience finally ran out. Eight years of financially supporting their son’s dream turned out to be the cut-off point. They’d been warning him for years before finally delivering the ultimatum: get a real job or find a different funding source. I was surprised it took them that long. He was, after all, a twenty-six-year-old man.

Even so, Richie had never actually believed his parents would follow through on their threats, even after they stopped paying his portion of the rent. It wasn’t until the eviction notice went up that he finally understood: his safety net was gone. Forced out of our pricy Hollywood duplex bungalow, a comfortable five-minute walk into the beating heart of the most eclectic, wild scene in Los Angeles, we now found ourselves in a cramped little apartment a few miles down the road. And those were significant miles, given that an evening stroll in this area could culminate in a violent death. Whether he liked it or not, Richie was finally getting the gangland training he portrayed so convincingly on television. And, let me tell you, he didn’t like it one bit.

As you might imagine, my spoiled roomie was taking the move pretty hard. I’d grown up in squalor, so this wasn’t a huge stretch for me. That being said, even I couldn’t wait for Richie to get his act together so we could get the hell out of here. Sure, I could have spotted him the money for a few months to stay in the other place, but I had visions of becoming my roommate’s new sugar daddy. Besides, I felt a sense of duty to do my part in supporting his maturation to adulthood. And what better way than to dump him into the middle of his own personal hell?

Richie and I drove out of the sketchy parking garage in his black, pimped-out Mercedes, one of the many gifts his parents had allowed him to keep. After all, you needed to wean these types of children off life support slowly and with the utmost care.

“Hey, did you see that redhead in apartment 675? She’s pretty hot for a crack whore, plus she offered to blow me for $10. Is that a good deal in these parts? I can’t tell.”

I tilted my head to the side, eyebrows tented in surprise. “It depends on whether she’s got any teeth or not.”

Richie winced and reached down to cup his nuts with one hand as he drove. “Well, thanks for that, Finn. You just blew that bucket list item for me.”

“You put ‘a blowjob from a toothless crack head’ on your bucket list? Dude, come on.”

“I didn’t specify the number of teeth.”

I snorted my amusement.

“Hey, it’s my bucket list.”

“Okay, whatever. Hey, wait – are you talking about that redhead with four kids who lives across the hall?” I asked, a smirk lurking on the edges of my lips.

Richie caught my condescending expression. “Look, you told me I needed to start thinking more positively, so, you know, all I’m saying is, for a meth addict who may or may not have teeth and who’s squeezed four humans out of her snatch, she’s not half bad.”

While my instinct was to laugh in his face, Richie was right – he was trying to be more optimistic, in his roundabout, offensive way, and he certainly deserved some recognition for that.

“There you go,” I complimented. “Way to look at the bright side of our new living situation. Next time I see the neighbor, I’ll be sure to take a closer look.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Richie pulled into the restaurant and made sure to park his car away from all the others. His upper-class vehicle was too good to sit side by side with the low to middle-class ones. It was the one snobby thing Richie could still control in his rapidly changing world, so I didn’t push him even though that meant a longer walk for me. I painstakingly eased my body out of the car and gingerly shuffled my way through the parking lot.

“Could you stand up straight?” Richie scolded. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t parked in a different county, I wouldn’t be in this position. I mean, was that really necessary? At some point, your Mercedes is going to have to play nice with all the other automobiles.”

“Don’t push it, Finn, you know this is still hard for me.”

It wasn’t like he’d been sent to a fiery hell. Richie just needed a reality check… and a paying job. Those were two things I never left home without. Everything I was and would ever be came down to me and how hard I was willing to work for it. There was that optimism again… that ‘anything is possible’ attitude. I must have been born with it because certainly nothing in my childhood had afforded me the healthy self-esteem I enjoyed.

I watched in amusement as Richie pushed the alarm button on his car for the twelfth time. We were too far away for it to pick up the signal.

“Do you think I should run back and check?”

“It’s locked. Relax.”

But he didn’t. Richie’s eyes darted in every direction, attempting to ward off danger with every cautious step. Just because we weren’t in his neck of the woods didn’t mean everyone was out to get him. I’d tried to explain that to him, but my roommate was too paranoid to care. Growing up, I never would have predicted I’d be friends with a guy like Richie. On paper he was an entitled, clueless elitist; but after years of friendship, I knew Richie was more than his exterior. I’d seen him run into a grocery store to buy food for a homeless man, and stop traffic on a busy street to help a mother duck and her ducklings get to the other side. Sure, Richie was spoiled, but he was not without his merits.

Hunched, fevered, and groaning, I finally made it over the threshold into the restaurant and had to grip the counter to steady myself. I realized I was being a giant pussy, but at that point, I really didn’t care. I was hurting, and I wanted the world to hurt with me.

“So what happened this time?” Richie asked, with an overly exaggerated sigh, as if he’d been actively avoiding the question because my pain was such a nuisance to him. Somehow I’d become the boy who cried wolf, and clearly I needed bigger and better injuries to impress him nowadays.

Today had just been another day at the office: car chases, fistfights, and fifty-foot falls. That was my job. If you hadn’t already guessed, I was a stuntman… and judging by injuries alone, not a very good one. My side career had started as a fluke while on set for a part in a horror movie. I was playing murder victim number four. And really, I was surprised to have made it that far. Typically I played the asshole boyfriend… and we all knew what happened to them in slasher flicks. But luck was on my side in this particular movie when the casting department unintentionally hired two jock guys. Lining us up side by side, they deemed me the less douchey of the two and slapped some glasses on my face, instantly transforming me into the nerdy best friend and effectively buying me a few more minutes of airtime before my inescapable death.

On the day in question, while waiting for my scene to film, I was fooling around with some of the other actors when I ran up a wall and did a flip. With my background in gymnastics and a daredevil mentality, the stunt coordinator on set honed in on my potential and convinced me to give stunt performing a try. That was four years ago, and now it was my primary line of work. It turned out that risking my life on a daily basis paid pretty damn well. Which also made giving it up all the more difficult even as the injuries continued to pile up. My body was tired, and at the rate I was going, I’d be paralyzed in no time. Every day I told myself I was going to quit and find myself a less dangerous profession, like coal mining or deep-sea fishing.

“Bruised a few ribs jumping off a bridge. I hit the water wrong.”

“A bridge?” Richie laughed. “They might as well just finish you off now.”

I nodded. “At least the x-ray showed no breaks this time.”

“Ah, yes, the silver lining. This has got to be some sort of a record. What is it now, four or five trips to the ER since January?”

“Five. With any luck, I’ll be dead soon.”

“What is it with you and living dangerously? I can’t even walk from the car to the restaurant without freaking out, and you’re flinging yourself off bridges,” he said, shaking his head. “After Alexis and all her jacked up crazy, I figured you’d dial it down a notch. But not you, Finn, oh no. You’re just a glutton for punishment.”

“What can I say? I’m an action junkie.” My bravado had just the right amount of cocky swagger. It was what Richie expected from me, so I acted the part even though I hated the way things had played out over the past year. It felt like I’d been going at full speed for way too long, and I wanted nothing more than to slow things down; maybe even leave Los Angeles behind for good. I was ready for a simpler life, and I wanted to settle down and start a family.

“I keep telling you to go out on auditions again.”

“Yeah, well, someone needs to be working, or we’ll get kicked out of this place too.”

“You insult me. I’ve always got some trick up my sleeve. I predict we’ll be back in the lap of luxury in no time, mark my words, Finn.”

We ordered our burritos, and then I lumbered to my seat and slowly lowered my tormented body onto the unforgiving plastic, wincing and whining dramatically.

“Jesus, sweetheart, how many centimeters are you dilated?”

“You know, maybe I might be more physically pleasing if your ass-explosion hadn’t forced me to abandon my ice bath.”

“Oh yeah, about that. Is this a good time to discuss your shrinkage?”

“I was submerged in ice! You’d be so lucky to have my package… on a warm day.”

“Uh-huh, you tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better, but we both know the truth.”

A couple of young, college-age women at an adjacent table made eye contact. They’d been watching my entire spectacle in amusement. I mustered the energy to smile in their direction and was rewarded with two dazzling ones back.

“Looks painful,” the shorter blonde said, running her eyes over my beaten up body. “I hope the other guy got it worse.”

“Sadly, there was no other guy.”

“His girlfriend beats him,” Richie said, always eager to jump into a conversation when coeds were involved. “This is an intervention.”

“In a Chipotles?” the taller blonde asked. “Shouldn’t you take him to a shelter or hospital or something?”

“I was hungry.” Richie shrugged.

Both women laughed at his deadpan comment and then turned their attention back on me. That was the way it usually went down. Richie was the comic relief, but I always got the girl.

“Well, if you need someone to nurse the wounds…” one offered.

I realized then that I could probably get myself one, if not two, nursey-maids for the night, but I was not in any shape for beautiful women. I had a date with my pain medications tonight, and I planned on showing them a really good time.

“Thanks for the offer, but you know, I’ve got the intervention and all.”

“Oh, right. Well, if you change your mind…” She pulled a pen out of her purse, wrote her number on a receipt, and walked over and handed it to me. I smiled and nodded, giving her the reassurance that I might just reconsider her offer at a later date even though I had no intention of doing so whatsoever. That was me. Always the nice guy. Why spend the energy being rude to people when a smile and nod took so much less effort?

Redirecting my focus on Richie, who’d been glancing between the women and myself, I narrowed in on his wide-eyed expression.

“What?”

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head. “You’re whining like a bitch, and you still get the girl. I swear I could have rolled you in here in a coffin and you’d get more action than me.”

“Speaking of that, have I ever told you about the slasher flick I was in where I played a corpse who actually did get some action?”

“Yeah, I saw that one. Disgusting, if you ask me,” Richie said, cringing. “Have any of your characters ever survived an entire movie?”

“Once, but not without a few missing limbs.”

“You really need to audition for some less lethal roles… play up those leading man looks, bro, before you totally jack up your face.”

“I have auditioned for those parts. Can I help it if the only people who want to hire me also want to rip out my intestines and bludgeon me to death?”

“No, I guess not. Although I don’t think you’re faring much better in your current role as a stuntman. You know you have a black eye, right?”

“Do I?” Recently, I’d noticed that pain had a tendency to rally around one spot at a time, making all the other injuries pale in comparison. I gently touched the area around my eye and winced when I found the offending spot. “Is it bad?”

He laughed, glancing back over at the women still staring in my direction. “Apparently not.”

“Great. I’ll use it to slay the ladies this weekend.”

“Yeah, about that,” my roommate said, visibly squirming.

“What? You better not be flaking on me.” I glared at Richie, knowing that whatever was about to come out of his mouth would not benefit me.

“Remember when I said that I had something up my sleeve?”

“You mean from one minute ago? Yeah, I remember.”

“I got a job.”

“No way! Really? You got the cable network pilot?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“I got booked for the weekend to escort a rich divorcée to some out of town wedding.”

The words he spoke took time to filter though my brain, but when they finally made their glorious appearance, my eyes bugged out of their sockets. “YOU’RE A MALE ESCORT?”

I must have said it louder than I’d intended, as both women’s heads turned away from me and settled squarely on Richie. All of the sudden he was the most interesting train wreck in the room, and they were sufficiently awestruck. After all, it’s not everyday you got to see a well-dressed, articulate streetwalker.

“Would you keep it down?” he whispered, glancing around at the other patrons. “Jesus.”

“This is awesome, Richie,” I said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I always knew you had it in you.”

“Shut up. It’s not what you think.”

“Well, that’s a relief, because you really don’t want to know what I was thinking. What exactly are you expected to do with her?”

“Whatever she wants. Within limits, of course.”

“I… wow…. how much does your pimp get paid?”

“Haha. Very funny.”

I hadn’t been joking. Did Richie fully grasp what he’d committed himself to? He obviously caught my skeptical expression.

“It’s an agency. Totally legit. You really should try it. Easy money.”

“Uh-huh. I think I’ll stick to bridge jumping. It seems less dangerous. Are you sure you’ve thought this through? I mean, once you do this, you can’t take it back.”

“I’m not a prostitute, Finn.”

“Actually, if you have sex with her, you sort of are.”

“I get paid for my time, not sex, but if she’s hot and wants it, I say why not? I’ll throw it in as a freebie.”

“And if she’s not hot?”

“I’ll probably still throw it in. My standards aren’t real high.”

Thinking back to his crack whore crush, I had to agree. “It sounds like you have it all figured out. But what the hell I am supposed to do about the weekend? I can’t go by myself.”

“Are you not listening to me? By the end of this weekend, I’ll have enough money to buy us both a one-way ticket out of Hell. Besides, how hard can it be to find someone to buy my ticket? It’s the Sun Desert Music Festival.”

As it turned out, finding a new wingman proved more difficult than I’d imagined. Not one of my buddies could commit to a last-minute weekend concert. The majority of my friends had responsibilities greater than themselves and were now married… some even with children on the way. They couldn’t be acting like an aimless bachelor anymore. I envied them. Where they were was the place I’d expected to be by now too. Thanks, Alexis! The swift kick to my gut reminded me of her heartless deception.

Maybe it was best to just cancel the whole damn weekend. I could try hawking the tickets on Hollywood Boulevard, the place where Richie had bought them from a scalper a few weeks before. But I needed this mini-vacation more than I wanted to admit. What with the breakup, my brother’s most recent imprisonment, and all the damn injuries, I needed a little fun in my life, and the jacked up energy of a music festival would be the perfect antidote. Music, alcohol, and women… that should bring my optimism levels back up to brimming.

Certainly it would have been easier to find a trip buddy if I were to expand my search criteria to include females, but would defeat the purpose of the trip. Richie and I had planned to spend the weekend drinking and trolling for women, and although, it wouldn’t be as fun without him, I decided to hold firm to that approach even if it meant going it alone.

* * *

“We watched My Bloody Bachelor again last night. I’ll never understand why you went into the pool house in the first place. I mean, you clearly saw the headless body floating in the water,” Shelby said, disappointment clear in her judgmental voice. “Haven’t I taught you anything?”

I could argue with my mother and explain to her for the thousandth time that it was my character, not me, who’d made the reckless decision to go into the pool house, but she wouldn’t listen. As far as my mother was concerned, every onscreen death I’d suffered was my own damn fault.

“What do you want, Shelby?” This conversation was going nowhere, and I only had a few minutes before the pain meds kicked in. Once that happened, I’d be like one of those sticky hands you flung against a wall and then watched as it grotesquely disengaged and oozed to the floor.

“What I want is to see you in a movie where you don’t get brutally murdered. Is that so much to ask?”

Yes. Yes, it is. Gliding my fingers over the end button, I apprehensively awaited the reason for the interruption. I only ever heard from her when she wanted something, and I understood that this conversation would be no different.

“Did you call for something specific?” I asked. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Whatever she wanted was going to cost me. I just needed the dollar amount so I could go to bed.

“Can I borrow your car this weekend?”

“My car?” I blurted out. No, not that, anything but that. “You want to borrow my Charger? I… no… I don’t think so.”

One might think my reluctance to loan her my vehicle stemmed from her decision to throw me away as a baby, but Shelby’s earliest mistakes had long been forgiven, if not for any other reason than the fact that all her later mistakes made my toilet birth seem tame.

“Come on. I need it for a work trip. Mine is still in the shop. Please, Indy. You can take your brother’s pickup truck.”

“Okay, first of all, I’ve been going by Finn for eight years now. Why is it so hard for you to get my name straight? And secondly, I can’t loan you my car because I’m going to a concert this weekend and will probably be using it as my hotel room.”

“All the more reason to take the truck. It runs great. It’s actually way better for you because you can bring a mattress and sleep on the flatbed. Besides, you don’t want me breaking down on a freeway in the middle of Los Angeles, do you?”

“Hold on. I thought you said the pickup worked fine – but now you’re basically saying it’s going to break down on me. Which one is it?”

Even though I planned to put up a fight, I already knew my mother would manipulate me into submission. She always did, because, like it or not, denying Shelby came with its own set of problems… ones I’d always been ill-equipped to deal with. See, the thing about my mother was that every decision she made or any transaction she brokered was always done entirely for her own benefit. I figured this out in early infancy when I’d been tossed out with the trash, yet it never ceased to amaze me how I still routinely fell for her self-serving tricks.

“It drives like a charm, no worries. I just meant that it’s not used to freeways.”

My head spun on its axis as the pain in my bones began to dull. A warm, Zen-like sensation was quickly frosting over my brain. Focus. Did she just say it was “not used to freeways?” I shook my head clear. It was a motor vehicle. My Shelby-bullshit radar was now spinning and flashing red warning lights. I knew when she was about to screw me over and clearly this was one of those times. “I’ll be driving on a freeway!”

“Yes, but you’re a man. If you break down – not that I’m saying you will – but if you did, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about a creep having his way with you. How would you feel if some psycho dumped my body in a wooded area off the 5 freeway?”

“Honestly, Shelby, I think I’d be relieved.”

Perhaps the drugs were making me too candid, but Shelby took no offense. In fact, she acted as if it was the funniest thing I’d said all year. I laughed along with her. Yes, it was just a joke. Funny me. But with the laughter came a fading resolve. Dammit, she had her claws in me now. It was only a matter of time before I was on the losing end of this deal. Chalk another one up for Shelby, the puppet master.

Maybe it was already blatantly obvious, but I’ll say it anyway: Shelby and I were mother and son on paper alone. For all other purposes, we were more like a pair of dysfunctional siblings… or, more pointedly, a prison guard and death row inmate. It was Shelby’s mother and grandmother who had done most of the raising, if you could call it that. Mostly I’d just run wild with all the other kids who came and went. Parenting was somewhat optional in my extended family and done only when the adult had no other choice but to get involved.

Growing up, I’d been on a first name basis with each and every Child Protective Services worker in the area. By all standards, I’d had an unconventional upbringing. As a mother, Shelby sucked. She couldn’t take care of herself, much less the baby she’d nearly flushed down the toilet. But custody hadn’t been handed over to her after my unorthodox birth anyway. It was Misty, my grandmother, only thirty-three at the time, who got that honor. She was only fifteen herself when Shelby was born, and her own mother, Gigi, had raised the baby. In a way, it was a time-honored tradition in our family for the mothers of the teen moms to raise the baby of the following generation. That was just how it was done. Not to say Misty was some great caretaker, as she was more interested in her revolving door of boyfriends and husbands than me, but clearly she was a better choice than Shelby, who more than once had forgotten where she’d left me while out on shopping trips.

“And besides,” I said, “I don’t think there are any wooded areas off the 5 freeway in Los Angeles.”

“It was just an example,” she huffed. “My body could be dumped anywhere at any time.”

That was Shelby, always overly dramatic. No wonder I was drawn to acting, with the role model I’d had growing up.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” I wasn’t sure why I was stalling. It wasn’t like it would make a difference.

“Come on, Indy. How often do I ask you for anything?”

“Um…all the time. I loaned you $300 last week.”

“Oh, was that a loan? I wasn’t aware.”

“They’re all loans, Shelby. You just never pay them back.”

“You’re rich. You don’t need all that money anyway.”

I laughed at that. I made a pretty good living for a single guy, but I was nowhere near rich. Hell I wasn’t even in six figures. Of course, when you compared my income to hers, I guess I could see where she would come up with that hypothesis.

“If…and I mean if… I loan you my car, it would be with the assumption that the junkyard number you’re unloading will get me where I’m going on time. Can you promise me that?”

“I swear on my life.”

“Because this weekend is important to me, Shelby.”

“I know. I promise.”

“I’m not joking. If you’re saddling me with a shitty drive just so yours will be pleasantly air-conditioned…and murder-free… I swear to god, I’ll make you pay.”

“I won’t let you down.”

I could almost see the victory smirk on her face. And now that she’d gotten what she’d called for, the conversation shifted to how much more she could squeeze out of me. “So can you bring your car by Friday morning?”

“Me? You’re the one who wants it. Why don’t you come to me?”

Silence.

“Shelby?”

“Come on, Indy, it’s out of my way.”

“Like fifteen minutes out of your way.”

“Gigi and the kids want to see you. Is a little drive going to kill you?” Shelby asked, sighing. “Besides, you have the whole week off.”

“Because I’m injured. It’s not a vacation.”

“It might as well be. You know, for being a full grown man, you sure are a cry baby.”

“You called me,” I said, bristling. “I was all happy not talking to you, and then the phone rang. And now you’re insulting me while trying to make a deal. You’re slipping, Shelby.”

“Oh, please, I’m at the top of my game, as always. Besides, you know it’s true. You take more crap than anyone I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Shelby groaned.

I waited, knowing she would say it whether I gave her permission or not.

“I’m talking about the skank.”

There it was. I was surprised it had taken her so long to bring it up. It really was Shelby’s favorite subject even though our relationship had been over for some time now. I couldn’t understand why she wanted to continually harp on the past.

“It’s over. Let it go.”

“What did you see in her, anyway? She’s not worth the pile of shit she stands in.”

I gave Shelby’s comment more thought than it deserved before saying, “Are you done now?”

“Am I done? Not really, Indy. I know her type. Hell, I am her type. I mean, who do you know who’s more qualified to call out a skank than me?”

She had a point. Shelby really was their beloved leader. This was the woman who’d appeared not once but twice on the “Who’s My Baby Daddy?” segment of the Maury Povich Show and still couldn’t figure out who the hell my daddy was.

“I’m not trying to shit on you. All I’m saying is, she made your life a living hell, and you don’t need her whoring kind in your life. You’re lucky to be rid of her.”

She didn’t have to tell me that; I already knew. When it came right down to it, Alexis was just a glorified, and better-looking, version of Shelby. She’d taken over my entire life, systematically alienating me from all my friends and dangling lies over my head to keep me in my place. I’d wasted so much time on her and came out of it with nothing.

“Indy? You okay?”

Snapping out of my medicated daydream, I changed the subject to something I knew would be more agreeable to Shelby. “Okay, I’ll come by Friday morning, but I expect you to drop my car off here Sunday afternoon. Deal?”

“You’re the best, Indy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Neither did I, because, no joke, she asked for a hell of a lot more than she ever gave. “Stop calling me Indy.”

“Why not? I love your name. Ind…”

“NO! If you’re going to start up with that shit, then I’m calling you Mom.”

“Oh, please. I’m too young to be your mom.”

“Except you are.”

“Technically, yes.”

“There’s no technically about it,” I said, my voice rising a pitch.

“Yeah, well, no one would believe a hottie like me would have a twenty-six-year-old son.”

“Okay, Mom, whatever you say.”

* * *

Mother Nature had nothing on me. Lying face down on my pillow in a puddle of drool, I hadn’t even felt the earth quaking until Richie added to the rumbling by shaking my shoulders.

“Dude, wake up – earthquake!”

The painkillers doing their job beautifully, I groaned my displeasure at the REM interruption while raising my hand to swat him away.

“Finn, come on. It’s still going. This is a strong one.”

Honestly, at that point, I wouldn’t have cared if Los Angeles detached from the mainland. I was not getting out of my nice, comfy bed. “Let it kill me.”

A picture on my shelf tumbled to the floor, and the sound of breaking glass in the distance pierced through my drugged-out coma.

“Finn!”

“Richie!” I said, waking just enough to give him a proper geological tongue-lashing. “What did I tell you about earthquakes? I won’t evacuate for anything less than a six on the Richter scale.”

“Yeah, I know that, but we aren’t living in utopia anymore. We’ve got a fucking meth lab next door.”

“Oh, shit.” I shot to my feet, confused. Richie grabbed me by my arm and steered me toward the front door. The shaking had stopped, but by then we were already in the hallway in our underwear. Our similarly startled neighbors were also exiting their apartments. A few wary souls were racing for the nearest exits, praying as they clutched their rosary beads. Those were the out-of-towners.

The rest of us battle-tested California natives milled around, assessing the damage. No smoke, no exploding drug crystals, no upstairs neighbor dangling from a hole in the ceiling.

I turned to Richie. “You got me out of bed for that?”

The redheaded crack whore came out of her apartment, dragging a bunch of kids. She took one look at Richie and me half-naked in the hallway and shook her head, smiling. I can now safely report – she had a solid mouthful of teeth.

“Would you boys take that shit inside?”

Confused, I glanced to Richie and got my first real look at him… and his shimmering gold bikini briefs. “What the…? What are you wearing?”

“I was trying on stuff for this weekend when the earthquake struck.”

“And you couldn’t slip on some pants?”

“Excuse me for thinking of you first and trying to save your life.”

“You really should be more grateful,” the crack whore said, addressing me as she nodded toward Richie. “You’ve got a man who puts you first.”

“Right?” Richie said, flamboyantly waving his arms around. “I try to tell him how lucky he is, but sometimes he’s just so selfish.”

“Ugghh… I’m going back to bed. A SIX, Richie. Do not wake me up for anything less.”

Goddammit, I needed a girlfriend.

4

Emma, 2004: Forty-Eight Hours

Forty-eight hours. It was the most crucial period of time in a stranger abduction case. That was what the police officer said. If Jake wasn’t found in those few hours, his chances of survival greatly decreased. Again, that was what he said.

It couldn’t be right. Jake had just disappeared, and now he was already being given a countdown to his death? No. This couldn’t be happening. We all stood there dumbfounded, still trying to make sense of what was unfolding before us, and then this horribly grim statistic… delivered in the most heartless and matter-of-fact ways. Glaring at the detached officer, I fought the urge to spit in his unsympathetic face. Who blurted out something like that to a victim’s terrified family? Was he just so desensitized to violence that the kidnapping of a thirteen-year-old boy received little more than the shrug of his shoulders?

His words took a minute to really, truly register, but when they did, Mom slid to the floor and began to wail. Not a normal shrill sound, but a strange mewling, moaning one that peaked and ebbed in eerie intervals, conjuring up an image of a wounded animal in its dying moments. Dad bent over and clenched his knees, drawing air into his lungs in constricted, exaggerated grunts. Kyle, wrapped in a blanket, was folded into Keith’s arms. Both were covered in blood, looking like survivors of a deadly school massacre. I was just struggling to keep from punching the bearer of bad news. The police officer had instantly become the embodiment of all that was wrong in my rapidly shrinking world.

Grace and Quinn wandered around the house frightened and confused. They hadn’t even finished their dinner before the police were swarming through our kitchen doors. The call to action was swift. If Kyle’s story was to be believed, and it was, Jake had just been brazenly stolen. Kidnapped… that’s what everyone kept saying, but it wasn’t sinking in. How could this happen to us? To Jake? Oh, god, not to Jake. None of it made sense, yet here we were.

My heart racing in my chest, I glanced at the clock. We had time. Forty-six hours. It would have been forty-seven had Kyle not spent an hour of it in hiding behind a garbage container before gathering the courage to run home. Still, there was no need to panic, I reasoned, grasping at any thread left dangling. There was still plenty of time left. Jake would be home soon, and then everything would be right in the universe again.

Within hours, our kitchen had transformed from a family gathering spot to a command center. Mom was struggling to hold it together, but she seemed to have come to a shaky agreement with herself to hold the hysteria and crying at bay in order to focus on bringing Jake home. She understood that her level head and quick actions in those crucial hours were the most important things she could do to assist the FBI, who had immediately claimed control of the investigation. She and my father consented to separate interrogations, they allowed complete access to the family computers, and they gave their permission to a full and intrusive search of our home. Anything they asked, my mother rushed to oblige. Had they required her to throw herself into oncoming traffic, I was convinced she would have done it if it meant Jake’s safe return. Getting him home alive, in any condition, was preferable to the alternative.

I cleared Grace and Quinn’s plates and tidied up the taco fixings they’d dumped onto the table. The other six plates remained where they lay. Once Jake returned, he’d be hungry. It was getting late and past the little ones’ bedtime, but with the light and sirens and loud, frantic talking, there was no putting them to sleep. Grace went into tantrum mode and with every fling of her tiny, convulsing body to the floor, my mom would blast my name in frustration: “Emma, please!” Please what? Exactly what did she expect me to do about the little demon?

Thankfully a family friend swooped in, packed their bags, and whisked Quinn and Grace away, effectively shielding them from the horrors of the dwindling clock.

Kyle had also been taken away, but his ride was in the form of an ambulance, so there was no protecting him from the nightmare he’d just survived. Our next-door neighbor stepped in to accompany him to the hospital, as neither of our parents could be convinced to make the trip. Kyle was injured but alive, so his welfare took a backseat to Jake’s, who’d become Mom and Dad’s sole focus. I wasn’t sure I agreed with their decision to abandon Kyle in his moment of need, but my little brother was gone before an opinion could really be formed one way or another. I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn’t volunteered to go with him, but I was barely keeping it together myself, and if I had to listen to even one more minute of Kyle’s incoherent babbling and sudden terror-filled wails, I’d lose it. After he left, I picked up his dinner plate and placed it back in the cupboard.

Keith and I sat blurry-eyed and stunned in the darkened living room. Through the front windows, the flashing of the police lights colored the space between us.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Keith grimaced, wringing his hands together. He’d asked the same question probably fifteen times already. “You don’t think he’ll hurt Jake, do you?”

No, he wasn’t okay, and yes, I did think the man would hurt him. Keith knew as well as I did that’s Jake’s situation was dire. You didn’t put a gun to a kid’s head and then take him out for ice cream.

“Jake’s smart. He’ll be okay,” I offered up feebly. Whether I believed it or not didn’t matter. Keith obviously needed reassurance, so I gave it to him.

My stomach growled in protest. I checked the clock: three in the morning. Jake had only thirty-nine hours left of the forty-eight hours he’d been given to live. Of course I understood it didn’t work that way, and he could already be dead, for all I knew, but my brain perceived those hours like the stopwatch of death. Every minute that passed was another minute of Jake’s life that was ticking away.

“Are you hungry? I left the dinner on the table. I can heat something up for you.”

Keith looked down at his hands, which were curling into fists over and over again.

“Keith. Are you hungry?”

He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, his despair clear to see. “Do you think Jake’s hungry?”

I couldn’t think about our brother or what he might be going through. I purposely pushed that picture from my mind. Whatever was happening to him, he just had to fight and survive and come back to us alive. There was no other option.

Wringing my hands in worry, I checked the clock for the thousandth time and was frustrated to discover that it just kept barreling forward. Why was it when you wanted time to move faster, it instead crept by so slowly that you were certain the hands of time had decided to stop ticking? But when time was the only thing you had on your side, and the life of someone you loved was literally hanging in the balance, the minutes turned to hours at heartbreaking speeds.

I spent those forty-eight hours fixated on the passing of time… waiting, hoping, praying. The number loomed in my brain like a vulture ready to swoop down and devour my faith.

At thirty-five hours a search party was formed. Keith went off with Dad while I stayed back with Mom to wait for Jake’s call. Soon, I continued to reason with myself. Jake would be home soon.

I fell asleep at thirty-two hours and was awakened by my mother’s haunting howls at twenty-four. An entire day had passed. We were back to the same time I had thrown my stupid fit in the kitchen the day before. How could I have been so selfish? Had I known it would be the last normal moment of my life, I might have savored it more.

Kyle returned home from the hospital with sixteen hours left. His arm had been broken in two places, and he had a gash in his forehead that had required seven stitches. On some pretty serious pain meds, his red-rimmed eyes were glazed and his head kept dipping to one side, as if it took extreme effort to keep it steady. Although he’d already been interviewed by professionals, that didn’t stop Mom from descending upon him the moment he returned. She was convinced he’d suppressed valuable information related to the kidnapping and demanded he remember it. Kyle tried, he really did, but he was a drugged out, emotional wreck, and certainly in no condition to withstand an interrogation. But as the hours disappeared at an alarming rate and Mom’s terror intensified, Kyle’s spotty memory was the only thing she could cling to.

At the twelve o’clock hour, the body of a teenager was discovered near a river in a neighboring state. I watched my parents drop to their knees, sobbing. Kyle locked himself into the bathroom and screamed. A steady stream of tears dripped down Keith’s shocked face. Me? I sat at the kitchen table, gripping its sides with a steely-eyed and furious expression on my face. Why had I been such a self-centered bitch? Why hadn’t I cherished the moments with my family? Why had I pulled Grace’s beautiful baby hair? Why? Why? Why?

A couple of heart-wrenching hours passed before we learned the body was, in fact, not Jake’s but that of an older teen who’d suffered a drug overdose. With that stunning revelation, Jake came back to life on my shaky timetable, eight hours and counting. New hope swelled. The search efforts were intensified. The FBI visited known predators. The media descended on our home. Jake’s picture circulated throughout the state and then the country. Yet despite all the valiant efforts of so many, time kept speeding up. The forty-eight hour mark was looming, and we were no closer to finding him than we were when he’d been taken. Desperation took hold. Jake was going to die, and there was nothing we could do to save him.

My eyes were on the clock at that fateful moment. The all-important time came and went with no fanfare. I’d expected so much more than just the passing of another minute. Forty-eight hours and one minute. It should have been bigger, more dramatic. Something should have happened. My brother died, and all the clock could do was tick away another goddamn minute. That was when I cried.

5

Finn: Lord of the Flies

Pulling up to the family compound on Friday morning, I deftly dodged giant potholes, wandering chickens, and the gaggle of small children scurrying every which way in front of my moving vehicle. As was always the case at the Perry house, there were no adults in sight. Kids, at least ten of them, darted around like animals at feeding time. As I waved at all the dirt and snot-smeared faces, I had to wonder if they’d multiplied since my last visit. Jesus, it was like a human zoo here.

I parked next to the old station wagon. A fixture since my younger years, it was matted in rust and sat on dented rims, the tires and any other useful parts having been stripped away long ago. The kids who lived here used the corroded hazard as a fort, but they were well aware, as I had once been, that the wagon was an interactive play area. One false move and you’d be in the kitchen pouring whiskey on the open wound.

Two boys, both my cousin’s kids, ran up to me as I stepped out of my car.

“I’m Indy!” the older boy screamed, pretending to be me, while the younger one slashed him with an invisible cleaver. ‘Indy’ grabbed his throat and rolled his eyes before falling to the ground, theatrically flopping around in the dirt until he ‘died.’

“Obviously you’ve been watching my movies too,” I said, helping him up. My many onscreen deaths were a source of great amusement in the Perry household.

“Yep, with Shelby last night.”

Of course you did. “Those are all rated R movies. How old are you again?”

“Seven.”

Of course he was. “Awesome. Well, nice job on the death scene. Next time, not so much drooling.”

Because they were so starved for attention, I had to spend time chatting with all the little kids before taking care of the business I’d come here for. The pint-sized welcoming committee consisted of my niece and nephew, second cousins, and other children, some I wasn’t even sure belonged in the family. Sometimes I wondered if people in the community just dropped their kids off and used our fenced in property as a sort of day care. With the whole lot of them running around unattended at all times, no one would know the difference.

Although I only lived about twenty miles away, I rarely made the trip. For the life of me, I just couldn’t understand how my relatives thought it was okay to let these kids fend for themselves surrounded by piles and piles of trash. Even though I’d grown up as one of them, and for the most part had loved it, watching this new crop exist in such conditions bothered me. Back then, I knew I wasn’t living the norm. I saw how ‘real’ families lived on television shows and it was as foreign to me as rules and dinnertime and bedtimes. As a Perry, I got to run around at all hours of the night, grab snacks whenever hunger struck, and fall asleep where I lay.

Now that I was looking at the situation through adult eyes, I could clearly see that my upbringing was a form of parental neglect and abuse; but as a wild kid, it was just my life and I’d thought it was a blast. Until it wasn’t. Plucked from the chaotic life at fifteen years old after an incident with one of Misty’s boyfriends turned ugly, I never went back, but my younger half-brother, Rocky, and all the others remained. It was one of my greatest victories but also one of my deepest regrets. I’d unintentionally saved myself only to let my only brother rot.

I couldn’t blame Shelby for her lack of parenting skills because she was a product of her upbringing just as much as I was. In fact, everyone who lived on the Perry compound was a product of someone else’s poor decision making skills –aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, you name it, they all lived here, each one more screwed up than the next.

My great-grandma, Gigi, owned the property in a small town nestled up against the mountains in the Santa Clarita Valley in Northern Los Angeles County. Although it was flanked by prosperous and sprawling cities, this was a place left behind. Gigi’s land was as close to country living as you could get in the LA area. Neighbors were few and far between in these parts, mostly because so many houses had been abandoned after natural disasters like earthquakes and fires had damaged them beyond repair. But Gigi never let Mother Nature take her down and had stubbornly remained in her home since the 1970’s.

That’s not to say her humble abode wasn’t marred like the rest of them; in fact, one look and you’d wonder how it was still standing. Gigi’s four-bedroom house stood at the opening to the fenced-in lot, giving the appearance of a single family enjoying a quiet lifestyle – but makeshift homes, none built to code, had gone up all over the land. Trees, overgrown brush, and an honest-to-god junkyard had kept the structures from being seen and condemned.

My tiny niece, who was appropriately named Posy, tugged on my jeans. “Do the jumps, Indy,” she said, clapping.

“I can’t,” I responded in the high-pitched voice I reserved just for her. Posy was four years old and had the sweetest doll-face I’d ever seen. Her cuteness always robbed me of my manhood. “Your Uncle Indy hurt himself the other day.”

“You don’t look hurt,” a tougher-looking six-year-old challenged.

“Well, I am.”

I bristled a little at his assumption that I was making up my injury, but I shrugged it off and ruffled his hair. “I promise, as soon as I’m better, I’ll jump for you.”

“Pussy,” a foul-mouthed ten-year-old spat, kicking a little dirt in my direction.

I dropped my gaze to take in the skinny little jerk… another one of my cousin’s kids. What were all the older ones doing home, anyway? Had their parents forgotten it was a school day? Usually it was just the kindergarten crowd hanging during the morning hours. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Shouldn’t you be changing your tampon?”

The other kids laughed at his insult. I had to admit it was pretty inventive for one so young, and I rewarded him with a courtesy chuckle… until the others turned on me too.

“Yeah,” a kid wearing a Viking helmet piped up. “Shouldn’t you be peeing sitting down?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking for directions?”

That zinger came from a little girl wearing bunny pajamas.

“Shouldn’t you be a scaredy-cat?” my niece asked, joining in the roast with the others, although clearly not understanding that the theme of this particular smack down was masculinity shaming. Wait a minute! Wasn’t Posy supposed to be on my side? “You’re a whiny little pussycat.” She completed her diss. Or not.

I glanced around at all the angry, demanding little faces. Well, hell, this was taking on a decidedly Lord of the Flies-type vibe.

“Okay, fine,” I said, giving in. Taking off my hat, I ran my fingers through my unruly curls before handing the traitor Posy my baseball cap. “Hold this.”

I ran to a concrete sitting wall and flipped my way over it before jumping several times to clear various obstacles. For my final encore, I scaled the retaining wall and back-flipped my way off. As the kids cheered and nodded their approval, I rubbed my sore ribs. Yes, I was going to pay for this later… but at least I wouldn’t be peeing sitting down tonight.

The attitude toward me shifted immediately, and I was once again the crown jewel of Perryland, what we liked to call our squalid home turf. Like the celebrity they thought I was, the kids were hanging all over me as I made my way up the driveway to the main house. That was more like it.

“Is anyone home?” I asked, receiving a few casual shrugs in response. That would have probably been my reply at their age too.

Next to the house sat an old red pickup truck. At least I thought it was red. Rust had crept over the paint years ago and had mixed with the original color, giving off a moldy feel. The entire right side of the vehicle was caved in as if it had been sideswiped by something monstrous in size, like a cruise ship. Aside from the severe body damage and missing front bumper, the truck had three standard-sized tires and one that looked only slightly larger than a spare. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a pair of black and white dice so faded that they’d taken on a pinkish hue.

“Oh, hell no,” I roared. “SHELBY!”

I wound through the obstacles blocking my way to the main house. The landfill had expanded since my last visit. Television sets, toilets, clothes, trash… really anything you could dream up probably existed somewhere in the piles of crap littering the acres of property. Passing the three-legged dog, I gave him a sympathetic pat on his deserving head before storming my way into the main house screaming Shelby’s name.

“Good lord, boy. Even I can hear you, and I can’t hear shit,” my great grandma Gigi complained. The old reclining armchair she was sitting in, had over the years, molded to her over-sized body. Pretty much anything she desired could be had from her seated position. Magazines, piled high, littered the ground around her. A side drawer filled with snacks and a small refrigerator were situated just to her left. Across her lap lay one of those grabber arms, which she used to get items out of her reach without ever having to leave the comfort of her chair.

It was as if Gigi were in it for the long haul and had figured out the path of least resistance. When she did move from her chair, she made a giant scene out of it… moaning and grumbling about the aches and pains. Come to think of it, I was starting to sound a lot like her. Of course, if anyone suggested she might benefit from a little exercise, aside from the overly taxing trips to the bathroom, she threatened to eject them from the premises. Since no one who lived here seemed to work a steady job, none could afford to pay for their keep on their own, so everyone just kept their mouths shut about her exceedingly unhealthy lifestyle.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“Calm the hell down, drama queen, what’s your problem?” Shelby moseyed on in, and it was clear from first glance that she was dressed for success… at least, for her version of success. The plunging open neckline and skintight jeans was no one’s idea of a business casual outfit.

“Tell me that piece of crap sitting in the driveway is not what I traded my car for.”

“It looks worse than it really is.”

“Really? Because it looks like a piece of shit that someone threw up, then shit back out again.”

“Once you throw it up, can you really shit it out again?” Shelby mocked me as she adjusted her bra by actually picking up her breasts and relocating them. “Besides, haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’?”

“There are clear exceptions to that rule, and one of them is sitting out in the driveway. There’s no way that thing is making it through the desert.”

“Rocky drove it all the time.”

“Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better, seeing as he’s sitting in the slammer for grand theft auto.”

“He was framed.”

“No, he wasn’t. He’d been gainfully employed at the chop shop for two years. It’s a miracle he wasn’t caught before the high-speed chase.”

“You’re so judgmental, Indy. Just because someone steals stuff doesn’t make them a bad person.”

“By definition, yeah, it kind of does.”

Shelby sighed overemotionally as if our conversation was such a bore.

“Where are you going, anyway?” I asked, flicking my eyes over her stripper outfit. “You said it was a business trip.”

“It is. I’m meeting my boss in Anaheim.”

“At a pole dancing convention?”

“No,” she said, as she peered into a mirror and ran the tip of her finger over the edges of her lipstick line. “I’m there to keep him company.”

Blasts of fury threatened to erupt from me. I’d been had. This was no business trip. She was the entertainment. Speaking through clenched teeth, I glared at my sister-mother. “Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with this one too.”

“She is,” Gigi piped up, not even bothering to look up from her magazine. “And I’m predicting we’ll have another little mouth to feed by spring.”

Shelby grabbed her purse as she rolled her eyes. “Haha… hilarious.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Gigi whispered, nudging me with her grabber arm.

Thankfully, Shelby had gotten progressively better at birth control over the years and had managed to keep her live baby count down to four. And either DNA testing was more advanced than it had been when I was born or my mother was just paying better attention to whom she was bedding, since my two younger half-sisters both lived with their respective fathers. Only my brother had grown up amongst the chaos, fatherless like me.

“Look, Indy, I hate to break up this little reunion, but I really have to go. I promise you, everything will be fine. Can I have the keys?”

“I don’t like this at all.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re helping out your mom, and that means something. Keys.”

Reluctantly, I laid them in her hands. She kissed my cheek and hustled out the door, presumably to put distance between herself and the scene of her latest backstab.

Gigi looked up from her reading. “You’re a good boy, Indy. Stupid, but good.”

* * *

The Grim Reaper of all motor vehicles made it about seventy miles before its inevitable demise. While pieces of the truck had occasionally flown off during the drive, it was the explosive backfires that had caused the most panic amongst the jumpy LA drivers making their way through the desert. People sped up or slowed down in an effort to put distance between themselves and my unsavory ride. Still, I was pleasantly surprised that the pickup remained relatively intact for longer than I’d ever thought possible. It wasn’t until I was on the two-lane highway that I heard a loud pop and the truck puttered to an uninspired stop. I spent the following couple of minutes slamming my hands against the steering wheel and swearing into the phone as people drove around me, flipping me off for the traffic jam I’d left in my wake. Of the twenty messages I’d left for Shelby, not one of them had been answered. But, of course, she’d already known this would happen, so certainly she’d be savvy enough not to respond.

It took me fifteen minutes to push the truck into a diner parking lot – fifteen minutes of searing heat and pain so fierce I truly believed at one point that my ribcage had collapsed into my lungs. Barely able to drag air in, I crawled into the flatbed of the pickup and collapsed onto the mattress, swearing at the injustice of it all. Why did I do this to myself? I’d spent my life being manipulated by that woman, and finally, yes finally, it was going to kill me.

I awoke sometime later, feeling flushed but alive. The pain had receded to an aching drumbeat, and I could breathe easily once more. Stretching out on the padded mat, I was pleasantly surprised my mother hadn’t embedded sharp spikes in it just to drive the last nail in my coffin. Death averted, this time. Sorry, Shelby.

Maybe it was best to concede defeat now, before things got any worse. All it would take was one call to my cousin Bucky for a tow back to Gigi’s place. I supposed I could waste the next two days waiting on the return of my car by watching videos of myself getting brutally slaughtered over and over again. That should perk up my spirits.

I thought about what I would miss out on this weekend, all because I didn’t have the backbone to say no to Shelby. Aside from giving birth to me, she really hadn’t done much to earn my devotion, and I had no reason to keep handing it over to her, no questions asked. What was it with the nasty habit I had of attaching myself to unscrupulous women? Shelby, of course, would always be queen bee; but my ex, Alexis, slid right in there in a comfortable second place finish. In my defense, she’d seemed perfectly normal when we first met, even charming and approachable. But as time went on, she morphed into someone I didn’t know; or like, for that matter. Before I knew it, she was blocking my friends on my cell and threatening to kill herself if I ever left her.

No, I’d managed to get myself out of that toxic relationship, and I could do it again. Shelby had to be put in her place before she totally ruined me. In that spirit, I was determined to not give up on my weekend without a fight. Hell, I’d learned the odd trick or two about cars over the years; maybe all the rust bucket needed was a little tender loving care.

Or maybe not. After nearly an hour of tinkering, banging, and threatening, I could safely report that love did not heal all wounds. The crap-mobile was finished; in fact, I was fairly certain that its soul had already floated up to jalopy heaven. As I stood there drenched in sweat and beyond frustrated, my alcohol-fueled weekend was looking to be headed in the same direction… until she pulled in.

They say sometimes you just know. They say love can happen at first sight. I say bullshit… or at least I did until she crossed into my line of vision. Initially I just assumed my starlit attraction towards her was simply the build-up of lust; after all, that dress was… um… sinful. The way it adhered to her curves, dropped in all the right places, and afforded me a nice helping of side boob was enough to win my vote for lust at first sight; but it was everything else about her that had me questioning my long-held beliefs. Had I understood the importance of that moment while it was happening, I’d like to think I would have made a bigger deal out of it. After all, it’s not every day you come face to face with your future.

6

Emma, Present Day: Stranger Danger

“Don’t look now, but Dr. Schlong is looking your way,” Frannie reported. “I heard he was banging Big Lips, Fake Tits. If they had a kid together, what do you think it would look like? I mean, there’s no telling what features Big Lips had before all that plastic surgery. I bet their offspring would be butt-ugly. And I’m not talking ‘Awww, isn’t your baby precious?’ type ugly, I’m talking full on ‘Grab your torches and pitchforks’ hideous.”

“All babies are gifts,” I answered feebly, looking around in the hopes that no one had overheard our conversation. The disgusted looks on the faces of those closest to us told me they had.

“Oh, I’m not saying the little goblin wouldn’t be a gift; I’m just saying they might want to keep it covered up as much as possible.”

Remember when I mentioned that I had one ‘friend’ at work that no one liked? Well, I present to you Francesca Marley, the most hated woman in the hospital and the only nurse who could make me look good. In her early forties, unmarried, and living alone like me, Francesca gave the whole lot of us single ladies a bad name. The words that rolled off her tongue were almost always mean-spirited and offensive. Nurses transferred to other hospitals just to get away from her. Frannie’s vitriol had started wars, broken up marriages, and caused grown men to weep.

When I’d first started at the hospital, I’d heard tales of the legendary Francesca, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. The day of our first meeting, when she walked into the cafeteria and a hush fell over the room, I knew she’d arrived. Lifting my head ever so slightly to get a peek at this mythical creature, I was horrified to discover her making a beeline straight for me.

“Emma McKallister?” the harsh voice asked.

Squaring my jaw and raising my head high, I nodded. Perhaps it was the fact that I’d been dealing with spiteful coworkers for weeks already, but I sure as hell didn’t plan to take any additional shit from Francesca.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, in a tone I couldn’t quite read.

“Okay. And what have you seen?”

“Enough to know what I’m dealing with.” Francesca smiled, but it came out more like a disturbing leer. “Can I sit?”

She didn’t wait for my reply, which would have been a big, fat No, before taking the empty seat across from me. As if we were old friends reminiscing, Frannie proceeded to give me the rundown of the hospital, complete with every dirty detail she’d collected over the years. I sat in horrified fascination as one story after another left her mouth, unable to pull my eyes away from the poo-flinger that was Francesca Marley.

The last thing I needed was to have more negativity attached to me, so I actively avoided any association with the woman. However, Frannie had an uncanny ability to find me in all corners of the hospital. Sometimes I wondered if she’d implanted a microchip in me for tracking purposes. Over time, I stopped fighting it and just accepted her presence in my life. What else could I do?

Strangely enough, though, the more time I spent with her, the more I began to enjoy Francesca’s company. It was refreshing to be around a person who told it like it was. Any problem she might have with me would be blasted out in front of my face, as opposed to the current method of communication employed by my other co-workers, which was to whisper it behind my back. Yes, Frannie was the single most inappropriate person I’d ever come in contact with, but her humor was, at times, wickedly funny. And under all her bravado, there was a lonely woman looking for companionship. If there was one thing we could bond over, it was that.

“Could you imagine the toothy gremlin breast-feeding? I mean, come on, clomping down on Big Lips, Fake Tits? Heaven have mercy… you know what I’m saying?”

“I do,” I whispered. “And so does everybody else.”

“Am I talking too loud?” she asked, raising her voice… on purpose.

Big Lips gave Frannie the wickedest glare. I prayed she wasn’t going to make her way over because then things would really get nasty. Part of being ‘friends’ with Francesca meant suffering through the cringe-worthy confrontations that inevitably arose from her shameless ‘honesty.’

“Emma?”

I knew that drawl, and I reluctantly lifted my eyes to find Dr. Schlong, a.k.a. Logan, a.k.a. my last hookup, smiling down upon me.

From under the table, Frannie kicked my shin. It was no light tap but a full-on karate chop. She knew of our tryst and how he’d treated me afterwards, so of course she hated him with a passion. I scowled at her, demanding restraint, before returning my attention to Logan. “Yes?”

“I was curious what you were doing this weekend. Maybe we could hang out. What do you say?”

“I’m going to Sun Desert this weekend,” I replied. But of course he already knew that; hence the reason he’d made the effort to come over to me in the first place.

“Oh, really?” he remarked, feigning ignorance. “That’s right. Your brother’s performing, isn’t he?”

I grinned. Logan was so transparent. The fact that Jake was headlining the weekend festival was no big secret. I would have had more respect for him if he’d just asked for a ticket and gotten it over with, but this whole charade of wanting to spend time with me now… it was so contrived.

“Yeah, he’s performing Saturday night.”

“Oh, huh. Well, I wouldn’t mind going there. If you wanted some company, that is.”

“Sorry, it’s my dad’s birthday, so just family is going, but thanks for the offer. Maybe I’ll see you there, though.”

“Only if you can get me a ticket or two. They’ve been sold out for months. But doesn’t Jake get a bunch of VIP passes to give out?”

Frannie kicked me again, but this time it was more a courtesy tap. Her eyes were blazing with anger. Clearly she wanted my permission to set him straight. Ahh, Francesca Marley really was a good friend to me. I couldn’t think of anyone else, outside my family, who’d be willing to defend my honor. I smiled and nodded my head in response to her request, and watched in awe as Dr. Schlong was crudely ripped a new one.

* * *

I could have driven to the concert with my family, but that would have left me without a car and without the freedom it afforded me. I’d gone to these types of festivals before and was not a fan of the rampant drugs, ear-splitting music, and ultra bitchy, wanna-be hippie-chic attitude of many of the attendees. When I wanted to relax with music, it was always of the classical variety. Just the sound of a lone piano could lift my spirits. That’s when I appreciated Jake’s music the most… the stripped down, vulnerable piano versions of his songs that he recorded in his home studio just for me. Of course, I understood that simple and sweet didn’t fill arenas. My brother gave his fans what they wanted, and usually that was in the form of screaming guitars, pulsating percussion, and stadium-stomping rock anthems.

If I wanted to be completely honest, were Jake and I not siblings, I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of his concerts. My brother knew this traitorous fact about me yet never took offense. In fact, my distaste for his music was a source of great amusement. After all, Jake and I had a long history of musical sparring.

Of all the siblings, the two of us were the only ones who’d exhibited a propensity toward the classical stylings of the piano early on, and our mother, always the opportunist, had jumped at the chance to cultivate us. While the others were out having fun, Jake and I were becoming little concert pianists. I thrived in the restrictive environment; Jake did not. The poor kid was always plotting ways of escape despite the fact that his creative abilities far outweighed my own. And that annoyed the crap out of me. I’d work hours to perfect a certain number only to have Jake, dragged in by his ear, plop down on the bench in his dirty jeans, and after a few minutes of tinkering, deliver it effortlessly.

Showoff.

I’m not going to lie; Jake’s early genius was completely lost on me. In fact, his creativity drove me to whole new levels of insanity. An obsessive perfectionist who went strictly by the book, I clung to the timeless compositions as if they were law and the breaking of them a grave and deadly sin. I’d pour every last bit of myself into some favorite classical number and then watch impatiently as Jake would take the same piece, rip it to shreds, and from its ashes, create his own uniquely daring masterpiece. No. Stop already! Musical desecration, that’s what it was! There were rules that needed to be followed. Law and order, kid. Law and frickin’ order!

As you can probably imagine, my uptight little self was eager to voice its outraged displeasure, screaming shamelessly at my brother to stop butchering my favorite melodies. My frustration knew no bounds. How was I to know that the little shaggy-haired eight-year-old was a musical prodigy? Thankfully, my brother never listened to my rants, wisely choosing to follow his own unique path. Unlike me, Jake wasn’t bound to the conventional.

By the time he hit double digits, I begrudgingly admitted to myself that Jake was going to be someone someday, and I either had to get on board the rickety life raft with him while he was still a nobody or in later years I’d be waving from the pier as he floated by on his luxury yacht. So I learned to embrace Jake’s ‘fingernails on the chalkboard’ type talent, eventually even taking great pride in his melodic massacring. Jealousy was so overrated.

My stomach scolded with loud, rolling protests as I checked the clock on the dashboard. In an effort to beat the LA traffic that would soon be crawling through the barren landscape on its way to the three-day festival, I’d skipped breakfast and now my abdomen was rebelling. It wasn’t until I found an old-school diner on my side of the road – something that was strangely important to me – that I decided to give my whiny belly a break.

Pulling into the parking lot, I immediately honed in on a guy leaning under the hood of his pickup truck. The first thing that caught my eye was the grease stain on his jeans. I felt my heart rate increase ever so slightly. I didn’t like muck… or really just anything that tainted nice, unsoiled surfaces. It was just sloppy. Maybe that’s why I’d studied to be a nurse. With its sterile goodness, the bleached blandness of the hospital always afforded me a sense of calm.

My eyebrows puckered in judgment as I took in the offending male. That oily residue was going to transfer onto something else, sullying another clean surface in the process, and in turn forcing the cycle to continue on endlessly. I inhaled sharply, trying to steady my rapidly increasing irritation. Breathe. And stop being so overly critical. No wonder people think you’re a bitch. Scanning the poor faceless dude again, I decided to cut him some slack due to the predicament he found himself in. Chances were he really couldn’t help his grimy appearance.

Then came the next speed bump in the appraisal process, and this one would prove harder to rationalize. This one involved the man’s ass, and not for the reasons you might think. His tush was encased in a pair of distressed blue jeans – so distressed in fact that a portion of his boxers was peeking out from the hole in the pocket of his left butt cheek. Dressing like a hormonal teen had nothing to do with the unfortunate circumstances he found himself in now. No, he’d actively chosen the ripped up ensemble this morning, and that aggravated me so much more than it should have. I pursed my lips and fought the urge to grab the sewing kit from my emergency supply box and stitch him up on site. Yes, sometimes there were clothing related emergencies that required immediate attention.

I shook my head at the gall of the man. All the sympathy I’d once had for his dilemma vanished. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why he would consider it a good idea to walk out of his house today with his ass hanging out of his jeans. Tacky! I liked male buttocks as much as the next girl, but I preferred them draped nicely in slacks or even tucked up in a freshly pressed pair of medical scrubs. Stuffy. Academic. Controlled. Much better. Still, the way this guy was swaying back and forth with the tiniest bit of exposed flesh peeking out just below the boxers delivered an unexpectedly swift kick to my ovaries. Easy, girls.

Driving around to one of the spots in front, I inadvertently positioned myself with a head-on snapshot of the parking lot mechanic, and the view was quite spectacular. My eyes freely roamed over his landscape. Huh. Okay. I had to admit, even with his obvious wardrobe malfunction, the guy did have a nice ass… rounded and tight, with just the right amount of, well, everything. Suddenly and without warning, my brain conjured up a rather explicit picture of his naked backside.

“Well, there’s a nice hello,” I commented to myself.

As his butt bobbed to the task at hand, so did my eyes. I couldn’t seem to break the connection. Was I really that erotically deprived that the soiled behind of a faceless stranger was all it took to rev me up? Please. I held myself to a higher standard than that, and thankfully, I was a rational woman who could see the situation for what it was. Sure, he had a notable tush, and yes, of course, it did fill out every microscopic nook of those shredded Levis, but certainly it would impress all females, not just me. And not only that, but I had to give the man props: it was rare indeed, in this day and age, to see a guy fixing his own vehicle. Certainly the grease monkey deserved some credit for that.

I loitered in my car longer than was really necessary, unable to drag my attention away from the personal peep show happening before me. I was well aware that I’d reduced him to an object gyrating on a pole; but then if he didn’t want eyes staring at his behind, he shouldn’t be exposing so much of it. It occurred to me then that I’d become overly invested in this guy in the amount of time it had taken to park my car. Maybe it was the fact that I had an incomplete picture of him that kept me bolted to my seat. I was all about attention to detail, and being such a fan of symmetry, it was important to have every miniscule fact in front of me in order to make a qualified assessment. Simply put, I could not move forward with my life until I had a face to go with the tush.

Having nothing better to do while I waited for closure, I launched a thorough investigation of his lower half. Judging strictly by the very small area of his body available to me, I’d have to say this guy didn’t spend all that much time at the gym. Not to say that he was skinny in any way, but his long, lean legs and waist-to-hip ratio suggested an athlete in top condition as opposed to a muscle man rippling with brawny strength.

Several minutes passed, and I was getting antsy. Good lord, what was taking so long… was he asking the engine out for dinner? Come on, dude, I’m hungry. Let’s get a move on.

And, as if on cue, booty man pulled out from under the covering, straightening his back and gripping the hood with his grease-stained hands. Coiled, sweaty brown curls escaped from the edges of his baseball cap and clung to his slick neck. Noooo! Not curls! Jesus. He might as well have just stayed under the hood. Curly haired dudes needed to keep it closely cropped to the scalp, or if they wanted to go a little crazy, maybe a poofed-up or slicked-back number on the top would be acceptable – but not this. Not long, wild curls. It suggested disorganization. Messy. Chaotic. Unpredictable. My pulse raced just thinking about it. Nope. Not worth the wait at all. Dammit, I’d expected so much more from an ass of that caliber.

Hungry and disappointed, I realized that in life – and attraction – some things just couldn’t be overcome. Having completely lost interest, I gathered my book and purse and was about to exit my vehicle when the mechanic demanded my attention once more. Knotted tension formed in his arms as he stood there rigidly peering down into the engine. You know what? Maybe I’d been too hasty in my gym-shaming proclamation. Veins bulged and muscles popped. Wow. It was entirely possible that he spent some quality time pumping iron. Well, good for you, Ronald McDonald. At least you have something going for you. Suddenly, and without warning, he slammed his hands against the rusty metal and dropped the f-bomb.

Unprepared for his disgruntlement, I jerked in surprise. “Easy there, stud.”

The minute the words left my mouth, he turned in my direction, a grimace of frustration etched upon his swoon-worthy face. My god! Even with that hair, this guy was a sizzler. His features were nothing short of grubby perfection. Not the classic, stuffy handsome, this man was all sexy goodness, and I felt the attraction right down to my very core. Before I could get my eyes back in their sockets, the mechanic took a pass at me, settling his stare on my star-struck face.

“Shit!” Heart fluttering with sensuous excitement, I tore my eyes away and studied my purse with unmatched interest. Yes, there was something of incredible importance inside the leather bag that required my immediate and undivided attention. Ah… right, a tube of Chapstick… that’s what I’d been searching for.

Wait a minute. Why the hell was I short of breath? This was ridiculous. What was I doing? I didn’t duck. People avoided me, not the other way around. Calm and collected, that was my motto; yet the wave of heat overwhelming me now was a clear indication that I’d lost my frickin’ mind. What did it matter if he’d been staring at me? I should have stood my ground and returned the favor of his alluring gaze with my own icy response. Instead, I’d slipped down further on my seat like some lovesick teenager.

Admittedly, the mechanic was way more attractive than his curly hair suggested, what with his squared, tensed jaw, straight sloping nose, and those pretty blue eyes. But was his jaw-dropping appearance worth the loss of my dignity? No, I didn’t think so.

Because of my knee-jerk reaction, I was now stuck. I couldn’t very well hang out under my steering wheel indefinitely, and that meant I needed to pull it together. I was a twenty-six-year old, voraciously hungry professional woman, and I had too much pride to allow myself to be trapped in parking lot purgatory with an empty stomach.

Smoothing my hair and checking my reflection in the phone, I gathered the prowess necessary to exit my vehicle. Sunglasses in place? Yes, the gold Ray-Bans would project the image I was going for: cool, uninterested chick. Exhaling audibly, I straightened back up, swung the door open, and stepped out, avoiding all eye contact with him even though I knew instinctively that he was still staring. Striding into the restaurant in a fiery display of steely confidence, my shaking hand was the only sure giveaway. Get it together, Emma. He was a guy with an ass. All men had them. No need to get worked up over that particular one.

Reclaiming my wits, I settled into the booth and gave my order to the waitress. The heat that had unexpectedly consumed me was slowly receding, and I’d nearly managed to push all thoughts of the guy from my mind when his gorgeous face exploded into my visible horizon once more. Entering through the front doors, the mechanic scanned the room as I watched. He was looking for me, I was sure of it. And when he found me, those eyes of his grabbed hold of mine, and this time neither one of us looked away. My body immediately switched the furnace back to the high setting, and warmth spread everywhere. Even my cheeks blushed, and I hadn’t done that since I was a pimply teen.

After that moment of unplanned attraction, his eyebrows did a little dance of amusement as he bestowed upon me a slightly upturned smile. To my surprise, it wasn’t full of arrogance, as I’d come to expect from the smiles that came attached to the men I generally spent time with. Their grins were usually predatory and uninviting… but not this guy’s smile. His seemed surprisingly genuine – probably because that mop of hair, still under the protection of the baseball cap, forced him to put a little muscle behind his personality.

My stomach tightened, and instead of holding my ground as I normally did, I unexpectedly looked away… again. Something about him made me nervous. He was a good-looking guy, for sure, but I was no stranger to beautiful men. The prettier they were, the easier they were to manipulate. A little ego stroking was usually all that was needed to bend them to my will; but for whatever reason, I knew the mechanic wouldn’t fall for such games. He was a real guy, living a normal life. Why did that freak me out?

And why was I so damn excited by him? Before I’d hastily looked away, I couldn’t help but notice the dark t-shirt clinging to his sweaty body and the cuffs on his short sleeves hugging his strong arms and the grease stains that streaked his body and even speckled his scruffy face. On paper, this guy was everything I avoided… dirty and sweaty and greasy and curly. I imaged after a night of passion with him, a woman would have to go through a full series of decontamination procedures. And yet, while I condemned him for breaking every hygienic rule in the book, I couldn’t help being inexplicably drawn to his unsterile sexiness.

By the time I’d found the audacity to look back up at him, the guy was gone. Evidentially he’d decided not to stick around for my juvenile antics. Good for him. Feeling flushed and unsettled, I grabbed my book and attempted to continue the story I’d begun before my concentration had been stolen away. But no matter how many times I read the words, I couldn’t get the image of him out of my mind.

Lunch arrived, offering me a welcome distraction. With one hand holding my book and the other used to ungracefully shovel food, I didn’t see the object of my affection until his smooth male voice interrupted my juggling act.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Of course I knew it was him, and yes, he was bothering me; at least that’s what I told myself in order to keep from squealing like one of Jake’s fangirls. I shot my head up, determined to put him in his place with a show of strength and prominence but was greeted with the warmest, most inviting smile I’d ever seen from such a handsome male face. My steely façade melted into puddles, and I smiled back at him with the same affecting emotion. Oh, no no no. What was happening here? Was I about to look away again? No, Emma! Don’t do it… be strong. Dammit! Once again I was staring down at my hands. Coward.

Who knew I could be such a spineless wimp when presented with unparalleled hotness? This was just painful now. Maybe it was the unpredictable nature of his being, or maybe it was my guilt for having eye-fucked him in the parking lot, but whatever it was, my body was responding. I was like a volcano that had lain dormant for a century only to be awakened by a magnificent rock tossed into its core. And now all that molten fury was just churning around, waiting for its chance to erupt.

My female reproductive system wasn’t the only thing with a life of its own; my eyes were also wildly off kilter. Once they finally looked back up, they scanned every inch of the beautiful man, taking note of each blemish and categorizing the shades that swam in his light blue eyes. They’d already calculated the time since his last shave – yesterday afternoon – just enough time to dust his jawline with grit but not enough to qualify as stubble.

My restless eyes traveled downward over his grimy body. Nothing escaped my notice, not the strapping chest or the bronzed skin or the dirt flecks on his denim crotch. But it was the grease stain on the man’s thigh, and how he’d chosen to tackle it, that snapped me out of my pheromone-induced infatuation. Just as I’d suspected he would, the mechanic had chosen to simply rub the spot with water, and now the stain was double in size. No way could I let such a gaffe slide.

“Paper towels,” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to blot grease stains with paper towels, then sprinkle them with some baby powder. Afterwards, you should be able to scrape it off with a spoon.”

Ass-guy had an expression on his face I couldn’t quite read. Clearly my interruption had robbed him of the words he’d prepared to dazzle me with. No matter. He was quick on his feet.

“And to think, today of all days, I left my baby powder at home.”

His response took me by surprise, and I laughed unexpectedly.

He beamed, as if making me chuckle had been on his agenda from the very beginning.

“Salt and baking soda work too… if you even care.”

“I actually don’t… but if it bothers you that much, I guess I could give it a try.”

“I’m not bothered.”

Yes. I was. So incredibly hot and bothered.

He smirked in a knowing way. Somehow, he already had me pegged. How could he know that his lackluster approach to sanitation was driving me frickin’ insane? If I could do it without looking like a complete freak, I’d be on my knees sprinkling him with white, fluffy dust and scraping the muck off myself.

“I just don’t like…” I began, stopping my sentence to flick my eyes over him. “Messes.”

The parking lot mechanic picked up on my diss right away and found it wildly funny. I hadn’t really been joking, but whatever. Damn, these regular, down-home type boys were easy to please. I felt myself relaxing under his friendly gaze, and that warm tingle returned. Maybe I’d been putting too much stock in deodorized metrosexuals. Could it really be that I craved a little stink in my life? God knows this guy could deliver.

“So, um… I almost forgot what I came over here for.” His eyes again connected to mine, and the intrigue in them told me I had his full attention. How, I had no idea. After all my stupid schoolgirl antics, I was surprised he hadn’t run far away in the opposite direction. “Anyway, I guess you saw that my truck crapped out on me. Sorry about the language out there. I didn’t know anyone was watching.”

Oh, yes. I’d been watching. I decided not to mention that I’d been observing him long enough to know that his right butt cheek did a cute little twitch every time he shifted positions or that I knew the exact color and style of his underwear – blue checkered boxer briefs.

“Don’t worry about that.” I shrugged. “I’ve got brothers.”

He smiled again, and as my heart pounded a little faster, I realized something strange was happening… his coiled tresses were becoming more appealing with every word he spoke. My eyes narrowed in on this man standing before me, looking for fault in him and finding it everywhere and nowhere all at once. The rave going on in my lady parts was no joke. I was beguiled. Everything about him was absolutely wrong for me, but for some inexplicable reason, his do-it-yourself charms felt oh so right.

“Anyway, I was just wondering if you happened to be headed to Sun Desert.”

I blinked in surprise. How in the world would he have known that? Was he a reporter? Had he followed me here? Then I remembered that he’d been at the diner first, with his head buried in the engine when I’d arrived.

“Your clothes.” He smiled at my obvious confusion. “You look like you might be headed there is all.”

Damn Casey and her eye for fashion. The dress she’d picked was too revealing, and now this guy was assuming things that he needn’t be. I snapped out of my wide-eyed infatuation. Survival instincts took over. Giving some stranger information about my plans was stupid and risky.

He seemed confused by my lack of response. “So…uh… are you going?”

“Why do you want to know?” I answered his question with my own.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said in a jokey tone, breaking the tension. At the same time, his head did this adorable little tilt, causing my own to feel a tad dizzy. “Because I’m currently looking for a ride.”

I gaped at him. Seriously? As if I were going to drive some tousle-haired transient through the desert! It didn’t matter how hot he was; it wasn’t worth the risk. “Uh, no.”

The grease-stained guy seemed taken aback by my uncompromising reply. Not seeing a need to drag it out any further, I dropped my eyes back down to my book, hoping he’d leave after realizing I had nothing to offer him. But, to my surprise, he just stood there.

“I have some money. I can pay you.”

“I don’t pick up hitchhikers,” I said, without looking up.

“And normally I’d applaud you for that, but I’m in a huge bind here. Plus, technically, I’m not a hitchhiker yet.”

He had a point, although I still wasn’t stupid enough to give him a ride. Putting my book down, I gave him my full attention. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to pick you up.”

“Yeah, some creep with a bloody ax.”

I gave him a full body scan. “You look like a big, sturdy guy. My bet is you just might survive.”

“Surviving has never been my strong suit.” I had no idea what he meant by that statement, but he seemed to find it amusing, so I gave him a courtesy smile in response.

He must have taken my momentary lapse in judgment as a sign to up the begging. “Come on, please help me out. I’m going to miss the entire first day of the festival if I die.”

This dude really wasn’t very committed to his survival. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

Again he seemed caught off-guard by my aloofness; obviously he knew nothing of my resting bitch face condition.

“It’s not your problem, per se. I was just appealing to your humanity.”

Oh, geez. Humanity? He was digging deep. “How do you know I’m not an ax murderer?”

“You’re reading a romance novel.”

I glanced down at my book with a half naked guy on the cover. Embarrassed, I turned it over.

“So can you help me out?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and when I met his eye, he grinned in the sweet and affecting way that had unexpectedly started up my very rusty engines. Lord. He was laying on the charm. I wasn’t sure if I’d survive this stage of the assault. This was precisely the type of guy I’d sworn off years ago for my own safety. They were just too easy to fall for. I needed to nip this in the bud immediately.

“You seem like a good guy,” I said, “and I’d like to help you out, but I just can’t.”

He stared at me a moment, obvious disappointment oozing from his soiled pores. “Okay, I get it. Sorry for bothering you.”

I nodded as he turned and walked away without another word. My barely revived libido puttered to an uninspired halt. There went the first flicker of carnal excitement I’d had in a very long while. Suddenly I missed my cat.

Even though the ass mechanic was no longer my problem, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him over the pages of my now totally laughable book. This author knew nothing of white-hot chemistry. I seriously doubted she’d ever had a lust-worthy hobo turn her insides into a quaking pit of searing lava. Slamming the book closed in disgust, I questioned my need for control at all times. It wasn’t just my self-imposed marriage ban that kept a stranglehold on my emotions; it was also my asinine obsession with perfection and safety. Everything in my world, right down to the tiniest piece of dust, posed a threat to my orderly life, and I found myself becoming exhausted trying to stay ahead of it all. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt the desire to step out of my comfort zone, but it certainly was the strongest.

Of course, denying a strange man a trip through the desert was the smart and sane choice, and I stood by the decision. My beef was with the long-term effects of my safety-first approach. Was it taking away my ability to live a normal life, or was it truly preventing me from dying at the hands of a hot, greasy drifter? I mean, this guy was a complete stranger. Just because he was highly attractive did not automatically disqualify him from psychopathic tendencies. For all I knew, he punched babies and pulled the wings off butterflies in his spare time. No, erring on the side of caution was always the right choice. What good was regret if I was dead?

Shrugging off the indecision, I kept my eyes firmly on the mechanic as he went table to table using that same charm he’d displayed for me on the other diners in hopes of getting a lift to the concert. And one after another, they turned him down. What a bunch of assholes. Just because I refused to place myself in peril, didn’t mean they shouldn’t. Selfish, I know. I was like one of those over-zealous mothers who took the risk of not vaccinating her own kid in hopes that all the moms in a hundred mile radius of her would.

My resolve fading fast, I was now seriously reconsidering my decision. If no one else offered him a ride, what would he do? I’d be lying if I said I secretly hoped he wouldn’t get one. I imagined myself swooping in, saving the day and enjoying sloppy sex with the grease-splattered refugee.

The cute guy’s whoop of joy shattered my dirty daydream, and I smiled at his good fortune. Just because I couldn’t be his hero didn’t mean he shouldn’t be saved. I watched with interest as he bounded out to his broken down truck. To say it was a piece of junk would be an insult to rubbish the world over. This was the type of vehicle you prayed didn’t rear-end you because you just knew the person driving it had no insurance.

My parking lot obsession pulled both a backpack and a rolled up mat out of the cab and then spent the next couple of minutes trying to shut the passenger side door. No matter what he did, the door kept popping back open, so he took to kicking it as a last resort. I giggled at the show he was putting on. With physical force clearly not working in his favor, the mechanic switched his brain to the ‘on’ position and used it to find a piece of rope to tie the door to the frame. I shook my head, grinning. He’d be lucky if someone stole the thing while he was at the concert.

Once he’d finally left with his ride, four college-age guys wearing muscle-baring tank tops and short shorts, I exhaled dramatically, effectively releasing the tension that had collected in me since I first laid eyes on his scruffiness. I hated self-doubt. It was so taxing. I’d made the right choice, not only for my physical well-being but for my mental health. A man with all that handsome messiness and slovenly charm was hazardous to my very existence – the kind of guy who pushed the limits and wanted his woman to be as fun and adventurous as he was.

That eliminated me right off the bat. There was nothing exciting and fresh about me, and the men I chose were as predictable, classically dressed, and wooden as I was. They were handsome, cocky assholes, arrogant enough to assume they were the ones using me. And when the sun came up, these faceless surrogates were easy to turn my back on and never see again. I stuck to the self-involved jerks for one very specific reason: I’d never fall in love with a guy I couldn’t stand.

* * *

After getting word from my parents that they were delayed by an hour, I took my time in the diner. No point in hurrying if I was just going to be hanging out alone in the hotel room. I ordered a vanilla shake and happily slurped the drink while I went back to reading my book. After the mechanic left and my hyped up sexual tension abated, I was more willing to accept the characters for who they were – boring excuses for human beings with a penchant for unconventional sex. I still didn’t buy the chemistry, but at least it was reciprocated between the two, unlike my one-sided infatuation.

Once back on the road, I joined a new group of cars now making their way through the desert and thought wistfully of all those lucky souls I’d been traveling with earlier. They were probably already at their destination. And now I had to get to know a whole new group of drivers. Pathetic, I know, but keeping track of my travel companions was a way to pass the time and provided a source of entertainment as I imagined what their day was like. Not surprisingly, they all had more exotic lives than I did.

Today, however, was pleasantly different, and that was a nice change of pace. I wondered what the mechanic’s name was and what he did for a living, because clearly he was no mechanic. With a truck like that, he obviously wasn’t rolling in dough. The endless daydreaming passed the time quickly, and before I knew it, I saw a sign for the fairgrounds and found myself in a long line of cars headed to the festival. My hotel was a few miles further up the road, so I knew I was going to be stuck in this crap until all the cars in front of me started piling into the fairground parking lots.

On the right side of the road, headed toward me and away from the fairgrounds, was a lone figure, lugging a backpack over his shoulder and a rolled up mat under his arm. It couldn’t be. But as I got closer, I could see him clearly: it was the guy from the diner. But what the hell was he doing leaving the festival after working so hard to get there? So curious was I that I actually pulled over and rolled down my window. The guy was drenched in sweat and had a seriously disgruntled look on his overheated face. Gone was the charming beggar.

“The concert is that way,” I said, pointing in the opposite direction.

He glared at me, not appreciating my attempt at humor. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Okay, I was just making sure you knew.”

“Do you have a bottle of water or something? I am dying out here.”

It was hot. In fact, I had just glanced at my temperature gauge moments before and had groaned at the 97-degree heat taunting me. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be walking around in it anymore than the hot guy.

“I already drank out of it,” I said, holding up my water bottle.

“I don’t care. Please,” he begged.

This was not the same affable guy from earlier. There was a sense of urgency to his request, so I handed him my bottle and watched him guzzle it down in huge, dragging gulps. He handed it back to me empty.

“Sorry. I drank it all.”

It wasn’t like I was going to touch my lips to that bottle after his had been there anyway.

“That’s okay. I’ll get another one at the hotel.”

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and flicked his wrist, sending sweat flying, thankfully not in my direction. “I’ll give you a couple dollars to buy another one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No. Here,” he said, pulling a few crumpled dollars from his pocket.

I held my hand up. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay, well, thanks for stopping. Have fun,” he said, before dropping his head in despair. I watched as the grungy drifter continued on his way.

“You seem a little…uh…upset,” I called out to him. He stopped – kicking up dirt, of course – then backtracked to my open window. His eyes narrowed in on me before he squared his shoulders.

“Do I?” he asked, with an edge to his voice. “Huh. Well, I guess it has something to do with being told that the wristband my roommate bought on Hollywood Boulevard was a fucking fake!”

“No!”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he bought it from a scalper. Those guys are notorious scam artists. What the hell was I thinking? Of course this was going to happen. I’m such an idiot. Dammit!”

The guy wasn’t even really talking to me anymore. He was too busy berating himself. I waited for him to finish before offering up my sympathy. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

I swear he looked close to tears… or maybe it was eye sweat. Was that a thing? Poor guy. His frustration and exhaustion were plain to see, and I genuinely felt sorry for him.

“You’ve had a really bad day.”

He peered at me through the window. Suddenly a smile wiped out the aggravated expression. “I know. Fuck. Right?”

“At least you weren’t murdered by a bloody ax guy.”

“Well, there’s that,” he nodded. “Way to look on the bright side.”

“That’s my specialty,” I said, even though it was such a lie. I rarely, if ever, took the optimistic view of anything. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I was planning on finding a drainage ditch and crying myself to sleep. Why? What are you going to do today?” He grinned, some of his earlier charm returning.

“Oh, you know, I was going to watch a bunch of cool bands.”

“Oh, yeah. Huh. Great idea.”

I grinned, feeling suddenly braver than I had in years. I wanted to help him, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t let my hang-ups hold me back.

“Get in.”

Ass-guy looked totally stunned. “That’s a nice offer, but you’re a little late. I’m already here, and now I’m heading in the other direction, so…yeah.”

“Get in,” I repeated.

“Why? I can’t go into the festival with you.”

“Who says?”

“Uh…the security people. I think they hired Seal Team Six to guard the entrance.”

“I know another way in.”

“Oh, really?” He asked, surprised and instantly curious. “Does this way involve me going to jail if it doesn’t work out?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Well, hot damn. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“Somehow I believe you.”

“So just exactly how are you planning to get me in?”

“The valid ticket way.”

The guy groaned, his face instantly falling as the recently departed despair returned. “You don’t think I already tried that? They’ve been sold out for months.”

I grinned with a knowledge he didn’t have. My brother was afforded certain privileges that we mere mortals could only dream of having.

“What?” he asked.

“Last chance. Get in or go find yourself a ditch.”

The guy evaluated me for a second and then reached for the back door, opened it, and shoved his stuff inside. He climbed into the passenger side, and his sweaty odor immediately permeated the car’s interior. Although I realized it was rude, his stink was rancid enough that I was forced to cover my nose with my crochet sweater.

“Sorry,” he said, and took a quick sniff. His face twisted in disgust. “Oh, damn. That’s nasty.”

I nodded my agreement. Again I imagined a team of pest control professionals fumigating my travel companion.

“Just so you know, I started my day with deodorant, but even the Old Spice guy couldn’t overcome the disaster today became.”

“You’re fine,” I said, my voice cracking.

I could feel him evaluating me for a moment.

“Okay, hold on,” he said, climbing out of the car and opening the back passenger door. My eyes followed his every move as I watched him grab some items out of his backpack. And then, before I could brace myself for impact, the mechanic pulled his shirt over his head, and instantly my stinky stranger transformed into a rippling Adonis. His upper body was long and broad, and the muscles I hadn’t given him proper credit for earlier were now glistening in sweaty, unbelievable perfection. His chest and stomach were riddled with bruises and scabbed over blemishes. They matched the faint black eye. Had he been in a bar fight or something? Surprisingly, that made him even hotter to my overly active imagination. Somehow I couldn’t imagine Dr. Schlong rearranging some guy’s face over a shot of tequila. I swallowed back my lustfulness and realized my mouth had suddenly gone bone dry. Dammit, if I hadn’t given him all my water, I’d still have some saliva left to drool.

The mechanic caught me staring, and his eyes shone in amusement, although I didn’t catch his merriment until my own eyes had completed their full rotation of his very pleasing male parts. I caught his gaze, but instead of giving in to embarrassment, I simply smiled my appreciation. He blinked his surprise at my boldness and then looked away himself. Score. Finally I was back to my old ways of making others uncomfortable. He used his old shirt to mop up the sweat before applying deodorant under each armpit and pulling a fresh t-shirt over his naked upper torso.

“Better?” he asked, arms out to the sides as he slid back into the passenger seat.

I fanned my face with my hand. “I think I might need a shower now, but yes, better. And thank you for that.”

He burst into laughter at my unexpected comment, but to his credit, he didn’t fire back with some snarky reply. I liked that. I’d grown tired of men who knew they were smoldering and wanted the world to celebrate with them. This one was a humble rarity among hot guys: he let his sizzle speak for itself.

“I have something else you might like,” he replied, lifting his leg and revealing a nearly erased grease stain.

“How?” I asked in astonishment. He was just one surprise after another. If my lava hadn’t been boiling before, it was now sending bursts of liquid fire though every nerve ending in my body. Speechless, I could only mutter, “Where? When?”

“I swiped a salt shaker and spoon from the diner and worked it out on the ride over. Just for you.”

It was those last three words that spoke to me and shook loose the first jagged pieces of steel from my hardened heart. This was no ordinary guy. It wasn’t just his dedication to my happiness that had me, it was the fact that he’d cared enough in the first place to remove a grease stain from his jeans for a woman he hadn’t expected to ever see again. There was something so endearing about that. My swoony eyes settled onto his beauty. Wow. Just frickin’ wow.

He hadn’t caught on to my middle school girl worship because his attention was elsewhere – namely, my vents. Leaning into them, he smiled as the cold breeze hit his reddened face. “So just exactly how do you plan on sneaking me into a sold out festival?”

“I have connections.”

“Really?” He sat up straighter, his affecting eyes shining with interest. “Like what kind of connections?”

“Like the kind of connections where I know people who can possibly get you in.”

His brows arched, intrigue highlighting his handsome face. “Who do you know?” he whispered, conspiratorially.

I put my hand up. “Do you want me to work my magic or not?”

He grinned. “Work it!”

I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face as I picked up my phone and texted Jake.

Can you get me a ticket for a friend?

What friend? The response arrived almost immediately.

A friend, I replied, not wanting to go into specifics.

Male or female?

Gender’s not important, I wrote back.

Ooh…a guy? Nice job, Em. I can’t promise I can get your ‘friend’ the same wristband you & the rest of the family have but I’m pretty sure I can get him a VIP or artist pass. Is that OK?

Anything you can get would be great.

I’ll text Sean and get back to you.

Thank you. Is it rude to ask you to hurry? We’re outside the fairgrounds now.

You couldn’t have given me earlier warning?

Sorry. Hurry.

I could feel my passenger still watching me. After a few seconds, he seemed to give up trying to figure me out, and instead, settled back into his seat. “Hey, do you mind if I turn up your air conditioner?”

“Be my guest.”

He rotated the knob to the highest setting until it was blasting out of the vents. My hair was blowing all over the place, so I aimed the slats in his direction.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever felt in all my life!” he exclaimed. Then he stopped himself and smirked, “Well, maybe not the best… but it’s right up there.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I smiled back. “I’m just going to get back in the line of cars. Hopefully I’ll hear back before we get to the front.”

The mechanic nodded as he went for my radio, changing the station until he found something acceptable. Wow, he was certainly making himself comfortable. More surprising was that he wasn’t making me uncomfortable.

“I just realized that I don’t know your name,” I said.

“So much for being cautious. I’m Finn.”

Finn? Huh. Not what I was expecting, but I liked it. Somehow it suited him perfectly. “I’m Emma.”

“Nice to meet ya, Emma.” Finn’s eyes flickered over me in curiosity before the air conditioning stole his concentration once more and he focused on finding the exact angle of the vent that produced the most intense blast of air. Once his baseball cap was nearly dislodged from his head from the sheer force of the wind, Finn sat back and resumed staring at me.

After a moment of silence, he raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“Yes, Finn?” I pointed at him.

“If you can’t get me into the festival, can I just sit in your air-conditioned car all weekend?”

“We’ll see.”

He nodded, smiling. “Okay, I’ve got one more question. Are you an actress?”

“No,” I said, laughing.

“You’re sure?”

“I think I would know.”

“Okay. A model, then?”

I was really starting to like this guy. “You think I look like a model?”

Finn’s eyes bugged out, much as mine had during his striptease, and settled on my braless profile. The dress Casey had picked clung to my curves but left no room for support, so I’d been forced to free-boob it. Basically I was rocking some serious side cleavage, and it hadn’t escaped his attention.

“Um…” he gulped.

That was it. His response was nothing more than a grunt, but I was intensely flattered nonetheless.

My phone buzzed. “Tell me if the car in front gets too close. I have to check my messages.”

Finn sat up, taking his job seriously so I could read the text.

I can get your boytoy a wristband. I just need his name.

You’re going to tease me all weekend about this, aren’t you?

Most likely. Name?

Finn? Well, crap. I had no idea.

“What’s your last name?”

“Perry.”

I typed in his full name and sent it off. Finn followed my every move.

“Keep watching,” I demanded to my travel companion.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. We’ve only moved a car length. Are you seriously getting me a ticket?”

Another text came in from Jake. I put my hand up to stop the conversation.

You don’t have any more imaginary boyfriends that need tickets, do you? Because management might start getting pissed if I keep asking.

Nope. Just this one.

So where did you meet this Finn Perry?

He’s just some guy I picked up on the road.

Yeah, right hahaha, Jake texted back.

I grinned. If he only knew!

I’ll text you the address where you can pick it up.

I can’t get it at will call?

Not the upgraded wristbands. Have to go offsite to pick those up.

OK no problem. And Jake, can you keep this quiet? You know how Mom gets.

Oh I know how mom gets. It’s our secret.

You’re my favorite brother.

No I’m not. Keith is.

You’re my favorite this weekend.

I’ll take it.

After checking the road, I focused my attention back on Finn. “This is your lucky day after all,” I said, grinning. It felt good to do something nice for him. After the day he’d had, he deserved it.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head, biting my lower lip in excitement for him.

“No, you didn’t.” He smiled back as if he thought I was joking.

“I told you I had connections.”

“I know, but…” His mouth hanging open, Finn appeared genuinely gobsmacked. “You’re not messing with me, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I’ve had a pretty crappy day today, so it’s not too far fetched for me to believe that this is all an elaborate hoax.”

“It hasn’t been all bad. You’re practically dating my air conditioner now.”

“That’s true. It hasn’t been all bad,” he said with a charming little smile. “I got to meet a gorgeous model-actress.”

I laughed. “No and no.”

“So what do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It was free.”

“I don’t want you paying for me. I can get you the money.”

“I didn’t pay anything for it. It was an extra ticket.”

“An extra ticket?” Finn shook his head. “There aren’t any extra tickets.”

“There are if you know who to ask.”

His eyes locked on mine, and I felt that incredible attachment towards him once again. What the hell was it about him? “Well, are you sure you want to give it to me? You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, my god, Finn! Would you prefer I give the ticket to some other smelly homeless guy?”

“No!” he laughed.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Hell, yeah, I want it!”

7

Emma, 2004: A Mother’s Destruction

Aunt Mel arrived from Michigan in the middle of the chaos. It had been four days since Jake’s disappearance, and my parents were coming apart at the seams. The very glue that had held us together was now dripping down the cracks of our shattered family. When her older sister arrived, my mother collapsed into her arms. The Carver sisters were strong women, but even the sturdiest of stock could not bear the weight of a missing child. Mel kept Mom focused on what was important – Jake – and she encouraged my mother to throw herself into the search for her son while she took over the parenting duties that were currently being shunned.

And thank god for Mel. With four children of her own, my aunt was a pro, and she got right down to work parenting us in the style we’d been raised. Efficient, caring, and tough…my siblings and I needed her strength and guidance. With her there, anything seemed possible. Her optimism kept our fragile family from breaking down as we waited for one of our own to return home. No matter the external chatter that filled our home with negativity, Aunt Mel was steadfast in her belief that we would be whole again. She told us tales of happily ever afters, and I hung on her every word.

As the days wore on with no new leads and with the prospect of finding Jake alive dwindling, a new normal began to take form. Aunt Mel stayed with us for two weeks before she too seemed to lose faith. Before she left to go home to her intact family, she’d taken the step of contacting our school, securing Keith, Kyle, and me piles of homework and missed assignments. None of us had been back since Jake’s kidnapping. Neither Mom nor Dad had said a word about school, so we just didn’t go. When the envelopes arrived, Keith and Kyle ignored theirs, but I went to work immediately, welcoming the distraction.

With my aunt gone, my parents out of commission, and Keith continuously disappearing, there was effectively no adult in the house who could be counted on. The day-to-day necessities that kept us all collectively moving forward fell on me. I tried to focus my mother on the task at hand, but she was an emotional wreck, solid and focused one minute and then bawling or disengaged the next. Strangely enough, she seemed to develop an aversion to the children she still had left to hold. When Grace or Quinn tried to curl in her arms for comfort, she pushed them away. If Kyle was crying on the living room floor, she’d step over him. And if Keith or I asked her anything, her immediate response was to berate us.

Dad was just gone, searching… always searching. And when he did come home, he stumbled around like a zombie, as if the life had been sucked clean out of him. Unlike my mother, whom I was growing to despise, my father’s behavior was so pitiful that I felt nothing but sympathy for his broken soul.

The fact that I held my mother to a higher standard was not lost on me. She was our family’s foundation, and for that reason, didn’t have the right to crumble. But crumble she most surely did. My normally well-kept mother morphed into a caricature of her former self. She stopped eating. She stopped sleeping. She stopped living. Her loss consumed her. It was like watching a slow and painful demise. I knew in my heart that if Jake’s death were confirmed, my mother would not survive.

I was too young to know a love like that, one so all-consuming and heartbreakingly fragile. It terrified me. How could anyone willingly set himself or herself up for such unbearable despair? Why bring beautiful, precious life into the world only for it to be stripped away so cruelly? No, my mother’s pain would never be mine. I would never bear a child of my own. I would never love as my mother loved, nor would I ever lose as she was so spectacularly losing.

* * *

“Emma?”

I looked up from my biology book to stare into the angelic face of little Quinn. The blond hair that flipped up around the ears, the big gray-green eyes, and the tanned skin reminded me so much of Jake at that age that I blinked him in for a moment, wishing he really were Jake and that I was back in a past where my brother was still happy and safe… and home.

“Emma?” he repeated.

I focused on Quinn, trying to keep the disappointment and sadness at bay. My baby brother did not fully understand what was happening, and I preferred to keep him in the dark. No sense in him being as terrified and miserable as the rest of us.

“What is it?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Go ask Mom or Dad for food. I’m doing my homework.”

“I can’t find Daddy, and Mommy is lying in bed. She won’t answer.”

“She won’t answer?” I asked, immediately standing at attention. Was this it? Had she finally succumbed? Fear cycled through me as I tore down the hallway in a panic. Quinn followed behind me, running to keep up with my brisk pace. I flung open her door and rushed to her side. My mother was sprawled out on the bed, her hair splayed in every direction and still in the same rumpled clothes she’d been wearing for days. A bottle of sleeping pills lay by her side.

“Mom?” I touched my hand to her face, and a shudder of relief rocked me. At least she was warm and alive. I poked her. “Mom?”

“What?” she answered, slurring her words. All sympathy I’d had moments before disappeared completely as I took in her inebriated state.

“Wake up!” I demanded, shaking her limp body. “Quinn and Grace need to be fed and bathed, and Kyle hasn’t come out of his room in days. Is anyone checking on him?”

“You.”

“Me what?” I nearly screamed in response.

“Do something,” she said, then turned over and away from me.

“Me? These are your damn kids, not mine.”

She didn’t reply.

“How many of these pills have you taken?” I asked, as I grabbed the bottle and shook it. There was a healthy amount remaining, and my anxiety eased slightly.

“Not enough.”

“Mom, please,” I begged. “You’re not helping Jake like this. What if he comes home and finds you like this?”

She turned over to me, her eyes droopy. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s dead. Jake’s dead, and he’s never coming back.”

“Jake’s dead?” Quinn screamed, his eyes open wide in horror.

“No, Quinn. No,” I said, grabbing his trembling hand and steering him from the room. “Goddammit, Mom!” I yelled, before slamming the door on her.

The minute we got into the hall, Quinn collapsed onto the carpet, repeating the same two words: “Jake’s dead?” I tried to console him, but he was a quivering pile of tears and snot.

“Don’t listen to her, Quinn. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Jake is alive, and he’s going to come home.”

“Why would Mommy say that? Where’s Jake?”

Not knowing what to say, I just scooped Quinn off the floor and held him in my arms. A noise caught my attention, and I looked up. Kyle was leaning against his door, eyes bloodshot and the bandage over his stitched face torn off. Dried blood stained his forehead. Had he pulled the stitches out? And his hair… he’d chopped it off.

“Kyle, come here,” I said. “What have you done?”

His wild eyes met mine. I scanned his nearly naked frame. Only a pair of boxers covered him. He looked emaciated. Kyle turned to shut his door on me, but I stopped it with my foot and forced my way in.

The smell hit me first. The strong odor was clearly feces and urine. Kyle was using his and Jake’s room as a toilet. Jesus. What was going on in that head of his?

The knife was the second thing I noticed. It sat on the floor surrounded by Kyle’s hair and splotches of blood.

“What is happening?” I asked, my voice cracking in emotion. “What have you been doing?”

Kyle didn’t respond. His eyes were downcast. I noticed cuts on his body. A nasty sickness brewed in my belly. My God, how long had he been left wallowing in his own filth with only a knife for company? If someone didn’t do something quick, I’d be burying another brother. But who was there to help? Mom and Dad were useless, and Keith hadn’t been home in days. I had no idea where to even begin. Kyle’s problems were beyond me; he needed help of the professional kind.

I walked slowly toward the knife, but Kyle caught on and lunged for it, gripping it in his hand as if it were his only friend. Still holding a whimpering Quinn, I backed away, not even remotely secure in Kyle’s sanity.

“Put it down,” I demanded.

Quinn, who’d had his head buried in my shoulder, now turned to look, and terror transformed his perfect features. “Put it down, Kyle. What are you doing?” He started crying even harder now. I didn’t blame him. It was what I wanted to do too.

“You’re scaring him. Just drop the knife. You need to come out of this room. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll make you some food?”

“No.”

“It’s going to be okay. Please, Kyle, put down the knife.”

“It’s not going to be okay,” he said, in barely more than a whisper. “You didn’t see what I saw. Nothing will ever be okay again.”

And at that moment, I believed him. Life was spiraling out of control, and I was not equipped to deal with any of it. Three weeks ago I’d been an immature, selfish brat whose biggest worry was whether another classmate would come to school in the same outfit I was wearing. And now I was trying to hold a family intact on frayed strings that were unraveling faster than I could bind them back together.

“Give her the knife,” Quinn wailed. So much for keeping the poor kid in the dark! He was going to be scarred for life after the five minutes he’d just had.

“Get out of my room,” Kyle demanded, pointing the knife at the two of us.

He was wildly unstable, and protecting Quinn became my only focus. I couldn’t help Kyle, and at this point, I doubted anyone could. I slowly backed out of his room, never taking my eyes off him. His misery took my breath away. Then the door slammed in my face.

I found Grace watching TV, seemingly oblivious to the drama surrounding her. Setting Quinn down, I stared at my little siblings. If this was our new normal, what was their life going to be like from this point forward?

“I’m hungry.” Quinn sniffed through his sobs.

“I know. I’ll go make some food. Just stay here. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

As soon as I left the little ones, I searched the house for my father. Gone. I knocked on Keith’s door. No answer. I headed back to my mother and again roused her from her sleep.

“Mom. Kyle needs you.”

“I’m sleeping,” she mumbled.

“Well, then maybe you better wake up, unless you want to lose another son,” I replied, angrily. “He’s in his room cutting himself with a knife, if you even care.”

Mom bolted upright, her hair a tangled mess. “What are you talking about?”

“Kyle. He needs his mother. Pull yourself together and be one!”

8

Finn: The Golden Ticket

Pulling into the parking lot of the offsite ticket booth, I watched a composed Emma instantly transform before my eyes.

A heavy sigh escaped her. “Oh, great.”

I whipped my head in the direction of her frustration and groaned myself at the horde of people lined up for tickets. It appeared half a block long.

“Crap,” she said. “Do you need me to go with you?”

Suddenly I felt like a toddler in need of his mommy. “I just… I have no flippin’ clue how I’m supposed to do this,” I answered, desperate for her to stay not only because I was dense and needed direction but also because I just really wanted her to stay. “Why don’t you wait in the air conditioning while I stand in line?”

Emma looked conflicted. I knew then that it wasn’t the heat that was bothering her but the extra attention that would be required to attend to my needs. Clearly, she hadn’t bargained on her good deed costing her so much time.

“No, maybe I can find a faster way,” she said, making her decision and sticking to it. “Let’s go.”

A furnace of heat settled over us upon exiting the vehicle. Now I really felt bad for dragging her out with me. But Emma didn’t seem affected by the temperature. She was focused on the task at hand as we made our way toward the crowd of people. As far as I could see, there were two lines: one for VIP guests, the block-long one; and one with only a few people in it, for passes comped by the festival artists themselves. Emma studied the signs a moment before confidently choosing the shorter line. Yep, I was digging this can-do attitude.

The first time I saw her staring at me through the windshield of her car, I knew she was a force to be reckoned with. With her straight, white-blonde hair, tanned complexion, and those golden sunglasses disguising her appearance, I thought I was looking at Hollywood Barbie, the Collector’s Edition. But since real life Barbie dolls didn’t actually exist, other than on creepy YouTube videos, my next assumption was that she was a celebrity making her way to the music festival. It certainly wouldn’t have been unusual to have one of her kind out in the desert all by herself. With its proximity to Los Angeles, this three-day event brought out the rich and famous in droves. And this girl definitely had the dazzling starlet thing going on.

I knew the type well. Working in the industry, woman who looked like her typically had their own trailers and didn’t associate with the help… although I could say with a small level of pride that I’d been known to catch the eye of B listers from time to time, thank you very much. But this woman was at the top of the alphabet, for sure. I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she fit in on the Hollywood landscape.

Yet surprisingly, Emma wasn’t flaunting whatever it was that elevated her to the higher level I assumed her to be. In fact, she was giving me no clues at all. I was used to women presenting to me their full (and messy) life stories by the end of a ten-minute, one-sided conversation, so this restrained demeanor had me on edge and longing for something of substance to hold onto. Instinctively I knew Emma was the type of person who revealed herself one tantalizing detail at a time. I just wanted to be somewhere in the vicinity when it happened.

“How do you know which line to stand in?” I asked.

“I don’t. Educated guess.”

“See, I don’t think so,” I replied, teasing. “You just don’t want to get into that amusement park line over there.”

She smiled, not refuting my claim.

“And if this one doesn’t work, then what?”

“Then I’ll be forced to call in a few more favors.”

I shook my head. “You must have a killer friend group.”

“I do.”

The way Emma said those two words with such certainty told me she had a rich pool of resources to pull from. Not like my pathetic support system of flakes and leeches.

“Name and ID, please,” a perky redhead called out to us. In front of her on a table was a printout with names on it. My chances of being on it were slim to none.

“Finn Perry,” I said, as I dug out my ID and handed it to the woman. She smirked, then glanced up at me with a raised eyebrow. It was the response I always got when people read the name on my driver’s license.

“It’s Finn for short,” I explained, reddening. Damn Shelby.

“I should hope so,” she said, shaking her head in amusement.

This perked Emma right up. She’d been watching our exchange with interest. This was clearly a detail-oriented woman who didn’t rest until she had all the facts. Too bad for her this was not one she’d be finding out anytime soon.

“Wait, what?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Well, Ind…,” the woman started, before I stopped her in mid-breath.

“It’s Finn. Just Finn.” I flushed in embarrassment.

“What’s your real name?” Emma asked, her nose wrinkling as she peered at me with amusement. Those eyes… christ, she was gorgeous.

“No, sorry,” I said. “That’s a second date type of question.”

The ticket lady’s eyes darted back and forth between Emma and me as if she were watching a romantic comedy. I fixed my stare back toward her and she cleared her throat and regained control.

“Anyway, Finn.” Of course she had to overstate my name. After all, we now had a pressing secret between us. “I don’t have any ticket under that name, or for the one on your driver’s license. Sorry, hon.”

The minute the words left her mouth, I deflated. It was like every Christmas I ever had growing up. All that excitement and build up, and the best I would ever get was a broken toy from the junkyard out back. Screw you, Santa.

Emma wedged herself up against the table, her fingers firmly splayed out on the flat surface with a steely determination ready to intimidate any who stood in her way… and damned if I didn’t appreciate her commitment to my cause. “Actually, the ticket was just called in by Sean Wilson.”

“Called in, you say? Okay, hold on,” the redhead said, getting on her phone. She eyed Emma with interest as she spoke with someone on the other line.

I took to biting my nails as I waited. If this didn’t work, I was back to square one, which was a ditch and a good cry. Maybe Bucky would drive all the way here to get me if I promised him a thirty rack of Natty Light. Luckily, he was easier than me to ply and manipulate; yet the chances of him having a vehicle that could make it this far were slim to none.

“That’s a bad habit.” Emma interjected her opinion into my moment of extreme stress.

“I know. I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“How can you be so calm? You heard her, there’s no record of my name.”

“Because it was called in ten minutes ago. Relax… and stop biting your nails. Do you have any idea how many germs are under there?”

She took a step back, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Did she fear microbes would start flying off me? “No, but I take it you do.”

“Not the exact number, but I promise you, it’s more than either one of us could bear.”

“Honestly, germs don’t bother me at all.”

“They should.”

“Why? So I can get all freaked out by them? No, thanks. I prefer not to know what grows in my sponge.”

“You use a sponge?” Emma visibly paled as she swallowed back her disgust at my everyday habits.

“I do. And not only that, but I also fully embrace the ‘five-second’ rule.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“That’s nauseating,” she said, covering her mouth in an apparent attempt to keep my airborne spores from invading her sterile space. “What could you possibly gain from eating food off the floor?”

“It’s not that I actively pull up a rug and dine off the carpet, but if something tasty falls to the ground, I have no problem picking it up and shoving it in my mouth.”

“Oh, so you have standards. Good for you.”

I eyed her in amusement. Was she for real? This genuinely bothered her. How adorable. “Of course, I have standards. For example, if I drop broccoli, the floor can have it; but if I drop something like a cookie, I’ll give it a full ten seconds on the ground before blowing on it and gobbling it down.”

“Ahhh, yuck. You do realize a simple puff of air will in no way clear away all traces of microorganisms?”

“I’m with Finn on this one,” the ticket lady said, injecting herself into our conversation and winking at me. “Who cares about the germs… it’s a cookie.”

Exactly! How was that so hard for Emma to grasp? Clearly the redhead had become fully invested in our dispute, and I welcomed her support. Emma? Not so much. Her jaw clenched ever so slightly. I wasn’t sure if she was annoyed that the woman had become a part of our dialogue or that she’d taken my side.

“Anyway,” – the ticket lady widened her eyes and gave me a look that said, good luck with this one – “We were able to locate the request, but I can’t process it here. A gentleman will be coming to escort you to the office and expedite it for you.”

“See, I told you,” Emma said, visibly relaxing and physically pulling the fingernail out of my mouth. “Now you can stop munching on your fingers. I’m sure inside the festival walls there’s a tasty corndog lying in the dirt somewhere just waiting for you.”

I burst out laughing. That sarcastic snark coming from such a polished woman was totally unexpected… and feisty. This Emma chick was all kinds of cool. Suddenly my heart started beating a little bit faster, and my eyes glazed over in a fusion of trepidation and excitement. I knew the feeling well: that shot of adrenalin I got just before performing some dangerous or death defying stunt. Huh? Interesting development. Who would have thought a woman could do the same for me as roof jumping?

Glancing back at the ticket lady behind the table to get her approval on my witty companion, I found that she was busy giving Emma her own thorough eye inspection.

“So who do you know?” she asked. “It’s got to be someone big.”

Although Emma completely ignored the question, it caught my attention. “What do you mean, ‘who do you know’?” I asked.

Using my past line against me, she said simply, “That’s a second date question.”

Emma wasn’t as diplomatic with the woman as she was to me. She shot the redhead a warning glare just daring her to continue with her line of questioning.

There she was… my diner diva. Earlier in the day, when I’d first observed her sashaying ass making its way into the diner, my interest in her was nothing more than pure lust. That killer bra-shunning figure, those long giraffe legs, and those bronzed cheekbones that cut slopes across her face had me worked into a frenzy.

She was out of my league, yes, but that was part of her overall appeal. Emma was the woman you tried for just in case. Yeah, you probably didn’t have a chance in hell, but if you didn’t at least give it a try, you’d be kicking yourself later when you were spending a little extra time in the bathroom that evening. So my plan with her had been simple. Primal. Make contact. Let her know I was interested, ready and willing – just in case, you know, she wanted to go slumming.

What I hadn’t expected upon first contact was an instant and intense attachment. She’d accepted my stare and raised me a thousand. Those eyes, they’d nearly brought me to my knees. It wasn’t so much the striking, almost overcast coloring that did me in; it was the way she looked at me like she’d never seen one of my species before and was fascinated. Her interest in me was clear, yet so was her loathing. It was a unique emotional combination that I couldn’t even hope to comprehend. Either you were attracted to someone or you weren’t, right? I mean, was there any in between?

And that’s how the first conversation went down, too… she was an unpredictable play in contrasts, and I was hopelessly hooked and dangling from her line. My overwhelming desire to know everything about her immediately consumed me. I was no ‘instant love’ kind of guy, preferring instead to take it slow and really get to know the woman I was planning to walk through flames for. With Emma, however, I’d surmised in a matter of minutes that a few third-degree burns wouldn’t be such a high price to pay to get her attention.

Unfortunately, Emma didn’t see it my way, and swiftly kicked me to the curb before any permanent damage could occur. Still, it pained me all the same. Rejection wasn’t something I experienced often. Usually women approached me, and if I wasn’t interested, it became my job to let them down gently. No one would ever describe Finn Perry as a cocky asshole. I was a classic pleaser, always putting everyone else’s thoughts and feelings before my own. It was a personality trait I both loved and hated. Nothing upset me more than people thinking I was a jerk; but at the same time, being nice and accommodating tended to attract the bloodsuckers. I was an easy mark for the right parasitic female. Maybe that’s what drew me to Emma. I needed her more than she needed me. In fact, I was apparently the last thing she wanted, and damned if that didn’t light a fire under my ass.

Being turned away from the Sun Desert Music Festival main gates was like shoveling shit on top of an already overflowing pile of manure. The day had officially spiraled too far out of control to ever be salvaged. Or so I thought. How could I have predicted that my dream woman would appear on the horizon, driving an icebox on wheels, and proclaiming in that raspy, sexy voice of hers that she could perform miracles? And then, by the powers invested in her, she’d delivered on her promise. Emma. My savior. My Ticketmaster queen.

I was still trying to make sense of the incredible reversal of fortune. This woman had not only handed me a ‘get out of jail free’ card by getting me into a sold-out concert, but she’d also pitched the luxury VIP ‘Park Place’ package while she was at it. Who the hell was this fictional Emma character and what had she done with my crap-fest of a day? I’d been simmering in a warm, steamy pile of dog poo, when down swooped Malibu Barbie to spray Febreze all over my shitty day.

“Those shuttles, do they drop off at the festival?” Emma asked the now-subdued ticket lady.

“Yes, they leave every ten minutes.”

“And everything is set? They have the wristband under his name?”

“Yes, madam,” she answered, appearing a little flustered by my companion.

Join the club, name-dropper.

Emma turned back to me. “Well, Finn, everything is all set, so I have to go. I hope you have a great time in there.”

“You’re going now?”

Oh, man, even I could hear the pouty tone to my voice. Not cool. It wasn’t just that I’d be screwed if something went wrong with the ticket, but also I really, genuinely did not want her to go. My earlier plan of music, drinking, and women had come to a screeching halt the minute Emma pulled her car over and saved my life. Now, I just wanted to be at her beck and call the entire weekend.

“I thought maybe we could hang out inside. I was hoping to buy you a beer… or a corndog.”

She hesitated a moment, an expression on her face I couldn’t read. Every decision she made seemed calculated. This was not an impulsive woman, but judging by her actions today, she could be swayed – and that was what I was counting on now.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really can’t. I have people to meet at the hotel.”

Dammit. How could I work with that? She had plans, ones I’d derailed with my whole traveling pigpen act. I had a sinking feeling that I was just her philanthropy for the day, and she had no intention of devoting anymore of her time to my worthy cause. But unluckily for her, I’d never been one to give up easy.

“Maybe I can get your number so we can meet up later.”

Emma scanned me again, her lips trapped under perfectly straight teeth. The hesitation she displayed was unmistakable, and it was becoming quite obvious that this woman wasn’t interested in finding out what name was on my driver’s license. As much as I was hoping for that second date, she clearly was not.

“You know what,” I said, trying to salvage what was left of this dying crush, “how about I give you mine?”

“Yeah, that’s better.” She nodded in relief and pulled out her phone. I gave her my number and reminded her of my name while I was at it. She seemed amused by that. “Yes, you aren’t easy to forget, Finn.”

“Don’t, then.”

Emma met my eyes, and there was a visible warming in hers. That was good, right? Or was it pity? She confused the hell out of me.

“Okay, well, it was great meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you inside.”

“Or… you know, you can call me.” I pointed to her phone. “That would be the quicker and easier way.”

“Right,” she said, holding up her phone and smiling as she walked away.

“Emma!” I called out. She turned around, that snowy hair fanning out around her, and suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to beg for a little more of her time. I probably would have, too, had I thought it would make a difference. Just let her go. Plastering a smile on my face, I simply said, “Thank you.”

She nodded, smiled, and just like that, my fantasy league first round female draft pick was gone. I stood there frozen in her wake as I watched her get into her car and drive away. What in god’s name had just happened? She was quite possibly the most fascinatingly attractive woman I’d ever met in my life, and now she was driving away with my number in her phone. She was a woman who carried the answers to all my questions… a woman who was never going to punch my number in her phone and call me. I was just a pity add. Emma was probably erasing my number as we spoke.

The ‘gentleman’ escorting me was probably five years my junior. And he was no gentleman. I’d watched him eyeing Emma in a lecherous way, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“She’s hot,” he said.

“Yeah.”

We continued on in silence, surfer dude apparently having depleted his extensive word base. It was as if stringing those few words together had been so taxing on him that he had only the energy left to point me in the general vicinity. It wasn’t until I exited the office, a golden wristband affixed onto my arm, that my chaperone found his voice.

“Whoa, dude, I’ve never seen one of those up close.”

“One of what? The wristband?” That was weird. He worked for the festival, and he’d never seen a wristband before? I shook off his odd comment and headed for the shuttle. The escort walked more quickly, staying by my side.

“Who was that chick, anyway? The one who got you that wristband?”

“I have no idea. I just met her.”

“No way did you just meet her.”

“Yeah, like she literally just picked me up on the street.”

He laughed me off dismissively.

“I’m serious.”

The guy’s amusement subsided as he responded in a highly skeptical voice, “You’re telling me a complete stranger got you this wristband?”

The escort was so amazed that he actually ran his finger over it, looking on with awe as if he’d just witnessed the birth of baby Jesus. Okay, now he was starting to creep me out. I’d never seen anyone so fixated on a plastic band. Get a damn grip.

“You have no idea what that is, do you? Dude, you’ve got the golden ticket.”

* * *

I followed the procession of jewels down a dimly lit hallway. It took two strapping helpers to carry my bounty to the secured locker, and they did it with hushed excitement. I was, after all, musical royalty… or at least, that’s what they all thought. Okay, I wasn’t proud of the deception, but how was I to know they were going to assume certain things about me? I’d done nothing more than wander into a room of riches when people started throwing free shit at me – expensive free shit!

Closing my eyes and opening them again, I checked to make sure my wristband was still securely in place. That was my connection to everything and my only way back to her. As long as that plastic band was on my wrist, Emma was real, and this entire unbelievable day I was experiencing was still very much alive and kicking.

“Here we are, Mr. Perry. We’ll put your items in the storage unit, and you can collect them whenever you see fit,” she said, handing me the key.

“So I can leave my stuff in here all weekend if I want?”

“Certainly. Some choose to keep their items here until they can get their staff to come collect them and bring them to their buses. I’m assuming that’s how you’d prefer it as well?”

I nodded, not trusting my words. Never good at lying, I was feeling the familiar stab of regret for deceiving her; but today had spiraled out of control, and I really was just a victim, albeit a damn lucky one, of my circumstances.

Let me back up and explain how I came to need a storage locker for my loot. Or how I came to have any loot at all. Entering the music festival as an average Joe was totally different from entering the festival as a virtual celebrity. Whereas no one had met my eye earlier before sending me packing, when I walked in with the golden ticket, suddenly I commanded a boatload of respect. It became instantly clear that I wasn’t part of the normal cattle call that typically defined my everyman existence. For the first time in my life, I felt special, and I had to admit, it was a pretty nice feeling. Was this how Emma lived her life? If so, we weren’t even in the same social stratosphere. Maybe that was why I was having such trouble reading her. She was from a genetically enhanced alien nation.

Because I planned to spend the evening searching for Emma and charming the pants off her – literally – the daytime hours were open for exploration. I quickly discovered that when the world was your playground, it was difficult to decide what to do first. I spent a couple of hours being shuttled by golf cart from stage to stage, slipping into the backstage areas and chumming around with the musicians I’d just watched perform. Doors were opened for me right and left. I was allowed in the green rooms and treated to food spreads and free alcohol. A few hours of this treatment and the spoiling was already getting to me. I was feeling pretty damn full of myself. Jesus, how did people survive celebrity status without becoming giant douchebags?

With my newfound love of luxury, I naturally gravitated toward areas that promised more of it. Signs for the VIP area pointed the way to the holy land, and I followed them with purpose. Yes, now that I was a Very Important Person myself, I felt a sense of duty to find my people. My excitement came to a screeching halt, though, when I stepped foot into the expansive collection of tents. Was this the best they could do? For my people?

I’m not saying it was terrible, and certainly it was better than having to spend my day roughing it with the ‘normals,’ but VIP treatment should have been more than just air-conditioning, seating for the main stadium concerts, and upgraded porta-potties. I mean, would a little caviar have killed them?

Still, it was fine for cooling off, and since I assumed Emma wasn’t the type that liked to sweat or get caught up in freakish desert dust storms, this was most likely the area I’d find her in. I should probably get comfortable. My eyes zeroed in on a wine barrel filled with half-sized water bottles. From what I could tell, it was the only freebie available. The thought occurred to me to write a strongly worded letter bemoaning the lack of amenities. Scooping up two ice-cold waters, I chugged them down before picking up two more and shoving them into my backpack for future use. I never got the point of baby water bottles. It always took two to fill me up, so I might as well have just drunk one regular-sized one. Maybe I’d add that to my letter as well.

I strolled around, searching all the faces for Emma, even though, like a twin separated at birth, I felt certain that I’d sense her presence when she was near.

Passing by a door guarded by security, one of the men stopped me. “Were you looking for the private area, sir?”

“Um…” I stumbled a bit. “Is that, uh, somewhere I could go?”

The security guard appeared taken aback by my question, but after checking my wristband, he opened the door and let me pass. It felt as though I was entering through the gates of heaven! You could almost hear the harps playing. My god, the tented area I’d just come from was but a smoke screen… a way to trick festival-goers into buying expensive VIP tickets with the hopes of hobnobbing with the rich and famous. But in reality, the actual Very Important People were hiding behind a fortified door rubbing shoulders with one another.

Standing there in shocked surprise, I blinked in the wonder of it all: an expansive hall decorated with white furniture, ice sculptures, and fragrant flowers. Now this was more like it. It became instantly clear that the ultra-exclusive Private Area was the place to be if you were a person of any significance, such as myself.

Immediately I recognized several famous faces, but celebrities were not the only ones behind these closed doors. So were the rich and powerful. It was obvious just by their clothing and the way they held themselves that they belonged in here. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling so full of myself anymore. That pesky entitlement that had plagued me all day fizzled out as I looked down at my dirty, grubby clothes. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Glancing around nervously, I waited for someone to kick my everyman ass out of there; but no one did. In fact, other than a few patrons giving me curious looks, no one seemed to be too bothered by my presence. And if they didn’t care, then I was going to milk the place for all it was worth. Grabbing a plate, I was dismayed to discover everything on the buffet table was miniaturized. Again, this went back to my issue with the half-sized water bottles. What the hell was the point? Why did rich people have such a boner for tiny portions?

Shaking my head, I filled my plate with a variety of tiny sandwiches and shrunken baby corn on the cobs. I felt like a giant in the land of littles as I took wee bites out of the bread and gnawed around the cob as if it were an average-sized corn. It wasn’t until I saw some guy shove an entire telescopic corn in his mouth that I realized what an idiot I’d been. Well, shit. Were you supposed to eat those little things whole?

Giving up on the dollhouse portions, I headed over to the bar.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

“Just a beer,” I answered, as I dipped in my pocket for some cash; and then remembered there was no need, as I’d died and gone to heaven.

The bartender popped the top and handed me a bottle. Free of charge, as always. I was starting to see a pattern forming. Apparently the richer you were, the more freebies you got. Too bad it wasn’t like that for ordinary folk… you know, the people who might actually benefit. Shoving a couple dollars into the giant glass tip jar, I went on my way.

The room was teeming with people, but they mingled in small, private groups. Polite laughter and hushed tones seemed the norm. This whole environment felt stifling to me. Give me a hearty laugh and unbridled exuberance any day. I never apologized for who I was or how I’d been raised, but seeing the way these people lived made me realize just how far down the social ladder my family really was. I thought about Shelby and how she’d stand out in a crowd like this, way more than I did now. They’d snicker behind her back, and then she’d get wild and unruly. I shuddered at the unsavory image.

Drifting into an adjoining room, I was aghast to find tables manned by eager venders selling a wide variety of products and clothing. As if smelling fresh meat, every head in the place swiveled in my direction, and those salivating salespeople eyed me greedily. I froze, feeling like a trapped animal. This was going to be worse than a flea market on a cruise ship port.

I wanted out of there, but the minute I stepped in, I was committed. If I exited moments after entering, it would be rude, suggesting that I found their products uninteresting. And, of course, we’ve already established that I hate hurting people’s feelings, so now I had no choice but to make that obligatory trip around the room and pretend to be interested. Dammit. Sometimes I hated being a nice guy. I scanned the merchandise, not making eye contact with the salespeople in order to avoid the awkward conversation about my lack of funds to purchase their top-name, over-priced items. I hadn’t even made it a quarter of the way around the room when someone stopped me.

“Would you like a shirt?” a young woman asked brightly, as she held up the kickass t-shirt I’d been covertly eyeing. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and it bobbed happily as she spoke. That’s how they got you. Beam a smiling salesgirl down and make you feel like a jerk for refusing her.

“Oh. I don’t have a ton of cash on me right now,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound important by adopting a deep baritone, in the fashion of James Earl Jones.

“Oh, no. We aren’t selling it. It’s free.”

My feet dug in as I tried to make sense of her words. “Free?”

“Everything in here is,” she said, gesturing around at the other tables. “This is the gift room.”

Although I hadn’t meant to, I accidentally gasped in shock. “For who?”

She looked surprised by my surprise and glanced at my wristband. “Well, for you.”

“So, wait. You’re saying that everything in here is free?”

“Yes, sir.”

I shook my disbelieving head. There were hordes of people wandering around outside these doors. How were they not all stampeding in here, body-slamming each other to get a piece of the free pie? “Well, I don’t… why isn’t everyone in here, then?”

“I have no idea. There’s some amazing stuff. We get people trickling in all day, but some of the bigger name celebrities don’t take freebies…they don’t want to feel obligated to promote the products, you know?”

No. I didn’t know. This realm was completely foreign to me. These people lived in a world of microscopic food and free stuff that no one wanted? Good god! My family was the type who got into fistfights over a discounted television at Walmart on Black Friday. If someone offered us something for free, we were raised to say “Yes, please!” and then take off running before they could change their minds.

Handing me the t-shirt, the woman eyed me with interest. “I’m surprised you don’t see the gifting areas more often.”

“Huh?”

“As a musician and all.”

Oh, shit! Of course! That’s why I hadn’t been forcibly removed yet. They thought I actually was someone!

“Oh, yeah, well, you know,” I said stringing a bunch of words together with no apparent purpose other than confuse both her and me.

“What’s the name of your band?”

I was too frazzled to think, so I just stood there for an extended period of time wracking my brain for the name of my fictional band. I had nothing. Completely blank! About to hand the free t-shirt back and walk out with my head hung in shame, the salesgirl surprised me again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not supposed to ask. Forget I said anything.”

“Excuse me, sir.” A man hurried over. “Would you like to try our headphones?”

Yes. Yes, I most definitely would. And like a kid in a candy shop, I allowed myself to be led around from table to table, wide-eyed and drooling, as one vendor after another tempted me with bigger and better prizes. It was like winning The Price Is Right Showcase Showdown, but without any competition.

And that’s how I now found myself in the storage unit, pretending to be someone I wasn’t in order to keep what wasn’t mine. I’d spent my day wallowing in filth, yet it was only now, surrounded by my new treasures, that I actually felt dirty. Living in this world was definitely more stress than it was worth. From this point forth, I was going to use my all-mighty wristband towards the pursuit of good, not evil. And in that spirit, I was dedicating the remainder of my weekend to what was really important: finding Emma.

9

Emma, Present Day: Living Dangerously

I should never have picked him up. What had I been thinking? How could I have recklessly set aside my own safety for the sake of a stranger? I was lucky he wasn’t a rapist or a killer or any number of other things a single guy with ripped, grease-soiled jeans and crazy curly hair could have been.

Glancing over at my unsuspecting mother, I felt the rise of shame-filled regret. She would be horrified by my behavior. I knew better… we all did. There was nothing like paying the price to be taught a valuable life lesson. So why did I do it? What force of nature turned off my common sense and allowed me to pick up a perfect stranger? One thing I knew for sure – I could never let Mom know what a complete and utter idiot I’d been. She’d never trust my judgment again. Hell, I no longer trusted myself.

Finn was a mistake… a stupid, foolish mistake. And just to prove it, I was going to erase all traces of him forever. Pulling my phone out, I brought up his contact and clicked the edit screen. My finger hovered over the delete contact button and – surprise number two of the day – I hesitated. Huh? Picking that man up was possibly the worst decision I’d ever made in my entire life, and I was hesitating? What the hell was wrong with me? I was not a hesitater. Firm, swift, decision-making was my specialty.

Quinn came barreling into the room with Keith on his tail.

“What in the hell?” my father exclaimed, as he deftly jumped out of the way.

Used to such childish antics between my brothers, I simply lifted my legs up to let them pass without ever taking my eyes off my cell phone screen.

“I will beat the shit out of you,” Keith promised, as he kept up his pursuit. I didn’t know, nor did I care, what Quinn had done to earn his ire, but I was certain he was the instigator. Like Kyle, Quinn had a mischievous streak in him, and he reveled in pushing his older brother’s buttons. The two were out the door only a few seconds after entering.

We had an entire floor of the moderately sized hotel. The festival organizers had set Jake and his team up with rooms and had thrown in the extra ones for his family as an added bonus. I arrived before the others and had a good hour of peace and quiet before the storm. Because security was manning the exits to keep overzealous fans from gaining access to the top floor, our group was free to wander the halls undisturbed… or in my brothers’ case, racing down them. It was an open-door policy, really. If a door was open, expect people to walk through it. Mine, of course, was firmly shut.

I’d taken up residence for the time being in my parents’ room, and it was a busy place to be. Mom had baked cupcakes out of a box and frosted them with the icing in the plastic tubs, and you would have thought she was Betty Crocker herself. At this very moment we had three crew and two drivers chowing down. The overzealous groans of delight were reason enough to stay put on the couch. Mom had played baker for Jake’s band and crew many times before, and she never tired of the adoration lavished on her for her boxed culinary creations. This weekend’s crew was much smaller than the usual number Jake traveled with on tours, as the festival provided many of the personnel needed to make the show a success; still, even the reduced contingent of team members numbered in the twenties. And some of these guys had been with Jake for so long they really did feel like family.

“Hi, Emma.” The greeting came from one of the sound engineers who’d just entered the room.

“Hi, Tucker.”

“Lookin’ fine, as usual.”

“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Well, you know, I work hard on my body,” he said, jiggling his belly fat for me to admire.

“I can see that.”

“Are you still single?” Tucker never tired of asking that question. Every. Single. Time. We. Met. “’Cuz I’m currently available, although I can’t promise for how much longer.”

Grinning, I took in Tucker’s bushy black hair and fluffy biker-gang beard. He was maybe fifteen years my senior, and for some unknown reason, the man was always ‘currently available.’

“You know I’m just waiting on your proposal,” I teased.

“Right. Of course. But first I have to ask your father for your hand in marriage.”

I pointed at my dad. “Have at it.”

“Sir, I was…” Tucker grinned roguishly.

“No.” Dad cut him off immediately, amusement playing out over his face. He loved this part of the ritual.

“But I…”

“No.”

Tucker shrugged, shoved another cupcake in his mouth, and said through the crumbling cake, “Well, I tried.”

“Better luck next time. I’ll be waiting.”

This same routine had been going on for years. I cringed to think how much longer my dad would say no before he’d give up on my finding a husband on my own and just marry me off to Tucker and all his bushy-bearded, beer-bellied magnetism.

I didn’t have to look at my parents to know they were exchanging that knowing glance. You know, the well-meaning, worried one parents adopted when they didn’t think we were looking. It was obvious my life displeased them. I had to assume it was because they viewed my apathy toward love and marriage as a bad thing. My seeming lack of interest in the opposite sex, or any sex for that matter, must have kept them up at night. My mother had even broached the whole topic of whether I was lesbian or not with a sympathetic, “You know we’ll love you no matter what” speech. Any discussions about my lack of a love life was always followed by “We just want you to be happy,” as if it were physically impossible to be happy without a partner.

Contrary to how my parents obviously viewed me, I was not a virgin; although I guess you could say I played one on TV. Or, more to the point, I played one for my clueless family. It just seemed easier for them to think I was some old barren maiden doomed to a life of loneliness than to explain to them the many, many hang-ups I had with love and marriage. I even got my kitty Cynthia last year to throw them off course and drive home the perception that I was indeed starting down that slippery slope of cat ownership. In reality, I was no goody-goody. I’d been having the occasional romp since freshman year in college. But I’d kept my sex life far removed from my family because I knew they would not approve of my ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ lifestyle approach.

I came from a traditional lot who believed in the whole happily ever after; never mind that a good chunk of my life had been spent inside a dark fairy tale. Yes, there were times that I longed to find someone to grow old with, but what was the point? Unless he shared my very jaded view on children, there could be no future. Eventually the guy would tire of waiting for me to get a handle on my insecurities and find a less complicated woman. The guys I slept with were simpletons, caring only about where their next score would come from. They weren’t looking for love or marriage, and if god forbid a kid were to pop out nine months after one of our trysts, well, the baby mama wouldn’t have to worry about shared custody.

Quinn made another pass through the room, but Keith was no longer chasing him. Either Keith had gotten what he wanted or he was just too out of shape to keep up with Quinn’s teenaged exuberance. I caught him as he tried to get around my outstretched legs and pulled him to me, trapping him in my embrace.

“Are you serious?” He squirmed. “I’m not five.”

“I don’t care,” I teased, holding on tight. “I missed you. Give me a hug.”

“No. You’re being a creeper.”

“How come you never come visit me anymore?”

“Because I’m seventeen.”

“That’s not an answer, Quinn.”

“Okay, how’s this?” he said, smirking. “I have better things to do than hang out with my sister. Besides, the last time I came over, you made me clean.”

“You loved it and you know it.”

“Yeah, because scraping bird shit off your window sills is my idea of a good time.”

“You know, there was a time when I was your favorite person.”

“By default, Emma. You were the only one around.”

He had a point, but there was so much more to our relationship than that. Quinn and I had a special bond, and although he didn’t particularly like me throwing it in his face in front of others, I knew full well what he thought of me.

Casey and Kenzie, my brother Kyle’s girlfriend, popped through the door and showered my mom with hugs and compliments. She ate it up. I suppressed the eye roll that was itching to be released. At least Mom had those two to make her dreams of grandbabies a reality. I could see them popping out enough little McKallisters to satisfy my mom’s needs without getting my womb involved in the action.

“You ready?” Kenzie asked, plopping down beside me.

Quinn saw his opening. Taking advantage of my momentary lapse in concentration, he weaseled out of my arms and charged for the door before I could reclaim him. Did he really think I’d make the effort to chase after him?

“Emma?” Mom said, feeling the need to help me socially. “Did you hear Kenzie?”

Purposely ignoring her meddling, I turned to Casey and Kenzie. “Ready for what?”

“For us,” Casey said, spreading her arms out. “We’re having a girls’ night. Music, drinks, good company.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun?” my mom pitched in, giving me that fake cheerful face that said, I know you’re a miserable boob, but try not to ruin things for the rest of us.

“What about Jake and Kyle?” I asked.

“Jake’s got prep stuff and Kyle is pretending to guard him, so it’s just the three of us.”

Great. I might have been able to stomach a girls’ night if the boys were at least coming. Then Grace came flouncing into the room. Oh, thank god, I was saved. My sister wedged herself into the armchair next to me. I immediately grabbed some of her hair and smoothed it out.

“Actually, Grace and I were thinking of just staying in and doing our nails and things.” … and avoiding Finn…and avoiding you two.

“Grace is hanging out with Jake tonight. He’s showing her some behind the scenes stuff,” Mom said, looking pleased that she was boxing me in further.

Grace glanced up at me with guilty eyes. “Sorry. I was just coming in to tell you.”

“So you’d rather spend the evening with your boring rock star brother than your kick-ass only sister?”

“Uh… yeah.”

I didn’t blame her. So would I. Great. Now I needed to wrack my brain for another excuse. But as I was sifting through the mental list, the expectant faces staring back at me weakened my resolve. Did it mean that much to them that I follow along, or had this been some concocted plot all along? “I guess…”

“Awesome. You have five minutes,” Casey said, without giving me an option.

My mother was smiling conspiratorially with my brothers’ significant others. Yep, concocted. I wondered how she’d asked the girls to drag me along. Please take my anti-social daughter out and find her a man. Ugghh.

* * *

One Uber ride, two shows, and three drinks later, I was feeling more relaxed than I had in a long time. I’d totally forgotten about my earlier mistakes and was ready to make fresh, new ones. Finn had me all worked up from earlier, and now I was on the prowl. Unfortunately, the gene pool I had to choose from was not terribly deep. Most of the males in the vicinity were stumbling around under the influence of Molly, the party drug of choice at this festival. The others seemed precariously committed to the women they’d pinpointed as easy marks. Beautiful people were plentiful. This music festival was the place to see and be seen, so naturally it brought out a certain caliber and class of people… and by class, I meant the upper. Money was the common thread that ran rampant through the fairgrounds. Sure, there were the hardcore music lovers who’d had to scrape together the exorbitant entry fees, but they appeared to be few and far between.

It made me wonder about Finn. He didn’t appear privileged, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Still, what was he doing coming to a three-day festival by himself? Was he just here to partake in the spoils of a weekend filled with sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll? God, I hoped not. It was funny that I didn’t know a thing about him, yet I already held him to a higher standard.

After I’d downed the second drink, I found it so much easier to justify my earlier actions. Sure, Finn was a stranger, but he was also a fellow citizen in need. What kind of person would I be if I’d just left him to dehydrate on the side of the road? The fact that I was affected by his charming smile and his increasingly endearing curly hair had nothing to do with it… no, I was simply fulfilling my civic duty. Nothing more. Uh huh, right. I could justify my actions all day long, but it didn’t erase the fact that I was scanning the crowds in desperate search of his face, or that during one of the shows, I’d actually twirled. Twirled, as in spun around in a carefree display of happiness!

I could lie and say it was the alcohol that was behind my sudden Mary Poppins moment, but I had to give credit where it was due. The chance meeting with Finn had changed my mood. I hadn’t even realized I’d been in a bad one until that strange, anxious feeling got all caught up in my chest. Elation swept me up, and I morphed into a giddy state. The smile I was carrying was a thing of beauty. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so light.

I had to face the facts: as implausible as it seemed, I’d developed a crush on the parking lot mechanic. I’d had them before – crushes, that is, not mechanics – but that was way back when I was a wide-eyed teenager who still believed in The One. And in that adolescent dream world, my ideal guy had looked and acted nothing like Finn. And, yet, that fact only heightened my attraction. Maybe I was itching for something different… something that made me feel more than just blah.

Knowing that at some point Finn and I would cross paths behind the scenes at some concert kept my senses on high alert. I took out my phone for the hundredth time. Why hadn’t I just given him my number? It was too much pressure having his at my fingertip. If I called him, it would imply certain things. That I was interested. That I was available. That I was whipped on him. No. That would make me too vulnerable, and I never played the helpless card.

Casey, Kenzie, and I were backstage during the performance of a band they’d both raved about. I watched as they danced around wild and free, but even with my newfound joy, I still couldn’t forgive bad music. These guys were like Jake on musical steroids. The singer’s voice was so high-pitched at times that my eyes actually watered. I could only assume that Casey and Kenzie were either musically illiterate or that they were just too tipsy to care. Tapping my foot to the beat was as much as I was willing to give this untalented bunch.

After the concert, the musicians exited the stage, and the lead singer headed in our direction. His piercing stare fell over the three of us, and a predatory grin took over his exhausted face. I recognized him as the lead singer by the spiked black hair and charcoal guyliner, which was currently smeared down his face. Nothing about him interested me, but I could certainly see how his fans would find him attractive.

“Ladies.” He dipped his head in a sexy way. “Did you enjoy the show?” A steady stream of sweat poured out from his hairline, and all I could think was, Finn does ‘sweaty’ so much better.

Both Kenzie and Casey chattered and gushed over each other to be the one who offered the most praise, which only served to stroke the rocker’s ego. Unimpressed, I checked my phone once more.

“And what about you?”

I looked up to see him addressing me with that cocky smile of his. The alcohol made me more honest than I would have liked. “It was… loud.”

“Loud?” He smirked, nodding his head. “That’s the point.”

“Oh, well, in that case, it was awesome.”

The expression that transformed his flirtatious grin was one of annoyance and surprise. Seriously? Did no one ever give this guy honest feedback?

“You’re a sass queen.” He nodded. “Okay, I can appreciate that.”

His tongue actually flicked in my direction. I suppressed the overwhelming urge to vomit on him.

“You three wanna party? Meet the guys? I promise it will be the time of your lives.”

Before the other two could go on a pages-long explanation as to why they couldn’t party with these particular rock stars, I decided to nip it in the bud right then and there. “She’s engaged to Jake McKallister, and she’s dating his brother. I guarantee… you won’t measure up.”

The rocker looked on in shock, his mouth actually gaping open, as I grabbed Casey and Kenzie and steered them away from the horndog.

“Hey!” the sweaty guy called out. “Who are you, then?”

I turned and flashed him what I hoped was my sassiest smile before walking away.

“You’re such a tease,” Kenzie whispered, as we hurried out of there.

“Me? You were the ones stroking his dick with all your gushing.”

“We were just being friendly,” she argued. “How were we to know he was going to turn it dirty?”

“Um…let’s see… because he’s a rock star? That’s what they do.”

“Jake’s not like that,” Casey said, in defense of her soon-to-be husband.

“Not now. But before he met you, Jake was no saint. And Kyle, good god, he was a pimp short of man-whore.”

“Wow, way to lighten the mood,” Casey said, grinning. “Was there a point to slut-shaming our men?”

“Not really,” I admitted, smiling. “But it felt good.”

The three of us laughed together as we made our way back to the VIP area.

“You do realize that all you did back there was light his flame, right?” Kenzie asked.

“And there are probably dozens of women waiting to blow it out.”

“Emma!” a male voice called out.

My breath quickened. A revved up, tingling sensation spread through me in response to those two syllables. Oh, shit, my rusty engine was turning over again. At least Finn could start one thing up. I eagerly sought out the owner of the voice. Kenzie and Casey spun around too, seemingly surprised that a human male knew my name.

“Hey,” Finn panted, as he came to a halt in front of me. Either he’d sprinted like a track star to be by my side or he was in particularly bad physical condition. I took in his rather jarring appearance. He was wearing a blinking headband wrapped around his hat and had multiple glow-in-the-dark necklaces and bracelets rolled up his arms. In his hand was a flashing plastic drink cup with a long, glowing handle. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you been here a while?”

“Just…um… a couple of hours.”

“Just a couple of hours?” he repeated. “Apparently you lost my number, then.”

“She was just about to call you,” Kenzie said.

Yes. Good thinking, Kenzie. I nodded in agreement.

“Right, just about to… um… call you.”

Finn cocked his head and raised a single eyebrow.

Casey stepped in. “Hi, I’m Casey, and this is Kenzie.”

Kenzie waved, and for some reason, her ridiculous greeting made me giggle. I slapped her on the arm and we both started laughing in earnest. I wasn’t usually so playful, but Finn’s presence made me giddy in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

I wasn’t paying attention to the words or the niceties the three were exchanging because I had more pressing issues to deal with – mainly whether or not Finn had magically grown hotter in the last few hours. Maybe it was just the alcohol heightening my senses, but had his body always been that tall and solid? Wait a minute! When did he grow a dimple in his right cheek? And his eyes, had they always twinkled like that or was the incessant blinking making them sparkle?

Huh. Was this really the same guy I’d picked up on the side of the road? It made perfect sense now. No wonder I stopped. Suddenly I felt so much better about my near-death experience. Mom would totally understand why I’d put my life in peril. I mean, look at him.

“Right, Emma?” Kenzie asked. Apparently the three of them had been having an in-depth conversation without me.

I nodded absently, having no idea what I’d just been asked.

“You’re very blinky tonight,” I said, addressing Finn directly.

A smile lit up his already bright face. “Well, thank you.”

“You look like you were dipped into Disney’s Electrical Parade.”

Finn’s laughter shook me from my daze. Was this really possible? Did a guy actually find me amusing? I guess there was a first for everything.

“That’s exactly the look I was going for,” he answered, running his eyes over me. “And you’re looking fine tonight as well.”

We stared at each other, not speaking. The heat between us threatened to set us both on fire. The sounds of the others were muffled as I fought the primal instinct to jump his bones on the spot. What the hell was in those cocktails?

“I, uh, I still owe you a drink.” He stumbled a bit on the words.

I just smiled and nodded, never taking my eyes off him.

“So we’ll just be leaving,” Kenzie said, backing away from our two-person play with a big smile on her face. “Casey, can you help me with that thing I forgot to do?”

“Of course,” she replied, in an exaggerated way, jamming her thumb in Kenzie’s direction. “She always forgets… the thing. Uh, Emma?”

I was staring at Finn with blinders on.

“Emma?” This time Casey snapped her fingers in front of me. “Text us when you want to go, okay?”

I nodded. So did Finn. Our eyes were locked. If they’d left, I couldn’t tell you. I was fixed on Finn and ready to push him behind a stage and have my way with him. This was really, really not me… at all.

“I can’t believe I found you,” he said, finally breaking the silence. His hand reached out and touched my arm. The contact sent shivers to the tips of my toes. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Well, FYI, I’d never be where you just came from.” I gestured to his blinking body.

“Is it too much? I was just trying to impress you. When they were handing out the bling, I was like, load me up ‘cuz I know this girl who’s totally going to dig this shit’.”

“The only part of your get up I’m jonesing for is that drink in your hand.”

“Say no more. Follow me.”

We navigated our way through crowds of people. I was having trouble staying with him as stoned zombies pushed among us.

Finn stopped suddenly, and I ran into his back. “My god. Is he banging her? On a porta-potty?”

I followed his stunned gaze to see a couple going at it, smashed up against the portable toilet facilities. She was wearing an American flag tank top, and her denim shorts were bunched down around her cowboy boots. “Now there’s an uncomplicated girl,” I said, laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all.

“God bless her,” Finn added, nodding as his head bobbed to their thrusts.

The two of us just stood there and watched, mesmerized. And we weren’t the only ones. A crowd of people circled around the couple, cheering on the two like prizefighters in the ring. They went at it for an impressively long period of time, seemingly unfazed by their audience until the woman hit a crescendo and screamed out in ecstasy. Finn, looking sufficiently impressed, took a sip of his drink and then bent down and reflected, “It’s times like these I’m proud to be American.”

My eyes fluttered over him. Damn, he was adorable.

“You ready, or should we wait and see if she’s got one more in her?” Finn asked.

“Nah, I’m predicting she’s a one-hit wonder. Let’s get out of here.”

He held his hand out to me.

I didn’t do hand holding. Not that I’d really had the opportunity, but still. It always seemed so gooey and sweet.

He immediately picked up on my apprehension. “So I don’t lose you to the dark side.”

I continued to stare at his hand like an idiot. What did it matter if I took it? It wasn’t like one hundred years of the feminist movement would be shattered if I accepted. Finn smiled at me like my inner conflict amused him. This was ridiculous. What the hell was the big deal? To the dark side! I slipped my hand in his; and of course his palm, like the rest of him, was hot and sweaty. Oh, lord. I was so out of my element. Just go with it, Emma.

Finn led me to an open-air bar and snagged us a little table, pulling the chair out for me like a gentleman. After ordering our drinks, he took the seat opposite me. We held each other’s stare until, suddenly, I felt suspiciously short of breath.

“Sooo, first off, I’ve got to thank you. What you did today… I still can’t believe it. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Taken off guard by his sincerity, I could do nothing but nod. He must have had a shitty upbringing if that was the best thing he could remember.

“And secondly, I’m really happy you agreed to have a drink with me. I didn’t think you would.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. You seemed, uh… done with me.”

“Done with you?” I questioned.

“Like I’d worn out my welcome.”

Yep. That was probably how I’d come off to him. I definitely needed to work harder on first impressions. Jake was right.

“Well, you didn’t. I wanted to call you, but…”

“I get it. You’ve obviously got plans this weekend.”

“No, that’s not it. The truth is, you scare me a little bit.”

“Me?” His eyes widened. “I promise, Emma, what you see with me is what you get.”

“That’s actually the part that scares me.”

Finn leaned back in his chair seeming confused, if not a little offended.

“It’s not you… or I guess maybe it is. You’re not my type at all…”

“Yeah, I spent the day in your world,” he said, studying his drink. “I’m pretty sure I know what your type is.”

“My world?”

“Behind the VIP tents? Where all the rich people hang? You can’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Obviously, I wasn’t making myself clear. “I’m not rich, Finn, just connected. I work a normal job, and when I said you weren’t my type, I didn’t mean it as an insult but as a compliment. I’m a very careful person. Predictable. You strike me as someone who is the complete opposite of that; yet for some reason, I’m having trouble looking at you without drooling.”

Finn blinked back his reply. I’d just provided him with probably the most honest, cringe-worthy explanation possible, and the minute the words left my mouth I regretted them. I’d laid all my cards on the table for him to play whatever way he saw fit. I could only imagine what was running through his mind. Now that he knew I was an easy mark, would he take advantage of my weakness for his own benefit?

“Sorry, but if you’re predictable, then I’ve been hanging out with the wrong people all my life,” Finn said, grinning. “And since we’re being brutally honest with each other, even though we’ve known each other for a total of about an hour, I’ve spent the better part of the day chasing after you. And when I say that, I mean I’ve circled the entire festival twenty times. I wish you had just called me because it would have saved me so much exercise.”

“The way you came up to me panting makes me think you could use a little more cardio in your life,” I said, grinning. “And just so you know, my honesty comes from the alcohol. But even sober, I still thought you were a hot, greasy mess.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, rubbing his jaw with his fingers. “I think. And surprised.”

“Why does it surprise you?”

“Well, you’re just…” Finn looked me up and down, as if something about me genuinely intrigued him. He was about to finish his sentence when the waitress brought our drinks. He paid, never taking his eyes off me. And when she left he completed the thought: “fierce.”

I nearly fell from my chair. Of all the words to choose, Finn picked that one. I felt a churning of emotion well up deep within my belly. My hand rested on my heart for a split second before I cleared my throat and replied. “Why did you use that word?”

He could clearly see my emotion and attempted to backtrack. “Did I say something wrong? I meant it as a compliment.”

“I know.” I smiled at him. “I just… I like it. Thank you.”

Finn relaxed upon seeing my smile, but he was still obviously confused by my reaction. How could I explain to him that I’d been called ‘fierce’ before, during a time in my life when I felt anything but?

He raised his glass. “Here’s to a girl with connections.”

“And to a guy who knows how to get grease stains off his jeans… oh, and to good porta-potty sex.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, as he clunked his plastic against mine and grinned. I smiled back. I was, once again, feeling the heat.

Needing a distraction, I asked, “So, did you have fun today?”

“‘Fun’ is not the right word for what I’ve been having.” He held up his wristband. “Do you have any idea what this baby does?”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“It’s like I’ve spent the day in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, and I have a storage unit filled with gold to prove it.”

“Wow, you have been busy.”

“You have no idea.”

Another long staring session ensued. We were saying more without words than we were saying with.

Finn cleared his voice. “So do you really have a normal job?”

“I’m a nurse.”

“A nurse? Really?”

“Not as glamorous as you hoped, I’m sure.”

“Well, you know, it’s just another piece of the puzzle that is you.”

“Says the guy who came to a music festival alone. What’s up with that?”

“I was going to go with my roommate, Richie, but he decided to become a prostitute last minute and totally flaked on me.”

“A prostitute?” I asked, choking back a laugh.

“That’s right,” he grinned, choosing not to elaborate. “Damn, I wish my nurses looked like you. I might have been more inclined to stay in the hospital.”

Instantly, my stomach knotted. Was he sick?

Finn, catching the worried expression on my face, rushed to explain. “Oh, no, nothing like that, thank god. I have kind of a dangerous job, and get hurt more than I probably should.”

“What do you do?”

“Guess.” He grinned, leaning back. His strapping chest was distracting my thinking process. Would he mind if I just did a quick little cop-a-feel under that shirt of his? Focus, Emma… on his profession.

“You’re a cop.”

“No.”

“A firefighter?”

“No.”

“Okay, wait, let me think. I got it. You’re a mechanic.”

“If I was a mechanic, I wouldn’t have needed a ride this morning. And besides, how is being a mechanic dangerous?”

“I don’t know, I guess you could get crushed under a car or something?”

“Actually, now you’re getting warmer.”

“You have a job where you get crushed under cars?” I asked, confused.

“No, but I get hit by them… for a living.”

“You’re a stuntman.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” he said, confirming my guess.

“You’re joking?”

“Afraid not.”

Rarely did people surprise me. Finn was the exception to that rule. “I’ve never met anyone who does that.”

“It’s a hard field to break into and even harder to find work once you’re in it.”

“I imagine you have to travel a lot.”

“Yeah. When I was first establishing myself, I was gone most of the time. Now it’s maybe fifty-fifty. I try to look for things in LA, though, since I hate living out of a suitcase all the time.”

“You don’t seem overly thrilled with your profession.”

Finn looked down at his drink. I saw the hesitation in his response. “Lately, I’ve been second guessing what I do. I’ve been thinking of getting out of it. The thing is, I’m an actor; or at least, that’s what I call myself. It’s just getting harder to find parts. I’m getting to the point now where I’m tired of the uncertainty. I want to move on from all of it, I think. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t. I’m a little indecisive, as you can tell.”

“What would you do otherwise?”

“Well, see, that’s the tricky part. I don’t know yet.”

“Have you been in any TV or movies I’ve seen?”

“That depends. How do you feel about gory slasher horror films?”

“Not a fan.”

“Then no. I haven’t been in anything you’ve seen.”

“And so instead of acting, you now basically get hurt for a living?”

“No, I keep actual actors from getting hurt, and try not to get myself killed in the process.”

“Have you ever been set on fire?”

“In training, but not on film. I’m agile, so my specialty is jumps, free running, aerial, that sort of thing.”

“How did you go from acting to being a stuntman?”

Finn shrugged, grinning. “Well, you know, it was between that and porn.”

Gulping back my surprise, I swallowed too fast and nearly choked on my drink. Finn had to hand me a napkin. “Let me guess, your roommate, the prostitute, is also an actor?”

Finn clapped for me. “Now you’re catching on.”

“So you’re telling me there are no other viable options out there for young actors other than to die a fiery death or sell yourselves to the highest bidder? Whatever happened to waiting tables?”

“Oh, I’ve been a waiter, don’t you worry, but I was looking for a more rewarding career.”

“Uh huh, I can see where being a porn star would be incredibly fulfilling.”

“That’s what I was thinking – sort of a win-win,” he teased. “But then I found out that the porn flicks I was being offered had no females in them, and I wasn’t quite desperate enough for that. So now I’m jumping between buildings and getting hit by cars. So, much better.”

If I could hand-pick a more opposite person from myself, Finn would be the one. I shook my head in awe. “You’re crazy. Have you always been a daredevil?”

“Yeah, I like adventure. I take it you don’t?”

“No, I don’t have a death wish.”

“Neither do I. But living my life without some heart-pounding excitement would be too boring for words.”

Raising my hand, I confessed. “That’s me.”

“I don’t believe that. You might just be the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

I smiled and shrugged. “Believe what you will.”

Finn suddenly stood up. “Come on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“On an adventure… and bring your drink.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me from my chair.

“I don’t like adventure.”

“Only because you’ve never experienced Finn-related adventure.”

The confident smile on his face swayed me to trust him. Why not? I’d already laid my life on the line for him multiple times today, and he hadn’t killed me yet. I followed him through the fairgrounds, my heart pounding in anticipation. For whatever reason, I felt wildly alive as we strolled through the fairgrounds hand in hand like an actual couple. I was surprised at how comfortable I was with the whole thing. I’d spent my life avoiding such situations, but now I couldn’t remember why. This felt amazing.

Finn stopped and pointed to a spot under a stage. “See that, under there?”

“Yes.”

“I took a nap down there earlier.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yep. There was no concert at the time, so I just hopped the fence and slept for an hour. Totally relaxing… until the music started. I jumped up so quick I hit my head.”

I laughed at his antics. Finn’s cozy approach to life both shocked and enticed me. I couldn’t imagine not having a plan and just winging it. Where was he sleeping tonight? Did he have something booked? I couldn’t ask him because then he’d think I was giving him an invitation to my place, and if there was one thing I was certain of, I could not be alone with this man overnight. Somehow I just knew if I slept with him, it would be all over. I’d fall hard, and I couldn’t do that to my heart.

I wasn’t even paying attention to where we were until I looked up to find us standing below the giant Ferris wheel.

“Oh, no, Finn. I don’t like heights.”

“You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“What if there’s a mechanical malfunction or an earthquake… or… or even an alien invasion? You can’t possibly promise me that I’ll be safe.”

Instead of laughing at my insecurities, as I’d expected him to, Finn wrapped his arms around me. I was shocked at the tenderness. “No, you’re right, I can’t promise an alien nation won’t invade while we’re on the ride, but since when have there ever been guarantees in life? Little green men could also rain terror down upon you while asleep in your bed. There’s no reward without risk. And I have to point out, Emma, a Ferris wheel is about as low risk as you’re going to get. How’s this? I promise that if a rogue wave materializes in the desert or a meteorite decides to choose this exact spot to obliterate, I will die first, protecting you with my life.”

I swallowed hard and swayed a little in his arms. It was the most sincere promise a man had ever made to me. Granted, hook-up guys rarely felt a need to offer up safety and security to a woman they didn’t plan on ever seeing again. I could feel my resistance wavering after Finn’s heartfelt sales pitch. On any other day, with any other person, such a decision would seem obvious, but today was no ordinary day. I’d broken more self-imposed rules in the last twelve hours than I had in the past ten years of my sedentary life. Finn made me want to take that step out of my comfort zone. He represented danger and risk, two things I thought I never wanted back in my life, but maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I needed that to feel alive. Staying safe and cocooned in my own little world hadn’t made me happy, so what’s to say Finn’s sloppy approach to life didn’t have some merit?

Sensing my apprehension, he grabbed my shoulders and retracted the offer. “Hey, we don’t have to do this. I didn’t realize how scared you were.”

No reward without risk – that’s what he’d said, and the elation I’d experienced today seemed to prove the point. Why was I always holding back? Where was that adventurous girl from so many years go? Could it be that she still lived inside me, just waiting for the right trigger to show her rebellious face?

“No, I trust you,” I said. And strangely enough, I did.

10

Emma, 2004: The Un-Supporting Characters

Collapsed in exhaustion on the living room sofa, I struggled to keep my eyes open and focused on my homework assignment. My notebook was lying on Grace’s limp head. As she’d insisted on using my lap as a pillow, I insisted on using her head as a desk. Quinn was also out cold, nestled up next to me with his head back, a soft whistling sound emanating from his lips with every breath. Thank god they were finally napping. Who knew kids could have this much energy? No wonder Mom never had time for matching dinner plates.

The heat radiating off my sibling’s bodies warmed me, and I reached down and ran my fingers through Grace’s silky hair. Since that day when Jake went missing – the day I’d yanked on her mane and been so mean to her – I’d used those soft strands as almost a security blanket, mindlessly running my fingers through them whenever sadness threatened to derail me.

It had been nearly a month now without him… a month of sickening despair. The house had taken on an eerie feel, and even though it was still filled with people, the emptiness was palpable. Thankfully, the kids kept me so busy that I had little downtime to really think about the heavy void, which was the way I wanted it.

Everyone had their own way of dealing with their loss and grief. Mom slept, Dad wandered, Keith smoked pot, Kyle played with knives, and I pretended like Jake didn’t exist. That was my way of coping… well, that and stroking Grace’s glossy hair.

I thought about Keith and tried to telepathically reach him.

Come home.

Since neither one of us had clairvoyant capabilities, I knew my brainpower messaging would not reach him. Keith just didn’t care anymore. And when he would sporadically grace us with his presence, more often than not he was impaired. The red, bloodshot eyes and the skunky smell radiating from his dirty clothes were a telltale sign of his descent into a world I did not understand. Keith was eighteen now, having ‘celebrated’ his birthday a few days after Jake’s disappearance, and although he was a senior in high school, he was only occasionally showing up for classes. The few adults still committed to his attendance – the school staff – seemed reluctant to push our parents past their very fragile breaking point.

I frowned. How could Keith just leave me hanging? This was supposed to be a shared challenge. In fact, when Aunt Mel left, he’d promised her, and me, that he would be there for us. He’d lied. As soon as she was gone, so was he. But I needed him, now more than ever. His presence at home made things bearable. When he wasn’t high, Keith was an incredible guy. So sweet, funny, and energetic, he’d always been the shining star of the family, and his personality was contagious.

I couldn’t really pinpoint when Keith got derailed from the straight and narrow track, but certainly it was well before Jake’s disappearance. Insecurities and the lack of a solid peer group pushed Keith toward a questionable faction of the school population. His was a slow and steady decline.

Before the kidnapping, Keith had been far from a model teenager, but at least he’d had our parents fighting to keep his unhealthy habits in check. Now, left to his own devices, Keith was spiraling out of control. “I can’t deal with this shit” were the last words he’d said to me, two days ago before disappearing into the night. As if I were so much more equipped to run a household and keep our little siblings alive! If anything, I was the least qualified person for the job.

Becoming a mother figure at sixteen hadn’t been on my to-do list, yet when Grace and Quinn were dropped in my lap, I, unlike Keith, had stepped up to the challenge. What was the alternative – let them starve, both physically and emotionally? Quinn and Grace were like baby birds that had been booted from the nest too soon. Someone had to teach them to fly.

I tried to fill the void left by my parents’ abandonment, but I was a piss poor substitute. The amazing thing about children, I found, was that they were resilient; adapting as a way of survival, I supposed. And so they acclimated to my way of doing things with very little resistance. Perhaps they were just happy someone was doing something.

The phone rang, and I gently moved Quinn in order to reach the cordless receiver. “Hello?”

“Emma? It’s me, Keith.”

Well, what do you know; maybe we were telepathic after all.

“I need your help. Can you pick me up at Hawthorne Park, by the pond?”

“I’m watching the kids. Where’s your car?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I’m not sure, Emma. What do you want me to say?”

“Okay, that’s…weird,” I mumbled under my breath. Who forgot where their car was parked? “What’s going on, Keith?”

“I just… I need you. Can you come?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Something wasn’t right. I didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know that.

“Of course I’ll come.”

Keith was sitting on a bench by the pond. I could see him looking out over the water as I pulled up. With his shoulders hunched over and his hands folded into his lap, Keith was the loneliest of figures. I turned off the engine and stared at him. If only I could get through to him. Would he even listen? My body shook, and the familiar prickling of unbearable sadness began weighing me down once more. When all was said and done, I wondered if I’d have any brothers left.

Slowly, I crossed the grass and took a seat beside Keith. He lifted his head, and I gasped in shock when I got a full view of his beaten face. The skin around his right eye was purple and swollen to twice its size. I barely recognized him under all the bruises and dried blood.

“What happened?” I asked, touching his cheek as I tried to get a better look.

“Life.”

“Keith?” He owed me something more concrete.

“I had an outstanding balance.”

“Your dealer?”

“What do you think?”

There was an edge to his voice that pissed me off. He’d asked me to come, so he didn’t have the right to those condescending replies.

“How much do you owe?”

“Enough that this is going to happen again in three days if I don’t come up with the cash.”

“How much?”

“$400.”

“Do they have your car?”

“I don’t think so. I was out of it last night. I left it somewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

Not knowing how to reply, I just sat quietly looking out over the water. A pair of ducks happily floated by, and I closed my eyes to imagine the feeling of being so content and carefree. It had been a very long time.

“If I get you the money, will you come home?” I asked.

No reply.

“Keith?”

He sighed heavily, and I felt his body tremble beside me. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can. It’s where you belong.”

“It’s like being in a funeral home. I can’t deal.”

My blood boiled as I fought the spiteful words trying to push their way out. “You think I can deal?”

Keith was quiet for a moment, and then met my eyes and said, “You’re fierce, Emma. Always have been. I wish I were strong like you. There’s no challenge you can’t face.”

“You think I’m strong?” I laughed, but it came out a bitter scoff. “I’m barely holding it together, Keith.”

“But my point is, you are holding it together… the only one of us who is. Fierce… that’s what you are. Never forget that.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking.”

“I’m giving you a compliment.”

“No, you’re talking like you’ve already given up. And you’re making excuses.”

“No, I’m stating facts. You guys are better off without me.”

“Like we’re better off without Jake?”

Keith’s face fell, guilt awash in his horrified expression. Good – that was the reaction I’d been going for. How dare he suggest such things? We were family, and he hadn’t just abandoned them but me as well. Keith and I had always been incredibly close, and although it wasn’t the same type of loss I’d experienced with Jake, Keith’s absence was still a loss, and I couldn’t help but fling a little of my frustration into his face. But instead of having the desired effect, my brother covered his eyes with his palms and let the tears flow freely.

My regret was instant, and I too began to cry. Keith put his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder. Life wasn’t supposed to be so hard. I wished I were a duck.

“You have a choice,” I whispered.

Keith took his arm back and dropped his head into his hands again. His body shook. My words continued to hurt him, but they had to be spoken. He had to hear them.

“You have a choice to be home, Keith, to be safe. You have a choice to sleep in your own bed. But instead, you’re out every night. You drink, you smoke, you do god knows what else. You should be home, with us… because you can be.”

“No, I can’t, Em,” Keith said, his voice cracking.

“Why? Are you that selfish that you’d rather be out having fun than being home and suffering right alongside the rest of us?”

“You don’t think I’m suffering?” His voice trembled in anger.

“It sure doesn’t look that way. You’re needed at home. Have you seen Kyle lately? He’s barely surviving. You could help him; but you won’t because all you think about is yourself.”

“Trust me, Emma, there’s nothing you could say to me that I haven’t already said to myself. I hate who I am. I hate that I can’t be there for you and the others. I hate that some sicko perv has my brother. And I hate that I’m so wasted that I can’t remember where I parked my fucking car.”

“Then stop. Just stop all of this and come home.”

“I can’t come home.”

“Why?”

“Because Jake’s not there.”

* * *

Keith did come home… but not by choice. Just after climbing into the car, his heavily beaten eyelids drooped and his weighty head lolled backward in exhaustion. He was snoring in a matter of minutes. I had to smile. With the whole head tilt thing, Keith slept just like Quinn.

After pulling into the driveway, I left him to sleep while I went in search of help. At this point I’d take anyone, but my father was preferred. His constant wandering had come to an end about a week ago, as if he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his lost son would not be found through sheer love and determination.

“Dad?” I said, stopping suddenly. I hadn’t expected to find him so easily. My father was slumped over the kitchen table, searching through hotline tips. He looked up with tired eyes and gave me a weary smile.

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s my girl?”

Not good. Not good at all. Water pooled in my eyes, and forgetting all about Keith and his vast issues, I threw myself into my father’s arms, determined to get myself a little loving while the opportunity presented itself. It might very well have been the first time he’d acknowledged me since this whole nightmare began. Dad patted my back and whispered soothing words into my ear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

We stayed there holding each other for a long time before I remembered the reason for seeking him out in the first place. Standing back up, I wiped the tears away and said, “Keith’s passed out in the car.”

My father jumped to action, pulling his son into the house and forcing him onto a barstool in order to perform first aid. I served as the nurse, running around and gathering supplies. Together, my dad and I patched Keith back together and then helped him into bed, where he slept for what seemed like days.

Mom and Kyle stayed isolated, but after the whole incident with the knife, my mother had somewhat snapped out of her despondent state and stayed by his side most of the time now. While Dad kept vigil over Keith, I continued to care for the kids. Finally things were moving – if not forward, at least sideways. And sideways wasn’t backwards, so it was better than where we’d come from. I could live with sideways.

11

Finn: A Great Trier

Emma’s inner conflict hadn’t escaped me. Her face was a patchwork of indecision as she contemplated her choices. I hadn’t intended for this to be a major life decision and felt somewhat bad for even suggesting it at all. Just because I was exceedingly comfortable with heights, and an assortment of other daring acts, didn’t mean everyone else was. Although, to be fair, I hardly considered a securely attached wheel spinning around on its axis to be death defying. I mean, on a scale from one to dangerous, this was just below eating a big meal before jumping into the deep end of a pool.

Still, for a woman who seemed to analyze every decision by level of peril, Emma’s sudden decision to accept my offer based solely on the fact that she trusted me blew my mind. Why me? Why now? What was it about me that made her want to conquer a lifelong fear? I’d always dreamed big, but this girl felt like reaching for the stars. I wanted to show her everything, open her eyes to a new and adventurous world. What the hell was I saying? I barely even knew her, and I was already planning our damn future? Maybe there was something to that whole theory of knowing instantly – because whatever it was that I was feeling for Emma was more than just lust and excitement. She just felt like the ‘something more’ I’d been waiting for.

Squeezing her hand, I walked us up to the operator. Flashing our wristbands, we were ushered to a separate line. Emma eyed me in surprise.

“Another perk I figured out earlier today. Free rides.”

“Wow, where did you find the time?”

“I skipped formal meals and just ate off the ground.”

Emma nudged me, smiling. “It’s a wonder you haven’t come down with E. coli, or at the very least, worms.”

“You laugh now, but mark my words, Emma, I’ll have you eating off the floor in no time.”

Yeah, I knew the chances of that were be about as good as Shelby never hitting me up for money again. The ten-minute wait was long enough to weaken Emma’s resolve, so I stayed firmly by her side, chatting easily with her as I attempted to calm her tattered nerves. Her vulnerability intrigued me. This wasn’t the same determined woman who’d turned me down at the diner or the same nit-picky storm trooper who’d blasted her way through the ticket booth to secure me a wristband. No, I was slowly realizing that Emma was a hodgepodge of fascinating contradictions, and learning everything I could about her was quickly becoming my top priority.

Our carriage arrived and I guided her to the basket, holding down the step to keep it from swinging out. I figured if Emma got a taste of the rocking before she was securely seated, it would be the end of her little exercise in self-discovery. Full disclosure seemed the way to go with this woman.

“Hold on tight. When I get in, it’s going to sway.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, gripping the sides.

As predicted, the cart swung with the addition of my weight. Startled, Emma’s legs splayed out, and the tops of her sandaled toes wedged against the inner wall of the carriage. With her wearing a flowing dress and assuming the Pap smear position, I could see all the way to her pink panties – and let me tell you, it was a sight for sore eyes, not only for myself but for the lascivious carnival roadie salivating beside me. After I gave him a dig in the ribs, the ride operator shrugged his seasoned shoulders and averted his ogling eyes.

“Maybe just move that foot an inch, so I can get in,” I suggested. “You know, just in case I need to save you.”

“Oh, right… that pesky alien invasion.” She moved her leg barely an inch to accommodate me, but I needed a little more than that as I placed my hands on either side of the cart and carefully stepped in, nearly straddling her in the process. The carriage immediately rocked back and forth, and Emma emitted a freakish yelp, grabbing me around the waist and causing me to lose my balance. Falling on top of her, we were all arms and legs and boners, on my part at least. Damn the pink panties at precisely the wrong time. Untangling, I rolled to the side and took the seat next to her.

We looked at each other in surprise and then burst into laughter.

“Jesus, Finn, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“I was trying to be careful so I wouldn’t scare you.”

“Did I look scared?”

“Well, you have the whole ‘you use a sponge’ look going on, so yeah.”

“If I’d known you needed so much space, I would have moved over. I just thought you were a little more nimble than that. How was I to know I’d get on a ride with the only stuntman in the world who has shitty balance?”

“I don’t have shitty balance. I walk tightropes! But when a woman is spread eagle in front of me, I lose concentration. Oh, and, uh, you might want to close your legs,” I said, flicking my head in the direction of the carnie and his slobbering mouth, “to give him a little less to fantasize about tonight.”

“Oh, crap. Was he looking up my dress?”

“Your dress was already up. He was just looking.”

“Damn, I thought it was breezy,” she said, not looking the least bit embarrassed as she calmly smoothed the fabric over her thighs and disengaged her feet from the ride’s walls. To my surprise, instead of resting them on the bottom of the carriage, she crossed her legs seductively and then rested them over my own. “Now you are in charge of protecting my virtue.”

My breath quickened at the sight of her shapely legs and smooth, tanned skin so near my rattled crotch. I’d always been a sucker for long legs, but Emma’s were wearing me down quicker than usual. “If virtue is the goal, I’m not sure I’m the right man for the job.”

The ride jerked as it began to move, and Emma’s sexy teasing came to an abrupt end. Her legs disengaged, and she planted her feet firmly together on the floor of the carriage. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I will be. Just give me a second.”

Good for her. She was really conquering her fears. I smiled proudly at my daredevil-in-training, complimenting myself on a job well done. See, with some people, all it took was a little patience. But then the carriage swung forward… and all hell broke loose. Emma emitted a sound so otherworldly that I actually looked around nervously just to make sure her predicted alien invasion hadn’t become a reality. She burrowed into me, on my bad side, and I struggled to stay composed. My ribs shrieked as her terror heightened. Suddenly my feet were the ones wedged up against the sides of the carriage. Her grip tightened at every stop and start.

“What’s happening?” her muffled voice called out from somewhere inside the hallows of my chest, where her head was now securely buried.

“Nothing,” I said, puffing the breath I’d been holding out. “They’re just loading more people. Open your eyes. You have to see this.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I promise nothing bad will happen. Open your eyes, Emma.”

Cautiously, she disengaged from my chest and opened them. Her hair was a rumpled mess as she scanned the horizon with wonder.

“Oh, wow.” She blinked in the awe-inspiring sight. “I mean, just wow.”

“See? I told you,” I said, filled with pride. “Cool, right?”

“It’s like we’re in the middle of nowhere. Lights for miles and then darkness as far as the eye can see.”

“I know. The only downside is it makes us easier for the aliens to spot.”

“Is it weird I was thinking the same thing?”

She peered at me through her dark lashes, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. I swallowed hard, the pain suddenly gone but replaced by another sort of ache. Clearing my head enough to be functional, I pointed out some of the various sights, and surprisingly, Emma slowly began to relax, even grabbing my hand and wrapping it around her. Following her lead, my other hand met in the middle and before I knew it, Emma was leaning into me, my arms folded over her in a comfortable embrace. A contented smile had spread across her face.

“Are you smiling?”

“I am. Thank you, Finn. This… this is amazing.”

I pulled her tighter into me, and Emma tipped her head up, gazing at me with those trusting eyes. I leaned down and our lips met halfway, grazing and tender yet blazing all the same. Her mouth opened for me, and I took advantage of her generous proposal. Our tongues met briefly and I clutched her back, pulling her in closer. Emma groaned. It was a hollow sound as my mouth was now sealed firmly over hers, and our tongues and lips were working feverishly. She slid her fingers up my arms and set me on fire with her heat.

The Ferris wheel continued to spin, but neither Emma nor I were interested in the view any longer. Her legs had once again opened, offering me up the spot between them. I sank down over her, wedged myself between them, all but mounting her in the tiny confines of the basket. Emma was as wildly out of control as I was. She wrapped her arms around my back and raked her fingernails up. I shuddered, pushing her back against the seat, my hand snaking its way between her legs. She bit down on her lower lip and whimpered, covering my hand with her own and encouraging me further.

Suddenly a volley of whistles and cheers went up, and I pulled myself from her mouth to see that the ride had come to a full and complete stop… in front of a waiting crowd of hundreds. Emma pushed me off her and sat up, covering her face with her hand in embarrassment.

“Are you, uh, did you want another go-round?” the roadie asked, smirking. I swear I saw him adjust his dick at the exact moment I was rearranging my own.

I looked to Emma to get her opinion on the second ride opportunity. Certainly, I was up for another spin, but the stormy look in her eyes told me we were done with the Ferris wheel for the night.

“Don’t be embarrassed. No one cares,” I whispered in her ear.

“Right, like no one cared about the porta-potty couple,” she said through gritted teeth.

“In that case,” I said, standing up and offering my hand to her, “we might as well own it.”

Emma looked up and, to my surprise, her momentary hesitation had been replaced by something else… defiance. A wicked smile transformed her face as her eyes twinkled with the same amusement as mine. Again a gulp traveled up my bone-dry throat.

“America the beautiful,” she said, then put her hand in mine and I pulled her to me. Wrapping my arm around her back, I planted a heated kiss squarely on those luscious lips of hers. The crowd went wild. This just might be my most acclaimed performance.

After taking our bows and exiting the carriage, Emma and I wandered around the carnival a bit longer. Booths were beginning to shut down as they prepared for closing. I followed her gaze to the row of giant stuffed dogs with floppy ears hanging on the top rafters of a prize booth.

“You want it?” I asked.

“What? The dog? No,” she said, waving me off as she crinkled her nose and acted as if what I’d asked was nothing more than crazy talk. But her body language told another story.

“You do!” I laughed. “You want the dog.”

Her eyes lit up with the fun of the moment. “Okay, fine. I want the dog. I’ve never had a guy win me a prize before. When I was a teenager, I always thought it was so romantic.”

“Step aside, woman. Your stupid teenage daydream is about to come true.”

Plopping down the cash, I confidently picked up the basketball and took my first shot… then a second and a third. I quickly discovered the ball was bigger than the misshapen rim, and one shot after another just skidded off the edge.

“I think you aim it for the hole,” Emma said, snickering.

“The hole, you say?” I slapped my hand to my forehead in an ‘aw, shucks’ display. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Plopping the next wad of cash down, I discovered a disturbing pattern forming. Not only were none of my shots dropping, but I was quickly running out of cash to make this corny dream of Emma’s a reality.

“Dude,” I whispered to the booth attendant. “How much for the dog?”

“Not for sale. Sorry. I could lose my job.”

“Finn,” Emma grabbed my arm. “It’s no big deal really.”

“No. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

“We close in ten minutes,” the guy added helpfully.

“I’ll stay here for ten minutes, then.”

Taking pity on me, the attendant bent down and grabbed a small stuffed animal out from under the counter.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “For trying.”

Uh-huh, that was the way to impress the lady – a participation trophy.

I stared down at the stuffed animal. It was one of those cheap, made-in-China ones with no squish value at all. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the animal I’d been given was in the middle stages of some freakish evolutionary change.

“What kind of animal is this?”

“Does it matter?” the attendant shrugged. “It’s the best you’re going to get.”

“True,” I nodded, and then bowed to Emma and handed her the crossbred shark-turtle. “For the lady.”

“Oh, Finn,” she gushed. “It’s just what I’ve always wanted. A… um… is that a fin coming out of the shell?”

“Either that or a dick,” I said, examining the animal more closely. “I honestly don’t even know which way is up. Are those eyes or balls?”

“Well, you know even evolution has its faults,” she said, playing along with the insanity. “I shall name my genitalia-enhanced shark-turtle “Darwin,” and I will cherish it forever. Thank you, Finn.”

As my reward for being a good ‘trier,’ Emma wrapped her fingers around the back of my head and pulled me into her lips – and just like that, we were at it again. Pushing her back against the booth, my hands were all over her and she was just as enthusiastic a partner.

“Um,” the attendant uttered as the booth shook.

I swiveled one eye toward him, the most I was willing to give, seeing as my tongue was down a smokin’ chick’s throat. But then Emma grabbed my ass, and I lost track of the dude altogether.

“Uh…guys,” he tried again. My eye swiveled around once more, only to see the remorse filled in his. Certainly men understood the importance of moments like these, and we did our best to support our brothers. “I’m closing. Can you, uh, take it somewhere else?”

Flipping him a thumbs up, I hooked my arm around Emma’s waist and picked her up. I walked us away from the booth and we kissed where we stood, her long legs wrapped around me. She was hotter than I ever thought possible, and I sincerely hoped our evening was just getting started.

Setting her back on her feet, our lips were still working furiously when I panted into her open mouth, “You really like the shark-turtle, don’t you?”

“So much,” she moaned back.

“Imagine what the dog would have got me.”

* * *

We walked back toward the entrance hand in hand as Emma used the other one to text her friends. When she finished, she looked up at me apologetically.

“The girls want to make sure you’re not holding me hostage. They’re demanding a selfie.”

I wrapped my arm around her and we smiled up at the camera. After she snapped the picture, we both approved of it before sending it off.

“Can I get a copy too?” I asked, both of us fully aware that if she agreed, I’d have her number, and it would be a game changer.

Emma considered my request for a moment before she nodded and sent it my way. I eagerly awaited its arrival, and when it came through, I sighed in relief. Now I had a fighting chance.

“I need to go. They’re waiting for me.”

“Are you sure you have to go right now?” I asked. “I was hoping to prove to you that I have better aim than you’re giving me credit for.”

“Yeah, I know what you were hoping for.”

I grinned. What the hell did she expect?

Emma placed her hand on my chest and gazed into my eyes. “What am I going to do with you? Do you even have a place to stay?”

“I was going to try and find a patch of grass in the dirt.”

She laughed. “Of course you were. Who comes to a three-day festival with no place to stay?”

“Well, originally we were going to stay with friends of my roommate, but because, you know, he’s man-whoring his way through a wedding, I decided to use the truck as my hotel room… and we all know what happened there.”

Her phone buzzed and she checked it again. “I really have to go. Will you be all right?”

“You know me, I’m not afraid of a few grass stains. I’ve still got my salt shaker and spoon.”

“Oh, no. That won’t work. You need rubbing alcohol for grass stains.”

“Are you serious?” I whined. I had no idea cleaning could be so complicated. No wonder all my clothes had marks.

“I’m more worried about rattlesnakes, Finn. You’re in the desert.”

“I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. Do you have plans tomorrow? Maybe we can meet somewhere.”

Or better yet, change your damn mind and let me come home with you.

“I’m not sure yet. Can I call you?”

“Will you?” I challenged, dragging her to me again and lowering my lips to hers. She pushed up against me and we were all over each other once more. Her hand slid up the back of my shirt, so mine went up her dress. Our PDA moments today were off the hook. She was clearly as into me as I was to her, so why the hell was I not getting an invitation back to her place? We stayed in our sizzling embrace, making out in the middle of the walkway. I half expected another standing ovation.

“I have to go,” she said, winded.

“Okay,” I answered, trying hard to keep the disappointment from my voice. I bent down for one last kiss. If she was leaving, I wanted her to miss me.

“Finn?” She puffed out a breath.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay….”

My face brightened. She was inviting me over. Yes. Hallelujah!

“…in my car,” she finished.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit.

“Your car?” I asked, deflated.

“I know, it’s not what you were hoping for, but I can’t invite you to my room. I’m sorry.”

Well, it wasn’t a warm bed and a hot chick, but the car was my best option yet, so I took it. Instead of sharing with her friends, Emma and I took our own Uber back to her place. I was getting the distinct impression that she was trying to keep me separate from whoever was staying at that hotel with her. Did she have some guy back there? I didn’t mind a little healthy competition, and I certainly wasn’t afraid to fight for what I wanted, but the idea of her having someone else on the side really bothered me. Was this someone kissing her like I had? And, more importantly, could he hit the damn hole at the basketball booth and win her the floppy-eared dog?

12

Emma, Present Day: Feeling the Chill

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, hitting the unlock button on my car, which emitted a chirping signal.

“Between this and a rattlesnake bite?” Finn replied, nodding. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He jogged around to the passenger side and opened the door, not acting the least bit concerned about his comfort, or lack thereof. I had a moment of wavering. How could I make him stay out here when I had a perfectly good couch in my hotel room? And bed. Yeah, that was why. If the last two hours were any indication, there would be no way to keep my hands off him if the two of us ended up in a room alone together.

“Check this shit out, Emma. It lays flat.”

Finn was busy taking the slow ride up and down on my chair. What was I worrying about? He was more than happy. This guy was as low maintenance as it got. I reached in and set my keys in the ignition, turning it on and holding the buttons down enough to crack all the windows. When I glanced over, Finn was smiling at me.

“You’re cracking the windows like I’m a dog?”

“It seems like the right thing to do. I don’t know, I don’t usually have guys sleeping in my car,” I said, shutting the door and speaking to him through the slit in the window.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to sleep in the car if you invited me up.”

“And I wouldn’t have you sleeping in my car if I could invite you up.”

Finn scrunched his brows. “Why can’t you?”

“Um, maybe because you’re a total stranger?”

“And yet you let this terrifying stranger shove his tongue down your throat all night,” he said, grinning.

I smiled. He had a point, and if him being a stranger was the real reason for my refusal, I’d probably be as confused as he was. But since I was harboring all kinds of other issues, it seemed easiest just to lie. “Good night, Finn.”

“Good night, Emma.”

As I turned back toward the hotel, I held the car keys over my shoulder and clicked the alarm button on.

“Wait – are you locking me in?”

His question projected through the small opening in the window.

“I’m protecting you.”

“Oh, because it really seems like you’re locking me in. Are you at least going to leave the keys?”

“And let you steal my car? I don’t think so.”

“Really, Emma?”

“What? If there’s an emergency, you can still open the doors.”

“And I’ll set off the alarm and get arrested. Remember you promised me earlier today that I wouldn’t go to jail. And what if I need to take a piss?”

“Stick it out the window.” I shrugged, trying to keep the amusement off my face.

“You didn’t give me a big enough crack.” Finn grinned.

“Oh, right.”

“You see where I was going with that?”

“Ah, yes.” I nodded, smiling. “The big dick reference.”

“Just say the word, and all this could be yours,” he said holding his arms to the side.

I pushed the key through the crack. “If you steal my ride, I’ll hunt you down.”

* * *

I missed him. How weird was that? A chill rattled my body, and as I went to turn down the air conditioner, I glanced around the room at all the nothingness. Precision tucked sheets, perfectly fluffed pillows, and bleach-white towels double-layered on the rack. Quiet, cold, uninviting. When I’d checked in earlier in the day, I hadn’t noticed its anemic frostiness, but now it was glaringly obvious… this room was as sterile and rigid as I was. How had I become so bland? I never wanted this. When I’d made the decision all those years ago to live my life alone, it didn’t mean I had to bundle myself up into a box and stop feeling. A well of regret bubbled up as sadness enveloped me. Why was I like this? When had the color faded from my world? And what had changed since I’d walked through these doors earlier in the day?

The tiniest little spark had ignited my spirit. It would be easy to say it was Finn who’d awakened me, and in a way he had, but when it came right down to it, I gave the credit to a sparkling, spinning wheel in the sky. As stupid as it sounded, that moment, suspended high above the ground in a rickety basket with the arms of a patient man wrapped around me… I’d seen the light. Sure, I’d been afraid – petrified, even – but that wasn’t the only emotion I’d felt. The pounding heart, the thrill… I felt alive, really, truly alive for the first time since caution had blanketed my potential all those years ago.

Still, I knew my limit, and Finn, with all his sweet, sexy charm, was it. He was the affable guy I avoided at all costs, and for good reason. I could already feel the difference with him and not just on a physical level. Our chemistry was undeniably electric, but that wasn’t what concerned me. No, it was the fact that after only a few hours of knowing him, I’d inexplicably introduced Finn to my real self, flaws and all. And he hadn’t shied away. He even seemed to welcome my quirks. How was that possible? And why was I suddenly feeling so cold and alone without him?

Maybe I should invite him up. It seemed stupid for him to be sleeping in my car when I had a perfectly good couch to crash on. I could control my desires. I’d been doing it all my life. Except Finn radiated heat… hot, sweaty heat. And although I knew he could warm me up, I also knew he had the ability to make me fall hard for him, and that terrified me. I absolutely could not lower my guard around him. No sex with Finn. Ever.

Peering out the window, I wondered what he was doing now. Was he too hot? Did he have enough air? Was he uncomfortable? I imagined those long legs of his folded up against the glove compartment. This was ridiculous. We were adults and could repress our lust for one night so Finn could at least be comfortable. I could just go down there and lay it out for him. Friends. That’s all I’d allow us to be. I’d be clear with my intentions, and let the choice be his of whether that was enough for him. That way he could have a good night’s sleep, I could remain a barren maiden, and the room would instantly warm with his welcome companionship.

With that in mind, I slipped on my shoes and headed back out the door.

Travis, one of Jake’s security guys, was sitting on a chair beside the elevator.

“You pulled the night shift, huh? That sucks,” I said. “You catch any runners?”

“Not yet. We had a few who tried the stairs, but they didn’t get far. Where are you going at two in the morning?”

The elevator door opened and I stepped in. “None of your business.” I smiled. “And I’ll be back soon, with a friend. You better not say a word.”

“You insult me.” Travis grinned. “I’m a professional.”

“I know that. I’m just asking you to be a quiet professional.”

The glowing light emanating from inside my car told me Finn was still awake. I crept up slowly, determined to give his heart a little extra excitement.

Bang. Bang. Bang. I transformed my voice into a menacing growl as I smacked my hands on the hood of the car.

“Holy shit!” Finn screamed, shooting up in his seat, his eyes awash in fear and confusion, and it took him a moment to recognize that it was me staring at him through the slats of the window.

“It’s just me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I laughed.

“Oh, my god! What the hell? That wasn’t funny. I almost shit my pants. I’m not kidding.”

Okay, that was a stupid move – the poor guy. But then my eyes narrowed in on the phone in his hand, or more precisely, the picture on the screen, and I lost all sympathy for him. Apparently Finn was looking at a picture of me: a close-up of my eyes, magnified in full color, from the selfie we’d taken.

“I was just… uh…,” Finn stumbled over his words as he desperately tried to find the power button. It was so easy under normal circumstances, but now, when his life seemed to depend on it, Finn hopelessly fumbled with his device until it finally, and mercifully, went black.

“Please tell me you weren’t rubbing it out in my car?” I asked. Grossly enough, I was almost flattered.

“No, I … no.”

“Relax, I’m kidding. Your hands are in the safe zone. What were you doing with my picture anyway?”

“I was looking at it. What do you think I was doing? And don’t say spanking the monkey because I wasn’t. If there is one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you don’t like messes – oh and you seem to be a bloodhound when it comes to germs and bodily functions, so the last thing I was going to do was jack off in your car.”

“Do you like my eyes, Finn?” I teased, batting my lashes for him.

“Shut up. Leave me alone. I haven’t forgiven you yet. You scared the living hell out of me,” he said, exhaling with relief.

“Sorry. Let me make it up to you?”

“Let me guess – you’re going to get me Super Bowl tickets?”

“No. But I probably could.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

We stared at one another in amusement.

“How would you like to trade your current digs for the comforts of my hotel couch?”

Grabbing his backpack, Finn was out the door in a split second and jogging for the entrance to the hotel.

“You coming?” he called over his shoulder. I laughed as I ran up to him and snagged my keys out of his hand. Finn playfully grabbed me and pulled me in tight to his body. It had been his signature move all night, and I was digging his aggressiveness. Breathing heavily, we took in one another with the same intensity that had surprised me earlier in the night. The two of us together were smoldering, and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. This was a different level of lust, something I’d never experienced. I had to be exceedingly careful tonight, or Finn would steal my heart right out from under me. I pushed him away.

“There are rules to my offer. Despite our little make-out sessions, Finn, I have no intention of sleeping with you, so if you come upstairs with me, tonight will be entirely platonic.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” He grinned.

“Finn?” I narrowed my eyes in warning.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He protested.

“All hopeful. I promise, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“Relax. I’ll take what I can get. I don’t mean to complain about your first offer, but your gearshift kept going up my ass.”

Laughing, I aimed my keys at the car and locked it.

“You’re not going to roll up the windows?”

“Nah, I need to air it out,” I replied, crinkling my nose in a display of disgust.

“Again, no jizz was expelled into your vehicle tonight. Let it go.”

“So sensitive. Anyway, I just want to reiterate once more, in case you weren’t listening the first time: when I said couch, I meant it. That golden ticket of yours did not include sex with the bearer. Are we clear?”

“Can I at least kiss you?” he asked, playfully hovering his lips over mine without actually making contact. A slight tremor fluttered through me. Finn’s presence was driving me wild. I was making a huge goddamn mistake.

“I think we need to keep it professional.”

“Professional?” Finn sized me up. “There’s not one damn thing that’s professional about what’s going on between us.”

“Do you want to go back to the car?” I asked, like a parent scolding a child.

“No.”

“Then behave.”

“Fine.”

He held on a moment longer before loosening his grip and allowing me to roll out of his embrace. I led him through the lobby and up the elevator.

“What floor?” he asked.

“The top.”

“Uh huh.” He nodded, grinning.

Travis looked up when the door opened, but I didn’t make eye contact. I knew he was smirking inside, so I didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. I saw Finn’s confused reaction to the security guy, and when we were far enough away, he asked, “What’s with the guy at the elevator?”

Not knowing how to respond, I just ignored the question.

“Do you know him?” Finn continued, pressing for answers.

“He’s security.”

“For what?”

“Musicians staying at the hotel, I guess.”

“On this floor?” Finn asked, looking around with interest. “Like who?”

“I don’t… you know, anyway, you can put your stuff down over there.”

He shot me a quizzical look, but didn’t press. Another question I’d left hanging. He had to be confused as hell. I needed to tell him about Jake, but for some reason, I’d always found it an awkward conversation to have. “Hi my name is Emma, and my brother is Jake McKallister… yes, THAT Jake McKallister.” Although at the same time, the longer I waited, the weirder it would get for the both of us.

“This is an expensive room on a nurse’s salary,” Finn said, fishing for clues. “Don’t you think?”

I shrugged.

“I mean, before Richie and I decided to camp out on his friend’s floor, we’d checked into renting a hotel room. One of these suite-style abodes was a couple grand for the weekend.”

“Oh, yeah? Huh.”

“Come on, Emma. What are you hiding from me?”

I ignored his question and pointed at the couch. “Your bed.”

“Awesome,” he nodded. “Would you mind if I showered first?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

13

Emma, 2004: Remember Me

The phone call came one day shy of five weeks. I was in the kitchen with Quinn and Grace when it happened. A few minutes before the ringing began, Mom had entered with Kyle. Although nowhere near the woman she was before the kidnapping, Mom was at least making an effort to show some emotion toward the rest of her children.

“Mommy!” Grace cried out, excitedly jumping from her chair and throwing herself onto our mother’s wilted body. My sister had been struggling for weeks now with the lack of attention. I did my best to cuddle and soothe her when the situation demanded, which honestly felt like a lot for a kid her age. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly the snuggly type to begin with, and I found myself pushing her away when she got too needy. Still, I wanted this so badly for Grace. All she craved was a little loving. My stomach tightened as the scene played out in front of me, and I silently prayed my mother would show her even the slightest bit of interest. To her credit, she bent down and hugged her youngest child.

“Oh, Mommy, Mommy, I missed you,” Grace said, cooing as she burrowed herself in deeper. Tears immediately filled my mother’s eyes. At least she seemed to understand her neglectful behavior was horribly impacting the lives of her other children. Grace lifted her arms, begging to be held, but that was where Mom drew the line.

“No,” she whispered. “Mommy doesn’t have the strength to pick you up right now. Go sit back down.”

I watched her pat Grace’s head and then turn away. Confusion and hurt skipped across my sister’s face, freezing my heart. I grabbed her hand and led her back to the table. By the time Grace climbed into her chair, tears were rolling down her face. I worried about my sister. How could she ever mature into a strong, secure woman without the support of the one person she needed most?

Quinn caught my eye and rolled his. I smiled sympathetically in his direction, and he groaned before dramatically burying his head in his outstretched arm. Six years old and he was quickly becoming as jaded as the rest of us. Mom glanced in his direction, studied him a moment, and visibly winced. I wondered if Quinn registered the visceral reaction his resemblance to Jake was inciting in the rest of us. Did he read it as something it wasn’t?

After Mom’s heartless declaration of Jake’s unconfirmed death, Quinn had changed, and although I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, the difference in him troubled me. It was as if he’d grown up overnight, and I feared his quick upbringing wasn’t going to serve him well in the future. Still, his newfound maturity certainly made things easier on me. Quinn was becoming more self-sufficient every day and seemed to understand that the new house rules did not favor him. He no longer sought attention, having perhaps learned that there was none to be had. The innocence that once shone bright on his adorable little face seemed shaken. It was clear to me that his stoic exterior was all for show. With Quinn, more than any of my other traumatized siblings, I cursed myself for not having the emotional maturity to soothe him. Maybe it was his resemblance to Jake that made me want to save him; or maybe, just maybe, he was the only one of us that could actually be saved.

“Is there any extra food for Kyle?” Mom asked.

Refusing to make eye contact with her, I nodded and grabbed the bag of bread I’d bought earlier at the store.

“I’ll make it,” she said, her hands trembling as she reached for the loaf.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” I answered in a clipped tone. The last thing I wanted was my mother’s help. It was too little, too late. I understood she was struggling, and I wanted to feel sympathy for her, but I just couldn’t. My anger toward her ran too deep.

“Emma, I got it,” she said, grazing my hand. I startled at her touch. It had been so long since I’d felt it. We stared at each other a moment, and the pain in her eyes gave me pause.

“Okay.” I stepped away and slumped back down in my chair beside Quinn and Grace.

While Kyle stared down at his bare feet, Mom wordlessly prepared his lunch. Gone was the wild, attention-seeking brat I loved to hate; in his place was a kid I hardly recognized. With his shaved head and oversized clothing, he looked more like the survivor of an apocalypse than a Southern California skater boy. Sadness seeped from his every pore. Looking at him reminded me of all we’d lost.

Mom motioned for Kyle to sit, and he obeyed robotically. She placed his lunch before him, and he just stared down at the food. “Eat,” Mom instructed, and again he followed orders. After Kyle’s excruciating cry for help last week, Mom had spent that entire night in his room with him. I didn’t know what was happening in there, but when the door finally opened the next day, a blurry-eyed Kyle made his way to the bathroom and washed the blood and filth off his depleted body. Mom shaved the remnants of his chopped hair away, patched him up, and forced food into his belly.

It was at least a start. Maybe Kyle could actually be revived. And maybe Mom was ready to resume being a mother. Hell, why stop there? It was my fantasy world, after all. Maybe Keith would get clean, and maybe Dad would stop his agonizing investigative work, and maybe, just maybe, Jake would find his way home. A lump formed in my throat. That was a lot of damn maybes.

Mom retreated to her perch at the kitchen island and leafed through a pathetically small folder of leads that the missing child hotline had brought in. The first two weeks after his disappearance, the folder had been brimming with possible clues; but now, over a month later, there was next to nothing left. The organized searches had been called off. The reporters were few and far between. Even the hotline had virtually dried up. People were beginning to forget about Jake, like he’d never existed. His disappearance, once a hot media topic throughout America, now generated nothing more than an occasional blurb in the local paper. To their credit, the FBI was still actively working the case, but the hordes of agents who’d once filled our home had been reduced to a trickle.

The ringing of the phone pierced through the steely quiet of the kitchen, startling Mom. She glanced up at me, as if I were expected to pick up the call, so I averted my eyes. I hated answering the phone now. It was always someone I didn’t want to talk to: intrusive reporters, nosy neighbors, or freeloaders attempting to benefit from our tragedy. Mom let it ring once, twice; and then, realizing that I wasn’t going to answer, walked over and scooped up the receiver.

“Hello?”

I could tell by the impatient look on her face that no one was on the other side. “Hello!” she repeated, and appeared ready to hang up when something caught her attention, and the expression on her face transformed. She held the phone out, possibly to check the number, and when she did, I could hear coughing on the other end of the line. Not a normal cough, like one would have with a common cold, but a wet, gurgling, coughing-up-a-lung-type cough.

Mom gripped the phone a little tighter. “Hello?” she asked again, only this time with a tiny morsel of empathy. “Who is this?”

A moment of what I assumed was silence on the other end of the line followed.

“Who is this?” she said in a shaky voice. “This isn’t funny.”

Suddenly her eyes rounded, her face turned white, and she swayed in place. For a second I though she might pass out. Something wasn’t right.

I rushed to her side. “Mom?”

She gripped my arm, her face twisted in shock. “Jake?”

Kyle immediately jumped from his chair. Clearly stunned by her question, we both exchanged identical gasps of astonishment.

“Jake? Please… if it’s you… please talk to me.” And then, as if some lever had been switched on in her brain, the mother I knew was suddenly back and ready to take action. She turned to me. “Go get your dad.”

Not wanting to leave her side, I said, “Quinn, you’re a fast runner. Go get Daddy.”

He took off as fast as his little legs would take him.

“Is it Jake?” Kyle asked, and his face shone with the first glimmer of hope in five weeks.

“I… I don’t…” she said, her voice filled with confusion, and then suddenly the grip on my arm tightened and she let out a short gasping sob. “Yes, baby, yes it’s me. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

We all stood transfixed, waiting for something, some confirmation. Dad, his face flushed, rushed into the kitchen with Quinn at his heels.

“Please, if this is a joke, it’s not funny,” Mom said in a trembling voice.

Dad’s wide, expectant eyes constricted to narrow slits and the optimism he’d run in here with was gone. We’d had these prank calls before. The sheer cruelty of some people never ceased to amaze me.

“Hang up! Don’t play this game. It’s just another sicko!” Dad blasted out the words as he slammed his fist on the counter.

“I don’t know, Scott. It sounds like him, but he’s talking like a child, calling me Mommy.”

“Then it’s not him.”

“But he says he’s been stabbed. He says he’s dying. You have to hear the way he’s coughing…” Mom stopped in mid-sentence. Something the caller said stunned her, and I watched her face crumple before me. “Of course I do, baby. Tell me where you are.”

“What did he say to you?” Dad asked.

“He asked if I remembered him. Why would he ask that?”

“Because he’s playing with you, Michelle.”

“Listen to this cough,” she said, as she pressed the speaker button on the phone. The sounds of violent, guttural coughing startled the whole lot of us. I’d never heard anything like it. Liquid bubbled up with every hack. Dad’s anger immediately switched to bewilderment.

“Who is this?” my father asked into the phone, but there was no response, just more coughing. “What nickname do you call Grandma’s dog?”

We all anxiously awaited the caller’s reply. The FBI had instructed us to have a question that only Jake would know. That way if he called, we could confirm his identity. We had used it once before to flush out a fake.

“I’m taking it off speaker mode,” Mom said frantically. “I can’t hear him.”

“Because he’s not answering, Michelle,” Dad replied, defeated. “It’s not him.”

“No. They usually hang up by now. Something’s not right. You can’t fake a cough like that,” Mom said, switching the phone off speaker and returning the receiver to her ear. “Honey, just tell me what you call Grandma’s dog, and then we can come get you. Just try to remember for me. Please.”

Anticipation hung heavy in the air, and since we could not hear what the caller was saying, we watched Mom’s reaction instead. Whoever was on the line was not answering, but he wasn’t hanging up either. Mom gripped the counter, her knuckles blanched a petrified white. Dad shook his head, angry and disillusioned. Then Mom’s eyes grew wide.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you. Say it again.”

A sob escaped my mother as her knees buckled and she slumped to the side, nearly taking me down with her. “He said it. He said ‘Roadkill’.”

* * *

The minute the nickname “Roadkill” left my brother’s mouth, everything changed. Jake’s kidnapping went from a relief mission to rescue operation in two seconds flat. While my father was on the phone with the FBI, my mother tried to coax as much information from Jake as possible. We’d been coached for such a moment, although realistically, none of us ever truly believed it possible.

Thankfully, tracking the origin of a phone call in the digital age was near instantaneous, and law enforcement was on their way to him in a matter of minutes. Securing Jake’s immediate safety now became top priority. From the little information my mother was able to gather from him, my brother was anything but safe… or sane, for that matter. Everyone but Jake seemed to understand that if he were caught on the phone by his knife-wielding abductor, he would not live long enough to be rescued.

“Jake, put the receiver down and go hide. The police are on the way.”

But Jake, confused and at times incoherent, wasn’t listening. He’d been on the line for nearly five minutes now, and every second he remained put him further at risk.

“Give me the phone,” Dad demanded.

“No.” Mom held the receiver tighter in her grip. “He needs me.”

“The guy stabbed him, Michelle. What do you think he’s going to do when he finds Jake on the phone? Give it to me.”

Mom reluctantly handed the phone over to him, and my father spoke forcefully into the mouthpiece, “Jake, this is Dad. The police are on the way. We are coming to get you. I want you to hang up the phone. Hang up and go hide. Do what I say! Right now!”

After a moment of silence, the line went dead… plunging us all, head first, into a whole new hell. Jake had all but come back from the dead, only to proclaim to our mother that he was dying. Why give him back just to take him again? Just to survive long enough to get to the hospital, Jake would have to overcome huge obstacles, not the least of which was a knife-wielding monster.

As soon as the connection was lost, Mom went ballistic, pounding on my dad’s chest, accusing him of abandoning Jake in his moment of need. For me, the room began to spin as nausea set in. No. Please. No more. I’d hit my limit and couldn’t stand another second of the strife and uncertainty.

I ran for my room, my sanctuary, the place where I could put distance between myself and the reality of the world in which I lived. Once inside my safe zone, I slid down the wall, covering my ears. I didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to know. They could find me when it was all over… when there was an answer. When they knew for sure whether my brother was alive or dead.

Unraveling, my breaths came out in strangled gasps. Please. Please. Please. We couldn’t get Jake back for the briefest of moments only to have him ripped away again. Please let him live. I was certain my brother would do his part. He’d proven his strength. He’d survived this long and could make it another few minutes. Don’t take him away. If Jake were allowed to live, everything would be okay, and we’d have our family back and be normal and happy again. If I could be granted that one wish, Jake’s life, I’d never ask for another thing for as long as I lived.

The door opened and Kyle appeared, tears streaming down his face.

“They found him?” I asked, biting back the hysteria.

“Not yet. Can I…”

I reached out my arms and he dove into my body, burying his head into my shoulder. Together we remained, crying, waiting, hoping, and praying. And then they came with the answer.

* * *

It had been a good three hours since Jake’s fateful phone call. The busy energy of the hospital was a blur to me. My mind was focused solely on Jake and what his life must have been like for the past five weeks. Images of his suffering flashed before my eyes, and no matter how hard I tried to turn the pictures off, they’d grabbed hold of my imagination and wouldn’t let me go. The terror… oh god… how could he have survived it alone? At least we had done our suffering as a dysfunctional unit, but Jake… he’d had no one. The fear alone would have done me in. My body shook in protest, and I covered my eyes with the palms of my hands, hoping the darkness would turn off the grisly slideshow.

Kyle’s incessant fidgeting caught my attention.

“You okay?” I asked.

He hadn’t left my side since the time we’d shared in my room. Kyle didn’t look up but nodded nonetheless. His leg was bobbing up and down. I laid my hand on it and the movement stopped.

“I’m so scared,” he said.

“I know. We should hear something soon.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m in some dream, and I’m going to wake up and he’ll still be gone.”

I reached over and pinched him.

“Ow,” he complained, flinching away.

“You’re awake. This is happening.”

Kyle nodded, looking down at his feet. I heard the hesitation in his voice as he asked, “What if, after all this, he doesn’t make it through the surgery?”

“He’ll make it.”

“How do you know?”

I didn’t know; my thoughts were the same as his. There was a very real possibility Jake wouldn’t survive even after everything he’d been through, but I felt the need to be strong for Kyle. He deserved that much.

“Because this is our miracle, Kyle,” I said, shaking with emotion. “We earned it.”

My little brother didn’t respond to me in words, but he laid his head against my shoulder as if I’d brought great comfort to his weary soul. I hugged him to me and we sat like that for some time before Keith, flushed and sweaty, burst through the waiting room door. It was about goddamn time! I shot out of my seat and stomped over to him.

“Where have you been?”

Keith flinched away as I drew near, the murderous expression on my face clearly startling him. It had taken him a week to recover from the beating, and I had hoped, after Dad had paid his debt and recovered his car, that he’d learned his lesson. But like the addict he was now presenting himself to be, it didn’t take long for him to climb out his bedroom window and disappear from our lives once more.

“I’m sorry. I messed up.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Angry tears rolled down my cheeks in big, slobbery lines as I delivered a few punches to his arms and chest. Keith didn’t even try to fight me off because he knew damn well that he deserved the girly beating. The guilt on his face was not lost on me, but I was too angry to care. When I’d tired myself out, Keith wrapped his arms around me, hugging me, and I sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. There’s nothing I can say that will make this better. We can talk about this later, but right now I need to know about Jake. Is he okay?”

Our parents reentered the waiting area. They’d been called out an hour earlier to be briefed on the investigation by a pair of FBI agents. One look at their worn, tear-streaked faces made my heart clench in fear.

“What happened?” I asked.

They looked at each other, hesitant to speak.

“Nooo,” Kyle burst out. Mom went to him immediately.

“It’s not that,” she soothed him. “Jake’s still in surgery. It’s not that.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” Keith asked, as if he hadn’t just rejoined our family seconds ago.

Our parents exchanged another nauseous look before Dad spoke. “The guy who kidnapped Jake is dead.”

It wasn’t what any of us expected to hear. I looked to my siblings. Their confusion matched my own.

“Okay. That’s good, right?” I asked.

“It’s…uh… they think Jake did it.”

“Did what?” I couldn’t comprehend what my father was saying. It was just too unbelievable.

“They think Jake killed him.”

This time the words burned through my chest, nearly stopping my heart. I couldn’t come up with a coherent response.

Keith spoke for me. “That’s not… no way could he kill someone.”

Mom dissolved into tears, and I shook my head in disbelief. Was it really true? I looked to my father for explanation.

He sighed before continuing. “Here’s what they’re saying…”

“Who’s saying?” Keith interrupted.

“The FBI. They’re saying that there were only two people inside the house: Jake and his kidnapper. Both had been stabbed. When they found the man’s body, there was only one set of bloody footprints leading away from it: Jake’s.”

“So, you’re saying by the time he called us, the guy was already dead?” I asked.

“It appears that way,” Dad said, nodding.

A stunned silence followed as we all let the truth sink in. Well, I guess it made sense now why Jake didn’t seem concerned about getting caught on the phone. Keith finally broke the moment of reflection by sinking down into the closest chair and mumbling, “Jesus.”

None of us spoke after that. Shock filled the open spaces. Mom rubbed Kyle’s back as Dad shifted back and forth with that same sick expression he’d had on his face when he’d entered the room. There was a lot more he wasn’t saying. Obviously their briefing had been much more in-depth than what they were sharing with us. How bad could it have been for him to actually kill someone? I mean, Jake… the most mild-mannered kid alive! The reality of what he’d been through was sinking in, and at that moment I knew with certainty that the truth of what he’d endured in those five weeks would be more than any of us could bear.

14

Finn: Breakfast Of Champions

“Are you almost done in there?” Emma’s impatient voice drifted through the bathroom door.

“Easy there,” I answered back. “Are you that eager to see me naked?”

“No, I just want to see you without the baseball cap.”

My cap? I swiped my hand over the mirror to get a look at my unruly locks.

“Why? You got a thing for curly hair?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually.”

I opened the bathroom door and cocked one brow in her direction.

“Yep, that’s what I thought.” She nodded and turned away.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing,” she said, grinning.

“Obviously there is if you had to specifically mention it. Is this one of your weird germ-phobia things?”

“No.” Emma laughed. “Unless, of course, you have little creatures growing in that crazy wilderness – then keep away from me.”

I exaggerated my ‘offended look’ for her benefit. “I’ll have you know that normal women find my curl-to-lash ratio a major selling point.”

“Only because you have a handsome face. It offsets the rest,” she replied, sounding bored; but when she caught my eye, hers twinkled in amusement.

“You have an interesting way of delivering compliments, Emma.”

“I’m only teasing you because you know you’re hot.”

“So you’re saying if I had a face like a gargoyle, you’d be nicer to me?”

“Of course.” Emma stood up, stretching. Her long angles and toned body were a visual I didn’t need if I was going to be coming out of the bathroom anytime soon. “Finn,” she said, whining. “I have to brush my teeth.”

I opened the door wide for her to join me. “Be my guest.”

“You are my guest. Now hurry up.”

“I’m almost done. You keep distracting me with all your nit-picky little insults.” I shut the door on her, but then remembered one more detail I thought she might appreciate and opened the door again. “And the only creatures that would be growing in my hair would be ones I’d specifically put there.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“There was this kitten once…”

“You’re so weird, I can’t even deal.”

Grinning, I shut the door. That should do it. I grabbed my backpack and took a quick look at my less-than-appealing reflection in the mirror. Did I actually have to prove to this woman that I was more attractive than she was giving me credit for? Jesus, she was finicky… I loved it.

All right. You know what? Game on! If she wanted pretty, I’d give her pretty.

After performing a quick shave and sprucing up the old curls, I was satisfied with my transformation and ready to vacate the premises until a throbbing ache in my ribs doubled me over. I heard Emma groan from outside the door when I turned the shower on again. I’m not positive, but I think she made some snarky comment about me jacking off. The thought had actually crossed my mind. This could be a rough night without one.

I stuck my head in the shower and inhaled a heavy dose of steam. The humid temperature filled the small room, opening up my lungs and making breathing slightly less uncomfortable. I thought back to the doctor’s advice. When he’d said to take it easy for the next few days, I was pretty sure he hadn’t been envisioning a weekend like mine.

Once I’d wrapped an elastic bandage around my ribs, an internal debate over clothing became my new focus. What exactly was she expecting tonight? Was this truly going to be a platonic situation, or did she expect me to make a move? And if I made a move that was unwanted, would she turn me over to the security guard in the hallway? And what the hell was all that about anyway? Emma was definitely a mystery. Her signals were all over the place. If she were a traffic light, cars would be colliding right and left. In the end, I opted for a t-shirt and boxers, deciding it was the most neutral of all the options.

Big mistake. The minute I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes focused on Emma, who had changed into a form-fitting white tank top and flowy shorts that reached high up on her shapely thighs. The room was chilly, and her nipples had taken notice. I immediately stiffened, and I was forced to cover my bulge with the backpack. I shuffled to the couch and sat down, replacing my backpack with a pillow and willing my body to behave. Emma stared at me, but it was unclear what she thought of my makeover. Her lack of reaction gave me no encouragement.

“Bathroom’s free,” I said, in an attempt to break the awkwardness and send her on her way.

“Oh, right.”

When she emerged a few minutes later, she glanced at me and then quickly looked away. My eyes shifted to her chest again. She wasn’t a large-breasted woman, but those point-blank tits… my god. My pillow levitated. Was Emma really committed to sleep? I watched as she bent down to fluff the sheets, and that rounded butt in those little shorts caused my cotton dick-shield to tip over on its side. But this was definitely looking more and more like a platonic sleepover.

She slipped under the covers. “Okay, well… goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Emma. Thanks for this.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

The lights went out.

I propped up a couple of extra pillows and eased my body onto them. Pain radiated through me and an involuntary gasp escaped my lips.

The light went back on. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I bruised my ribs the other day.”

“Really? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I don’t know, but the thought did occur to me on the Ferris wheel when you were digging your head into them.”

“Did you have x-rays?” she asked, swinging her long legs out from under the covers, and her breasts walked over to me. Eyes up.

“Yeah – no breaks.”

“Can I look?”

She bent over, and of course, I could see right into her tank top. It was the pink panty reaction all over again. Eyes up!

I pulled my shirt over my head so she could have a look at the ribs.

“Did the doctor tell you to wrap it?” she asked, sitting across from me on the coffee table. Now her breasts were eye level. Eyes…oh shit, I didn’t know where to put my eyes.

“Finn?” She snapped her fingers, smirking. “Up here.”

“Sorry. They’re just right there,” I said, squeezing air melons with my hands to emphasize my point.

“Yes, they do that – since, you know, they’re on my chest. I can put a shirt on if that will help you focus.”

“I don’t think it will help, and no, my ribs just feel better with the wrap on.”

“It can actually constrict your breathing.”

“Oh, well, that’s not good. I’m having enough trouble as it is.”

“Breathing?”

I nodded.

Emma began unraveling the wrap until just the naked skin was left.

“Do you mind?”

She didn’t wait for my reply as her hands made contact with my heated skin. Emma’s cool touch sent shivers up my spine as she ran her fingers along my rib cage. Just a little further down. I gulped, closing my eyes and conjuring up the unsavory image of my great-grandmother snapping my nuts with her grabber arm.

“They all feel intact,” she announced, before padding to the counter and dumping the excess water from the ice bucket. I watched as she tied a knot in the plastic bag holding the remaining ice and came back over to me, pushing the freezing pack over my throbbing ribs. She wound the wrap around it to hold the ice in place. The entire time she was asking me questions about my symptoms, the nurse in her in full swing. “Have you taken any pain relief?”

“Not recently.”

“When was the last time?”

“Two days ago, I think.”

She grinned. “Well, maybe it’s time for another one.”

After I’d swallowed a pill, she stood there evaluating me with an amused look on her face and repeated her line from earlier. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” I offered.

Her eyes caught mine, and to my surprise, she reached out and trailed her nails along my skin. Holy shit. Springing to action, I reached around and grasped her from behind, but Emma abruptly grabbed my wrists and stood back up.

No? Okay. I couldn’t read her cues at all.

“You can sleep in the bed… just so you don’t wake up in agony tomorrow morning.”

“Just sleep?”

“Yes, just sleep.”

“Oh, Emma,” I said, shaking my head. “You disappoint me.”

She laughed as I grabbed the extra pillows and brought them with me. If sleeping really was on her short-term agenda, then I would need them. Without a word we both climbed into the bed. Tension hung heavy in the space between us. Mine was of a sexual nature, but it was still unclear what hers was. Emma and I both rolled onto our sides, facing each other. Neither one of us spoke. I lay there for a few minutes, debating with myself. Should I make a move or not? Was she expecting it? Would she be offended if I didn’t? Dammit, I wished Emma came with an instruction manual.

Fuck it. No risk, no reward. Boldly I reached over and ran my fingers over the warm flesh on her arm. She didn’t move or object, so I kept going.

“Finn,” she whispered. “I can’t have sex with you.”

“Who said anything about sex?”

I trailed my hand down her stomach, and then lower still. Emma opened her legs to my wandering fingers. Now this was a cue I understood.

* * *

Emma’s not-so-gentle nudge woke me from my slumber. I opened one eye and immediately caught the impatient look on her face. Damn, she was a complicated woman…. a prickly cactus one minute, soft and engaging the next. I had no idea where I had her or what she was thinking. It was fascinating and frustrating all at once. My pulse quickened at just the thought of spending the day with her. Would she even let me? Emma’s current body language definitely indicated that she wanted me gone. Except for her moment of weakness on the Ferris wheel last night, Emma was the opposite of a clingy woman. She was like the guy in a one-night stand, looking for a quick escape. So what did that make me?

“You need to get up,” she said, poking me once more.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I asked, sleep still heavy in my eyes.

“I don’t like lying around all day, Finn.”

I forced myself awake and took in my bed buddy. Her panties were back on after I’d slipped them off her shapely hips sometime during the night. Although I’d honored her no sex proclamation, that didn’t mean we hadn’t fooled around, and I’d quickly discovered that Emma was no timid mouse under the covers. The woman I’d spent the night with knew exactly what she wanted and was not shy about taking it. I felt used in the most wonderfully satisfying of ways.

“So would that be a ‘no’ to cuddling?” I asked, in response to her request for me to get the hell out of her bed.

Emma fought back a smile, and it took the edge off her restless face. She sat on the bed with her arms wrapped around both legs. Her blonde hair was wild from sleep, and as she ran her fingers through her thick tresses, she flipped over an unnatural part and exposed just the hint of dark roots. Her frickin’ gorgeous eyes watched me. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward me.

“Come on. Just a little snuggle,” I teased, even though I didn’t particularly care for it myself. I only offered it in the first place because I knew her answer would be a big, fat, resounding NO… which, no doubt, made me like her more.

“Dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have slept with a homeless guy. You people like the indoors too much,” she said, tilting her head and flashing me an adorable smirk. “I’m never going to get rid of you, am I?”

I shook my head. “At this point, it’s not looking good.”

We exchanged amused expressions. She didn’t want me gone. I knew that. Emma knew that. She just needed a little convincing.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “How about we get dressed and I buy you breakfast?”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Getting dressed is easy.”

“I mean, I have plans, Finn.”

“Break them. You want to hang with me today, and don’t deny it.”

Emma sucked in her lower lip, not disputing my claim. “I worry you might be reading more into this. Last night was fun, but…”

I put my hand up. “It’s just breakfast. Stop analyzing everything and just go with your instinct. Would you rather have a boring, planned day, or would you like to experience the excitement only I can provide?”

“I guess….”

I interrupted Emma in mid-sentence by jumping out of bed, grabbing my backpack, and bee-lining it for the bathroom. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready. No changing your mind.”

“Finn, I…”

I shut the door before she could turn me down. Instinctively I knew I needed to stay a step ahead of her, to anticipate her decisions to keep from losing her to the rational side of her brain.

Emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, I was surprised to see Emma fully dressed and her hair, wild only seconds ago, now brushed out to perfection. Even without makeup, she was a stunning beauty.

“Wow, you don’t take much prep time,” I complimented, as I quickly pulled on a pair of jeans. “Impressive indeed.”

“Finn,” she said. “I can’t go to breakfast with you.”

I struggled to keep my disappointment at bay. Dammit, I hadn’t stayed far enough ahead. Was my charm so lacking that it didn’t linger when I left a room?

“Because it’s my father’s birthday, and I’m meeting him and the rest of my family for breakfast. I’m already late, actually.”

“Oh.” Well, thank god. It wasn’t me. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“You wouldn’t let me get a word in.”

“I just thought you were being difficult. Go. I don’t want to hold you up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll go grab something to eat and then head over to the festival.”

“Okay.”

She seemed alternately relieved and bummed. Did she want me to fight harder? Did she want me to go? Would she even tell me the truth if I asked?

Before leaving, I walked up to Emma and cupped her face with my hands, giving her a kiss to remember me by. “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. “Later.”

I smiled, kissing her once more before heading for the door.

“Finn? Do you…” She inhaled. “Do you want to go with me… have breakfast with my family?”

It was the last thing I’d expected her to say, and I was stunned enough that words escaped me. I was starting to see a trend with her. That steadfast determination could be chipped away, but the decision had to come from her, and nothing I could say would change that.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” Emma backtracked.

“I’d love to go with you.”

“You would?”

“Of course. Parents don’t scare me.”

“Oh, well, mine might,” she said, laughing.

“Your dad must be a huge music fan to bring you all here for his birthday.”

Emma’s face contorted, and I swear she looked almost guilty. “I guess you could say that.”

I gave her a quizzical tilt of my eyebrows. “I feel like I’m constantly missing some inside joke here.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel that way. The truth is, you’re more than I was expecting this weekend, and I’m trying to figure everything out.”

She wrapped her arms around my waist. There she was – the cuddly Emma- from the Ferris wheel. I liked this one very much.

“I do feel I should warn you. The second my mother lays eyes on you, she’ll be plotting our engagement. If you can’t handle that, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Oh, I can handle it,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “Moms are my specialty.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she teased suggestively.

“Get your mind out of PornHub, woman. I’m not talking in the MILF sense. I’m referring to all the legitimate moms out there who find me utterly irresistible.”

“Sounds like there have been many. What’s your go-to line? What do you say that impresses them so much?”

“See, where most guys go wrong is they pick some physical trait about the mother and they compliment her on it.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Not if it’s a mom like mine. She eats that shit up. Rolls around in it. But legitimate mothers don’t need that validation.”

“Okay. So what do you do instead?”

“I compliment her daughter.”

The smile that spread over Emma’s face was a thing of beauty. She gazed at me in fascination. “You’re an honest-to-god genuine guy, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.”

“Oh, Finn, you have no idea how much my mom is going to love you,” she said, grabbing her bag. “You’ve got a very long breakfast ahead of you.”

* * *

Heading down the hallway toward the elevators, a different man was now sitting on the chair.

“Hey, Emma,” he said, smiling up at her.

“Hey, Ty.”

I looked between them trying to understand the connection. She knew these guys. What the hell?

“Do you know everyone here?”

“On this floor I do.”

“You have that big a family?”

“It’s big… and I guess you could say extended.”

Emma led me through the lobby and into a restaurant. Just as we were about to enter a back room, she stopped to address me.

“So there’s one thing I should probably tell you before we go in. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I just wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“That Jake McKallister’s my younger brother.”

I smiled at her joke, but as we stood there silently, staring at one another, and she didn’t budge on her story, it slowly started sinking in that what she was saying was true – and then everything began to fall into place.

When I didn’t respond, because my bottom lip was hanging around down by my feet, Emma said, all cheerfully, “Okay. Ready?”

Of all the scenarios I’d conjured up in my mind about who Emma was, never once had I suspected something this huge. I was all but convinced she was some rich man’s daughter getting a free ride through life. But this? Sister to Jake McKallister… this was on a whole ’nother level.

“Wait, I… no… I can’t. Is he in there?” I whispered, still too stunned to really process the words.

“I’m thinking he probably is.”

“Holy shit, Emma, that’s not something you say in passing. I mean…” I couldn’t even find the words to finish my sentence, that’s how shocked I was. “I can’t go in there.”

“Sure you can.”

“What am I supposed to say to him? He’s… I mean, come on, he’s Jake McKallister! The whole reason I made the trip was to see him perform!” My voice was getting increasingly more high-pitched and whiny with each protesting word.

“Okay, first, calm down. Second, now you get to meet your reason for making the trip – yay – and third, he’s just a person. Talk to him like you’d talk to anyone else.”

“So, yesterday, the ticket. The hotel. The security guards.” I was just rattling off all the clues from the day before and assembling them in one spot so I could try and make sense of it all.

She nodded. “Yes. All Jake. Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I… no… I’m fine. Just shocked. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“For obvious reasons, I don’t announce my lineage to just anyone.”

She had a point. I hadn’t exactly given her a spreadsheet on my brother and the prison cell he was sitting in. “So what you’re saying is, I’m not just anyone?”

“Well, that and a whole lot more, but if that’s all you want to focus on,” she said, grinning. “So what do you say, Psycho, you ready to pretend you’re cool enough to hang with my rock star brother?”

“Please. Give me a little credit, Emma,” I said shaking off my nerves. “I’m a goddamn actor. You don’t think I can act like a normal human being for one hour?”

“I wasn’t sure at first. You went all hyper-psychotic there for a minute.”

“Okay, well to be fair, you did drop a rather large ‘by the way’ on me. Haven’t you ever heard of easing people into a conversation?”

“News flash. I’m socially awkward.” Emma grinned playfully. “I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Oh, is that what this is? I thought you just enjoyed keeping me on the edge of sanity.”

“That too.” She nudged me. “And speaking of socially awkward, don’t forget about my mother, who’s going to be very excited to meet you.”

“I got this, Emma. Lead the way.”

* * *

She said he was just a person, but I wasn’t so sure I’d agree. In my eyes he was a musical god, and standing face to face with one of the greats took a lot more composure than I ever thought possible. I’d been around famous people before, but this was a different level altogether. Forcing my eyes off Jake, I went down the row of relatives circled around a table, all just as curious about me as I was about them.

“Emma!” A woman who could only have been her mother choked out the word, and a dollop of coffee actually dribbled down her chin.

“Oh Jesus, Mom,” a guy my age commented. “Don’t mind her. She’s a little Alzy today.”

“Shut up, Keith,” she grimaced, wiping the liquid away with her thumb, then treated me to a radiant smile. “I don’t have Alzheimer’s. Just a little surprised is all. My daughter didn’t tell me to expect company. Hello, I’m Michelle.”

I came in for a handshake, amused and a little surprised by the exchange. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected stuffy people on this side of the door, but if the curiously amused faces were any indication, Emma’s family was a group of entertaining characters, and I instantly relaxed under their ease.

Before I could introduce myself, Emma said, “Everyone, this is a friend of mine, Finn. Finn, this is everyone.”

Michelle took my hand, seemingly mesmerized, as she looked me up and down. “Wow. It’s so nice to meet you. You’re… a friend.”

“Yes, mom, that’s what I said. A friend.”

“I was just clarifying,” Michelle said, grinning at me.

Grabbing Emma’s hand, I gave her an adoring smile. This was not acting on my part. I genuinely found this girl something special. “Yeah, a friend. ”

Michelle’s eyes bulged as she looked between the two of us, and the shocked expression on her face turned to shameless exhilaration.

“Oh, my goodness, this is wonderful, isn’t it, Scott? Emma’s friend.”

“Shoot me now,” Emma whispered in my ear.

“Say ‘hi,’ Scott,” Michelle said, smacking him in the arm. “Don’t just sit there with the stupid look on your face.”

“I wasn’t just sitting here, I was waiting for you to stop embarrassing yourself.”

I extended my hand to her father. “Happy birthday.”

“Ah, thank you. Finally someone who cares. I’m surrounded by ingrates.”

“Just because we don’t infuse every conversation with mention of your birthday doesn’t mean we aren’t impressed you’ve lived this long. Hi Finn, I’m Keith, Emma’s older brother.”

“And this is my sister Grace, and my younger brothers Jake and Quinn. Kenzie and Casey you met last night. Casey is Jake’s fiancée, and Kenzie is my other brother Kyle’s girlfriend. Where is he, by the way?”

“Taking a crap,” the youngest boy offered.

“Quinn!” Michelle admonished, offering me up her sincerest apology. “We have company. Let’s all try to be normal please.”

“This is my birthday, Michelle, and I don’t want to do normal.”

Emma went over to greet her dad with a hug. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Finn, please, come sit. You and Emma can take these seats right here. Scott, move over,” she demanded, nearly pushing the birthday boy from his seat as she made room for me. Emma wasn’t kidding… her mom was practically salivating. At this rate, we’d be married by sundown

“Knocks me off my throne on my birthday,” Scott mumbled as he moved spots. Clearly he was teasing, and it garnered the desired results.

“Oh, my God,” all the kids whined in unison.

“Stop it with the birthday stuff,” Keith added. “No one can milk it like you, Dad.”

“See what I have to put up with?” Scott asked me, grinning.

“Do not feel sorry for him,” Jake spoke to me for the first time. “He was just informing us all of what he wanted for his birthday… and it wasn’t world peace.”

“I hardly think a Lamborghini and a swimsuit model is too much to ask, Jake.”

As I laughed, I was getting a clear picture of how this family worked. It was all sarcastic charm and off-color digs. This, right here, would be the family I would have wanted over my own twisted, backwoods version.

Michelle jumped back in, inching in closer as she gazed admiringly at me. Well, winning her over had been effortless, at least. Emma, seeing her mother’s exaggerated behavior, leaned back and whispered in my ear, “Told ya.”

“My daughter didn’t tell us she was bringing company.”

“Oh, yeah. It was a last minute thing. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Michelle asked. “Of course not. We’re thrilled to have you. How did you two meet?”

Emma and I exchanged a glance. We actually hadn’t thought this through very well and had no cover story. Somehow I doubted Michelle would appreciate the real one where her daughter plucked a stranger off the road.

“He’s a friend of mine…”

“Oh, from work?” she interrupted, excitedly. “Are you a doctor?”

“No he’s not a doctor. We met at a party.”

“You go to parties?” Keith asked, looking confused. He’d lifted his head off the table to ask the question. It was clear he was nursing a massive hangover.

“Not the kind you go to. But I don’t hang out at home all the time.”

“Really?” Now he looked even more confused. “I was under the impression you did.”

Emma focused her death stare at him.

A young guy entered the room. Kyle, I assumed. His brothers clapped for him and he took a bow.

“What took you so long in there?” Jake asked. “Were you masturbating?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a master just yet.”

His delivery was genius, and the room erupted. Even Michelle joined in the fun.

Kyle’s eyes landed on me, and he did a double take. “Is everyone aware that there’s a strange guy at Dad’s birthday breakfast?”

“He’s not strange. This is Finn, Emma’s friend.” Michelle emphasized ‘friend’ each time she said the word, and her daughter turned to me and rolled her eyes, mouthing Sorry.

I stood up to shake the final brother’s hand.

“I’m Kyle. And you say you’re Emma’s friend?” His eyebrow was cocked at an exaggerated angle.

“They met at a party,” Jake affirmed, nodding.

“A real one,” Keith added.

“A party, you say?” Kyle replied, incredulously.

The brothers seemed overly surprised by the whole party admission, and I was quickly understanding that Emma wasn’t a girl who went out much, and her bringing guys to meet the family was probably a rare occurrence indeed.

They continued to razz her about the party until Emma snapped, “Ugghh. Would you prefer if I met him on the side of the road?”

“It would be more believable, that’s for sure,” Kyle said, nodding.

Emma smacked him in the arm good-naturedly. They did a little bitch-slap routine before he took his seat beside his girlfriend. I smiled at her playfulness. Emma interacting with her family brought out even another side to her… kind, funny, and self-depreciating. I caught her eye, and we exchanged a glance. She was asking if I was okay; I was assuring her I was.

“What do you do for a living, Finn?” Kenzie asked.

“I’m a stuntman.”

“Shut the front door!” Kyle exclaimed. “That’s the coolest profession ever!”

“I don’t know, I think someone else in this room has a cooler job than me.”

“Yes, being a mailman truly is awesome. The long walks, the snappy dogs, the stylish shorts,” Scott said, before scanning the room at all the amused faces and raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Oh, wait – did you mean Jake?”

We all laughed, and Scott lapped up the attention. I loved him already. If I could have handpicked a father, I would have chosen someone like him: fun-loving and devoted.

“Government jobs, man. It’s the way to go,” Keith said. “They even give him a week off for his birthday.”

“No, they don’t give it to him,” Michelle explained. “Your father takes it off. See, he thinks one day isn’t enough to celebrate his birthday.”

“I still don’t understand why Dad gets a week and the rest of us only get a day,” Grace complained.

“Because, honey,” Scott patiently explained. “A birthday week doesn’t just happen; it must be declared.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” Jake asked. “We just have to declare it?”

“That’s right, but it helps to be old and pathetic like me. It’s easier to gain acceptance. People just feel sorry for you and humor your requests.”

“I’m curious – what does one do on a birthday week?” I asked.

“It varies. This one is pretty nice because I got an all-expenses paid trip – thank you, Jake… but normally my birthday just consists of different events throughout the week. All of them include Michelle here, but she usually refuses to come along or indulge me, if you know what I mean,” Scott said, winking.

“That’s just nasty.” Quinn fake-barfed over his plate of eggs.

“Quiet, everyone,” Kyle shushed. “I’m serious. I want to be a stuntman now. How would I get in to something like that?”

“You could probably go to a stuntman school. What skills do you have?”

“Skills? I thought they just set you on fire and shit.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Emma said. “Finn is an expert at jumping and free running and heights. He does aerial stuff where he gets to fly.”

“Really?” Scott nodded, impressed. “Emma hates heights.”

“I know.” I nodded, grinning at her. “I found that out on the Ferris wheel last night. I still have the claw marks.”

Kyle said something under his breath, and Jake laughed. I realized then that my claw mark comment could have been misconstrued; but at that point, it was already out there, and I hadn’t been punched in the face, so I felt safe enough.

“So, Finn, what type of wristband did Sean get for you?” Jake asked.

“The magic one,” I answered. “And thank you for that, by the way. I was shocked at all the doors that wristband opened up. Have you been to the gift room?”

“No.”

“The gift room?” Scott asked, wide-eyed with wonder. “I’m putting that on my birthday week wish list.”

“Yeah, it’s amazing. Everything is free. I had no idea. I thought they were trying to sell me stuff, so I kept making all these excuses, and then they said it was free and were throwing things at me. Now I have a storage unit with all my free gifts, and they’re expecting my entourage to pick it up.”

That got a laugh from everyone.

“I never told them I was a musician. They just assumed. One girl asked me what band I was in, and I froze. I had no idea what to tell her.”

The siblings looked at each other and laughed. “Too bad you didn’t have our dad with you,” Jake said. “He’s an expert in that arena.”

I looked over at him, confused.

“Well, okay, I’m somewhat famous for my band names, I’ll admit.” Scott’s self-congratulatory tone kept me rapt in my seat for more. “It’s simple, really. Any two random words will do. Someone, anyone, pull up a news story, please.”

Quinn and Grace rushed to find Scott an article before the teenage boy grinned and handed his father the phone.

“An article about smog checks? Really, Quinn. Okay, no problem. I’m a pro. Give me a moment,” he said, putting both index fingers to his temples. Scott was concentrating hard and Emma’s brothers were heckling him something fierce before he looked up with a smug smile on his face. “Gross Polluter.”

Everyone screamed his or her awed approval. It really was a genius name.

“What was the one you came up with the other day? Something about awesomeness?” Casey asked.

“The Vortex of Awesomeness, but I’ve decided that’s too good for a band name. I’m going to use it for my autobiography instead.”

“Are we still having girls’ day?” Grace, tiring of her father’s awesomeness, asked Emma, who then looked at me with a guilty face.

“All us girls were going to the spa for a couple of hours today,” she explained. “But I can skip it.”

“No, I don’t want you to do that. I’ll just go to the festival for awhile.”

“Or you can come with us guys,” Scott offered. “We’re all going over there. Jake’s got a bunch of stuff going on, but we were going to hang around and maybe catch a few shows in between.”

“I wouldn’t want to crash your birthday week or anything.”

“Please – there’s nothing I’d enjoy doing more than spending my day with Emma’s special friend.”

* * *

I thought experiencing the festival with my golden wristband would be the highlight of my life, but I was woefully wrong. Experiencing the festival with the McKallister brothers and their wacky birthday-obsessed father was a whole other level of fun. Between Scott’s poor me act and the brothers’ constant vulgar insults, I spent the afternoon with a permanent smile on my face. If I hadn’t already been fully invested in Emma, this little peek into her family life would have sealed the deal. I’d never had this type of camaraderie growing up and was soaking up the moments.

We spent part of the day following Jake around to his various interviews and appointments. I even had a Pretty Woman moment when I walked into the gift room with the festival’s headliner. They all clearly remembered me from the day before and were even more impressed with me this time around due to the company that I was keeping.

Having a concert to prepare for, Kyle and Jake stayed behind as the rest of us went off to explore. Our journey took us to the carnival, where I partnered with Quinn for one of the rides.

After we’d settled onto the bench, he surprised me by asking, “Are you in love with my sister?”

At first I thought he was joking, as we’d been doing a lot of that throughout the day; but when the kid narrowed his gaze on me and pinched his lips together, I could tell he meant business.

“To tell you the truth, your sister and I only met recently. We’re still getting to know each other.”

Quinn nodded and looked off in the distance, seemingly bothered by something. He’d come across to me as some dim-witted teenage boy during the brothers’ competitive insult-flinging portion of the afternoon, but now I could see a more reflective side to him.

“You okay?”

“Just don’t hurt her. Emma… she means a lot to me.”

His admission floored me. What I knew of most teenage boys, they weren’t overly concerned with the feelings of their adult sisters.

“I don’t plan to hurt her. To tell you the truth, I’m more concerned about her squashing me.”

Quinn acknowledged my concern with a nod and then added, “I know you don’t plan on it, but things happen.”

“What exactly are you asking me, Quinn?”

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. Don’t hurt my sister.”

The ride started up, ending our conversation, but his words bounced through my head. His had been a warning, not a request. Gravity threw us around for a couple of minutes, and Quinn was back to his jovial self as he laughed his way through the ride.

Still affected by his stark words, I said, “Your sister’s lucky to have you protecting her like that.”

He scoffed and removed his seatbelt.

Quinn’s reaction held some meaning that I didn’t understand, but it stood as a reminder of all this family had gone through. It was easy to forget, seeing them as they were today, but Jake’s nightmare was out there, and for the first time I considered the toll it must have taken on Emma and her siblings. It made me wonder if her careful analysis of every situation was a carryover from her earlier life. We all had demons from our past, but the McKallister family’s seemed infinitely more sinister.

“People don’t understand her,” Quinn finally said. “They never have. She’s so much more than what you see.”

He didn’t have to tell me. I already thought she was incredible; yet after meeting her family, I now understood that Emma McKallister was considerably more complex than I’d originally given her credit for. Instinctively I knew I was in for a wild ride.

15

Emma, Present Day: Netflix and Chill

“Can I just say how hot he is?” My mother fanned her face for emphasis. She’d been going on and on about Finn since the five of us arrived at the spa, and I was starting to run out of patience. It wasn’t that I didn’t agree with her about the whole Finn-hotness-meter, but the vibe of the conversation was rubbing me the wrong way. It was as if she were trying to convince me of his superior qualities because she was afraid I’d be my normal, judgmental self and dump him first chance I got. Which of course was exactly how this little dalliance would all eventually play out. “He has it all, doesn’t he? Handsome, polite and he’s a little taller than you, too.”

Right, because we Amazonian women were so picky about things like that. When you reached a certain height, it no longer mattered if your mate was taller, because at that point, it became an issue of just how freakishly elongated your offspring would be. Finn was eye-level, and that was good enough for me and our fictional kids. It wasn’t like I needed him for baby-making anyway. The relationship I had with him now – the one where my legs were straddling his waist in the middle of a carnival – that was as far as it would ever go. I shuddered at the memory. Had I really done all that stuff last night? I hated public displays of affection as much as the next girl. No, I take that back: I hated them more than your average woman. Who wanted to see happy couples swapping spit? Um… the crowd who’d clapped for us last night, that’s who. Oh, lord, what had I done? Somehow I’d let my libido run away with the show. No way could I let my mother see my infatuation with Finn. He’d be gone before it mattered anyway. No use in getting her hopes up.

“I had no idea you were even seeing anyone,” Mom continued.

“I’m not. We’re just friends.”

“Really? Because the way he looked at you, Emma, he certainly seemed smitten. And the two of you are so compatible.”

How could she know that from a thirty-minute conversation? She was only seeing what she wanted to see. Would Mom be so impressed with our connection if she knew how I met him? Would she be singing his praises if she’d known that this time yesterday, he’d been a faceless ass in a parking lot?

“Maybe if you gave him a chance, Emma…”

“Mom,” I snapped. She whipped her head around at me.

“What?”

“Stop going on about Finn,” I said, harshly. “We aren’t together, and we never will be.”

My mother’s face fell as her eyes clouded over. Was she seriously going to cry? Over that? Jesus. I almost forgot how sensitive she could be.

“Emma, don’t be so mean,” Grace scolded, as she grasped Mom’s hand and soothed her with quiet words. Great – now my sister, the sweet one, was involved, making me look even more wretched. Why couldn’t I be more diplomatic like her?

Having nowhere to place my eyes to avoid the disapproving stares of not only my group but the spa attendants as well, I simply stared at the far wall. Embarrassed at my outburst, I wanted to sink into the background, but when you’re the spiteful white witch, there’s no place to hide. Dammit, why did my mother always have to put so much emphasis on me finding a man? Was I not good enough as I was?

I glanced to my right, and Casey, her worried eyes searching me for answers, mouthed, “Are you okay?”

Disappointed in myself, I shook my head and held her eye.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Casey hopped from her chair. “I need to use the bathroom.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me from my seat. “So does Emma.”

Our bare feet padded across the tiled floor, and I couldn’t help but fixate on how much flappier mine sounded than hers. I just could not catch a break, could I? Even my footsteps were less perfect than hers.

“You okay? What’s going on?” she whispered, before we’d even made it to the restroom.

I genuinely had no idea how to answer her question. Technically, I was fine. Better than fine, really. I’d met a man who’d inexplicably woken me from a ten-year slumber and had proven to me that I was still young and sexy and alive. In return I’d rewarded Finn by draping myself all over him and taking pleasure in what he had to offer. Yes, that part was fine.

But then, I wasn’t fine, because now I feared that once my eyes had been opened, I’d never be able to close them again. How could I explain to Casey that I’d felt something last night that I hadn’t known I could feel, yet still I was reluctant to go forward with him? She could never understand the invisible ties that held me back.

“Is this about Finn? In a concerted effort not to sound like Michelle, I saw the way you two looked at each other last night. It was electric. Who exactly is he? Jake thinks you just met him yesterday.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“Just that you asked for the ticket at the last minute, and you made some joke about just picking him up off the side of the road or something.”

“Damn, he’s good,” I said, shaking my head. Maybe because he was such an introspective person, Jake had an uncanny ability to read just about any situation. Or maybe I was just completely see-through to him.

“Are you saying he’s right?” Casey asked, giggling.

“I literally cased Finn out in a parking lot, while drooling over his behind.”

“No!” Casey gasped, smacking me. “I love it. Way to go, girl.”

“Yeah. Not so ‘way to go.’ Now Mom thinks we’re getting married or something. I should never have brought him around this morning. It was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s just it, Emma, you weren’t thinking – because you were feeling. Last night you allowed yourself to react. And now you’re second-guessing that decision and ripping your mom’s head off in the process.”

“Don’t remind me. I’ll apologize to her when we get back.”

“That’s not the point of this bathroom counseling session. Sure, you need to say you’re sorry to Michelle, but more importantly you need to stop being so rational all the time. If you like him, let him know. After I got over the shock of meeting Jake and just started talking to him, good lord, I was making out with him all over the place.”

“Ew, he’s my brother. Please.”

“Sorry.” She laughed. “I’m just saying he had me all hot and bothered. That kind of attraction doesn’t come around every day, so if Finn does that for you, you owe it to yourself to find out why.”

“I guess,” I mumbled.

“No. I don’t accept that answer,” Casey said, flashing me the affecting smile that no doubt brought Jake to his knees.

“What answer will you accept?” I lamented, flustered by her gushing cuteness. Maybe this was why I didn’t have female friends. All they wanted to talk about was feelings and having sex with my brother.

After giving Casey her required ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I walked back into the spa room with my tail between my moisturized legs. I immediately went to my mother and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I stopped short of a verbal apology because she really did have the snippy beatdown coming.

Mom beamed with delight at my repentance, and all was forgiven. Amazing. That’s why she was a mom and I was not. I wasn’t sure I’d have the patience and understanding to deal with a bitch like me.

During the massage, I allowed my mind to wander back to the early morning hours when I was getting a rubdown of a very different sort. I really hadn’t planned on any of it. He was supposed to stay on the damn couch, but of course, nothing ever seemed to follow a pattern with Finn. The dude was acting perfectly fine, carrying me around the carnival like I was a ragdoll, and then, all of a sudden, when it was time for bed, his ribs start breaking right and left? I mean, really?

It was his unpredictability that drove me crazy and forced stupid decisions, like inviting him for breakfast. I still didn’t know how that happened. When I’d woken him up this morning, I’d had every intention of shooing him from my room. He was a stray pup who’d worn out his welcome, but one smile, one tease, one touch of his sweaty hand and I was falling all over myself to parade him in front of my family.

Of course my mother would fall for him, what with all his ‘mom whisperer’ skills. Plus it didn’t hurt that he was single and beautiful… and single.

And of course my dad would fall under his spell as well because Finn was witty and fun, and it was to be expected that he’d want to spend one of his many birthday days with a guy like that.

This whole scenario was just too dangerous. The more time he spent out of his kennel, the more attached they’d all become. Before I knew it, he’d have a spot on my couch and be swiping food off the counter. Regardless of what Casey said about opening myself up to possibilities, I simply could not trust myself around Finn, and for that reason he needed to go. As soon as we got to the venue, I’d pull him aside and let him know he wouldn’t be sharing my bed tonight no matter how charming and gorgeous he tried to be. From this point forth, I was putting myself back in charge, and that meant no sappy feelings for me until I was sure Finn was gone for good.

When the girls and I arrived at the fairgrounds later in the afternoon, all relaxed and smelling like we’d been rotated in lavender, my focus was clear: find Finn. But when we arrived at the main stage and headed around back, we found Jake and Kyle, but no Dad, no Keith, and no Quinn. Oh, crap. Were they taking Finn for a walk around the block? Just exactly how much bonding had he managed to get in with the males in my family, while I’d been at the spa thinking of ways to dump him?

Jake was busy, so I went to Kyle for the scoop.

He perked up when he saw me coming. “Oh my god.” Kyle fussed with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “Look at you! Was anyone else hurt in the accident?”

I fought the urge to laugh… or whack him in the nuts. Each would have been equally satisfying, but once I lost control, he would win, and that was not an option. “You know, Kyle, somewhere out there is a sad little tree, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can continue breathing. I think you owe it an apology.”

He nodded, pleased with my comeback, and shot one right back at me.

“I love what you’ve done with your hair, Em. How do you get it to come out of your nostrils like that?”

“It really is extraordinary,” I countered. “100,000 sperm and you were the fastest swimmer.”

We grinned at one another for a couple of seconds before Kyle relented. “Well, I think I’m good now. What about you?”

“Yep, got it out of my system,” I agreed.

“Excellent. It’s been fun. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Do you know where Finn is?”

“Finn?” He feigned ignorance. “Oh, you mean the guy dad did the old magic flossing tongue trick on?”

“He didn’t!”

Just because it was his birthday week didn’t give my father the right to perform magic.

“Oh, but he did.” Kyle nodded his approval.

“Dammit. I just don’t get it. Does he carry dental floss around in his pocket for just such an occasion?”

“I don’t know, but after he had successfully tied the floss with his tongue, your Spiderman raised the bar and did this whole climbing up the wall thing, and it was bad ass. I think I might have peed myself a little bit.”

“He climbed a wall?”

“Really, Emma, he’s much too cool for you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to his awesomeness. He won’t be around long enough for it to rub off on you.”

“Wait – why would you want to get rid of him? I’d think you’d want someone around who made you look less like a dork.”

“Just because you’ve got a guy boner for him doesn’t mean he’s the right one for me.”

“I don’t want to say beggars can’t be choosers, but in this particular case, Em, beggars can definitely not be choosers.”

“I’m no beggar, Kyle. You should know that by now.”

“Well, then, you’re an idiot. I’d date him if he was a girl, and, you know, if I didn’t have a girlfriend. Wait – if I was a girl, I’d have a boyfriend, right?” Kyle stopped, wrinkling his brows as he looked up at the ceiling trying to figure out the complex thoughts running through his head. “Nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“I didn’t think so. Just please don’t get too attached. Finn will be headed to his new forever home by morning.”

* * *

“Emma!”

Jake was with a crowd of people when he motioned for me to meet him at his dressing room. As he started moving in that direction, the group moved with him.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he said to his flock before leading me through the door and shutting it on a half a dozen bodies, effectively detaching himself from the needy gaggle of people waiting impatiently on the other side. Once free, Jake slumped against the door and visibly exhaled. It was a wonder how he handled the pressure. I’d always fancied myself to be cool under fire, but I’m not sure I could shoulder such responsibly without breaking.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “They’re like locusts.”

“So what’s up?” I asked, although I knew full well why he’d called me in, and it wasn’t for altruistic reasons. He wanted the scoop, and by the look on his face, he could hardly wait to roll up his sleeves and play in the dirt.

“So… Finn, huh?” The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“Yep.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Not really. Oh, wait. Thanks for getting him the ticket, and for arranging it last minute. “

“Uh-huh.” Jake’s head was tilted slightly, and the look he gave told me he wanted more than that.

“What?” I demanded, grinning.

“Where did you really meet him? Because you and I both know it wasn’t at a party.”

“You have no idea what I do on my personal time, so don’t presume.”

But Jake wasn’t having it. According to Casey, he’d already pieced it all together. Why had I chosen a party in the first place? Everyone knew I didn’t step foot in them. Dammit, I should have picked a more realistic place to fake-meet Finn, like a ventriloquist convention.

“I’m starting to wonder if you actually did pick him up on the side of the road.”

As much as I wanted to protest his ridiculously accurate take on yesterday’s events, I couldn’t fight the smile that was forcing its way out of my tightly controlled grimace.

“Am I right?” He laughed, pointing at me. “Emma!?”

“All right, shut up, and I swear I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.”

“I… you… how?” Jake stammered, still too shocked to form actual words.

“His truck broke down at a diner. I helped him out, and we hit it off. End of story.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not the end of the story. I mean, you actually brought him to breakfast… to Dad’s birthday breakfast no less. And Mom thinks he’s the one.” Jake laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“You know what annoys me most? She always acts so guarded with women who like her sons, but with me, any old drifter off the street will do.”

“Like Finn, for instance.” He chortled, finding so much more amusement in this than I did.

“It might as well have been Mom’s birthday by the way she was carrying on like that. Poor Finn. How embarrassing.”

“I don’t think he was embarrassed at all. He was having a great time today. The dude climbs walls, Emma.”

“So I’ve heard. What else did you boys do with him?”

“Well, I didn’t have all that much time to spend with him, but for the portion I was there, Finn served as our tour guide. He scored Dad a whole buttload of free shit, after which he declared today to be the best day of his birthday week so far.”

“Wow, the best? That’s saying something.”

“Anyway, I like him. Finn seems like a good guy.”

“A good guy I met on the side of the road.”

“So what? Everyone has to meet somehow. Imagine the story you could tell your kids.”

“That will not be happening. It’s one day. That’s all. And then he’ll be gone.”

“And Finn is fine with that?”

“It doesn’t matter what he’s fine with. The decision’s mine. I don’t want to talk about Finn anymore. I want to talk about something way more interesting.”

“Is there anything more interesting than the first guy you’ve introduced to the family in like forever?”

“Please – you’re always the most interesting person in the room. Anyway, I had a nice time with Casey the other night.”

“Yeah, so I heard,” he said, sinking down into a chair and stretching out.

That turned my senses on high alert. “Why? What did you hear?”

“Nothing. She said she had a good time too. Jesus. Why are you always so suspicious?”

“Maybe because I got the distinct impression the two of you have been having in-depth conversations about me.”

“Huh, really?”

“Stop playing dumb… I don’t appreciate it, okay? Just because you two are stupidly happy doesn’t give you the right to push your agenda on the rest of us.”

“My agenda?” He smirked. “I wasn’t aware I had one. Look, Casey and I have conversations. Can I help it if sometimes they include members of my family? Who else am I going to talk about?”

“You’re a rock star, Jake, surely you have more exciting things to discuss than your older sister who lives with her gender-bending cat.”

“Not anymore.” He laughed. “Not since you picked a stuntman off the side of the road and he started doing backflips in front of me.”

“Backflips, too?” I complained. “He has broken ribs, Jesus!”

“Really? Damn. Well, you couldn’t tell. He’s like a goddamn monkey. Never seen anyone who can do that shit. Gotta get him in my next video, no joke.”

“And I’m sure he’d love it. Anyway, have a good laugh on my behalf, but if you want me to have a close relationship with your wife, then you need to stop psychoanalyzing me with her.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” he said. “Stop talking like a therapist.”

“Speaking of that… why aren’t you going to yours anymore?”

My brother’s smile immediately faded, and he turned away. Tightness gripped my stomach. I’d wanted to bring it up in a tactful way, but instead just lobbed it straight in his face like a grenade. Sometimes I could be so insensitive.

“Sorry. That was stupid.” I reached out to touch him, but he jumped up from his chair and moved away from me. “Jake? I’m sorry.”

He shifted uneasily, keeping his gaze to the floor.

“Forget I said anything. Please.”

“If you must know,” he said, his voice a quiet rumbling, “the therapist went places I didn’t want to go.”

“You’re there to talk about the kidnapping. I would think most places are places you don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, well, some places are worse than others,” he acknowledged, not meeting my eyes. “I can only be pushed so far, Emma, and you know it.”

“But isn’t that the purpose of therapy? If you’re only going to talk about things you’re comfortable with, how much progress will you actually make?”

“You’re talking about things you don’t understand.” He grimaced, catching my eye. “Did Casey ask you to have this conversation with me?”

Casey asked me a lot more than that, buddy. You might be interested to know that she was also snooping into your most private thoughts and digging into things you definitely don’t want dug up. Of course, I kept those thoughts to myself. No way was I going to tangle myself up in their relationship. But I could and would answer his question, even if it was with a non-committal shrug of my shoulders.

“Nice. Is she going around soliciting advice from all my relatives now?”

“I think it was just me. She’s really worried about you.”

My brother paused, ran his fingers through his hair, exhaled, and then did it all again. I wasn’t sure if he was hyperventilating or trying to get his facts straight. Either way, I understood that the reasoning behind his exit from therapy ran deep, and a casual conversation like this would not reveal why.

“You need to talk to her. She loves you, Jake, and would never judge you for things that were out of your control.”

“If I could have that discussion, don’t you think I would?”

“Hence the need for therapy.”

“I’ve managed fine without it all these years, and I’ll do the same now.”

“And when baby makes three… what then?”

Jake paused, obviously not expecting me to go there. Cursing under his breath, he said, “Just because you got something out of me once doesn’t make you my confidant, Emma. Back off!”

The warning in his words was fierce enough that it stopped the conversation dead. Both of us stood there awkwardly for a moment, and I wracked my brain for something to turn this conversation around. All I had to offer up was my apology… and Finn.

“I’m sorry. I should never have brought it up.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Dammit, Emma. I have those people out there waiting for me, and now you have me all worked up.”

“That was dumb of me. I’m so sorry. How about this: you can ask one question about Finn to ease your stress.”

It took a full thirty seconds for him to accept my offer, but once the lopsided smile formed on his face, I knew I’d been forgiven.

“Did you have sex with the wall-scaling, stuntman hitchhiker?”

“Jake,” I laughed, smacking him in the arm. “That’s personal.”

“Yeah, like my shit’s not? Besides, you said anything, and if you don’t come clean, then I won’t forgive you for ruining my day.”

“Okay, fine. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Our eyes met, and his widened in surprise.

“What? You asked.”

* * *

Jake and I ended our talk on good terms, although I didn’t get any more out of him than Casey had. As we headed back out, I saw that Dad and the guys were back from their excursion. I took a deep breath. Finn had to go now, before any more damage could be done. Dad was clearly getting too attached, and Mom was one step away from booking the church.

Inhaling deeply and drawing on a reserve of courage I wasn’t sure I had, I walked up to the group. Finn emerged from the middle of it, smiling widely, with the most pleased expression on his face. In his arms was the giant floppy-eared dog he’d failed to win last night. He held it out for me. Mom gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth, eyes starry with admiration for my curly-haired suitor.

And his sincere gesture hadn’t just impressed my mother. The butterflies that had broken loose in my belly fluttered to my throat, rendering me speechless. This wasn’t just a cheap stuffed animal he was offering me. No, this was Finn showcasing the type of earnest man I’d be getting if I were lucky enough to snag a guy like him; and, in turn, he was making it virtually impossible for me to crush him. I couldn’t beat this guy. He was just that good!

“For you,” he said, to the oohs and ahs of the females in our group. Kenzie even elbowed Kyle in the ribs, clearly indicating to my brother that he was lacking in grand romantic gestures.

“How?”

“Well, first I emptied my savings account, and second, I took your advice and aimed for the hole.” By the amusement dancing across his face, it was clear Finn was pleased with himself. And so he should have been. He’d given me something no man before him had been able to give me: hope.

“You are… I just don’t know what to say. You’re something special, Finn. Thank you for this.” I stepped up to him, wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Another excited yelp escaped through my mother’s self-muzzled mouth. Even her irksome reactions weren’t enough to sour my mood.

“You’re welcome. And just so you know, I checked and he’s got no extra sex organs.”

“That’s disappointing.” I said. “At least he has the whole constipated look going for him.”

“I know, I noticed that too.”

“I guess the only thing we have left to do is name him.”

“Oh,” Finn’s face fell. “Your dad already did… he insisted… said it was the tradition.”

“Great.” I nodded in resignation. “What is it?”

“Stan.”

“Yes, of course it is.”

* * *

Finn, Stan, and I broke off from the group. As much as I’d wanted to go our separate ways only minutes earlier, now I couldn’t bear to let him go.

“This dog is so uncomfortable to carry,” I said, struggling to keep it from dragging on the ground. “His legs are all splayed out in a weird way.”

“Sort of reminds me of you last night on the Ferris wheel.”

“Minus the pervy carnival guy.”

He nodded. “Maybe we should put the dog in your car.”

“My car’s at the hotel, and I seriously doubt an Uber will pick us up with this bad boy.” An idea struck me. “Follow me. I know what we can do with Stan the Spread-Eagled Doggie Man.”

The two of us, with Stan now riding on Finn’s shoulders, made our way into the back lot and, after a check by security, were allowed to enter the bus area. Jake’s was front and center, of course. Much to Finn’s shock, I opened the door.

“Is this Jake’s tour bus?” he asked, with stars in his eyes.

“It is,” I said, stepping in. “Come on.”

“Are you allowed in?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m still wrapping my brain around the idea that he’s your frickin’ brother, sorry.”

Finn jumped the two steps, depositing himself beside me instantly.

I shook my head. Broken ribs, my ass!

Taking a quick look around the bus caused Finn to lose his shit. He started gushing like a little girl at a Bieber concert.

Before I could respond, Jake’s driver, Lassen, came out from his hibernation in the front of the bus, and Finn jumped, immediately trying to explain himself.

“Relax. He’s friendly… sort of. Lassen, this is Finn.”

“The superhero?”

“Uh, well, yes, I guess that would be me,” Finn said, stepping in to shake hands.

“Are you coming to the concert tonight?” I asked Lassen.

“Probably not,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Why not? You spend all your time in here. You didn’t even want a hotel room. Come on. The whole family’s here. We want your company. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, your presence at the concert was on Dad’s birthday list.”

“Oh, right. Uh-huh. I’ll think about it.”

“Do that.”

“So what are you two doing in here anyway?” Lassen asked.

“We have a little prank we want to play on Jake.”

Finn whipped his head around. “We do?”

“Just go with it,” I whispered.

Lassen glanced between us, no doubt deciding if he should allow such shenanigans, before grumpily retreating back to his den. “Do whatever you want, but leave me out of it.”

Feeling astonishingly light and playful, I saluted Lassen before turning my attention to my pet dog.

“All right, Stan,” I said, carrying him to the bathroom. “Let’s give Jake a night to remember.”

* * *

Pleased by our efforts, Finn and I collapsed on the sofa in the tour bus. Sitting comfortably against each other shoulder to shoulder, we both laughed together at the hilarity of our prank.

“You, Blondie, have an evil streak,” he complimented, comfortably tapping fingers on my thigh. “I like it.”

“Nothing makes me happier than messing with the boys. Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What did you mean earlier about your mom not being legitimate?”

He grinned. “How did I know you’d remember that? Nothing escapes you, does it?”

“No. Unfortunately. It’s a curse.”

“I come from an unconventional family. My mother wasn’t around much for me growing up.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, covering my fingers over his and entwining them. Why I thought it was a perfectly normal way to comfort a virtual stranger, I can’t say, but I felt a level of comfort with Finn that had never been present with anyone else.

“I’m not complaining, Emma. My mom was young when she had me. She did the best she could.”

“You’re very forgiving. I wish I could be more like you.”

“You seem to have a great relationship with your mom.”

“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

Surprised, Finn looked to me for clarification. Thankfully, Kyle came clomping through the bus at that very moment, saving me.

“What the…” He stopped abruptly. “What are you doing here?”

“Just setting a little trap for Jake.”

Kyle glanced at the two of us before breaking into a smile. “Nice. Where?”

“Bathroom.”

My brother went off to investigate, and Finn and I high-fived our handiwork. What he would find there, and Jake shortly thereafter, was a five-foot-tall stuffed dog wrapped in a bath towel, a shower cap over his floppy ears, with a dollop of Casey’s blue facial mask slathered on his cheap fur. For presentation, we chose to have him peering out from inside the shower cabin with his beady-eyed plastic stare and elongated, panting tongue. The sheer size alone was enough to raise an unsuspecting recipient’s blood pressure.

“Jesus, that thing’s creepy,” Kyle said, rejoining us in the kitchen. “Jake will surely appreciate it.”

* * *

Having found a good home for Stan, we made our way back to the hotel to get ready for the concert. Finn had been all hands on deck with me in the back of the cab, so much so that the driver had adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better look at the action. And it was action. I was losing complete control of the situation. I knew what I needed to do – keep the relationship purely platonic – but my body was not agreeing. We’d barely made it into the hotel room before Finn had me pinned down on the sofa, kissing his way down my neck. The soft touch of his lips flittering on my skin sent a sensual vibration down my spine.

“Finn.”

He leaned back, entangling his fingers in mine. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, but…”

“If you don’t want to, tell me and I’ll stop. Otherwise, turn your damn brain off and let’s get it on.”

His hands dipped between my legs as he made his impassioned plea, and I quivered at his touch.

“Don’t stop,” I said, panting. “It’s off. My brain. I turned it off.”

That was all Finn needed to hear, for as soon as my words were uttered, he pulled the shirt over my head and started kissing his way up. His lips danced along my neckline as his fingers continued to please. Shivers rattled through my body as his lips drifted down to my breast. Lingering there for a moment, perhaps waiting for my next move, Finn continued kissing his way around the soft flesh. I realized then that he’d been stalling as he hovered on the line between being a gentleman and tearing my clothes off, so I erased all doubt by unbuckling my bra and then groping him through his jeans. That was the last moment of indecision on Finn’s part. He dropped to his knees. My legs wobbled as he licked the inside of my thigh. Light strokes led the way, and I spread my legs to further welcome him in. Pressing my head against the cushioned sofa, I arched my back as his tongue dipped inside of my opening and tasted my desire. With a hunger, he expertly devoured me, sucking and lapping with an urgency only one committed to the cause could maintain. I moved my hips with him, grinding his mouth, giving in to the pleasure. Finn’s thumb joined with his tongue and the combined effort had me writhing under his expert touch. A few more seconds of the dual assault brought a shivering cry from my lips as a powerful orgasm ripped from my uterus rushed through my body, pouring out into his mouth.

Finn held my legs tight as they trembled and he continued licking the climax from me. My hips jerked and twitched, the climax taking control, until finally it had rushed through every inch of me. Panting on the sofa, I heard the rip of a condom wrapper, and then his warmth was back and his tongue was replaced by his bulging desire. He entered me fully with one solid thrust, and I cried out in ecstasy as my long legs wrapped around him, encouraging ever more powerful thrusts. We rocked together in rhythm as my fingers found his curly hair and I took hold. My god. How had I ever found those locks obnoxious? He was the hottest thing on two legs, and I wanted every bit of him.

Finn took my unbridled desire as further encouragement and dipped his hands onto my ass, pulling me up to meet each thrust. Clinging to him, my arms draped around his muscular back and my legs locked tighter around his hips. The strength of his body and his strong thighs hammering into me sent my body into another frenzied spasm.

“Yes. Yes.”

Finn, his chiseled face contorted with lust, was as wildly out of control as I was, and the two of us tottered dangerously close to the sofa’s edge, but when his fingers found my sex, I unexpectedly exploded around him, my legs shaking with ripples of satisfaction. That was all it took for Finn to let loose, grinding his way to an enthusiastic orgasm and, in turn, pumping us both to the floor in a heap of sweaty arms and legs.

* * *

A single drumbeat brought the crowd to their feet as their steady screams drowned out all conversation. Making our way from the shadows, my family filled in the space below center stage, with the roar of the appreciative audience to our backs. Chairs had been set up for those who wanted them, but only Mom, Dad, and Lassen actually took a seat. The rest of us waited with bated breath for the main attraction – my talented brother – to take the stage and start the show. The energy was electric, and Finn stared on in awe. If this was exciting for me, someone who had been in this position many times before, it had to be an indescribable thrill for a newbie like Finn to be this close to the action.

Kyle was sitting on the edge of the stairs, long legs dangling, diligently watching the crowd for jumpers. It was nice to see him taking his job so seriously. Despite our insult-flinging earlier, we were closer than we’d been in years. Much of the tension that existed between us in the past had stemmed from the guilt I carried. I should have done more to ease his suffering all those years ago. We all should have. Even though Kyle had spent his life holding the short end of the stick, he hadn’t let it destroy him, and I was proud of the changes he’d made to improve himself. Competing on the reality show and meeting Kenzie had been a game changer for him. He was calmer now, more at peace. Protecting Jake for real gave him a purpose and maturity that had not been there before.

He caught me staring, and furrowed his brow as if he thought I was judging him. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Feeling such love and admiration for Kyle in the moment, I waved. Surprised, he looked around and then pointed to himself. I nodded, put my hand to my lips, and blew him a kiss. Kyle lifted his arm and caught it before bringing it down to his heart, grinning from ear to ear. He then went back to scanning the audience, but that smile remained.

To thunderous applause, Jake entered the stage and broke out into his first song.

“This is crazy,” Finn said, screaming the words into my ear. “Total insanity. I can’t imagine what it feels like for him up there.”

I pulled his arm tighter around me. After this afternoon, I could feel myself falling for him, and in this moment of excitement, I welcomed everything he had to offer. Noise and lights exploded from every inch of the outdoor arena, and as Jake crossed the stage and belted out a soaring number, I tingled with pride. The excitement was electric, and tonight, with Finn by my side, I was seeing the show in an entirely different light. I’d never fully appreciated the magnitude of Jake’s influence on his fans… or theirs on him.

About an hour into the performance, Jake took a break from the action to talk to the thunderous crowd. Thankfully, he’d cleared his head after our discussion earlier, yet I knew even if he hadn’t, Jake would have faked it. He was nothing if not a consummate professional.

“I just wanted to send a shout out to my father, who’s in the audience tonight. It’s his fifty-fifth birthday today.”

The crowd cheered.

“That’s right. It’s a big accomplishment to live this long, and I was thinking we could really make his day by singing to him. What do you say?”

More riotous chants.

“Come on up, Dad.”

We all turned to my father, who was staying firmly planted in his chair. It was clear he had no intention of willingly making his way up on stage. For all his blustery bravado, my dad hated the spotlight, and walking up there in front of tens of thousands of people was not his idea of a good time. Of course, that’s what made it funny, and why Jake had volunteered him for the pleasure.

“Let’s go, old man,” Jake prompted from the stage, but Dad shook his head, refusing. “No? Okay, no problem. We’ll wait.”

More chants exploded from the arena, growing in intensity.

“Any day now, Pops. I’ve got a concert to finish up here. You’re making all these good people wait.”

Out of options, my father begrudgingly climbed the stairs to the riotous approval of the masses.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Scott McKallister.”

Dad took his bow in front of the adoring hordes.

“Can someone get this man a chair? He’s old.”

Clearly Jake was having fun at Dad’s expense, and I thought it was hysterical – until my father, given a chance to address the audience, dragged us all down with him.

“Since it’s my birthday week,” he said, “I’d like to request my loving children, their significant others, and my lovely wife to come up and sing to me too.”

And we did. All of us swarmed the stage. Finn had been reluctant to join the rest of us, but when my mother hooked her arm in his and led him up, he obediently followed. Together we serenaded my father in the loudest, most off-key song a crowd of thousands could muster. In the end, my dad had been thoroughly thrilled and had decided that a big arena serenade would make his list yearly from here on out.

Just as Finn and I were exiting the stage, Jake grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, “We’ll be discussing Stan later.”

“Don’t get too attached. I’ll be expecting him back.”

“Oh, you’ll be getting him back, I promise.”

The wicked smile on his face told me Stan would be making a later appearance in the most unwelcome of ways.

As the concert wound down, Finn hugged his arm around my waist. The lights crisscrossed the stage and the pounding beat could be felt in every curve of my body. Finn’s embrace was the final touch to an incredible day. He squeezed me tight as he nuzzled my neck.

“Are you thinking again?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You worry me when you do that.”

“Sorry. It’s a nasty habit of mine.”

“Promise you won’t get all freaky on me tonight. This whole day has been perfection, Emma. Let’s keep the streak going.”

“Okay, I promise.”

16

Emma, 2004: Night Terrors

The hair-raising screams stabbed through the walls of our modest home, jolting me from a fitful sleep. Tiny arms wrapped tighter around me as Grace buried her head in my stomach and whimpered. Since Jake’s return, she hadn’t slept one night in her own bed.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay.” I stroked her pajama-clad back. “He’s having another nightmare. You’re okay.”

But she wasn’t. These past few weeks had been beyond traumatizing for her. Jake was not the brother any of us remembered, but for Grace it was especially confusing, as she’d never been given a reasonable explanation as to why the boy she adored had come home a shell of his former self. I got it – Mom thought she was too young to burden with such information – but at this point, her day to day existence was so terrifying, what did it really matter?

Quinn burst into my room carrying his pillow, blanket, and stuffed cheetah. With a frightened look on his face, he swung the door shut before jumping into my bed and wedging himself securely against me. I watched him slap his hands over his ears to keep the screaming out. This had become a near nightly ritual since Jake’s homecoming: me in bed with Grace and Quinn. Before this whole ordeal began, neither one of them had looked to me as a source of comfort. I was just the boring older sister. Who would want me when there were fun boys around?

Oh, how the tides had turned. There were no more fun boys in our house. Clearly Keith was their best shot, but although he’d stayed home since Jake’s return, he was on and off… and not just of drugs. Some days he was almost normal, but other days his erratic, aggressive behavior and vampire-like, bloodshot eyes made him unsuitable comfort food for our little siblings. Kyle was…well… doing what he did best these days, staying the hell out of the way. Jake’s outbursts were so violent and unpredictable that it was deemed too dangerous for him to remain in the room they’d once shared, so he’d now taken up residency in Keith’s. And Jake… even if we wanted to have a conversation with him, we couldn’t… I mean, my god, that poor boy lived inside his own private nightmare world, chock full of demons and monsters, where the main form of communication was screaming.

All of a sudden, the sister no one wanted to hang out with had become the go-to girl in the McKallister household. Any decisions that were not Jake-related went through me first. I’d been dropped into the role of surrogate mother, and not to brag, I’d become a fairly efficient substitute for the real thing. Soon, it seemed, I couldn’t move anywhere throughout the house without my dual chattering shadows. Surprisingly, I welcomed Grace and Quinn with open arms. The angry, egocentric teen I’d been a few months ago was gone. Life these days was too harsh and unforgiving for such self-serving antics. My focus now was safeguarding the future of two innocent little souls.

Huddled on the bed, I soothed the frightened kids with soft whispers of reassurance. Jake’s nightmares were rightfully unnerving, sending an icy chill through the bones of those of us who were awakened by them nightly. Clearly he was reliving the horrors of his imprisonment, and we all felt his mind-numbing fear. Sometimes, his sleep-talking outbursts even revealed the injustices inflicted upon him. Those were the scariest moments – the ones where I instructed Grace and Quinn to cover their ears. Listening to Jake beg for mercy or plead for his life was not something their young ears needed to hear. I wished mine wouldn’t either.

“Emma, make the tent,” Quinn cautiously whispered, as if Jake could hear his voice over all the screaming.

“I’m already on it,” I answered, as I crawled to my knees and tied my blanket to the headboard posts, creating a little tent for the three of us to take shelter under. The screams intensified as I reached into my side table to fetch the flashlight and the book I’d read to them from last night. Through the thin walls, I could hear Mom and Dad trying to soothe Jake, to no avail. Tonight, as with most nights, my brother was inconsolable, and even the slightest touch was enough to send him reeling in horror and violently lashing out at anyone in the vicinity. As a result, my parents had no choice but to keep a safe distance and watch helplessly as their broken son raged into the night against the ghost who continued to torment him. I’d come to realize that the only way these episodes ended was when he’d screamed himself to exhaustion. Only then would peace be restored… at least until the following night.

“I want him to stop,” Grace cried out, covering her ears. “Why don’t they make him stop?”

“They’re trying, Grace. Jake needs time to adjust.”

“That’s not Jake,” she said, her face scrunched in anger. “That’s not my brother.”

Her words shocked me. I’d never heard Grace voice such contempt. It was no secret that she was distrustful of Jake, based on her adverse reaction towards him anytime he was near, but this was something else.

“I wish he’d just go away and never come back.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” I answered in a harsh voice. “That’s just mean.”

Grace’s body immediately began to shake, and her lips puckered in protest. Oh, crap. Before I could stop her, my sister erupted into uncontrollable sobbing.

“Oh, great.” Quinn sighed dramatically. “Now we have stereo sound.”

His statement was so random and so out of place coming from a kid his age that I actually giggled. My baby brother joined me in some inappropriately placed laughter. Grace stopped her crying long enough to punch Quinn in the back.

“Hey,” I admonished, grabbing the offending hand, “No hitting in the sacred tent.”

“Stop laughing at me then!” she demanded, crossing her arms in front of her slight chest.

“Okay, I’ll stop.” I hugged Grace, and she slowly relaxed enough to sink back into me.

Quinn continued to laugh but now only to annoy her. I gave him a dirty look.

“Zip it,” I warned.

Another loud scream cut through the night, sending a shiver through my little sister.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Grace asked, her voice so tiny and defenseless that tears sprang instantly to my eyes.

I’d been dreading this conversation. Mom’s insistence that we keep the two in the dark about Jake’s kidnapping was understandable, given the horrific circumstances, but they obviously knew something wasn’t right. Besides that, Grace’s attitude toward Jake concerned me.

“He was kidnapped,” Quinn answered, acting as if it were common knowledge.

“How do you know that?”

“I hear things. I’m not a baby. I’m going to be seven next week.”

Uncertain how to proceed – I was, after all, new to this mothering gig – I asked, “What have you heard?”

My little brother winced and looked away. I didn’t push for an answer since his body language told me he knew way more than he should. Mom was wrong. How could she hope to shield them when reality screamed in their ears? And by not allowing them to talk about it, she was creating added fear and confusion.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you both something, but you guys have to promise not to tell Mom I told you, okay?”

Grace snorted up her snot and studied me with curious eyes. “I promise.”

Quinn kept his head down but nodded his agreement.

“Quinn is right. Jake was kidnapped. Do you know what that means?”

My little brother nodded, but my sister sat there dumbfounded.

“It means that a man came and took Jake away from us even though he didn’t want to go.”

“Is he going to come for me next?” Grace asked, peeking up at me through innocent eyes. I hesitated before continuing. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe this was too much for her.

“No. He’s never coming back.”

“Then why is Jake so afraid?” Quinn said.

“I don’t know. Some bad things happened to him while he was away, and that made him really sad … and scared. I think that’s why he screams. I’d scream too if I was him. Wouldn’t you?”

Both my siblings nodded innocuously as if my simplistic explanation made perfect sense to them.

“I know Jake’s different, and sometimes his behavior is scary, but he’s still our brother, and he needs us now more than ever. So we have to be strong and brave even when the screaming scares us. We owe that to Jake because he fought so hard to come back to us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” they both answered in unison.

“And that’s why Mom and Dad can’t be with you as much as they were before.”

“I don’t care,” Quinn said, acting tough, but there was clear sadness in his words. “I like you better.”

“Me too,” Grace said, hugging my arm.

“I’m happy you like being with me, but cut Mom and Dad some slack. They love us more than anything in the world, but right now, Jake needs them more than we do. Once he’s better, they’ll be good parents again.”

It was interesting that I was giving such advice to my siblings when I was the one who couldn’t seem to give my mother even the slightest break.

“Until then, you’re stuck with me and my totally awesome blanket tents”

Grace continued rubbing her face against my arm. “I love you, Emma. You’re my favoritest sister ever.”

I felt my heart melting. How had I deprived myself of her sweetness for all those years? If there was one good thing that had come from this whole terrible ordeal, it was my renewed sense of family. I’d never take those I loved for granted again.

“She’s your only sister, dummy.”

“Quinn!” I gasped, playfully slapping my hand over his mouth. “Way to ruin the moment.”

17

Finn: Light ’Em Up

Pulling off the freeway, we drove another couple of miles down side streets until we arrived in front of Perryland. The first couple hours in the car with Emma had been fun and easy, but as we drew closer to the compound, anxiousness began to rattle my nerves. She’d asked me a few generic questions about my family on the way, but for some strange reason, I was getting the distinct impression Emma was expecting to meet them.

“It’s right there on the right. You can just pull over here.”

She glided the car to a stop and started gathering her belongings and shoving them in her purse. The expectant gaze she flashed up at me was my answer. Oh, shit.

When she’d admitted to me on the ride over that she was in a hurry to get home to prepare for her upcoming twelve-hour workday, I hoped that was reason enough to keep her from rendezvousing with the parasitic Perry clan. Sure, I’d told Emma the basics about my family, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to give her the full, unappetizing details. That would just be inviting ridicule. If this weekend was any indication, Emma had the world’s most interesting and engaging family, and mine was sure to terrify in comparison.

Still, I really liked this girl, and if I turned her away now, would she think I was shady? I needed to say something to get her to leave before disaster struck, but in a tone that wouldn’t scare her away. I couldn’t put off discussing the people who’d raised me forever, so I decided that full disclosure was in order.

“So I know we’ve talked a little about my unconventional family, but I’m not sure if I emphasized strongly enough that I come from a long, proud line of white trash.”

She grinned, not seeming in the least bit put off by my admission. That was a good sign. “How trashy are we talking?”

“Um… Jerry Springer level.”

Emma’s captivating eyes shimmered as she cast me an amused sidelong glance. “Exactly how far back does this glorious bloodline go?”

“You know the royal family in England?”

She nodded, the smile on her face widening.

“Probably that far.”

Scanning her eyes over the deceptively unassuming property, Emma nodded as if she were processing this new piece of information about me.

“Wow, I thought you were just some average guy, but look at you. You’re practically royalty.”

I grinned. She took that well. Normally I didn’t give a crap what people thought, and I’d really never met a woman who had a problem with my rickety heritage – but then, I’d never met anyone like Emma. Something about her made me want to try harder… be better.

“So what qualifies as white trash in your book?”

“My mother’s sixteen years older than me.”

She fixed me with a disapproving stare. “Having a baby young doesn’t qualify as white trash.”

“I realize that, but in this unique case, it most certainly does. And I’m definitely not ripping on them, because I can assure you, they wear the badge with pride.”

“Well, in that case,” Emma said, “I guess you’re entitled to label them what you will. So what about your dad?”

I tilted my head and quirked my eyebrows in her direction, attempting to non-verbally communicate to Emma how ridiculous her question really was. “Oh, there are no dads in my story. For a time there, I was hopeful, because Shelby – that’s my mom – had narrowed it down to four guys, but sadly none of them panned out.”

“Panned out?” she asked, amused. “Your mom was sixteen when she had you. How many guys could she possibly have slept with?”

“You’d be surprised, Emma. Shelby was at the top of her class.”

“You call your mom Shelby?”

“Her idea. Not mine. Growing up, she didn’t want me cockblocking her.”

“You’re lying,” Emma sputtered, nonplussed. With Shelby, there were plenty of shocking moments, but I’d become so used to them that it surprised me when others reacted strongly. If she stuck with me, I feared there would be a lot of disbelief in Emma’s future.

“Honest to god. She thought Mom made her sound old, so the only time I was allowed to call her that was when the social service worker made her monthly visit or when she was trying to hustle some guy into giving her money by claiming I was his.”

“Wow, she sounds… um… enterprising. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Sure, some day.”

“Why not today?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons why not. Besides, meeting Shelby is like an eighth date sort of activity. This curb, right here, this is where we part ways.”

She opened her door stubbornly, and I reached over and closed it. “No.”

Not a chance was Emma walking into the hornet’s nest unannounced.

“Come on, Finn, I showed you my family,” she whined.

“Because they’re literally kick-ass awesome!” I said, my voice an octave higher just from the memory of their splendor. Emma’s pedigree was something to be proud of, and although I wasn’t entirely embarrassed by my family, I certainly wasn’t going to parade them around normal people either. “Besides, the house is really rundown.”

“I don’t care about stuff like that.”

“No? Well, it’s messy, too… we’re talking dirt, grease, trash… all the stuff you love. Plus there are animals and kids all over the damn place. Are you ready to drop me off at the curb now?”

“Strangely enough,” she said, grinning, “you’ve only intrigued me more. And I really hate to be so petty, but you’re forcing my hand here… you owe me, Finn. I saved your ass on multiple occasions this weekend, and all I ask in return is to pull up that driveway and meet the woman who birthed you. Is that so much to ask?”

I’d only known Emma for two days, but that sassy-ass attitude lit a fire in me that I struggled to control. Grabbing her arm, I pulled her to me. The determination on her face melted almost immediately when she caught the meaning of my sudden aggressiveness. My lips crushed into hers, and in a tangle of arms and legs and steering wheel, the two of us were again locked in a smoldering kiss. My fingers slid up her shirt as her arms gripped my shoulders tight. Her moaning, my groaning… then a hand on my chest pushing me away.

“What was that?” she asked, startled by something out the window.

I turned but saw nothing, so I shrugged my response and went back to her lips.

Again she pushed me back. “It was like a helmet. Camouflage, in the bushes over there?” She pointed to our property behind the fence.

I squinted into the bright sunlight. “Do you still see it?”

“No. But I promise you, something was there.”

“It’s probably one of the kids. I told you, at least twenty family members live here. There’s no doubt in my mind you saw one of them. These people aren’t real good about respecting personal space. I’ve been trying to distance myself from them for years, but they won’t let me go.”

“That’s family… they’re sticky, like syrup.”

“See, your type of sticky is sweet. My type of sticky is like a stubborn Band-Aid that adheres to every tiny little hair and stings like a bitch when you pull it off. And not only that, but while you’re rubbing out the ache, they hit you up for money.”

“Do you give it?”

“You mean money?”

“Yeah, do you give them money?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why they’re extra sticky.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not easy to say no to my mother. She’s like a sucker fish in suggestive clothing.”

“Do you always talk about her like that?”

“No, usually I’m not as nice.”

Emma laughed. “Stop stalling. Let’s go. Rip off the damn Band-Aid and introduce me to your mom.”

“Fine. But I’m warning you now, if my cousin Bucky is around, you need to hold onto your purse.”

* * *

I stepped out of the car to open the gate and waved Emma through before jumping back in to make the drive up the crumbling concrete path.

“Huh, where is everyone?” I asked, looking around the empty front yard. Something wasn’t right. It was too quiet. “They usually scatter like ashes.”

“Who?”

“The kids. Where are…”

The first popping sound startled us both, and a yellow splat appeared on the car window. Suddenly the camouflage helmet she’d seen made perfect sense. An explosion of color accompanied by a series of loud cracks followed. We looked at each other in confusion as a group of heavily armed toddlers swarmed out of the bushes. Emma slammed on the brakes.

“The little fuckers,” I exclaimed.

“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice rattling with alarm.

“They’re attacking. Paintball guns.”

“They’re hitting my car with paint?” Emma fumed, forgetting her moment of fear. “The little fuckers!”

“If it makes you feel any better, the paint is probably biodegradable.”

“No,” she said. “No, it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

We blinked in the scene unfolding before us. At least a dozen toy soldiers, faces streaked in black war paint, surrounded our car. Even four-year-old Posy had apparently gone through basic training and was now pointing a paint gun at my head.

A giggle escaped Emma’s mouth. “Is this for real?”

“Oh, it’s real. Don’t underestimate them. They may be pocket-sized, but I’m warning you now, they’re a highly organized unit.”

A squeaky, prepubescent voice cut through the confines of the car. “We only want Indy. Send him out and no one else has to get hurt.”

Simon. My eyes narrowed in on my diminutive adversary. I should have known he’d be the ringleader. Simon – the kid who’d figured out at three years old that if he ran away from home, the police would give him an ice cream cone for his efforts. So as if he were Pavlov’s dog, Simon regularly climbed the fence and hoofed it to the police station every time he had a sweet tooth. It wasn’t until the authorities threatened to remove him from the home that the behavior ended. Yeah, Simon was a formidable opponent, but he didn’t scare me. I knew how to handle little shits like that, because I was once exactly like him.

“Let me out,” I insisted.

Emma, picking up on the ridiculousness of the situation, played along with the charade by dramatically grabbing my arm. “No, Finn. It’s not safe out there.”

“You heard them. They’ll let you live if I sacrifice myself.”

Emma choked out a laugh. “In that case, get the hell out of my car.”

I leaned over and gave her a quick kiss before opening the door and climbing out in a display of thunderous pride. I embodied the bravest of heroes. After so many onscreen deaths, today, in this crackpot movie, I would be the hero who lived.

Click. I whipped my head around. What in the fresh hell? Had my heroine, the woman I was defending with my life, locked me out of the damn car?

“Really?”

She shrugged, the smile wide across her face.

All righty then. I knew where I’d stand in an actual emergency. Taking inventory of the situation, I counted at least thirteen hostiles. Who had given these delinquents paint guns in the first place? This seemed the worst possible toy to give a bunch of destructively bored kids. I surveyed the group. Most were wearing bike helmets for protection, but one had chosen to accessorize with a Darth Vader mask. That threw me off a little, but I got my head back in the game when they surrounded me, weapons at the ready. I even spotted one soldier doing a low crawl through the bushes... Emma’s phantom stalker.

“Hands up!”

“Guys, remember what I told you the other day about my bruised ribs? I can’t play with you today, but once I’m feeling better, it’s game on.”

“I said HANDS UP!” Simon demanded, his face twisting in a grimace. I glared at my pint-size foe and startled as he leveled the firearm. Little jerk.

“Simon, I swear to god, if you shoot me, I’m going to kill you. Put the gun down.”

“Time’s up,” he announced. I heard the pop and then pain rippled through my lower regions. It was a point blank shot and it hurt like hell. Shocked, I dropped my eyes and found a big green splotch on my jeans just north of my crotch. The shrimp had probably been aiming for my head, but that was as high as he could see. I lunged for him, but the kid shot me in the legs. It was like getting into a gunfight with a militarized troll.

“Light him up, boys,” Simon yelled, even going so far as to raise his arm in a rallying cry. Darth Vader didn’t have to be told twice; he opened fire. The others followed suit.

“Not the ribs,” I yelled, trying my best to protect them while frantically attempting to shield my sensitive balls from harm. My dick, the victim of a direct hit, forced a high-pitched scream from my lips. Laughter rang out, and I glanced at Emma, all safely locked inside her sanctuary, only to find her bent over the steering wheel, giggling uncontrollably as she wiped tears from her eyes. I would have appreciated more support, but then these devil’s spawn were my flesh and blood, and it really was up to me to put them in their place. Or run. Yes, running seemed the better option. I took off in the direction of the house.

“He’s retreating, soldiers,” Simon yelled. “Get him!”

“Stand down!” I screamed, still running in a panic. Then I realized that these types of rebels needed visual cues, so I started flailing my arms in the air, offering my surrender.

For whatever reason, these kids had never heard of amnesty, and they kept advancing. I was all colors of the rainbow by the time I reached the hose on the side of the house. The little shits didn’t see the wall of water coming, and I hosed down the entire front line, even knocking a few of them onto their itty bitty rumps.

Once I’d turned the tables on my tormentors, they retreated to the holes they’d crawled out of. As Emma drove up to the house, tears of hysteria rolling down her checks, I balked at her abandonment and turned to access my own car, my beautiful gray Charger, which Shelby had parked near the house. Running my hands over the still pristine paint, I thanked the lord in heaven that she hadn’t put a dent in my baby.

“Is that your ride?” she called out, still trying to get herself under control.

“It is, and wasn’t it nice of my mother not to wrap it around a tree?”

“So sweet.”

Stinging pain still radiating through my lower limbs, I staggered over to Emma’s car and propped my elbow on top, panting. “Did I or did I not warn you?”

“You warned me. I just never could have imagined that it would become a full-on reenactment of Saving Private Ryan.”

“Yes, I’m glad you enjoyed the special presentation. That was all for show – the latest in the Perry family interpretive theater group.”

“That’s such a relief, Finn. For a minute there, I though you were a real-life wuss.”

“No, no,” I said, playing along. “I’m only a coward on film. So do you still want to meet the fam, or have you seen enough?”

“Oh god no, this whole episode has only heightened my excitement,” she replied, exiting the car.

“Okay, you asked for it. And by the way, don’t tell Shelby who your brother is. That’s not information she should have this early in the game.”

“Shelby?” I called out as I helped Emma over a couple of boxes sitting just inside the front door. “What the hell are these for?” I asked no one in particular.

A voice from the other room yelled back, “It’s a bird feeder. Can you carry it in for me?”

Picking it up, I was shocked by the sheer weight. Emma followed me into the throne room where grandma Gigi reigned supreme.

“Oh, wonderful,” she clapped. “I’ve been trying to get someone to bring that in here for three days.”

“Are you planning on feeding an eagle?”

“No. It was a special on QVC so I bought six.”

Emma and I exchanged an alarmed glance. Gigi had a habit of hoarding, and in recent years she’d taken it online. I honestly had no idea how she had money left to keep buying.

“You do understand that if you hang it, they will come, right?”

“Of course,” Gigi sighed, shaking her head as if I were one step up from the village idiot. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Well, I don’t know what the point is. You never leave the chair. When did you plan to witness this Southern migration?”

“Come here, boy,” she demanded, snapping her grabber arm at me menacingly. I did as I was told. “Now get down on my level and what do you see? That’s right, a window. Now who’s laughing?”

She was talking about the one two rooms over. I seriously doubted she’d see an eagle smashing into the panes much less a family of swallows enjoying an afternoon snack. Of course, my opinion meant nothing, judging by the threatening expression on her face, and I took that as my cue to drop the conversation entirely. There was nowhere to go but down.

“Oh, you’re here. Thank god,” Shelby said, coming out from the kitchen. “The kids have been bugging me for hours. They’ve been hiding in bushes all morning waiting for you.”

“You knew this would happen?” I asked, gesturing toward my multihued clothing. “They were shooting up her car.”

Shelby wasn’t listening; in fact, she’d lost complete interest in me the moment her focus landed squarely on Emma.

“Well, hello there, I’m Shelby, Finn’s sister. Nice to meet you,” she said, with a greedy scan of her eyes. She reached her hand out.

Gigi’s head snapped back and her eyes widened in surprise as if Emma had suddenly materialized out of thin air. With that attention for detail, there was no way Gigi would be witnessing a bird convention outside her window.

As Emma was reciprocating the greeting, Shelby, always the subtle one, turned to me and mouthed loudly enough to be heard, “Is she the skank?”

“Shelby!” I admonished, glancing over toward Emma in hopes she hadn’t heard. She had.

“What? How am I supposed to know? You haven’t introduced me to your lady friend yet.”

“I was trying to, but you always beat me to the punch, don’t you?”

“So you’re not Alexis?”

“No, I’m Emma. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Shelby shook her hand and said, “Oh, what a relief. I was about to punch you in the face.”

I was busy dying just a little bit inside. Shelby was nothing if not brutally honest, and her in-your-face personality had a tendency to break even the heartiest of souls. I shouldn’t have worried. Not only was Emma a girl who could appreciate sarcasm, but she was also clearly one who could stand up for herself.

“Nope, not the skank,” she answered, grinning. “At least I hope not. I’m a friend of Finn’s.”

“Not just any friend, MOM. She’s the woman who rescued me after you sent me off to die in the desert.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” She grinned at me and then gave Emma a full and incredibly impolite body audit. “So then I guess a ‘thank you Shelby’ would be in order.”

Emma’s eyes flickered with amusement.

“Coming here like this… bringing him home to his mama, you must’ve really enjoyed saving him.”

Nooo. I flashed Emma my sincerest apologies. What had I been thinking, bringing her around Shelby? She was too unpredictable to expose to the public.

“I did, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded knowingly. “My Indy’s a catch.”

I groaned. The last thing I needed was my mother playing wingman.

“Yes, he is,” Emma confirmed. She caught my eye, doing a little downward scan. Okay, so maybe my mother wasn’t the worst co-pilot.

“Sorry about the paint ball pellets to your car, hun, but don’t worry, they disintegrate. The kids have been peppering Indy’s car all day, and you don’t see a mark on it.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. They were already disappearing before we came in.”

“Why were you letting them shoot at my car?” I asked, disbelieving but kicking myself for even being surprised.

“Yours was the only car in the driveway.” Shelby shrugged, as if her logic made perfect sense.

“Except for the pile of junk that Bucky towed back – you know, the one that’s already many different paint colors… and is parked directly in front of mine.”

Shelby sighed, like my questioning was totally unreasonable. “Hey, I raised my kids. I’m not responsible for those brats.”

That wasn’t accurate in the least. Not only had Shelby never actually raised any of us, but she was also now the primary caretaker for Rocky’s two kids, Posy and Nike, now that he was in jail and their mother was off pursuing other loser leads. Not wanting to get into a fact-finding mission with Shelby, I just let it go.

“Why isn’t the paint coming off my clothes, if it’s so harmless?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe you have to wash them. Go get some of Rocky’s clothes. God knows, he won’t need them for a while. Did Indy tell you his brother was in prison?”

Boom. That explosive piece of information had the desired effect on Emma. She was sufficiently shocked. I’d almost forgotten how perfectly honest a chat with Shelby could be.

“No, he didn’t, but you know, we just met,” she said, fumbling over her words. This time it was Emma who flashed me the apologetic look.

“Shelby, good lord,” Gigi derided. “You have to ease people into that type of sensitive information. Do you see me blurting out about my gastrointestinal issues with just anyone?”

“You don’t have issues, Grandma,” Shelby fired back. “You were diagnosed with phenomenal gas. That’s not a disease.”

While they argued over verbiage, I grinned sheepishly to Emma and then formed a gun with my fingers and finished myself off. She laughed, touching my arm and sending a jolt of electricity through me. Damn. Our eyes met, and hers were filled with warmth and entertainment. She was not horrified by the display my relatives were putting on, and somehow, that made her all the more perfect.

“Anyway, Emma,” – Shelby turned off the disagreement with Gigi and switched on the BS for my lady friend and me – “Rocky was framed. It wasn’t his fault. He was only borrowing the car.”

I rolled my eyes. Anything that reflected negatively on my mother was sugar-coated with as many lies as possible. The truth was, fifteen months my junior, Rocky had been involved with shady people all his adult life and had been in and out of jail for years. The prison sentence resulted from a bust on a chop shop operation my brother ‘worked’ for. Rocky was the idiot who stole and stripped the cars.

“Don’t roll your eyes, Indiana-Jones.”

And there it was, bomb number two. Emma’s eyebrows rose to new heights as she attempted to quell the snickers. “Your name is Indiana Jones?”

I glared at my mother. “Obviously not by choice… and just so you know, it’s not Indiana Jones but Indiana-Jones. She made sure to hyphenate the words, so teachers would be forced to use my full first name in class.”

“Indiana-Jones,” Emma whispered to herself, amazed.

“It could have been worse. Her second choice was Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I’m a huge movie fan,” Shelby said, as if that explained saddling her son with a moniker that would get his ass kicked multiple times a day.

“So, would your other son be Rocky-Balboa then?”

“Ah ha, you’re catching on,” I said, impressed. “You see the pattern forming here? And I have a younger sister named Princess-Buttercup and another named Princess-Leia.”

“They just don’t appreciate my creativity,” Shelby said, waving off my ridicule. “But without my flair for the dramatic, Indiana-Jones wouldn’t be where he is today. You know he’s a famous actor, right?”

“No, Shelby, not famous…”

“You’ve been in eleven movies.”

“Slasher flicks!”

“Still, that’s famous in my book,” she challenged.

But not in Emma’s. She, of all people, could call bullshit on Shelby’s misguided proclamations of celebrity. I passed a repentant glance in Emma’s direction, but she seemed to be thriving in the stifling environment I was choking in.

“Everyone in town knows who he is,” Shelby said, addressing Emma, pride swelling her already enflamed ego. “They ask for autographs and everything.”

Oh, how I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Telling Emma, whose brother was actually famous, that I was a freaking celebrity was just mortifying. The remorseful expression I’d adopted from the earlier humiliation was still on my face, so I just allowed it to remain for this new wave of mortification.

“How did you come up with Finn?”

“My middle name: Finnegan.”

“So let me get this straight. Your full name is Indiana-Jones Finnegan Perry?”

“Yep. That’s right. It’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Now I see why the ticket lady was questioning you.”

“When I decided to become an actor, I changed my name. I obviously couldn’t have Indiana-Jones on my SAG card.”

“No. That probably wouldn’t work.”

“Anyway,” I said, hoping to move this torture along, “can I have my keys? Emma needs to get home, and I’ve got to show her how to get back on the freeway.”

“In those clothes? You’ll get your car seats all jacked up. Go change. I’ll keep your pretty savior busy.”

My eyes swiveled in every direction, unsure what to do. How many more zingers did Shelby have in her arsenal? Of course, I knew the answer to that. When it came to embarrassing tidbits, she was a bottomless pit. And my mother wondered why I never introduced her to the women I dated.

“Go, Indiana-Jones,” Emma said, waving me off. “Shelby and I will be fine.”

Against my better judgment, I jogged down to the room Rocky and I had shared for years. It was now home to his kids, but our stuff was still there, lingering amongst all the newer clutter. It took me a minute or two to locate my brother’s things and another minute to change out of my soiled clothes. I knew giving too much time to Shelby would result in unimaginable humiliation, so I hurried my ass back down the hall.

“…and then I gently laid him…”

No! My face flushed as heat coursed through my body. She wouldn’t! I dashed back into the kitchen, but the damage had already been done. Shelby was midway through her child abandonment saga. Emma had that smile on her face…you know the one, somewhere between polite amusement and Holy shit, is this woman for real?

“Wait, so Finn was the baby?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh, yeah. That’s why he has that weirdly shaped head. It molded to the toilet,” Shelby said.

“Oh, that’s why?” Emma laughed as if she was finding Shelby unbelievably entertaining, and my mother lapped up the attention. “I was wondering about the head.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my head,” I defended myself before turning on my traitorous mother. “You do realize that when you tell that story, it only makes you look like a total shithead, right?”

“Oh, who cares? Look how you turned out.” She then focused her attention back on Emma. “He’s always been real smart, this one. I honestly think the dip in the commode did him good.”

“Okay,” I abruptly clipped off the conversation. “Are you ready, Emma?”

“No, wait,” Shelby protested, clearly not ready to give up the talking stick. Maybe she had other stories lined up: like the time I was a toddler and took a crap in the fountain at the mall. I was three. What the hell was I doing naked in a fountain in the first place? “I was just going to make a box of macaroni and cheese. Are you hungry?”

“Actually, Finn and I stopped for breakfast not long ago, but otherwise I totally would.” She stood up and actually embraced my mother. What the hell was happening here? Had they just made friends? “Thanks for all the information. I’ll be sure to use it against him.”

“See?” Shelby purred. “That’s all I ask for. Finally you found a woman worth liking, Indiana-Jones.”

* * *

After taking the stairs to our sixth floor apartment, I swung the door open to find Richie peeking out of the blinds. He jumped when I shut the door. “Shhh! I think I just heard gunshots.”

“You’re fine. Some teenagers were hitting the garbage bin with a bat.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was a gunshot.”

Okay, I mouthed to myself, rolling my eyes at his paranoia.

Richie moved away from the window, apparently satisfied with my explanation.

“What’s wrong with the elevator?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It hasn’t worked since the earthquake. Be careful – the old people wait at the bottom of the stairs. Took me half an hour to help one guy to his room on the fourth floor. Now I hide in the bushes until the coast is clear.”

“Sooo, how was the whoring?” I asked, grinning.

“Dude. Amazing!” Richie said it with starry eyes. “Vanessa is a smokin’ divorcée in her forties.”

“Vanessa? You know the name of your John?”

“Of course. This wasn’t some alley transaction. I spent the weekend with her.”

“And?”

“I think I might be in love.”

I laughed out loud until I saw the serious expression on his face. “Oh, shit. You’re serious. Sorry. Wow.”

“I know it’s sudden, but sometimes you just know.”

“So then I’m guessing she’ll be booking you again.”

“It’s not like that.” Richie pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m quitting the business. Vanessa doesn’t want me in the lifestyle anymore.”

“She was your first trick!” I said, my voice pitched with amusement. “Honestly, Richie, you have to be the worst prostitute ever.”

“You laugh, but you won’t be so cocky next week.”

“What’s next week?”

“When we move into our new condo.”

“Have I totally missed a portion of our conversation?”

“Vanessa doesn’t want me living in poverty. She’s putting the down payment on a place today. No more hiding in the bushes for me, my man.”

Still processing Richie’s progression from a cautionary tale to a Cinderella story, all in a three-day span, I’d almost forgotten about my own rags to riches tale until he asked, “So how was your weekend? Anything interesting happen?”

“Um, well, I mean, aside from meeting the woman of my dreams and hanging out with her rock star brother… nah, not too much.”

Richie held the same expression on his face throughout most of my wondrous story. Every once in a while he would close his gaping mouth, but then it would drop open again upon hearing the next fantastical detail. When it was over, I had to shake my own head at the miracle of it all.

“So you’re telling me she met your mother and still seems interested.”

“I didn’t think that was the most noteworthy part of my story, but yeah.”

“I’m still processing. What was Jake like?”

“He was the most reserved of the brothers, for sure, but he seemed totally cool with me hanging out with his sister, at least. And their mom, she was gushing all over me.”

“I don’t doubt it. You’ve got a way with older women.”

“So do you, apparently.”

“What’s your game plan, then? Are you going to see her again?”

“Oh, I’m going to see her again, whether she likes it or not.”

“You think she won’t?”

“Emma’s a little, uh, skittish. I have her phone number, that’s it. Her dad told me what hospital she worked at, though, so I plan to surprise her there.”

“Wow, that was nice of her dad to enable her stalker.”

“Wasn’t it?” I said, laughing. Yes, maybe I was coming across a little creepy, but I didn’t want her slipping through my fingers.

“I’m happy for you, though. Usually you go for the needy girls. This one sounds like she doesn’t need you at all.”

“Exactly. Maybe that’s why I like her so much.”

18

Emma, Present Day: Letting Go

Falling in love was a funny thing. I’d always assumed it was something that crept up on you slowly, a feeling that gradually blossomed into something bigger and better until you knew that, yes, this was the one. But that’s not how it was at all. Not with Finn. Love with him was like a punch in the gut, leaving me dazed and breathless. I didn’t have time to prepare, or to protect myself. He just barreled into my life and staked his claim on my heart, and although I did my best to slow the process down, there was no way to stop it. Love could not be turned off any more than it could be forced on. I knew what Finn and I had could never last, though. Eventually reality would catch up with us and deliver its punishing blow; but for now, for this one incredible moment in time, I was savoring the beautiful disaster.

* * *

“So I’m telling the lady that I’ve got her medication and she holds out her hand. I say, ‘No, hun, I’m going to put the Pepcid in your IV,’ and I shit you not, Emma, she says to me, ‘If it’s not too much trouble, I prefer Coca-Cola.”

I laughed at Frannie’s story, but my mind was elsewhere. Concentration had been a challenge since meeting Finn, and I found myself reading the doctor’s note over and over because I couldn’t seem to focus on the words. I didn’t need a lengthy diagnosis to know that I was suffering from withdrawal – of the scruffy, swoon-worthy kind.

Francesca continued on with a rant about the sheer stupidity of the world today and how it would benefit the human race if there were lifeguards manning the gene pools. I nodded my agreement, but really, I wasn’t paying attention until she came to an abrupt stop and gripped my arm. “Um, Emma…”

“Huh?”

Francesca rarely halted in mid-paragraph. Typically she found nothing more interesting than the words coming out of her mouth. This had to be good. I followed the trajectory of her gaze to find Finn at the other end, standing there in a snug-fitting black t-shirt and black denim jeans with no holes and no grease. His hair was a pile of reckless bends and waves, and that smile… both Frannie and I gulped back our appreciation.

“Sweet mother of god. Emma, do you see him too?”

Finn immediately arrived at my side, wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek.

“And that answers my question,” Frannie said, turning her bugged eyes away.

“Francesca, this is um…my…” How did I present him? Who was he to me exactly? We’d only just begun whatever it was we had going on. It was too early, and reckless, to call him my boyfriend, but certainly, with our nightly romps front and center in our emerging relationship, Finn was far from best bud material.

“Hi, I’m Finn, Emma’s man crush.”

Well, that was one way to describe us… and really just perfectly articulated.

“I certainly hope so.”

Frannie nudged me in the side, a nonverbal complaint filed against me for not sharing this very special secret with her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Finn. Emma failed to mention you.”

“Oh, really?” He grinned that dimpled smile. How this man was not booking movie roles right and left was beyond me. “Apparently I didn’t make the impression I’d hoped.”

“No, no. You more than impressed. I’m just still in the processing stages of all that is Finn.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“So this is the lady you’ve been waiting for?” A nurse and her friend walked up to our little group, startling me. I wasn’t used to friendly voices anywhere near Frannie and me. Of course the adoring looks on their faces were directed squarely toward my man crush. Apparently, while I’d been all hands on deck in a urethral catheterization, Finn had been chatting up the locals and raking in more friends in one hour than I’d made in four years.

“Yes, it is. Didn’t I tell you she was beautiful?”

I blushed, unaccustomed to such displays of affection. He nuzzled my neck enough to let the others know that whether they agreed or not with his assessment of my physical appearance, he expected an affirmative answer. And the nurses obliged, celebrating my ‘beauty’. Then, surprisingly, they stuck their hands out and introduced themselves, confessing that they were so happy to finally meet me. Okay, what in the world was happening here?

“This one’s a keeper,” my new best friend said, gesturing to Finn. “And he’s got it bad for you. You’re a lucky lady.”

I looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded as if his infatuation with me were common knowledge. And really, that was what it became. Finn’s charm traveled at lightning speed through the female-fueled rumor mill. He must have dropped information about his profession, as he was routinely referred to as ‘the stuntman’ in conversations around the hospital. And even though only .01 percent of the nurses had met him, boy, did they love him. Strangely enough, the goodwill projected toward Finn reflected positively on me, and for the first time since starting at the hospital, I wasn’t feeling like such an outsider.

While my co-workers continued to sing his praises, I was busy trying to fight him off with everything I had; but damned if Finn wasn’t an expert at pulling the very best out of me. When I was with him, gone was the uptight perfectionist and in her place was an open, ridiculously happy young woman without a care in the world. It didn’t take much on Finn’s part. No grand gestures were needed. In fact, it was the smallest acts of kindness that chipped away at my heart the fastest.

A prime example of such sweet moments was the night he wanted to have dinner with me, but I was too tired to go out. Finn offered to pick us up something to eat and asked what I wanted. My reply was a simple, “Surprise me.”

And, of course, he did. It wasn’t so much what he brought me that impressed so much but the enormous amount of thought he’d put into his choice.

Upon opening the door to find my man holding a familiar looking white bag, I asked in amusement, “You brought me In & Out Burger?”

“Okay, so hear me out before you judge my choice as cheap and immature.”

“I would never do that.”

“Uh huh, right. So remember when you said to surprise you? Well, I actually gave it a lot of thought. I figured you’re the type of girl who tries to eat healthy – not necessarily because you want to but because you think it’s what you should do. So if I brought you a salad, you wouldn’t be surprised. Then I thought what about bringing you something expensive, like steak or lobster, but then I was like, you might expect that because you’d think I was trying to impress you… and naturally, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be surprised. So then I started thinking, what would Emma not get for herself? If you had to pick up dinner on your way home, what place would be the most unlikely for you to stop at? And then I remembered how much you hated waiting in line – and what restaurant always has the longest drive thru line? That’s right, In & Out Burger. So I took a chance, and here you go. Surprise!”

And like an idiot, my lips trembled as my eyes misted over. Finn’s smile immediately faded as he took in my emotional response.

“Oh, shit! You don’t like it? I’m sorry.”

Shaking my head, I stepped into him, draping my arms over his shoulders and kissing his thoughtful lips. The minute we connected, I felt the familiar excitement of our bodies pressed against each other, and my physical hunger was replaced by something more primal. Pushing him against the wall, my hands went to his waistband and into his jeans. Still clutching the fast food bag in his hand for dear life, Finn gasped in surprise as I showed him just how much I appreciated his efforts.

* * *

Love was an entity unto itself. I knew how it felt in the platonic sense, having loved my family all my life. And I knew what it felt like to love the inanimate – a particular piece of music or a book or a pair of shoes. But nothing could have prepared me for love in the romantic sense. As so many others had discovered before me, this type of love could not be described in words. It was a feeling… a look, a touch. I think I knew for sure the night we were sitting peacefully together on my couch, fingers entwined, with smiles on our contented faces. I remembered thinking there was nothing more I needed in the world – just he and I sitting quietly beside each other forever. That’s when I knew I loved Finn, and that I would do anything to ensure his happiness – even if it meant sacrificing my own.

I had hoped we could have a longer run, that our fingers could remain one for just a little bit longer, but when the heart of the one you love was in need of protecting, time was of the essence.

* * *

“Where are we going?” I asked for the hundredth time as we rolled down the Pacific Coast Highway.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, shaking his head at my impatience, all while enjoying the power he had over me. He knew damn well I hated surprises, and so he made sure to always pepper our dates with one or two just to keep me off guard. Planning and preparing had always been incredibly important to me but lately I’d been forced to relax on the rules and it felt good, for a change, not be a slave to the order.

My house was still immaculately clean, of course, but if a dish needed to sit in the sink for a few minutes longer so Finn and I could get it on in the bedroom, I was okay with that. And if Cynthia hacked up a hairball, it could wait… no, never mind, a hairball could never wait. That shit got scooped up mid-fuck if necessary.

“But is this surprise a fancy one, like I’m going to be embarrassed by my choice of clothing, or will it be a surprise where I pretend I’m excited but I’m really not?”

“Way to be romantic. I pour my heart into these surprises, and that’s your attitude?” The smile on his face told me he wasn’t offended. In fact, getting Finn riled up took way more than a simple insult.

“So what you’re saying is, this surprise is crap?”

“No. I’m saying it’s not a surprise if you know what it is. Now shut up and let me entertain you.”

I settled back in my seat, a contented smile on my face. Finn really did enjoy doing nice things for me, and it felt amazing to be pampered and cared for. What I liked best was he didn’t feel the need to wow me with the expensive. Finn’s surprises were more heartfelt. He put effort into his choices for no other reason than to put a smile on my face – like the dopey one I was wearing now.

Finn pulled off onto the shoulder of the Pacific Coast Highway. I knew where we were, and I smiled at him. I’d been here plenty of times as a kid.

“The sandhill.”

Finn’s surprise was a two-hundred-foot vertical climb up a sand dune. A rite of passage for any native Southern Californian, as kids the sandhill had been a McKallister ‘must stop’ on our way back from the Malibu beaches. We’d race up that hill at full speed, gradually losing that child-like energy, and crawl the remainder of the way up.

He nodded. “You ready for a hike?”

Looking up at the mountainside, I hadn’t remembered it being so high. Or maybe the height issue hadn’t been as much of a problem for me as a child. I knew I’d grown more cautious over the years, but seeing things I used to easily conquer terrifying me now made me realize just how much I’d changed. I no longer wanted to be a scared, world-weary Emma, and it had taken Finn’s surprises to make me realize it.

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

The climb was brutal. There was nothing like a giant sand dune to make you feel out of shape, and while I had to bend over and catch my breath, Finn was barely winded. We stood at the top, holding hands, and looked out over the ocean. Peace was the only word that came to mind.

We plopped down into the sand, and I lay back in Finn’s arms as we watched the waves roll in and sun dip lower over the horizon.

“Tell me more about your family,” I asked. “I’m curious about Rocky.”

He tensed. Finn, as open as he was with me, seemed to have a few skeletons in the closet, and those bones appeared to have something to do with his brother.

“He’s younger, right?”

“Yeah, by fifteen months.”

“Do you look alike?”

“God no. He’s way better looking.”

“No way is that possible,” I said, snuggling in closer.

“Oh, trust me on this one. He may be a total screw up, but he’s not lacking in the looks department. We’re half-brothers, and when we were kids, we used to imagine what our fathers looked like. Rocky insisted his was some medieval Viking because he was big and broad and fair. Growing up, no one ever believed we were brothers, what with me looking like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket my whole life.”

I reached up and gently ran my fingers through his curls. Once reviled, they were probably my favorite thing about him now.

“Are you close with him?”

“We were,” Finn said. I detected a sad story to follow.

“Not anymore?”

“Not for a long time.”

He paused a moment, clearly searching for the right thing to say.

“Rocky and I grew up in the junkyard with all the other kids. Despite what you might think, we loved it. We ran around all the time and had no discipline or rules. You can only imagine the crap we got ourselves into, and once we started school, we were both fairly unmanageable. I, at least, had a conscience, and when I did something wrong, I tried to make amends; but Rocky, he just didn’t care. He openly defied authority. Anyway, usually because of him, we both became quite familiar with the principal’s office. The school tried everything with us, but since Misty, who is Shelby’s mom and was our guardian, had no interest in disciplining us or enforcing follow through at home, our bad behavior continued to escalate. Finally, the school convinced Misty to allow the two of us to get big brothers. You know, through that Big Brother/Big Sister program?”

I nodded, trying to picture my sweet, good-natured Finn as a bratty kid.

“Anyway, my ‘big brother’ was this young guy named Barry. He’d grown up without a father too, and had joined the program hoping to make a difference. I was nine at the time, and we hit it off immediately. Rocky was given a man in his thirties who was really nice, but older and more disciplined. The hope was that a stable older man might calm him down. Well, Rocky ate the poor guy alive, and then ended up going through one big brother after another until there were no more left to offer.

“But Barry and I connected. One thing he noticed was that it took a good hour or two for me to calm down before we could just sit and talk, so he started taking me to a gymnastics place to get all the excess energy out. I took to it right away and was really good at it. The gym even gave Barry a discount, and he continued to pay for my membership all through my childhood.”

“Are you still in contact with him now, as an adult?”

Finn shifted a bit and I could tell something about the story was bothering him. I squeezed his hand to encourage him, but instead of answering my question, he continued with the narrative.

“Misty always had a steady stream of boyfriends. All were bad, but some were worse than others. Anyway, this one dude was delivering his weekly beatdown on Misty when Shelby got involved. She never could keep her mouth shut. He just started wailing on my mother – so of course I tried to intervene and had the crap beaten out of me too. And then Rocky stumbled upon the scene, went berserk, and sent the abuser to the hospital. The police got involved. I’d been beaten up bad enough for social services to remove all the kids in the compound, but within days they’d all returned, except me. Barry and his wife, Marissa, took me in. I begged them to take Rocky too, but they had two small children and they just couldn’t take the chance with him, especially after what he’d done to that guy. So, while I was adjusting to a normal life in suburbia with loving, attentive parental figures, Rocky continued to wallow in the filth that was Perryland.”

“And the two of you drifted apart,” I said, finishing the story.

Finn nodded. “I guess I’ve always felt guilty for abandoning him.”

“You were handed a chance at a future and were smart enough to take it.”

“I tried to stay in contact with him, but Rocky was pissed and took every opportunity to knock me down. He made fun of everything I did, as if living a normal life was so ridiculous to him. I finally got tired of getting shit on by him and stopped visiting. We saw each other occasionally after that, but it was always strained between us.”

I lifted his fingers in mine and kissed the back of his hand. Finn’s heart was bigger than anyone’s I’d ever met, and I got the sense that the divide between brothers was something that had eaten away at him for years. “Have you seen Rocky in prison?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I do and I don’t. He’s asked me to a few times. I just haven’t gone. I guess I should.”

“It doesn’t always have to be about someone else, Finn. Putting yourself first isn’t always a bad thing, you know.”

“I know. I just hate the idea of seeing him locked up in there. I really do need to visit.”

“Are you and Barry still close?”

“Yeah. Barry taught me what it was to be a man. I owe him and Marissa everything.”

“I’d love to meet them.”

“You will.”

Finn said that with such certainty, as if he saw a future with me. And after his story, I felt even more connected to him… until he said the words that changed everything.

“I can’t wait to be a father. I’ll be everything I never had.”

The statement was simple and heartfelt, and I felt myself die a little inside. The one thing he wanted – to be a dad – was the one thing I could never give him.

“I almost was one, you know, a little over a year ago,” he said, startling me.

“No.” I sat up straighter. “I didn’t know.”

“I had this girlfriend named Alexis. She seemed fine when I met her, but then she started getting really possessive and manipulative. After about two months, I’d seen enough and tried to cut her loose, but she threatened to kill herself and made me feel so guilty that I stayed. Months went by, and I started noticing that none of my friends were texting or contacting me. Turns out she’d blocked all the contacts on my phone without telling me. Once I figured out what she’d been up to, I broke it off. But then a week later she called to tell me she was pregnant. She knew how much I wanted to be a dad, and used it against me.”

“There was no baby,” I said, absorbing some of the pain for him.

“No. I think, deep down I knew all along, but didn’t want to admit it to myself because I wanted to be a father so badly.”

“I’m so sorry, Finn.”

He held me a little tighter. “It was for the best. She would have made my life a living hell, using the baby against me to get what she wanted. I want to have a baby with someone I love… someone who wants a family as much as I do. Someone like you, Emma.”

* * *

One month was all it took to fall in love. The little flutter I’d felt the day I met him had grown too large and too powerful to ever be stuffed back inside. In reality, it had taken less than a month, but it wasn’t until I was sitting on top of the sand hill listening to Finn pour his heart out to me that I admitted the truth to myself. And now here I was in a place I never thought I’d be, making a decision I never wanted to make.

In order for Finn to be happy – really, truly happy – he needed the one thing I could never give him. Sadly enough, at this point, the truth was all I had to offer. He had to know that I didn’t share his vision of a family, so he could move on and find someone who would. I, of course, knew the man he was – he’d make excuses and tell me he could forego fatherhood to be with me, but that wasn’t what I wanted for him. Doing without was not an option for Finn. He deserved more than just to settle.

The talk went about as well as could be expected. Finn sat quietly at the table as I explained to him that I was not the one for him and the reason why. And when I finished my speech, he sat back without a word and just stared at me. Finally, after he’d had time to process, the first tentative questions began to emerge.

“Is it that you can’t have kids, or you won’t have kids? Because if you can’t, we could always adopt.”

“As far as I know, I can have children. I just don’t want them.”

“I’ve seen you with kids. You seem good with them.”

“I like kids; I just don’t want any of my own. Is that so hard to understand?”

I saw a change in his demeanor then. Anger took form as the reality of what I was saying began to hit him.

“Yes, Emma. It’s really fucking hard to understand. I mean, how do you know you won’t change your mind somewhere down the line?”

“I won’t.”

“But how do you know?” His frustration was bubbling over.

“Finn.” I reached out and touched him. “I’m telling you this now to save you the heartbreak later.”

A bitter laugh broke free from his scornful lips. “Too late.”

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Again – too late.”

An awkward silence ensued. Yes, he was hurting, but so was I. When all was said and done, Finn would move on and find love again; but I’d be back where I started. The only difference from before was that I’d be saddled with the memory of a love that could never be.

“So you’re breaking it off with me?” Finn breathed out jaggedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s what’s happening here?”

I looked down, unable to make eye contact. Leaving him was the last thing I wanted, but what other choice did I have? Our lives were destined to go down vastly different paths.

“The more time we spend together the worse it will be.”

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

He slammed his hands down on the table, making me jump. His lip twitching in anger, he said in a growl, “It matters to me.”

Tears filled my eyes as I took in his utter sadness. I could at least give him the truth.

“Yes, Finn, I love you.”

“Then don’t do this. Please, Emma. You’re just scared. I know you. This is what you do. You push away when you get scared. We can work through this.”

“Not this.”

“So you’re just giving up on us?” The twitching lip was back.

“I’m giving you the chance at the life you want.”

“You mean the life I want with you!” Finn rose abruptly from his chair. “Dammit. When I told you that story last night, it was because I’m falling in love with you, and I can see a future with you that I’ve never imagined with anyone else. And now you’re telling me to go to hell? I mean, I can’t even figure out what’s going on here. I’ve never heard such bullshit in my life, and I grew up with the queen of bullshit herself!”

“You think I wanted this? I was pushing you away because I knew this was going to happen, and I was trying to stop it before it ever got to this point. But you are relentless, Finn. You did this. You made me love you, and now we are both screwed because of it. So if you want to blame anyone, blame yourself!”

I knew I wasn’t being reasonable. He was only guilty of wearing his heart on his sleeve; but I’d never been one to fight fair, and I knew the only way for this to end was for it to end badly. Finn paced back and forth, looking truly broken. This needed to be over, so we could both start the process of moving on. Or maybe just him. I wouldn’t be moving on. I would stay stuck in the memory of this love forever, because if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I would never put myself in this position ever again. Finn would always, and forever, remain my one and only love.

“I think you should go.”

Finn stood there for the longest time, not speaking, just chewing on his fingernails and contemplating what to do or what to say. Finally, he turned, and without a word, walked out the door.

19

Emma, 2004: Making Contact

I sat with my back touching the wall that divided our rooms, trying to judge exactly where Jake was pressed up against it on his side. He was alone. I knew this because only when he was alone did he cry. All other times he was stoic, or numb, or screaming. But not crying, never crying… until he was alone, pressed up against the wall, perhaps with his legs pulled up to his chest, as mine were now. I listened to his quiet sorrow, my heart always breaking for him in these moments. I never interrupted him or tried to console him, because, as I saw it, Jake needed the release.

Despite securing his freedom nearly three months earlier, his life only seemed to be getting harder. The nightmares weren’t subsiding, and the hollowed out sadness persisted. Any illusions my parents may have had of bringing normalcy back into his routine were shattered fairly quickly as the reality of the situation played in front of us. Jake was not returning to his old life anytime soon.

How naïve I’d been to think that Jake’s survival would bring peace back to our fractured family. None of us could have predicted just how damaged a person he’d become. Sometimes when I listened to him scream, I wondered if he might actually have been better off dying. I knew it was a horrible thought, but clearly it was what Jake wanted… having only a few days ago swallowed a bottle of pills before being rushed to the hospital to have his stomach pumped. His was a miserable existence, one not worthy of the vibrant boy he’d once been.

Maybe it was just too early in his recovery to see a light at the end of the tunnel. After all, if he could recover physically, as he was doing day by day, why not mentally? It was slow going, but Jake’s battered body was healing. Although I’d yet to be given an explanation as to how it happened, my brother’s knee was badly damaged during the kidnapping. With intensive physical therapy, he was actually walking again, albeit with crutches and a limp. And even though his current mental state was unsettling at best, he’d been worse… way worse. In the hospital, when he’d first awakened from surgery, he’d fallen into a trance-like state, babbling incoherently to himself, seemingly unaware of his surroundings or who was in the room with him.

Thankfully Jake’s dazed state lasted only about a week, although the terror that had put him there still remained. A steady stream of trauma counselors and mental health professionals were called to his aid, and were rotated in and out on a daily basis. Everyone seemed to have opinions on my brother’s fragile state of mind, and each assigned him a new diagnosis. In time, the bevy of therapists was whittled down to a trusted few who seemed most committed to his recovery. Often volunteering their time, the therapists worked tirelessly with Jake, even spending the night in our home occasionally in order to give him ways to cope with his night terrors.

Jake’s crying petered out. It never lasted long, just short bursts of grief interrupting his otherwise excruciating existence.

I turned slightly, resting my head on the wall, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

There really just wasn’t anything else to say. I wished I had the answers to help him live again, but I was as hopeless as the rest of them. Stretching out my legs, the top of my toe unintentionally tapped the wall, and I froze. Crap. Had he heard me? Did he know I was here? Would he storm my room in a frenzy?

I held my breath and waited. After a moment of silence, I sighed with relief and picked up the book I’d been reading earlier.

Tap.

I stared incredulously at the wall, unsure if I’d really heard what I thought I’d heard. Was he tapping back? Desperate for some type of communication, I took a chance and tapped back twice. A minute stretched as I waited, hoping I hadn’t over-stepped my bounds or embarrassed him in his private crying time.

Tap. Tap.

A happy flutter filled my chest as my brother recognized my trustworthiness and rewarded me with this unconventional conversation. It was just a series of taps, but its meaning spoke volumes. I’d just been granted the tiniest opening into his tightly closed-off world.

* * *

“Knock, knock!” Quinn said, his voice pitched high in excitement. His deeply tanned face was inches from mine as his hands gripped my shoulders. He was wearing only a pair of swim trunks and a devilish smile. I reached up and tousled his soft, sun-streaked waves, which were currently plastered to his head courtesy of the backyard sprinkler. He friskily swatted my hand away.

“Knock, knock, Emma.” He repeated the opening line of his impending joke with more insistence.

In response I kissed his nose playfully.

“Gross.” He wiped away my cooties with the back of his hand. “KNOCK, KNOCK!”

I grinned. Oh, how I loved this kid! I’d grown so close to Quinn and Grace over the past few months. Becoming their primary caretaker had not been by choice, but, surprisingly, I’d come to relish the role. With Mom having her hands full with Jake and Dad spread thin working two jobs so she could be home full time, focusing on my younger siblings became my contribution to the family. I fed them breakfast in the morning, dressed them in appropriate clothing, and dropped them off on my way to school. Then it was a matter of picking them up from school, helping with homework, feeding them dinner, and getting them showered.

There was no doubt that things had changed drastically for me, not only at home but at school. When I returned to classes after Jake’s rescue, I saw things with freshly jaded eyes, and was surprised to discover that the friends I’d been hanging out with for so long were not my friends at all. Shallow and malicious, my one-time girl squad ruled the school with an iron fist. Had I once been like them? Cringing, I shook off the memory of my own obnoxious struts down the school hallways. My ‘friends’ welcomed me back with open arms, but only because my train wreck of a family was the biggest news to come out of our town in a hundred years. My tragedy was their pot of gossip gold.

Gradually I withdrew from my superficial friend group, preferring instead to spend my lunch in the library studying. No longer feeling like the girl who’d once roamed these halls, I turned inward, focusing on my grades and not those who snickered about Jake behind my back.

It wasn’t until my return to school that I realized just how much misfortune had changed me. Life was a gift, one not to be taken for granted, and I refused to waste precious time on people who didn’t matter. My family… they mattered. And as imperfect and fractured as we were, our love was genuine and all-encompassing.

“Who’s there?” I answered my adorable little brother.

“Madam.”

“Madam who?”

“Madam foot’s stuck in the door.” Quinn dissolved into a fit of giggles. Of course, I’d heard this one a thousand times before, but still I laughed. It really was all in the delivery.

“Ooh… you said damn,” I teased, scooping him up and blowing raspberries onto his neck. “I’m telling Mom.”

“Nooo,” he squealed happily.

“Knock, knock. Emma! Knock, knock.” Grace tugged at my leg. She was not about to be left out of this game.

“Who’s there?” I answered, breathlessly.

“Me.”

“Me who?”

“Me!”

Not quite, but almost. So went the humor of a five-year-old. Quinn and I laughed hysterically at her missed opportunity, but Grace didn’t catch on, instead basking in the limelight and no doubt considering herself a comedic master.

We were chattering excitedly when suddenly Quinn’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Jake was standing in the doorway; which was indeed an unusual sight. Although I’d tried after that one tap session to reconnect, I’d never managed to coax another ‘conversation’ out of him.

“Hey,” I said. It felt strange to talk to him. He lived in the house, even occasionally roamed its halls, but he wasn’t really here. Jake just sort of existed. “Have you got a knock-knock joke for us? I mean, I don’t think you can beat Grace’s brilliance, but you could always try.”

Jake leveled me with an unreadable stare. It was possibly the first time he’d looked at me since his return home. Once so vibrant and sparkling, those beautiful eyes were now dull and lifeless. He was so lost. If only I had a magic pill that would zap away his pain! I swallowed back the emotion that was sure to ruin the moment. He’d been drawn by the laughter, and that was what I intended to give him.

“Come in,” I said, smiling. I felt Grace tense as she grasped my leg. She still didn’t trust him one bit.

Taking his lead from me, Quinn said, “Yeah, come and play.”

Jake seemed conflicted, as if he wanted to join in but some invisible force was holding him back. He stayed put in the doorway. In an attempt to welcome him, I took a step forward. He took a step back. I froze like a squirrel caught in oncoming traffic, trying to decide if it was safer going forward or back. Instinctively, I chose to go back.

Pretending the awkward moment hadn’t happened, I turned and grabbed Quinn, tickling him. The three of us continued our play as Jake watched from the sideline. He’d set his boundaries, and I hadn’t pushed them; and that, I was certain, was what kept him in the doorway.

Once Grace and Quinn had worn me out, I collapsed onto the couch and closed my eyes, ready for a nap.

“No, don’t sleep,” Grace said, prying my eyelid open. “Cookies, Emma. You promised.”

Cookies? I wasn’t a machine. Good lord, these kids took a lot of energy. “Tomorrow maybe.”

Quinn got in on the action, jumping behind me on the couch and trying to push my body off. Neither one of them would let me out of my promise.

“Fine. But I need help.”

My little siblings cheered. I wondered if I had ever been this easy to please. I looked up and was surprised to see Jake leaning against the wall now… inside the room. He’d actually made his way in with us, which was a huge accomplishment. I smiled as we walked toward the door.

“You wanna make some cookies with us?”

His lifted his head, and our eyes met again. A flash of familiarity took my breath away. In that moment I could see my Jake in this shell of a boy, and I had an overwhelming feeling that there was something he wanted to say.

“You want to go somewhere and talk?” I asked, reaching my hand out to him. Jake promptly shoved his own into his pockets and looked away. Okay. Maybe not. “Well, we’ll be in the kitchen if you want to come.”

Grace, Quinn, and I left him standing in the doorway. I didn’t look back, for fear of spooking him. This was the most I’d gotten out of him in three months, and I didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“Kyle,” I said, banging on Keith’s door as I passed. “Cookies. Come help.”

Mom was sitting quietly at the table when we burst in, interrupting her calm with excited little voices eager for a sugary treat. Kyle followed a few steps behind and helped me pull out all the ingredients. The four of us chatted comfortably as I guided them through the cookie-making process. Jake had chosen not to join us, but I swear I saw a shadow behind the wall between the kitchen and the living room.

I glanced at my mother and was surprised to see her smiling at me. Suddenly self-conscious, I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked away.

“You’re so good with them, Emma.”

I shrugged. My relationship with my mom remained strained, and it felt weird to hear praise from her. To hide my reaction, I kept my focus on the cookies.

“I know things have been hard,” Mom said, choking back tears. “But I hope you know how proud I am of you. What an incredible young woman you’ve become.”

I looked up at her in surprise. Her face was a tapestry of love and pain and regret. I blamed her for so much, but in reality, I couldn’t say I would have reacted any differently had I been in her shoes.

“You’re going to make a wonderful mother someday.”

I scoffed.

“What?” she asked, confused by my stark reaction.

“I’m never having kids.”

Mom’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“You really have to ask why?”

She appeared truly shocked by my words. I steadfastly held my ground. Mom’s bottom lip quivered as she struggled to find the right words. “Emma, what happened to us…”

“Save the lecture, Mom. No way will I bring children into this world if I can’t protect them.”

Mom’s reaction was swift and unpredicted. She burst into tears and ran from the kitchen. Shocked by her outburst, I immediately regretted my words even though I believed them to be true.

Kyle glared at me. “What’d you say that for?”

I shrugged, feeling like a shithead. I’d basically blamed her for Jake’s kidnapping. Yeah, she hadn’t been the most attentive mother as of late, but before disaster stuck, she’d been a pretty incredible one. Her biggest fault was maybe loving us too much.

“Can we put the cookies in now?” Gracie asked, having completely missed the exchange between Mom and me.

“Um… can you just give me a minute?” I asked. The need to apologize overwhelmed me, but before I could go in search of my mother, the unexpected happened. Jake walked in… actually making it all the way into the kitchen. He stopped in front of Kyle and me, and we both watched him in surprise.

“Hey. You finally came to help,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“No,” he answered.

“Just to watch then? Okay.”

“No,” he repeated, eyes focused on the mixing bowl.

Suddenly it dawned on me. He wanted cookie dough. I laughed. “Let me guess – you want a spoonful?”

Jake nodded, and then did the unthinkable: he smiled. It was the briefest moment of levity, one which easily could have been missed had one not been paying attention. Thankfully, I had been. My god. Somewhere, buried deep within, my brother still lived.

20

Finn: Moving On

“Wake up.” The demand was followed by a punch in my back.

“Go away,” I said, mumbling into the pillow.

“Nope. It’s ten o’clock. Let’s go to the beach and find you a hottie. Sun’s out, guns out, brother.”

“Do you really think I could get a hottie in my current condition? Look at me.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you brought it up, I have a list of complaints. Hold on.”

“It was a rhetorical question,” I said, mumbling, then turned to my side, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Richie was pulling up the notes section on his iPhone.

“You have an actual list?”

“Well, you’ve been a Neanderthal for a month now. I have a lot of gripes. Okay, so… Number one: No more ‘No-Shave-Never.’ You have stuff growing in your beard. It’s gross, and the other day something fell out of it and landed in my pasta. Number two: Pick up your beer cans. I’ve provided you with these swanky digs, and I expect you to treat them with respect.”

As promised, Richie’s heiress divorcée had plopped the first and last month’s rent down on a swanky duplex close to her home in Marina Del Rey. The place was worthy of Richie’s splendor. It all happened a few day after ‘the dump,’ so I blindly followed along, packing my stuff and moving out without even a goodbye to our druggie neighbors.

“I’m paying rent too, asshole.”

“Finn, please, not everything is about you. Number three: You stink. And I don’t mean that like ‘you suck’; I mean like you genuinely stink. After you left for work yesterday, I had the place fumigated. Number four: Well, this really is an extension of three. Deodorant is your friend.”

“Okay! I get it. Enough.”

“I’m just getting started.”

“Text me the list and I’ll get right on it.”

“Come on. I’m tired of whiny, glass-half-empty Finn. I want fun Finn back. Get up and tackle the first twelve items on the list and I’ll reward you with a trip to the beach. Vanessa’s daughter is home from college. She pulled your picture up online and thinks you’re hot – or should I say, she thinks pre-breakup Finn is hot. So get your act together and bang my girlfriend’s daughter.”

“Just how old exactly is this daughter?”

“She’s twenty-one… totally legal.”

“Twenty-one is seriously pushing the legal limit for me, but fine, I’ll go to the beach with your MILF and her totally legal daughter. But no setting us up. Give me an hour and I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll give you two hours, so you can tackle number twenty-three on the list while you’re shaving.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“The 70’s bush, dude. We don’t want it spilling out of your shorts, now, do we?”

I wasn’t sure what I found more disturbing – the fact that Richie had been actively chronicling my decline or that he knew I had bushy crotch hairs. Regardless, he wasn’t wrong about anything on his pages-long complaint list. I knew I’d been a miserable jerk after losing Emma, and obsessing over her had become my way of life. What was worse was I understood her reasoning even though it ripped my heart out. The two things I wanted most in this world couldn’t exist together, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, at some point down the road, I probably would have resented her for not being receptive to having a child.

I knew full well that she’d broken it off for my sake, not hers; but the fact that she was giving me the chance to live the life I wanted while she subjected herself to a life alone hurt me even more. Was I being selfish? Was she? Somewhere, locked deep inside her, was the reason for her decision to never have children, and I feared no amount of charm or patience would ever pull it from her.

The worst part of it all was that I was in love with Emma and knew without any doubt that she was the one for me. Would it even be possible for me to love another woman like I loved her? Was it worth faking it with someone else just to have kids? Was it better to bring children into a loveless marriage or just not have them at all?

These were the thoughts that consumed me day and night and made functioning in my daily life so incredibly difficult. I was going to work distracted, and the injuries just kept coming. Something had to change. I couldn’t go on like this forever. Maybe I needed to meet this coed today and see if I could form some sort of connection. It might help me decide what to do about Emma.

Not that I had much say in the matter anyway. The day after she dumped me, I’d gone back to her, professing my love and promising I could live without being a father. With tears rolling down her face, Emma had pushed me back out the door, and we hadn’t spoken since.

* * *

Rachel was beautiful and sweet and friendly. I enjoyed her company and laughed at her jokes. We swam in the ocean together and talked for hours on the beach, mostly about my recent breakup, a detail Richie had generously provided to her before we met. Regardless of the tough conversation, Rachel made it clear she was interested. This was a straightforward, uncomplicated, and easy-to-read girl. If I dated her, there would be no guessing what she was thinking, no worrying I’d lose her attention the minute I left the room. She was what I needed to get over Emma. If only I could figure out a way to give a damn.

After the beach, I met up with some friends for dinner and a little bar hopping. I hadn’t seen anyone but Richie in over a month, and people were starting to worry. I figured, why waste a shave and a bushwhacking, right? Wrong. I got drunk. Real drunk, and with the inebriation came poor decision-making… so poor that I inexplicably ended up on Emma’s doorstep at one in the morning.

From the time I rang her doorbell to the time she opened the door for me, I’d already fallen asleep slumped up against her planter.

“Finn?”

I felt hands shake me awake.

“Finn, wake up. Come on.”

Somehow I made it into her living room, and sheets magically appeared on the sofa. I remember her hands on me, removing my soiled shirt. I remember my hands on her, attempting to remove her shirt as well. And then I remember her shoving me back against the cushion with enough force that vomit spewed from my mouth. I remember her yelling and the water in the shower and then more yelling.

And just on the off chance that I might mercifully forget about my early morning escapades, Emma made certain, before going off to work, to leave me an angry note describing every embarrassing detail. Included in her tirade was a list of demands, the vast majority of them cleaning related.

After reading and re-reading her note multiple times, I set it down and sank back into the sofa, hands covering my eyes in regret. So much for giving the impression I was doing swell without her. Putting my feet up on her coffee table, I settled in. I knew Emma’s schedule well enough to know she wouldn’t be home for hours, and the pounding in my head needed time to recede before I made my way home to my place. Besides, it felt good to be back, surrounded by her things. If I closed my eyes I could almost fool myself into thinking all was right in the world.

Cynthia jumped up on my lap, and together we watched game shows. I stroked his silky fur and apologized to him over and over for the ridiculous name he’d been saddled with, even promising him that from now on, I’d be referring to him as Theo. Not that I’d have much opportunity to follow through on my promise, since after last night, I’d never be welcomed here again.

Finally, after several hours of procrastination, I got up to tackle Emma’s rather extensive catalog of demands. Why was it that people were leaving me detailed lists lately? Was I really that much of a lazy douche? Was I not entitled to a bad day from time to time? Thinking back, I realized my bad day or two had stretched into a month or two. Richie was right. I had to get my act together. Emma and I were finished, and I couldn’t keep pining over her. I had a life to live, and obviously it no longer included her… or Theo.

The thought occurred to me to leave my mess for Emma to enjoy as a little ‘Welcome home from a long day at work’ and ‘Fuck you’ gift all wrapped into one; but of course, I was too nice for shit like that. My puke, my problem! Unfortunately for the headache splitting my brain in two, Emma had a ridiculously regimented cleaning requirement and had gone so far as to label each cleaning supply to complement each task.

Sighing, I got to work and had to cringe at the extent of the mess I’d made. In all honesty, it surprised me that Emma had left it for me to clean up in the first place. The woman I knew would never go to bed with puke splattered on her linoleum floor. After cleaning to her very specific code, I sank my exhausted body back onto her couch and drifted to sleep again. When I opened my eyes several hours later, additional memories of the prior night flooded back into my conscious mind.

“I love you, Emma,” I remembered saying, slurring my words. “But I really hate you right now.”

“I know,” she’d whispered, her tears dripping onto my face as she smoothed my hair back.

“I love you and I miss you,” I’d continued pathetically.

“I miss you too.”

Her words were choked out through sobs. Maybe she hadn’t gotten over me as easily as she’d made it seem.

“Why did you leave me?” I asked.

Despite the vomit that had recently passed through my lips, Emma bent down and kissed them gently. The last thing I remember before drifting off was, “Because I love you.”

* * *

I was gone before she returned. There was no sense rehashing what had already been said. I needed to move on, for both our sakes. I knew Emma, and she was not about to budge. She believed what she was doing was the right thing for me, and maybe it was, but her chosen path to martyrdom was clearly making her miserable, and my showing up at her doorstep hadn’t helped matters.

It seemed as though any door I stepped through lately was rife with drama. Entering my place, I was met by an irate Richie.

“Where the hell were you last night?”

“What? Are you my mother? Wait, scratch that. Shelby wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“It’s dead. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is Martin Houser called my phone looking for you. Apparently he’s been trying your cell for days, and you haven’t answered.”

“Wait, who is Martin Houser?”

“Really, Finn? You call yourself an actor?” Richie shook his head, getting more agitated with me for every minute my brain fart lingered. “He’s only the biggest agent in Hollywood, idiot, and he called my phone, looking for you!”

“Oh, shit! Martin Houser? What the hell is he calling me for?”

“He said he had an opportunity for you. Are you no longer with Kelly?”

“She didn’t do shit, so I dropped her a few months ago. Did he say what opportunity?”

“Some music video.”

My mouth dropped open when realization dawned on me. “Jake.”

* * *

Within days of contacting Martin, things began moving like wildfire on a drought-stricken California mountain range. Suddenly I was a working actor again, with auditions lined up for weeks and a Jake McKallister music video on the books. There was no mystery as to who was behind my sudden windfall… Emma and her deep-pocketed connections.

Although I really didn’t want her help, I also wasn’t in a position to refuse. Hollywood was all about who you knew, and prior to Emma, I knew no one. Besides, if this were her way of making amends, I guessed I could accept with gratitude. This, I’d already decided, would be my final stand. If I couldn’t break into the business now, with all the power and connections behind me, I never would. These next few months would hold the key to my future and hopefully give me the clarity I needed to move forward in both my career and life.

When all was said and done, Emma had changed me for the better, and despite the heartbreak, I wouldn’t change our time together for anything. And even though moving on was proving more difficult than I’d ever imagined, at least I now knew what to look for in a companion. For the first time in my life, a woman had put me first, and I’d never forget that.

21

Emma, Present Day: Two Percent Chance

“Well, hey there, J-Lo. I almost didn’t recognize you with that hair. You went the brown with highlights route… okay… I can dig it,” Frannie said, pulling up a seat opposite me in the cafeteria.

“I just needed a change,” I confessed to my friend.

My words were slow and methodical. Since Finn’s midnight visit a few weeks ago, I’d felt crushed by the weight of the decision I’d been forced to make. We clearly loved each other, and the reasons for keeping him away seemed harsh even for my standards. Wanting something I couldn’t have was nothing new for me, but leaving someone I clearly loved was a whole new ballgame. I started rethinking my marriage and child ban. Would it really be so terrible? Maybe I could have all those things if it meant Finn staying in my life. And clearly being with me was something he still wanted, if his early morning confession had any meaning behind it at all.

“What happened to ‘blondes have more fun’?”

“Yeah, they don’t, trust me.”

“Well, I like it. You look pretty however you wear your hair. Besides, this is a new start, right?” she said, in a fabricated cheerful tone. Frannie was never jovial, so I knew what it took for her to fake it for me.

“I love you, Francesca. Have I ever told you that? You’re the only person in this place who gives a shit about me.”

My friend shifted in her chair with a worried expression on her face, before leaning in and whispering, “You’re not suicidal, are you?”

“No, I don’t have to be hopeless in order to like you, Frannie. Maybe if you showed your warm side more often, you wouldn’t have people scurrying away in terror every time you cut across a room.”

“Well, what would be the fun in that?” She smirked. “Anyway, this conversation is not about me and my lack of social skills. It’s about you and the whole yawn-fest you’ve got going on over here. I mean it’s not that you’ve ever been high speed Internet but, honey, you’ve been downgraded to a 2G connection.”

“I know. I think I’m just depressed,” I moped, laying my head on the table.

“Is this about the studly stuntman? Not exactly sure why you broke up with that piece of meat in the first place, but I’m guessing it’s none of my business, right?”

I nodded emphatically. Another reason I loved her. She knew her boundaries.

“Well, look on the bright side – there’s always Dr. Schlong.”

A slow laugh escaped me, which quickly turned into a case of hysterics. It wasn’t even funny, but I was so out of whack lately that I couldn’t control my emotions. Francesca sat there with a confused smile on her face until I’d finally completed my unusual burst of enjoyment.

“Are you on something?” she said, cupping her hand over one side of her mouth, to prevent the people next to us from hearing.

“No. What, I can’t laugh without you thinking I’m on opiates?”

“I’m not really sure what’s wrong with you, but I’ll tell you one thing, if you don’t stop this giggle shit, I’ll be forced to trade you in for a less enthusiastic model… someone like Barb, the front desk volunteer. Now there’s a miserable shrew.”

“Nooo,” I continued laughing. “Not Barb. I’ll do better. I promise.”

My lunch over, I said my goodbyes to Francesca and stood to leave. An unexpectedly sharp pain shot up the back of my leg and into my left butt cheek. I inhaled audibly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sciatic nerve. I’ve been having all kinds of issues with it lately.”

Francesca’s mouth dropped open and she grabbed my wrist, pulling me back in my seat. Confused, I glared at her. If she was going to get all touchy-feely with me, I’d have to rethink that love I’d just offered her.

“Could you be pregnant?” She asked.

“What?” The question was so stupid I didn’t want to give it a bit of leverage. “No. Why would you say that?”

“My sister had really bad sciatica pain during all three of her pregnancies. It happens when the hips widen. Add that to your fatigue and all that emotional weirdness…” she said, flicking her hand over me in distaste. “I don’t know, Emma, maybe you should take a pregnancy test.”

“No, it’s impossible,” I said shaking my head. I was so not pregnant. We’d used protection every single time.

“The only way it’s impossible would be if you were a good little virgin,” Frannie explained, and then in a childlike voice, she added, “Have you been a good little virgin, Emma?”

I sank back in my chair, my mouth still hanging open as I shook my head back and forth.

“Exactly. I didn’t think so.”

Frannie and I hurried to the supply closet and I snuck a pregnancy strip and a plastic cup off the shelf before disappearing into the bathroom. Francesca pushed her way in before the door shut all the way.

“No, Frannie, it’s okay, you don’t need to.”

The last thing I wanted was her blabbing my business to the entire hospital.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” And as if she could read my mind, added, “I would never do that to you, and you know it.”

Suddenly I felt bad for thinking the worst of her. She’d always been nothing but a friend to me.

“I know,” I said, then grasped her wrist in fear.

We exchanged a knowing glance before she handed me the cup and said, “Now pee.”

The five-minute wait was agonizing. Frannie leaned against the basin studying her shoes as I sat on the closed toilet seat, gripping my newly colored hair. Jesus, wasn’t that bad for a baby? And the glass of wine I had last night… and the night before. That was definitely bad for a baby. But I was almost sure it would come up negative. I had no signs. No weight gain. No morning sickness… although Finn’s little puke parade the last time I’d seen him had turned me all shades of green. And besides that, after the festival weekend with him, I’d immediately gone on birth control pills. Oh, god, if a baby managed to get through all that protection, its little head would surely be whacked after all the crap I’d been feeding it.

The timer went off on Francesca’s phone.

“You ready?”

There was no excitement or encouragement in her words. Instead she adopted a professional tone, free of judgment. I closed my eyes as Frannie checked the results. It would be negative. There was no way. No way at all. But when she didn’t say anything after several seconds, I knew. The sob that I’d been holding back broke free. Francesca knelt beside me rubbing my back, repeating “Breathe” over and over.

“I don’t, I don’t… what am I going to do? I can’t be a mother. I can’t.”

“And you don’t have to be, Emma. You have options.”

Yes. Options. I had options. But the moment Finn’s face formed in my mind, I knew I didn’t have options. I could never, would never do that to him.

“No. Finn… it’s his child too. Never.”

“Then have the baby.”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” I said, snarling out the words. “Have you not been listening for the past four years?”

Thankfully, Frannie took no offense.

“Let me finish,” she said, calmly. “Have the baby. Give it to Finn. Problem solved.”

I blinked back my shock and wiped away the tears.

“Yes. Okay. That would work. I could do that.”

“See? Everything will be fine. You’re in shock right now. Just give yourself a chance to process. Do you want to see the stick?”

Frannie held up the test with a very clear pregnancy confirmation. And that seemed to do the trick. The shock subsided as reality kicked in. This was happening, whether I wanted it or not. Every fear I’d ever had… every relationship I’d fought so hard to avoid and every excuse I’d given for not wanting to be a mother was all for naught because that baby I vehemently professed I didn’t want, the one I’d given up an amazing guy to avoid having, was now growing inside my belly.

“I need to go to labor and delivery,” I said, standing up and smoothing down my wild hair.

“I think you have time, Emma – at least a few more months.”

Was she trying to be funny? I glared at Frannie.

“Okay, yeah, that was not appropriate, was it? Sorry, I’m rusty with random acts of sympathy. I’m trying.”

I knew she was. I softened my tone as I cleared my throat, and said with as much control as I could muster, “I know you are. You’ve been a great friend. Now go back to work. I’ve got it from here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I wish I knew.”

Once Francesca left, I took a few moments to pull myself together before exiting the bathroom and walking down the sterile hallways in a daze. The moment I entered the ward, I could hear babies crying, and panic gripped me. I used the walls to steady myself as I searched for Dr. Kapoor. She was new to the hospital, but I’d seen her with one of my patients a few months before, explaining to a car accident victim that her baby hadn’t survived. The compassion I’d seen in her eyes as she comforted the woman had stuck with me. I needed a little of that empathy right about now.

“Dr. Kapoor? My name is Emma McKallister. I’m a nurse in the ICU.”

“Yes, I remember you. Although your hair is…”

“I know. Horrible. It was a mistake,” I said, attempting to explain away something so insignificant as colored strands when I had another, more gigantic issue to address. But when that all-important moment arrived, and it came time to ’fess up, the words would not form as I dissolved into a puddle of tears. Dr. Kapoor led me into an empty room and sat me in a chair. She pulled one up herself and waited, laying a hand gently on my knee. Once I’d pulled myself together enough to speak, I told her about the positive pregnancy test, the condoms, the birth control pills, the wine, and all the other things I’d done to ruin this baby before it was even born. “And not only that, but I colored my hair… I mean, what kind of monster am I? This baby isn’t even born yet, and I’m already the world’s shittiest mom.”

Dr. Kapoor allowed me one more shortened cry before she put an end to the waterworks. “First, pregnancy happens even with 100% compliance to birth control methods. Nothing is ever foolproof. As a nurse, you should know that. And second, you haven’t ruined your baby. Plenty of mothers engage in the activities you’ve described before knowing they were pregnant. You haven’t sentenced your baby to a fiery hell. They’re a lot tougher than you think.”

“Yeah, well, this one’s a goddamn superhero if he managed to get through all those layers of protection.”

She laughed, but I wasn’t joking. Leave it to Finn to impregnate me with a near statistically impossible baby!

“I tell you what – why don’t we go into another room and do a quick ultrasound? Maybe that will ease your mind and give you some answers.”

This was good… a plan. I liked plans so very much.

“Okay,” I sniffled. “Are you sure you’re not too busy?”

“I’ve got a fussy womb in room four. It’s moving slower than a teenager crossing the street,” she said, chuckling to herself.

I guess even doctors who stuck their hands up vaginas all day could find humor in their profession. More power to them. A few minutes later, the doctor was rolling a goopy ball over my lower abdomen, and I was hit with a shot of remorse. Finn should have been here for this… the first look at his baby. He would have loved this. Picturing his face, I frowned. What was I going to do about Finn?

“There. Do you see the heart beating?”

Oh, yes, I saw it. My eyes could not have been wider or clearer if they tried. A contented ache attached itself to my own rapidly beating heart. I listened as the doctor described to me all I was seeing, and waited as she measured its little head and limbs. I could not tear my eyes away from the screen. Slowly the realization of what I was seeing registered in my shocked brain. That fluttery heartbeat belonged to me… to Finn. It was then I knew I would love this baby until the day I died. And, just as my mother had done before me, I would protect his or her tiny life with everything I had in me. Suddenly I couldn’t remember why I’d ever wanted to deprive myself of something as beautiful as a child. A smile so wide and so genuine transformed my weepy, frightened face. The tiny life growing inside me was more than I deserved, but all I never knew I wanted.

* * *

In no emotional shape to resume my shift, I let the charge nurse know I wasn’t feeling well and went home. I didn’t even remember making the drive or opening the front door or snuggling with Cynthia until I passed out on my bed. But I did remember the nightmare.

He was so beautiful, a tow-headed toddler with hair that bounced as he ran. I chased after him, laughing. Finn was there with us, the proud smile on his face telling me he was here for us, always. I never knew I could feel so alive and happy. Cradling my son in my arms, I kissed that perfect face. He was a gift, a beautiful perfect gift. Finn and I watched as he fell asleep in my arms. Quietly, I transferred him to his crib and watched the little body tense as a groggy cry escaped those rosy lips. Gently I ran my finger back and forth from his forehead to his nose to soothe him back to sleep. Those sweet eyes fluttered shut once more and I leaned down to kiss him.

“I’ll see you when you wake up, angel baby,” I cooed. Warmth and love, that’s what this was. My little family.

I’d fallen asleep myself, exhausted but blissful. Just a quick nap for Mommy. I awakened with a start and checked the clock. Too much time had passed. Was he still napping? Why hadn’t he cried for me? A crippling terror gripped me as I ran to his room. The crib was empty. Finn! I screamed. ‘Where is he? Where’s my baby?’

Jolting upright, gasping for air, sobs wracked my body. This was why I couldn’t be a mother and a wife. This was why.

* * *

“Answer your phone, Keith,” I begged, my hand shaking miserably. Why was it when I really needed him, Keith was never around – but when I wanted him to leave, I could never get rid of him? After several more phone calls went unanswered, I gave up and dialed another number.

“Hello?”

“Jake? It’s me, Emma.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “What’s up?”

“Oh, well, I…” my voice broke. Man, I was really trying to control it, but there was no suppressing the emotions this baby was tugging out of me.

“Are you okay?” There was immediate concern in his tone. Bless him. Jake cared. Not like that weasel Keith.

“I tried to call Keith, and he wouldn’t pick up… four times, Jake, four times I called him,” I wept into the phone. “I mean, he doesn’t do shit. Why can’t he pick up the damn phone? And so I called you… not that you’re a second choice, but I need… I need… I don’t know what I need.”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy,” I sniffled pathetically. Actually, I really did want to bother him, and he only lived twenty miles away.

“I’m sure. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in an hour.”

This was LA, after all.

* * *

By the time Jake arrived, I’d calmed down. He’d slipped in wearing a baseball hat and hoodie but promptly removed it all the minute he stepped inside.

“Is that get-up because you’re going incognito or because you’re afraid to catch something in these parts?” I asked.

“Definitely the latter. I read somewhere that chlamydia was now airborne over the Valley.”

“Oh, ha ha, because of the porn industry. Good one,” I replied sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you back to your grumpy old self. Did I just rush over here for nothing?”

“That was rushing?” I teased. “It took you well over an hour.”

“Not for lack of effort. Is it my fault your emotional breakdown happened during rush hour? You better have a good reason for making me drive all the way over here in bumper-to-bumper traffic.”

“Trust me, you’ll be duly rewarded for your effort. I’m pregnant.”

Jake’s head snapped to attention. Yep, you heard me right. I ripped that Band-Aid clean off. My brother didn’t react exactly as I’d hoped. Instead, his lip curled up and he laughed. I waited, arms hugging into myself, and grimaced at his idea of funny.

“Wait, are you serious?” he asked, after getting an extended look at my somber face.

“I’ve never been much of a joker.”

Jake finally closed his wide-open mouth and said, “I just… I never… Sorry. That’s not funny at all, is it? Are you all right?”

“Um,” I bit my lip as the stuttering breaths opened the way for more uncontrolled sobbing. I was really starting to hate this new me. “Not really.”

Jake swathed me in his warm embrace, and I sank into him with no shame. I’d offered him enough support over my lifetime. Now it was his turn to give back.

“I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out to the valley to get chlamydia and everything, but I didn’t know who to turn to.”

“It’s okay, Emma, really. How long have you known?”

“About seven hours. I’m three months along.”

Jake pulled away and searched my face for reaction. “Three months? Was that…?”

“Yes. The festival. Thank you very much!”

“Me? I fail to see how I’m to blame.”

“If you hadn’t invited me, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, right. I should have predicted this very plausible scenario,” he said, humoring my hormonal outbursts. “And how do you feel about… uh, being pregnant?”

“Well, that depends on when you ask me. I started out stunned. Then I was excited. But now I’m strictly bone-chilling terrified.”

“And you’re sure Finn’s the dad?”

I had a sudden and intense desire to kick my brother squarely in the crotch. Whoa, what the hell? Were emotional outbursts a side effect of pregnancy? If so, this was going to be a long six months.

“You know, Jake, I understand you’re trying to be helpful, but I’m real unstable right now, so let’s try to just think before speaking, shall we?”

Jake snickered as he made a wide circle around me. “You have crazy eyes.”

“Because you were slut-shaming me,” I complained, irrationally.

“Do you want me to help you or not?” He grinned. “Jesus Christ. Is this what I’m going to have to look forward to when Casey gets pregnant?”

“I read somewhere that pregnancy magnifies your existing personality. With Casey, I’m sure when she’s with child it’ll be like living with a Disney princess. You’ll be fine.”

“I think it’s alcohol, not pregnancy, that magnifies the personality.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. Casey’s perfect. There’s no reason to assume she will be any less dazzling when she’s carrying your child, so stop worrying. Besides, we’re talking about me now, so try and stay focused.”

Jake shook his head. “Okay, I’m going to ask a series of questions. Just answer them without the bitchy tone. Can you do that?”

“I can’t promise anything.”

We grinned at one another.

“Do you plan to tell Finn?”

“Eventually.”

“And by eventually, you mean real damn soon?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” I smiled.

“Do you… um… plan on keeping the baby?”

“Yes, I… yes.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I want this baby; it’s just that I’m scared. What if something happens? What if I can’t keep it safe?”

“You will.”

“You don’t know that. Mom couldn’t keep you safe.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed into angry slits. “So that’s what this is all about?”

“Well, it’s a big damn issue, yeah. I mean, aren’t you scared to have kids someday? You, more than anyone, know the evil that lives out there.”

“So what should I do then – shut myself off from the world? I did that, and I was miserable.” Jake stopped talking as realization swept over him. “Please tell me that’s not why you’ve sworn off marriage.”

I cringed and looked away.

“Seriously, Emma! You’re putting this on me?”

“No.” I grabbed for him, but he flinched away. “Not you. Just what happened to you. I’m entitled to be scarred by it. You don’t have a monopoly on this.”

“Is this because of what I told you? About Glen?”

I really was trying to keep a neutral expression, but Jake saw right through me. Yes, okay, that damn story scarred me for life. Why the hell did you pick me to purge your guilty soul?

“Not just that. You don’t know what happened when you were gone.”

“I wasn’t just gone,” Jake spat. “You act like on was on a fucking vacation.”

Oh, shit. Now he was really agitated. How had this conversation deteriorated so rapidly?

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Let me start over. When you were in the clutches of an evil madman, Mom completely fell apart. Her loss consumed her. She stopped living. She gave up on everyone, including you. I vowed never to love that hard because it only leads to unbelievable heartbreak.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going to give up on the only thing that makes life worth living – love – just so you can stick it to Mom?”

“What?” My voice was high-pitched and offended. How the hell did he get to that conclusion? “No. I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s so obvious. You’ve always blamed her, as if none of it would have happened had she been a better mother, more attentive… that’s bullshit. I’m sorry she wasn’t there for you, Emma, and that sucks; but she was there for me. And I…I needed her more than you did back then. You want to know what kind of mother she is? She’s the kind that held my hand and helped me breathe when I thought the fear was literally going to eat me up from the inside out. She’s the kind who slept on the floor by my side for a year just so I wouldn’t have to be alone with my nightmares. She’s the kind who was handed a broken shell of a boy and painstakingly pieced him back together again. And, Emma, she’s the one who gave me back the music, which ultimately saved my damn life. So if you’re worried that you’ll be just like Mom… well, I say, you should be so lucky.”

Sometimes in life you just need a swift kick in the ass. Jake did that for me, leaving me shell-shocked and bruised in his wake. I was forced to reevaluate everything I’d held true for so long. Maybe Mom had done the best she could with what she’d been dealt. Maybe this wasn’t fear. Maybe this had always just been my way of punishing the woman I blamed for every damn thing in my life; and if that were true, I had many years of atonement not only to my mother but to myself, as well. My god, had I just wasted ten years?

* * *

The woman who opened the door to Finn’s new bungalow was young, gorgeous, barefoot, and wearing a soft white beach cover-up that reached mid-thigh. I could see the outline of her yellow bikini beneath the flimsy fabric. Her sun-streaked wavy hair wore the telltale signs of having recently been dipped in the ocean water… probably after spending the day with the father of my baby.

We stared at one another for a moment before she asked in a friendly voice, “Can I help you?”

Fresh, pretty, and sweet – the flip side of my coin. Apparently Finn was taking a break from psycho bitches, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. Why I’d pictured him as still single was beyond me. Finn was the full package, and I should have expected that women would be going after him the minute I shut the door on his face.

“Is Finn here?”

Her expression instantly transformed from pleasant and sweet to predatory and defensive. Oh, yeah, she’d claimed him all right. Her eyes pierced through me like an invasive TSA screening.

“Who are you?”

“Is he here?” I ignored her question to repeat my own.

“No. Sorry. He’s not home right now, but I can tell him you stopped by, if you like.”

The moment she finished her sentence, Finn’s earnest laughter rang out in the background. He was happy again. My heart clenched further. He’d definitely moved on. I’d waited too long, and now he was blissful and healthy and dating a hot surfer girl.

“You’re Emma, right?” she asked, trying to remain casual, but the tone had an undeniable challenge to it. She was ready to fight to defend her territory.

“Yes.”

“Well, Emma,” – she said my name like it was a dirty word – “do you really think seeing him is the right thing to do? You broke him in half, and now that he’s finally healing, you want to come back and do it all over again. I won’t let you hurt him any more than you already have.”

Her words stung but certainly were not without merit. I actually appreciated this pixie girl’s commitment to Finn. Just the fact that he’d had support through this all was encouraging, even if it was in the form of a young, gorgeous woman who wanted to rip my head clean off my shoulders. Unfortunately for her, I had no intention of debating my worth to anyone but Finn, and with that in mind, I pushed the door open and muscled my way in. Beach girl had nothing on my stately frame as I breezed past her, stealthily evading capture.

I headed straight for the voices in the kitchen, and as I rounded the corner, I saw Finn, a guy I assumed to be Richie and an older woman I assumed to be his rich divorcée girlfriend. All three turned their heads to stare as I came into view with the barefoot blonde nearly running into the back of me when I stopped.

“I told her you didn’t want to see her but she wouldn’t listen,” surfer girl ratted on me.

There was no way to read the emotion on Finn’s face. He was just blank.

“You must be Emma,” Richie said, breaking the awkward moment as he stood up and walked over to me. “I’m Richie. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Hello,” I said, shaking his hand.

“I believe a thank you is in order,” he said.

“A thank you?”

“Well, when you were setting Finn up with Martin, I managed to hook myself into the deal. Now we both have a new agent.”

“Oh. I…” I glanced nervously at Finn, but he had yet to meet my eye. I wasn’t sure how he had taken my meddling into his professional life. Jake really was the driving force anyway, as Martin was his agent. “I really didn’t have much to do with it. Jake wanted him for a video, so he’s probably the one to thank.”

“Well, I’d love to thank him in person. Anytime. You just set it up,” Richie said, laughing. “Anyway, we’re both real grateful – aren’t we, Finn?”

I smiled at Richie, thankful for his attempt to lighten the mood. My eyes settled back on my reason for coming.

“Um… Finn, can I talk to you for a minute? I know you’re busy, so I promise to make it quick.”

He didn’t reply, nor did he make a move to get off the chair. The knots in my stomach started double tying. I hadn’t planned for such a scenario, and now I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Begging seemed the best option. “Please?”

Finn, his eyes still averted, sat for a moment, clearly contemplating his next move. Suddenly he rose from the table and walked in my direction, but instead of stopping in front of me, he just brushed past, heading for the front door. Richie provided me with a sympathetic nod as I turned to follow him.

Once we were both outside, Finn shut the door and turned to me, arms crossed in front of him, and waited impatiently for me to speak.

“Hi,” I said, in barely more than a whisper.

“That’s what you came here to say?” he challenged, his tone short and unemotional. I’d hurt him, and he clearly wasn’t in any mood to let me get away with it without significant repercussions. I didn’t blame him for a second.

“No. I’m just nervous.”

“Look,” Finn sighed. “I’m grateful for the help with Martin, but I’m not interested in being friends, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“No. I just need to talk to you real quick.”

“I think you’ve pretty much said it all.”

“I haven’t said this. Please.”

Finn hesitated, looking back at the door. “Richie and I have some people over. This really isn’t a good time.”

“Are you seeing that girl? The one who answered the door? She seems nice – and protective of you.”

His eyes caught mine and I saw the hurt. “Why do you even care, Emma?”

“You know I do. Don’t insult me. And I just want the best for you.”

He laughed bitterly at that. “And you think she’s it?”

“I don’t know. Is she?”

“That’s none of your business,” Finn said, shaking his head. “You have two minutes.”

He took a seat on the steps and I sank down beside him.

“I know I hurt you, and I want to apologize. I made decisions for the both of us and didn’t give you a chance to even process what was happening before cutting you out of my life. In my warped brain, I thought it would be easier on you, but it was just mean, and I see that now and I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve heard you say you’re sorry a hundred times. I’m just over it. We could have been great, and you threw it all away. What more is there to say?”

“I could tell you what happened in my past that made me choose not to have children.”

This caught Finn’s attention, and he watched me with interest, the anger already dissolving. He was so forgiving. I’d spent ten years blaming my loving mother for perceived slights, when Finn had been ‘raised’ among junkyard trash and still found it in his heart to care.

“You know what happened to my brother when we were younger, right?”

He nodded. Of course he knew. Everyone did.

“When Jake disappeared, it affected me in ways I can’t really explain. I watched my family fall apart. My mother… it was just awful. Her loss consumed her. She’d wake me up at all hours of the night with this terrifying cry, like she was dying. And, at the same time, I was having nightmares about my other siblings disappearing one by one until I was the only one left. I became fixated on protecting myself from loss. By putting these chains on myself, I thought I could avoid the pain… but I only made it worse for you and for me.”

“So what are you saying?”

It was unmistakable, the hope in his voice. After everything I’d put him through, he was still looking for a hole in my armor, a way back in. I didn’t deserve this man… but our baby sure as hell did.

“I’m saying something has happened that’s forced me to open my eyes, and now I don’t have a choice but to change my way of thinking. I’m pregnant, Finn.”

His eyes bulged from their sockets. “Wait. What are you…? Is…?”

“Of course.”

“How? I mean I used condoms…. and…and you were on the pill.”

“Only after the festival. I didn’t see the point before. The amount of sex I’ve had in the past few years didn’t warrant taking pills every day of my life.”

“But, I used condoms that weekend,” he repeated.

“Yes, Finn, I realize that, but they’re only 98% accurate.”

“Only?” he replied, suddenly turning hostile. “That’s a big fucking only!”

He didn’t seem to know how to react to my admission, so he let shock rule his responses. Finn looked around, possibly to see if anyone else was hearing this bullshit, and when he didn’t get any reassurance from the rosebushes, he lay on his back on the concrete, covering his face with his hands. I waited. I’d had time to process the information, and he deserved that courtesy too. A minute later he did something totally unexpected… Finn laughed. Hysterically. And when the laughter died down, he sat back up, still clearly trying to process the information.

“I’m sorry if this is not what you wanted, but you, at least, needed to know,” I said, touching his shoulder.

“It’s not that. It’s… I’ve been through this before, you know. And it was all one big lie so, yeah, I’m having a little trouble believing this, is all.”

“Right, but that was a fake baby by a woman trying to deceive you. I would never lie to you about something so important. I hope you know that.”

I handed him the ultrasound pictures, and the shift in mood was immediate. It’s hard to describe the rainbow of emotion that splashed across Finn’s face as he took in the photos of his child… shock, then awe, then acceptance, and finally heart-melting tenderness. In those few short moments, as he held proof of the little life he’d helped create, Finn fell completely and totally in love, as somehow I just knew he would.

“How old?” he asked, with tears in his eyes.

“Three months. I’m pretty sure he’s a festival baby.”

“He? It’s a boy?”

“No. I don’t know. I keep picturing a boy, but maybe it’s a girl. Do you care?”

“Are you kidding?” Finn was still looking at the pictures in complete amazement. The truth seemed to finally be settling in. “So, I mean, you seem okay with this for a woman who doesn’t want kids.”

“You should have seen me a few days ago.”

“Not pretty?”

“Well, there’s an ugly crier, and then there’s me.”

Finn smiled, but it was a short-lived moment of levity. “What are you thinking, Emma? If this isn’t something you can do….”

“I can and I will. I’m committed, Finn. I promise to be a good mother to our baby. I get that you are still processing, and I know you will want to be a hands-on father to this baby, but just know, I understand this isn’t a package deal.”

“Meaning you, me, and baby?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence. Finn studied the pictures for so long I almost interrupted him to move the conversation along. Finally he surprised me by asking, “What if I want the package deal?”

“Then I’d tell you to think long and hard about that because, as you’ve probably figured out by now, I’m a piece of work.”

He laughed at that, harder than I might have liked.

“Look, Finn. I’m not trying to disrupt your life all over again. I understand that you’re with another woman now, and I’ll respect that.”

Finn shifted to his right side and studied me long and hard before removing a strand of hair from my face and whispering, “I’m with you, Emma. I always have been.”

My eyes brimming with tears, I asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means that even though, or maybe because, you ripped my damn heart out, I haven’t moved on with anyone else. Rachel’s not my girlfriend; she’s Vanessa’s daughter. She wants more, but you know, you screwed me up too much for anything more than friendship, so thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome?” I answered in question form.

My attempt at humor could have gone terribly wrong, but Finn always was a fan of my sarcasm, and he gave me the laugh I was hoping for. Boldly, I reached out and traced my finger over his face. It really was as swoon-worthy as the day I met him. His merciful eyes held understanding and patience. Where did that reserve of forgiveness come from? Why would he be willing to give me the second chance I so clearly didn’t deserve? Leaning over, I brushed my lips past his. Finn didn’t move or pull me in, he just lay there propped on his elbow and let me take the lead.

“Forgive me,” I whispered. “Please forgive me.”

Finn’s hand tangled into my hair, and he pulled my head toward him and his lips pressed hard onto mine. His approach was equal parts aggression, yearning, and forgiveness. Wrapping my arms around his back, I leaned into him and crushed my mouth to his. We assertively reacquainted ourselves with one another, although I truly had never forgotten his touch, or his lips. Lying on the steps in a heavy embrace, we were lost in each other’s hungering lips. I wanted him… and I could have him, if I just let go.

“I. Forgive. You,” he said between kisses. “But don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I’m tired of wasting time.”

“Me too.”

In one fluid motion, Finn stood and pulled me to my feet. “Then we make a commitment right here, right now. No more games. You and me, Emma… one hundred percent. It’s everything or nothing.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I answered, “I want everything.”

* * *

Lying in his arms on my couch, with Finn’s hand on my belly and my cat curled up contently on my lap, I felt for the first time in years that I was finally back in control. My fears would have to take a backseat to this new reality.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to move in with me and Cynthia?”

He sat up a little straighter, his demeanor suddenly serious. “Look, I’ll move in with you on two conditions.”

“Okay.” I tensed in preparation. Was it too soon after my total and complete betrayal of his trust to ask for such a thing?

“One: we give the damn cat a break. From now on I’m calling him Theo.”

I nodded, relieved at where his conditions were going. I could handle that one, even though I wouldn’t honor it. “You can call him whatever you want. Right, Cynthia?”

“Oh, okay, I see where ultimatums will get me.”

“What’s number two?” I asked, tugging on his sleeve to refocus his attention.

“Well, that goes somewhat hand in hand with number one, and this will not be compromised. Your dad’s not allowed anywhere near the baby until we have it safely named.”

“That’s something I can agree on.” I brightened. “And might I suggest we extend that ban to your mother as well, Indiana-Jones Finnegan Perry.”

Finn cringed.

“Oh, stop. I love your name. There is no one like you, so why not have a name like no other?”

“Does that mean if we have a boy, he’ll be a junior?”

“God no. Your name dies with you.”

“Wait a minute. I thought you loved my name.”

“On you.” I laughed. “I love it on you.”

“At least promise me our baby will have a kick-ass name. I mean, come on. This little guy fought his way through a rubber coating with a 98% effectiveness rating? What are the chances?”

“2%.”

“Exactly, 2%. That’s pretty damn amazing.”

“Yeah, well, no offense, Finn, but you were born in a toilet. It seems to me you’re a low percentage kind of guy.”

22

Emma, 2005: Glen

The sound of metal bouncing off porcelain and a loud thump drew me to my feet. I hurried to my bedroom door, assuming the ruckus to be an earthquake. It wasn’t until I heard the groan that I realized the ground wasn’t actually shaking and that something else, something human and destructive, had caused that noise. Jake! It was the natural assumption, given we were currently the only two in the house. His bedroom door was wide open, so I turned in the other direction toward the bathroom.

“Jake?” I knocked on the door, careful not to push it open. There was no privacy left in our home. Even the bathroom was fair game. Dad had taken all the locks off the doors to prevent Jake from bolting himself up inside.

“I’m fine. Go away.”

His four words were overcome with emotion, and I instantly knew what was happening behind the door. Desperately swinging it open, my eyes fell onto Jake sprawled on the floor with a chair lying on its side. In the bathtub sat a shower rod, which appeared to have just recently crashed to the ground. In his hand was a thinly rolled sheet and on his face was clear guilt and panic. The thud had been my brother dropping off his sheeted noose.

“Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” Jake said, in a voice so anemic it matched his colorless complexion.

“Tell them what? That you were trying to kill yourself? Did it ever occur to you that I’d be the one to find you hanging?” Tears spilled over as my throat closed tightly, and each word that escaped the funnel was pitched higher than the next. He was going to let me find him dead! “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know.” He dipped his head, dejected, his eyes swollen with emotion. I dropped to my knees and pulled him into my arms and held him tighter than I’d ever held anything in my whole life. Maybe I could squeeze the sadness out of him, and then he’d want to live again.

“Nothing happened.” Jake faltered as he fought for the words. “I fell right through the knot. Please don’t tell Mom and Dad. They’ll send me away.”

I pulled out of the hug and examined his neck. Aside from some redness, there were no permanent marks, although I was certain he’d have some nasty bruising from the fall. Still, keeping something like this a secret from our parents? I wasn’t sure I could.

“They aren’t going to send you away.”

“Last time I was at the hospital, the psychiatrist said if I didn’t stop trying to kill myself, they were going to lock me up in a mental institution.”

“A treatment facility, Jake, not a mental institution.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go there.”

“Then stop trying to kill yourself.”

Jake dropped his heavy head into his hands and shook it back and forth. Despair had overtaken his life; it was that misery which forced his hand. I gently rubbed his back as I could think of nothing else to soothe his wounded soul. This was suicide attempt number four; although it was the first I’d been called on to attend. I noted that Jake was being challenged to get more creative with each subsequent try. My parents had grown increasingly savvy, and with every attempt, more things were removed from his reach. All potentially dangerous items had been locked away, including anything sharp or ingestible. After today, I had to wonder if we’d be checking out bed sheets to keep Jake from hanging himself on them.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“I think you do.”

He looked down at his trembling hands and wrung them together.

“I won’t tell Mom and Dad on one condition.”

Jake lifted his head, and the tiniest ray of hope shone in his tired eyes. “What condition?”

“Tell me why you want to die.”

* * *

The bed tent was one of my finest. I’d taken extra care to clip it higher than usual. Jake had recently begun a growth spurt, and I knew his gangling arms and legs would not fit in my standard-sized creation.

Before retreating to my room, we’d repaired the bathroom to the best of our ability. Aside from a wobbly shower rod, it would be impossible for our parents to know what Jake had been doing while they were away. I still wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing with this deal, but nothing else had worked on him, so I felt it was worth a try.

“What is this?” Jake asked, touching the smoothness of the sheet.

“It’s a safety tent. When you’re inside, nothing can hurt you.”

“Emma, no offense, but you live in a fantasy land. Nowhere is safe.”

“Well, this is. I spent months under this with Quinn and Grace after you came home. They were scared of your screams.”

Redness enveloped his cheeks, and he fidgeted uncomfortably before looking away. I touched his arm.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Grace hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Grace just doesn’t understand what you’ve been through.”

“She hates me.”

Sighing, I gestured toward the opening in the tent, welcoming him in.

“I’m not climbing in there. That’s stupid.”

“We have a deal, Jake. Get in before I change my mind.”

Begrudgingly, he crawled through the opening and I followed him in. Once we were both sitting cross-legged on my bed, Jake repeated his earlier observation. “This is stupid.”

“I know. We’ve already established that.”

Although he preferred silence, my brother had slowly begun to communicate again. More often than not it was surly remarks or angry outbursts, but at least he was talking. It had been nine months since the kidnapping, and up until today, he’d seemed to be improving. Of course the whole school ordeal had been a setback, but now that he was home again and making music, I’d thought the suicide days were behind him.

Jake picked up a book on my bed, turned it over a few times, and then said, “You study a lot.”

“What else do I have to do?”

“Go outside. Have fun with friends. Anything but staying inside and studying.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“I don’t study.”

“I meant the staying inside part. Do you miss school?”

The bitter scoff was his only reply. After multiple rounds of heavy debating, it had been decided that Jake would return to his middle school to finish up the last semester of his eighth grade year. A string of tutors had kept him at grade level during the months that followed the kidnapping, so when the time was right, he could rejoin his classmates. Academically, he was more than ready, but we all knew that wouldn’t be the main problem. Socially Jake had regressed to timid toddler levels.

Hoping to ease him back into the normal life of a teenager, Mom and Dad had thought that returning him to the familiar environment of the middle school would prove less of a shock then dropping him directly into high school as a freshman the following fall.

Keith had been the biggest vocal opponent of Jake’s return to school, followed close behind by Kyle. Perhaps they could see the writing on the wall, or maybe they just understood how cruel boys that age could be toward a broken soul. But Mom and Dad thought they had that covered. Before the crime that rocked his world, Jake had had a close set of friends, ones who were ready and willing to help make his school transition an easy one. And that, in a nutshell, was what my parents had been banking on when they made the decision to send him back in the first place. Perhaps they’d envisioned a cocoon of safety surrounding him; but what they hadn’t foreseen was that Jake himself would sabotage the entire operation.

See, he had no intention of rejoining the old friend group and instead spent his first days actively avoiding them. And when they did find him and tried to engage, Jake reacted with the coldest of shoulders. Eventually he got what he wanted – a table to himself in the far corners of the cafeteria where he could wallow in the depths of his despair. Kyle was always there, staying a safe distance while still within range if he were ever needed, but Jake had long since cut our little brother out of his life. The rejection had scarred Kyle as much as the wounds he’d received from Ray. But he was nothing if not loyal, and never once abandoned Jake, even when he’d not been afforded the same courtesy.

Isolated and vulnerable, Jake left the door open for bullies to get a foothold. After only a couple of weeks, he was coming home with bruises all while steadfastly refusing to rat out the culprits. It was almost as if Jake welcomed the fists. There was no fight left in him. He did what he was told without protest. Kyle, of course, did not subscribe to Jake’s apathetic ways and spent more time home on suspension for fighting than at school.

Jake’s final day came two months later when an altercation in the boy’s bathroom woke him up and he rained fury down upon his tormentors. It took three teachers to pull him off, and two bullies were sent home battered and bruised. Had he been anyone else, Jake would have been expelled; but because of his special circumstances, my brother was given a one-week suspension. Which turned into three when he refused to return, and then into an epic battle of wills with our beleaguered parents. In the end, Jake won the fight, resumed homeschooling, and returned our frazzled household to ‘normal.’

It was during this time that music returned to the McKallister home. Once such a common sound in our musical family, the beautiful melodies had stopped the day Jake disappeared, and no one had thought to pick up an instrument since. But part of the deal Jake had made with our parents in order to resume his stay-at-home studies was that he would promise to begin practicing again. The day Mom dragged him to the piano was one I’d never forget. I was in my room when I heard those first few notes, and as if it were a beacon of light on the horizon, I followed its lifesaving beam.

Peeking into the family room, I saw Mom and Jake sitting side by side at the piano. She was coaxing him to play, but he was a wounded soul in need of guidance. I watched as her fingers pressed over his and they played a song together. The sight was so sincere and profound that I backed out of the room to give them the moment in private. Instead, I sat with my back against the wall, silent tears of relief and joy streaming down my face.

“That song you were playing yesterday,” I addressed Jake under my bed tent, “the one you played over and over, what was it?”

“It was nothing – just something I made up.”

“That’s not nothing, Jake. It was beautiful. You’ve always been so talented. I thought the music was helping you cope. What happened today? Why did you try to kill yourself?”

“Because nothing can cure me, Emma. I’m doomed.”

“Why do you say that? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You have no idea what I did.”

I saw something then, deep in his shattered gaze: shame.

“Tell me. That was the deal.”

The silence lasted so long I assumed this conversation would be like all others… lots of stress with no resolution in sight. But Jake surprised me with the first bit of honesty I’d heard since his return.

“That day,” – he spoke so low that I had to lean in to hear him – “when he took me and dumped me in that room, I wasn’t alone. I didn’t know it at first because Ray was such a fucking nightmare, you know. I was just focusing on staying alive. But when he finally left me alone for a few minutes, I saw him, in a cage… cowering away from me.”

“A boy?” I asked, wide-eyed and disbelieving. How had this never come out?

“No, a dog.”

“A dog?” I repeated, still reeling from the information dump I was receiving.

“Ray had picked him up at the pound a week before, starved him, abused him. By the time I got there, the little thing was as traumatized as I was. He was this small terrier mix. Ugly, with coarse fur, and all folded up with his tail between his legs. He shook so hard I thought he’d stop his own heart. I tried talking to him, but he growled if I got near. It took a few days, but I finally coaxed him from the relative safety of the cage, and we bonded. I even gave him a name – Glen. In honor of dad’s stupid pet names, you know.”

I nodded and smiled sympathetically toward him. I already knew where this story was going and that it would not end well for poor little Glen.

As if acknowledging my fears, Jake misted up before continuing. “I never thought I’d see any of you again. Glen became my world, and I loved him more than you could ever imagine. He was there for me during the worst of times. He tried to protect me, Emma – snapping at Ray, even biting him a couple of times. But see, that’s what he wanted. Glen wasn’t brought there to be my friend. He was brought there to be a pawn in this elaborate mind game Ray was playing with me. The whole point was for me to love the dog so he could then be ripped from my life like everyone else I ever loved.”

Everything was falling into place. Or so I thought. How could I have known the deprivation ran so much deeper than my innocent mind could ever have fathomed?

“He used Glen against me, delivering ultimatums – him or me. I tried so hard to save him. I sacrificed myself, took the pain so he wouldn’t have to, went without food so he could eat, but I knew… I knew the day would come when I couldn’t protect him anymore.”

Jake took a moment to draw air into his lungs. He was shaking from the sheer force of the memories sweeping through him.

“None of this was your fault,” I said, in a weak attempt to ease his sadness. “You did your best. You have no reason to feel guilt and no reason to punish yourself over this.”

“You don’t understand, Emma. Ray didn’t kill Glen.” Jake dipped his head, a sob escaping him. “I did.”

It took a minute to recover from his admission, but when it finally hit home, I burst into tears. I hadn’t even known Glen, and yet I’d become fully invested in that little dog who’d loved my brother enough to try to protect him from a monster.

“It got worse every day… the choices I had to make to save him. I knew at some point I wouldn’t be strong enough to put Glen first. The dog was going to die; it was just a matter of when and how much he was going to suffer. Do you understand, Emma? I had to do it. I couldn’t let him have my dog. I owed Glen that much. So I did it. I killed him. And when he died, so did I.”

23

Emma, Present Day: Full Circle

Finn and I mingled with the family in a lighthearted afternoon of food and good company. I was understandably fidgety, knowing what I had to say and expecting the reactions to swing the pendulum of emotions. I left the group behind to use the bathroom, as I was doing a lot lately. Five and a half months along, and I was now really beginning to show. Thankfully the billowing shirt I’d worn hadn’t seemed to raise suspicions just yet. In the next few weeks, though, there would be no hiding; nor did I want to. I rubbed my belly and smiled into the mirror. I could hardly wait to meet my baby.

Coming back through the kitchen, I found Mom standing at the counter cutting up fruit. Music from outside sounded through the open door, preventing her from hearing my approach. I stopped in my tracks as I took in her dreamy expression. Mom was peering out the window, watching her family with a happy smile on her face. Jake was right about her undying devotion to us. This had always been enough for my mother: her family, her children; and it was something I’d begrudged her for half of my life. Somehow I’d always thought if she’d loved us more, she wouldn’t have abandoned us in our time of need – but now I was finally realizing it was that undying love that had destroyed her in the first place.

“Oh, Emma!” She jumped. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” I frowned, slipping onto a barstool.

“No need to apologize. I love the company.”

“You look happy,” I commented.

She smiled. “I like it when everyone is together. I think in a former life I was probably one of those sheep dogs who are only happy when they’re herding everyone together. I can’t believe how fast the years go. You’re all grown up now.”

“Does that make you sad?” I asked.

Mom’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled as she wiped them away. “It does and it doesn’t. I miss the younger years, but I love watching you all grow into the people you were meant to be. If you ask me, you’re all pretty damn awesome.”

I nodded, suddenly nostalgic, though I felt a bit unworthy of the devotion. I’d done very little for her in the past decade to really deserve it.

“Mom… are you disappointed in me?”

“What?” she blurted out, looking horrified I’d say such a thing. “Of course not. Why would you ask me that?”

“I guess because I would be if I were you.” My throat clenched as I fought to hold back the tears. “I haven’t been a very good daughter.”

My mother came around the counter and settled onto the stool next to me. Her hand gently touched my arm. “Emma, you know I adore you. Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s just… I have a lot of regrets.”

“Oh, well, if that’s the issue, then get in line behind me. My regrets circle around the block.”

“You have nothing to regret, Mom.”

“Please. I’m not naïve. I know what I’ve done – to you, to Kyle, to everyone, really. I have to live with those regrets because I can never take back the things I did and said. All I can do is try to make up for the terrible mistakes I made.”

“You did the best you could under the circumstances.”

“No, I didn’t. I used to tell myself that, but now I know it was just a copout. I gave up, Emma. I gave up on Jake and you and everyone. Instead of fighting, I just abandoned you all. I was weak; devastated. I shudder to think what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten him back. I don’t think I would have survived.”

“No, I don’t think you would have either.”

The tears were freely flowing down Mom’s cheeks now, and I rounded the counter to get her a napkin. Mom dabbed at her eyes as I sat back down on my stool.

“I know I’ve apologized to you a hundred times, Emma, but I don’t think you’ve ever really heard me before. I want you to listen now. I’m sorry. What you did… the way you stepped up to fill a role that wasn’t yours… it was beyond what any sixteen-year-old girl should have had to shoulder. And I know that your experience has warped your views of love and family, and I take responsibility for that. I genuinely wish my shortcomings hadn’t affected you the way they did. I love you and only want the best of everything for my little girl.” Mom stopped to gather her emotions and then continued. “So to answer your earlier question – no, I’m not disappointed in you, and I never have been. My concern for you has always stemmed from my own guilt. I just desperately want you to have a fulfilling life, something I fear I’ve robbed you of.”

We both sat quietly on the barstools, staring out the window at all the people we loved. My mother had always put us first, and nearly died in the process; but look at what she had to show for it now. We were moving forward, and her and dad’s commitment was what had carried us through. I’d been blaming my mother for being weak when it was her strength that had kept us together. Maybe carrying a child of my own had finally opened my eyes to the sacrifices she’d made.

“I’m going to have a baby, Mom,” I whispered. “I’m five months along.”

I could feel her shock. It was hanging in the air, electrified. Her eyes were on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet them with my own.

“I’m just… are you okay? I know you’ve never wanted children. Emma, look at me.”

Slowly I lifted my eyes.

“How are you feeling about this?”

I set my hand on my stomach. “I’m scared. I don’t know if I have it in me to be the mother…” I stopped, choking up. “To be the mother you were.”

My mom burst into tears. I wrapped my arms around her and we both cried. She’d suffered so much but had pulled herself out of hell and kept our family together. Instead of resenting her, I should have been hailing her for the incredible role model she truly was. My mother was strong and loving and loyal. She was who I wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, Mom. The way I’ve treated you. I was so angry. What happened to Jake… to all of us. I was just so angry, and I needed someone to blame. You were the easiest target. I knew I could hurt you, so I did. If it’s any consolation, it never made me feel better. I know now you tried your best and really… you were, are, an amazing mother. And dad. He’s my hero. You raised six healthy, happy children, and after everything we went through, that’s nothing short of a miracle.”

Mom straightened up, wiping away her tears. “Thank you, Emma. You have no idea what that means to me. And just so you know, it’s perfectly normal to have fears about motherhood. When I was pregnant with Keith, I had dreams that I kept him in an aquarium and fed him fish food; so yeah, I guess you could say I was nervous about the type of mother I’d be too. But the moment you hold that baby in your arms, all your questions will be answered. I promise.”

I lay my head on her shoulder and she stroked my hair. Kyle walked in, took one look at our teary faces, and made an about-face and hightailed it out of the kitchen. We both laughed.

“Such a guy,” Mom said, shaking her head. “He acted like we were about to tie him up and dip him head first into a big, gooey pot of feelings.”

I lifted my head, chuckling at my mom’s very accurate assessment of Kyle’s horrified face.

“Does Finn know?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How does he feel about the baby?”

“Oh, you know, he’s loving the whole thing… can’t wait. Obviously it was a huge shock for both of us, but we’re committed to this baby and determined to give him or her a good life.”

Mom smiled, gazing out the window. Finn was playing a game of one-on-one with Keith on the basketball court.

“And what about the two of you? You seem happy.”

“We are. It’s just… “

“What?”

“I don’t know if I told you, but we broke up for a while. I knew it was his dream to be a father, and I felt I wasn’t the woman to give that to him. How ironic now, right? He was totally committed to our relationship, and I really hurt him. And when I knocked on his door two months later, offering him everything he’d ever wanted, Finn dropped it all to take me back. But sometimes I can just feel his hesitation. I’m not sure he fully trusts me, and it makes me worry he’s only staying for the baby.”

“Oh, Emma, you’re the wild card, not him. Finn’s in love. He wears it on his sleeve. The way he looks at you with blinders on, like you’re the only girl he sees. Every mother wants that for her daughter. All you have to do is love him back with that same intensity, and he’s all yours.”

“I do love him.”

“And you tell him that? All the time?”

“I…well… maybe not as much as I should. I think I’m subconsciously still trying to protect myself.”

“You can’t fully love if you don’t give all of yourself. If you want my opinion, I think you’re over-analyzing things.”

“You think?” I laughed. “Huh. That’s not like me.”

Mom grinned, then hugged me again. “Believe it or not, falling in love is the easy part. Just let yourself go and enjoy it because from time to time, real life will come along with some punishing blows and knock you on your ass. The more love you have surrounding you, the more cushion you have when you fall. Your father and I have weathered some gnarly plunges. If we hadn’t had that strong foundation from the start, we never would have made it.”

“I want that for Finn and me.”

“From what I can see, you already have it. The battle has been fought and you’ve won. Your prize is right out there waiting for you. All you have to do is relax, take a few deep breaths, and go claim him. Not for Finn, not for your baby, but for you… because, my beautiful girl, you deserve it.”

* * *

After Mom and I carried out the food, I sought out Finn. He was sitting comfortably with the boys, discussing basketball. The fact that he had so easily blended in with my family was not lost on me. I could imagine us, wrangling our toddler, surrounded by family. Mom was right. I was in control. I could make it happen if I just opened myself up to the possibilities. Finn caught my eye, looking concerned. You okay? he mouthed. I nodded, smiling as I made my way over to him and perched on the edge of his chair. I put my arm around his shoulder and he reached up to touch my hand as he gazed up at me with that look my mother said she saw in him. She was right – our future depended on me letting go of my hang-ups and allowing myself to love. If I wanted Finn, I had to show him.

Leaning down, I cupped his face in my hands, and said, “I love you” before pressing my lips gently to his. Surprised at first, Finn recovered quickly and peppered me with tiny kisses. Yes my family was watching, and yes it was a display of affection I wouldn’t normally approve of, but I wanted him to know it wasn’t just the baby I loved.

“Eww, Emma,” Quinn complained, “I just ate.”

I reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into the love circle. As Finn and I showered him with affection, Quinn squirmed like a rat tight in a trap. Only when I felt he’d been properly loved did I let him up.

“I don’t like this new Emma,” he grumbled as he wiped his face. “You’re too happy. It freaks me out.”

“I am happy,” I replied, grabbing Finn’s hand and squeezing. We exchanged a knowing glance before I addressed the room. “Finn and I have an announcement.”

“We knoooow… you’re in loooove,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes as he exaggerated each word. “How gross for the rest of us.”

Kenzie grabbed him, wrestling him down and covering his mouth with her hand.

“Sorry. Go ahead. I have him properly contained now,” she panted.

“As I was saying, Finn and I have an announcement,” I repeated, but this time I stretched out my leg and kicked Kyle with it. He groaned through Kenzie’s hand.

Every single member of my family looked at us expectantly. No doubt they were anticipating something less shocking than what I was about to tell them, but it wouldn’t matter. We were family, and, as such, supported each other through the good times and bad. And this, I’d decided, was the best.

“Finn and I are having a baby.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” I asked. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

“I’m aware – although I have to say, I’m kind of bummed I wasn’t there for the biggest surprise of your life,” he said, reaching over to tap my belly. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Oh, yes, thank you so much for impregnating me, Finn. I don’t say it often enough.”

“No, you really don’t.”

I could almost see his smirk, but since he’d required me to close my eyes the last minute of the ride, I only had his voice to go on.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

I blinked in my surroundings and smiled upon seeing the surprise. Of course, I loved it. “Ahh, you’re so romantic.”

We stepped out of the car and bought our tickets before taking a leisurely stroll over the dusty path. Up ahead was a Ferris wheel, and we took our place in line.

“What, no priority boarding?”

“No. Apparently your brother has no jurisdiction in this area.”

“His power has its limits, unfortunately.”

“No problem. No one really likes the Ferris wheel anyway. Too tame.”

“I don’t like the Ferris wheel.”

“Then I didn’t make it exciting enough for you last time,” Finn said, nibbling on my neck. “I’ll be sure to remedy that tonight.”

Our turn arrived, and this time we both managed to embark on the ride with minimal hijinks. Finn wrapped his arms around me and I settled in to his comfortable embrace. This time, I knew what to expect, and I trusted the man with my life. When we came to a stop at the top of the ride, Finn unexpectedly slid down on one knee on the floor of the carriage, causing the carriage to swing and me to scream.

“What are you doing?” I asked, digging my nails into his shoulders.

“Asking you to marry me,” he answered, gritting his teeth in pain.

“You’re what?”

I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly until he produced a box from his pocket and opened it for me to see. Suddenly the world around me ceased to exist. It was just Finn and I… and the white-gold ring gleaming in the carnival lights.

“I know you’re going to overthink this, so please hear me out. I love you, Emma. I’ve loved you since the day we met, and I realize we’ve only known each other for six months, and that we have a baby on the way, but this isn’t about any of that. This is about you and me and the really huge fact that we love each other. I don’t want to wait another second to show you that I’m committed to you forever. So Emma McKallister – will you marry me?”

I didn’t mean to leave him hanging, but his proposal had taken me by complete surprise, and my voice had yet to catch up with my heart.

Fear washed over his gorgeous face. “Look, I know you probably have valid points why we should wait, but…”

I stopped his sentence with a kiss. “Yes.”

* * *

We barely made it back to my condo before the clothes came flying off. Finn guided me backward toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine. Cynthia, hearing the ruckus, unsuspectingly strolled down the hallway to greet us.

“Out of the way!” Finn yelled at him, as our entangled bodies nearly mowed him down. The cat shrieked as he scrambled away.

“Sorry Cynthia!” I called out.

“Theo,” he corrected, between scattering my tingling skin with kisses.

Seriously? Was he still challenging my authority on that? Finn turned me around, pressing up against my back, as one hand reached around and started caressing my breast. I moaned as his fingers found my nipple and circled the tip.

I threw my head back. “Okay, Theo,” I conceded.

Finn laughed but didn’t take his focus away from what mattered most to him at that moment: engagement sex. Because of my rapidly growing belly, the poor guy was forced to get creative. Laying me down on the bed on my side, he glided in behind me like a runner sliding into home plate. I could feel his hardness pressed against me and encouraged his efforts by grinding my hips. Finn groaned, rubbing his hand over my ass, as he entered me from behind.

His strokes were unhurried and tender as his hand rolled down from my breast to my stomach, twirling sensuously as he traveled below. Suddenly Finn parted my thighs and I arched in response as his finger danced over me. I could feel his breath heavy on my neck as his hunger grew. Finn worked his fingers on me to the rhythm of his thrusts, bringing us both to the brink of rapture. I reached my hand to the bed and squeezed tight onto the sheets, trying to keep myself still as an orgasm taunted me.

Finn gripped my hips tighter and traded the gentle lover for an aggressive, powerful one. That was it for me. My legs shook wildly as shock waves of electricity traveled through my body. Finn was not far behind, bucking out a few final thrusts before he too was in the throes of ecstasy.

Satiated, I turned my body to face my fiancé and gently glided my fingers through his hair and kissed the tip of his nose. Feeling overwhelmed in the moment, I stared deep into his affectionate eyes. He was all I’d ever wanted but never thought possible.

And tonight the words did not fail me. “God, I love you.”

24

Finn: The Fixer

It needed to be done, but that didn’t make it easy. Emma had taken the step to make amends with her mother, and now it was my turn to confront my own.

Emma sat beside me in the passenger seat as we drove down the street leading to Perryland. I had a plan, and she’d agreed. After all, the decisions we made now had to be joint. We’d learned the hard way what it meant to act alone.

“When are the dumpsters coming?” she asked.

“Soon.”

“How do you think Gigi will react?”

“She’ll be pissed, but I’m not going to give her the option. This has to be done.”

Emma leaned over and kissed me. “Yes. For all the future Indiana-Joneses out there.”

“You ready for the fireworks?” I asked, taking her hand in mine as we pulled up the driveway.

In a few hours time, Perryland would be getting a makeover, whether the adult occupants wanted it or not. I’d secretly been saving for years for this, and with the sudden influx of money from my first acting gigs in years, I finally had the cash necessary to make life better for the kids who lived here.

First and foremost, the garbage had to go. Dumpsters and tractors were on the way. So were roofers and carpenters. Emma had insisted on pitching in some of her own money, and after the trash was removed, a playground would be erected in its place. This was my amends. Maybe I couldn’t save them all, but at least I wouldn’t leave them wallowing in filth as I had Rocky all those years ago.

Part of being a pleaser was also being a fixer. The problem was that some people – my family, for instance – only knew how to be ‘fixed.’ And by me always coming to the rescue, I was doing them no favors. I knew I needed to cut the cord… with a little upfront capital first, of course.

My decision to dig Perryland out from a pile of trash, to buy Shelby a mechanically sound car, and to fix Gigi’s crumbling walls was not to perpetuate the neediness but to give my relatives a fighting chance. I had my own little family now, growing by one in only a month’s time, to protect and support. It was no longer feasible or wise to drag the leeches with me. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted them in my life, I just no longer wanted to pay for the privilege.

Emma and I stepped out of the car. She was eight months pregnant now and looking every inch of it.

“You okay?” I asked, upon witnessing her arched back and awkward exit from the vehicle.

“Do I look all right?”

I froze, instantly understanding that she was setting a trap for me to tumble into. Any answer I gave would be the wrong one.

“Discombobulated,” I answered, hastily.

Her eyes narrowed in on me as her hands went to the spot where her hips used to be. “You can’t evoke the ‘safe word’ every time I ask you a question, Finn.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Whenever I get to be a scary bitch, call out the safe word.’ And you, my friend, are teetering on the edge.”

“Well, it’s a stupid safe word, if you ask me.”

In an effort to thwart her protest, I paused my hand in front of her face. “My safe word, my choice.”

“My idea was way better.”

“No offense, Emma, but if I’m running for my life, I hardly think butterscotch will save it.”

“Indy! Indy!”

At least a dozen half-naked kids came rushing toward us. They were glistening in the sunlight, and something told me it wasn’t sweat. I caught sight of the slick substance on their chests and instantly pushed the crowds back before they could rub it off on Emma. As much as she was trying to be less phobic, Emma was still in the baby stages of recovery, and a group of slimy rugrats would be enough to set her back decades.

“What is this?” I asked gesturing to their soiled skin.

“Oil,” a boy replied, without further explanation.

My eyes narrowed in on several empty canola oil bottles lying in the dirt and a blue tarp.

“A slip ‘n slide,” Nike said, confirming my suspicions. “I’ve been practicing my back handspring, Indy – watch.” He then tried his luck at one and landed firmly on his behind.

I helped him up. “Looking good. You’re getting closer.”

“I’m going to be a stuntman like Indy when I grow up,” he said proudly.

“Aww, that’s so nice.” I ruffled his hair. “But you know, I stopped doing that. I’m acting again.”

“Do you know what I want to be when I grow up?” another young boy asked.

“No. What?” Emma bent down to the boy’s level with a smile on her face.

“I want to be a professional nerf gun builder.”

“Oh, that’s….” She and I exchanged an amused glance. “Great. I’m not sure what you’d major in, but awesome.”

“I want to be a doctor,” one called out.

“I want to be a pizza man.”

Posy peered up at us with wide, innocent eyes then said proudly, “When I grow up, I want to be an adult actress.”

Emma and I both choked out a laugh.

“That’s great,” I said, “but, sweetie, next time someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up, just say actress.”

Then trucks started rumbling down the driveway, carrying giant trash containers. Every little kid eye in the place quadrupled in size as three large bins were dropped off. Emerging from their dens, adults flooded into the driveway, squinting in the daylight sun. Shelby broke through the crowd and stomped over to me.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Indiana-Jones?” Spit from her irate mouth flew at me from all different directions, and I ducked to stymie the flow. She stopped screaming at me the second she laid eyes on Emma.

“Oh, Emma. I didn’t see you there. How are you? So gorgeous, as always.”

Awhile back I’d broken the news to Shelby about who Emma’s brother was, and since then, my mother acted like my fiancée was some otherworldly saint. After a few moments fussing over Emma’s belly, Shelby narrowed in on me once more. “What the hell is this crap?”

“This is your trash-free future. Say goodbye to the junkyard.”

“Oh no, Gigi won’t go for that.”

“I highly doubt she wants to keep three thousand pounds of junk. Besides, she’ll never know because she hasn’t been outside in ten years.”

“She was at the doctor’s yesterday. And yes, she’ll definitely notice this shit.”

I turned around to look at the bins, and something struck me as weird. The kids had all just mysteriously disappeared, and their oily bodies were not skirting down the slip and slide. Oh crap!

“Posy? Nike?”

“Here,” Nike answered, like I’d been calling roll. His voice sounded deep and hollow. Awareness slapped me in the face. He was in the garbage bin.

“Dammit.”

I scaled the side of the bin and peered down to find at least twelve greasy kids gliding along the bottom of the container, like a bunch of seals sliding around on a slippery surface.

“Are they in there?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, like every single one of them. How did they get in there so fast?”

“See, I told you this was a bad idea,” Shelby said, as if I should have anticipated them using the bins as a frying pan.

“Guys, no. There could be glass in there. Bucky? Help me out.”

Together my cousin and I lifted every one of the kids out of the bin. Of course, the grease complicated the job, making it exceedingly difficult to get a proper hold. Exhausted by our efforts, Bucky and I were climbing back down when I looked up to see one of the Crisco kids that I’d just rescued disappear into another bin further down the driveway. Worse yet, Posy, in all her buttery wonder, was scaling up the side.

“Posy!” I yelled out. “Don’t you dare!”

With a smile and a wave, my niece disappeared over the side.

Emma and Shelby were struggling to contain the giggles that had overtaken them.

“They’re wild. I can’t stop them. The tractors are going to be dumping junk on top of their heads… and they’re going to like it.”

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Shelby repeated. “They don’t need luxury. Look at you, you turned out fine.”

“Fine for who? You?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Shelby, you’ve hit your credit limit. No more bailing you out. No more manipulation. No more money. No more swapping cars. I’m not going to be your parent anymore. I have a kid of my own coming soon, and that helpless little baby will take priority over my forty-one-year-old, perfectly capable mother.”

Shelby sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “Fine, pick up the trash if you want. Just stop with all this crazy talk.”

“Oh, it’s not crazy talk, Shelby. The Bank of Indiana-Jones is now closed.”

* * *

Since I seemed to be on such a closure kick, it was obvious where my next stop would need to be. By the time I’d made it through the security checks and screenings, I was nervous and on edge. Rocky had been in prison for over a year now, and I hadn’t come to visit him once. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but I was bracing myself for the fallout.

When he finally entered the room, I had to blink back my shock. He was huge, muscles piggy-backing on top of each other stretching out over his wide shoulders. And where the hell was all his hair? He’d always worn it down to his shoulders but now it was closely cropped to the scalp.

As he drew near, I reached my hand out to shake his, and he shook his head, coming in for a hug instead. He’d always been somewhat of a teddy bear with me when we were young, but that all ended when I’d left him behind. As he slapped my back, his big body shuddered. Was he crying?

“Are you okay?” I asked, suddenly worried.

Rocky pulled back, grinning as he wiped away a few stray tears. “Yeah, of course. I’m just so happy you came. When I saw your name on the guest list, I almost passed out.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner, I’ve just been…”

What could I say? Busy? Preoccupied? Angry? Guilty?

“I don’t care, Indiana-Jones, I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Me too. And stop calling me that, Rocky-Balboa. You know I go by Finn now.”

“Oh, right – Hollywood Finn.”

“No, Embarrassed that Shelby Named Me a Stupid-ass Name Finn.”

“At least you got something cool – an archeologist explorer. I got named after ‘The Italian Stallion.’ And look at me! Do I look Italian?”

“No,” I laughed. Rocky, with his fair hair and blue-eyed Scandinavian looks, was anything but. “Yeah, you really did get the shit end of the stick.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t born in a toilet.” The smirk on his face was wide and taunting.

“Right, because the backseat of a Pinto was so much more dignified.”

We grinned at each other. God, I missed him. Why had I waited so long?

“What happened to your hair?”

“You think I was going to step foot in prison with girly hair? I may be a lot of things, Finn, but I’m no damn fool.”

I shrugged, not really knowing how to respond to that. Our lives were so different, and I had no idea what it took for his day-to-day survival in here.

“Speaking of that, you wouldn’t last a day in here with those shiny locks, Finny, and that pretty face of yours – woo-ee, your date card would be filled daily.”

“And yours isn’t?”

Rocky shot me his fiercest scowl, and honestly I was sufficiently awed. At six foot five with a mass of solid muscle, he was a force to be reckoned with. “Gotta look tough, brother. If they sense weakness, they pounce. I’ve got everyone in here thinking I’m the goddamn Viking prince, Regnar. They know to either worship the ground I walk on or get scooped up off it after I’m finished with them.”

“Always the bully.”

“I’m only a bully if need be. In here, hell, it need be.”

“Just don’t get yourself in more trouble. You want out of here on good behavior.”

“I know. I know.” Rocky leaned in with a wicked grin. “I heard a little rumor that my big brother knocked up some rich girl… and not just any rich girl, but Jake McKallister’s sister.”

“She’s my fiancée, so be careful how you refer to her.”

His eyes widened, no doubt trying to assess if I was being real or not, then he slapped his hands down on the table. “Well, look at you, moving on up.”

That was Rocky – always trying to make me feel like some spoiled trust fund brat for wanting to have a better life.

“It’s not like that.”

“You’re telling me you actually love this chick… that it’s not just her bank account and famous brother that’s got you all worked up?”

Years of pent up anger began to bubble over. This was how he’d been with me since I’d left at fifteen.

“Just stop. I get it, Rocky. You think I’m some privileged prick. Whatever. But I’m warning you now – leave Emma out of this, or you and I will never be brothers.”

Rocky studied me for a long while before his features softened and his shoulders drooped forward. “Look, I’m sorry. I was being a dick. I know I don’t always show it, but I’m actually really happy for you, man. And good for you. I’m glad you found someone.”

The tension faded as I relaxed once more. “Thank you.”

“And a baby too, huh? Is it a boy or girl?”

“We don’t know. We’re waiting to find out.”

“Oh, how upper class of you,” he said, smirking. The twinkle in his eye told me he was just kidding, though, so I shook off the offense.

“You suck.” I smiled back.

“I’m just jealous. You’re banging a debutante, and I’m surrounded by a bunch of hairy asses. It’s been a while for me, if you know what I mean. I guess you heard that Tori and me split. She just up and left.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“I mean I could see her leaving my sorry ass, but to abandon the kids?” Rocky shook his head, looking away in disgust. “I just, I wish I could be there for them, you know? I mean, Shelby is their goddamn guardian. How scary is that?”

I laughed. “Horror-movie-level scary. Anyway, if you don’t beat anyone to a bloody pulp in the next six months, you should get out of here on good behavior.”

“How likely is that?” he asked, with a glint in his eye.

“What, the bloody pulp part or the good behavior?”

“Either.”

“Rocky. Just keep it together. If not for yourself, then for the kids.”

“I know,” he sighed. “How are they, anyway?”

“Wild. Both of them. Nike’s jumping all over the place; he says he wants to be like me. And Posy, oh man, she gives me a run for my money.”

“Well, shit, that must be a whole damn lot then.”

“Rocky. This is why,” I said shaking my head in amusement. I realized there was no point in being offended by his ‘privileged life’ digs. If being ‘rich’ was all he had to hold against me, I’d be damn lucky.

My brother smiled, a far-off expression on his face. “I know you probably won’t believe me, Finn, but I really am trying to be better. I earned my GED, and I’m learning a trade. When I get out of here, I’m done with all stupid, illegal shit. I want to be a father to my kids, like you’re going to be to yours. In fact, I plan to find me some nice, rich girl too. Does Miss McKallister have any sisters?”

“None for you.”

Although it was meant to be a joke, Rocky took immediate offense. “Okay, I get it. Not good enough. Story of my fucking life.”

The mood shifted. This had always been Rocky’s downfall – he was too sensitive to criticism, even if it was only perceived. Although he’d be the first to make jokes about someone else, he couldn’t take the same in return. Under all that blustery bravado, the real Regnar the Viking was not the badass he pretended to be. In many ways, Rocky was still that aimless little kid running wild and trying to find his place in a chaotic world. And I, at least, shouldered some of the blame.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I’m sorry I left you behind all those years ago. Maybe if I’d stayed, you wouldn’t be behind bars now.”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. If you want the truth, Finn, I spent a good bit of time being jealous as hell of you. You got everything, and I got shit. But I’ve come to realize something: no one handed you anything more than they handed me. You were just smarter and nicer and more diplomatic in your approach. You weren’t afraid to take the chances offered to you, and you made a better life for yourself. Nothing wrong with that. When it comes right down to it, I have no one to blame but myself. I had the same opportunities you did, I just was too stupid to take advantage of them. And now, I’m here and there you are. You can blame yourself all you want; but trust me, Indiana-Jones, you didn’t put me here, my piss-poor decision-making did.”

* * *

Emma gripped my hand, screaming as another contraction swept through her. Nine hours and counting. As a stuntman, I’d been shot by terrorists and hit by cars and chucked off roofs, but nothing compared to watching the woman I loved suffer. After the newest round of cramping eased, I locked eyes with Michelle, who was looking as flushed and helpless as I was. I think I spoke for all of us when I said this couldn’t be over quickly enough.

Watching Emma, the determination and pain in her eyes, made me reflect back to my own mother and the day of my messy birth. As much as we poked at and made fun of her dubious decisions that day, the fact remained she’d been barely more than a kid, scared and alone, trying to deal with the secret that had just tumbled out of her. I couldn’t imagine her going through such a thing without the loving support Emma and I were enveloped in now.

Shelby was there in the waiting room, along with the entire McKallister clan. Although I’m sure she was eager to meet the new addition, she was even more excited to meet Jake. On a piss break, I’d caught her huddled in a corner with several members of Emma’s family, including Jake and Casey who were both laughing their asses off at something she’d said. Instinctively I knew whatever it was had something embarrassing to do with me.

Listening from behind a wall, I only caught the last part of her story.

“So then Indiana-Jones…”

Enough with the action figure name, Mom!

“Comes up to me with the computer…”

No, she’s not! She wouldn’t!

“And it’s just filled with pop up after pop up of vanilla porn, right?”

No. No. No.

“And right smack dab in the middle of the screen was that damn fake FBI notice. The virus locked his computer, and there was this flashing warning box, promising to send a team of federal agents over to arrest him if he didn’t immediately submit a credit card payment for $500.”

SHELBY!

“I mean, the poor kid had no choice but to show me, thinking he was going to the slammer and all.”

How was I supposed to know it was a scam? I was fourteen!

“And the best part was, not only did he get caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he embarrassed the hell out of himself… for nothing. Classic.”

And just like that, the goodwill I’d been feeling toward Shelby was gone.

* * *

“This is it, Emma, the final push.”

Emma looked at me with both fear and excitement. In a few seconds, our lives were going to change. We’d prepared for this moment, but now that it was finally here, I wasn’t sure I was ready. Emma shocked me from my doubt by strangling my hand with such force that I was actually forced to call out my safe word. “Discombobulated. Discombobulated.”

Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that safe words didn’t exist during childbirth. Right in the middle of the push, Emma looked over at me and I swear she smirked just before saying, “You should have said butterscotch.”

And with that, Emma made her final stand, bearing down with a guttural scream. I wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible that several small bones snapped in my swollen hand.

A few seconds passed before we heard the first shrill cries.

“Emma? Finn? Meet your baby girl.”

25

Emma, 2005: Summer of Healing

Dad opened the door to the vacation house, and the eight of us piled over the top of one another, trying to get our first look at our home away from home for the next week. It was a modern four-bedroom place and boasted opulent upgrades that would have turned my formerly selfish sixteen-year-old self into the snobbiest of snobs; however, that wasn’t what was special about this particular abode. When people praised location, this clearly was what they had in mind. The view from the massive showcase windows was of sand and surf and nothing else. I could definitely spend a week here… if not the rest of my life.

We’d been to this beach before, many times, but never like this. Never congregated in the hallway of a multi-million dollar home. Quinn undressed where he stood, no doubt perfectly willing to do a little skinny dipping if Mom didn’t hurry up and find his swim trunks. Grace was bouncing up and down like she was on a pogo stick, talking so loudly and excitedly that we all shushed her in unison. I glanced over at Jake to check his reaction, hoping he might be as impressed as the rest of us were, but my younger brother wore the same tired, emotionless expression he always did, that of a frown and furrowed brows. But then, there was no reason to expect more from him on today of all days… the one-year anniversary of the day that had destroyed his life.

Because no one was sure how Jake would react to the notable date, the weeks leading up to it had been difficult on the entire McKallister household. Jumpy and on edge, we’d already accepted that things were about to get dicey and uncomfortable, so when Dad arrived home from work last week beaming from ear to ear promising us a surprise, the announcement was met with anticipation. It didn’t matter what good news he was itching to share with us; we were prepared to buy whatever he was selling. In this case, it was a long overdue vacation. Mind you, not to anywhere exotic or far away; in fact, we wouldn’t be more than thirty miles from our home. But because we lived near the ocean in California, those thirty miles were significant and along some of the most beautiful coastline in the world.

One of Dad’s coworkers had talked to someone who talked to another, and suddenly a beach home was offered up free of charge by some kind soul whose only wish was that the week might be just a little bit easier on Jake. The fact that we’d arrived at the house on the actual day, one year removed, was bittersweet at best. All our lives had changed drastically in such a short time that it seemed almost unreal that the eight of us were standing here today alive and intact. Yes, we were fractured and scarred, but we were still kicking, and that had to count for something. And even though Jake wasn’t looking any more comfortable or at peace here, at least he couldn’t hide himself away in his room while the rest of us walked the halls and waited for the breakdown that was sure to come.

Mom insisted on lunch before we were allowed to spend the rest of the day sunbathing, swimming, and playing on the sandy beach. While Kyle, Keith, and Quinn went shirtless, Jake kept a swim shirt firmly in place. We’d heard about his scars, but none of us kids had been allowed to see them. As with so much else in his life, Jake held onto those secrets with clenched fists.

“Why don’t you take it off?” my father urged, while tugging on Jake’s sleeve. “It’s a beautiful day. You could use a little color on you.”

He shook his head and looked vacantly out over the ocean.

Dad sighed. When Jake had first come home, he was so weak and injured that we’d all taken to nurturing him and catering to his every need; but as time passed, my brother seemed to settle into that routine of dependency. He’d become complacent with inactivity and boredom, two things my father hated. “You can’t hide all your life.”

Jake turned and glared at him before defiantly challenging, “Watch me.”

The glint in my father’s eye could not be missed. He loved it when Jake showed signs of life.

“Fine.” Dad grinned. “Then I’ll put mine back on, and you’ll be responsible for my farmer’s tan.”

He slid on his shirt and then made a huge scene of applying liberal amounts of sunscreen to the areas just below the sleeves.

I glanced back at Jake, who’d been watching the entire spectacle, and was pleased to see the smile on his face. Dad’s recently adopted ‘pity-free’ approach to dealing with Jake seemed to be working its magic, little by little, every day.

‘I’m going out to the platform,” Keith said as he took off towards the water’s edge. Quite a distance out was a floating platform covered in bird crap and anchored to the ocean floor. It had always been a destination spot for those hearty swimmers eager for a challenge. Seeing as my siblings and I had all been nearly raised in the water, due to my dad’s love of surfing, we’d all stood on that bobbing plank at one time or another, even Grace and Quinn who’d both been ferried out on inner tubes more than once.

“Wait up!” Kyle called out, then turned to Jake and asked, “Do you wanna come?”

Jake perked up a bit, but before he could respond, Mom answered for him. “It’s not a good idea, Kyle. His knee isn’t strong enough yet. What if he gets halfway out there and can’t make it?”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t know. You want me to hang out here with you then?”

Without even acknowledging Kyle’s generous offer, Jake shook his head and lay back in the sand. Kyle stood there a moment looking uncertain before joining Keith in the water.

I hung back with the others on the beach, sunbathing until I was too hot to stand another minute.

Looking over at Jake, I nudged him and said, “Let’s go in the water. We can body surf.”

His arm was over his face and he didn’t immediately respond. Sometimes I wondered how much of Jake’s attitude was due to his circumstances as opposed to being a surly teen. Deciding to take a tip from my father’s playbook, I poked him again.

“Emma, I swear to god,” he grumbled.

“Stop being boring. Let’s go.”

He removed his arm to glare at me but in return got an eyeful of my happy, smiling face hovering directly over him.

“Pleeaase,” I begged.

That seemed to annoy him more, and he returned the arm over his eyes. “Why don’t you go with the others to the platform?”

“Because I prefer to stay here and bother you.”

“Well, then, congratulations. You’ve done it.”

“Come on, Jake. How old are you – one hundred?” I asked, as I took to pushing him.

“Ugghh, fine.”

Begrudgingly, he stood and followed me to the water. Geez, he didn’t have to be such a grump. We waded into the cool water, and after letting our bodies adjust to the temperature, we ventured out further. Wave after wave came rolling in but none strong enough to carry our bodies to the shore. After one failed attempt too many, Jake had completely lost his patience.

“This sucks,” he huffed. “It’s like riding the kiddie rollercoaster.”

“They’ll come. Relax.”

My brother stood there a moment looking further out over the horizon before shaking his head. “Fuck this. I’m going to the platform.”

“No, Jake. Your knee. You can’t.”

“Then I’ll drown. Either way, it’s a win-win.”

Jake waded straight out and then began swimming. I frantically followed after him, but with his arms pounding into the waves, it only took him a few seconds to be too far away for me to catch. I stopped, treading water, and screamed out for my father, who was nearby with the youngest kids. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but when he did, I’d never seen my father move faster. He sprinted into the water, and once it was deep enough, dove into the waves, swimming feverishly in order to catch Jake. Keith and Kyle heard my screams and they too jumped into the water. We were all in hot pursuit of a kid who didn’t want to be caught.

Inevitably, Jake tired out about three quarters of the way to the platform, but by then, we were there. Circling Jake like a pod of protective dolphins, we called out our support, but the more we pushed him forward, the quicker he slid back.

“I can’t do it,” he panted, flipping onto his back to ward off exhaustion. The bravado he’d shown moments earlier was gone, and now the clear beginnings of panic were taking hold.

“Yes, you can,” Dad encouraged.

“NO, I CAN’T!” Anger intensified every word. “I walk like a gimp. I can’t swim. I can’t go to school. I’m fourteen and can’t go out by myself and… and I can’t even take my shirt off at a fucking beach.”

His outburst silenced us all. Jake’s frustration and anger was justified, especially today, but we were now in a perilous situation, floating in the middle of the ocean with a kid who clearly needed help but refused to accept it.

“I get it,” Dad said, his voice aching in emotion. “I do. What happened was awful – I mean, really truly awful – and I know how hard it’s been for you. I wish I could take away every bit of your pain, but I can’t. This terrible thing happened to you, and now you’ve got no choice but to deal with it, Jake. So this is what’s going to happen. This is where the self-pity ends. You’re going to take back control, starting right now. You’re going to calm yourself down, catch your breath, and then turn over and swim to the goddamn platform. No more excuses.”

The firm tone in Dad’s uncompromising demand seemed to have the desired effect on Jake, and he did exactly as he was told. When the tip of his first finger touched the platform, we erupted in cheers. Keith grabbed Jake by the waist and swung him around. Dad tousled his sodden hair. I patted him on the back, and Kyle, already up on the plank, offered his hand to the brother he adored.

We spent the next hour on that bobbing plank, all five of us jumping and doing flips into the ocean until we’d worn ourselves out, and then plopped onto our backs on the crusty surface, gazing up at the cloudless sky. It was a rare moment of peace, and I savored it. The solidarity I felt with my family was absolute. I knew, at that instant, out on the platform, I’d do anything for them and they for me.

As if to prove the point of our family bond, Keith said, “Take off the swim shirt, Jake. Let us have a look at the scars, and then it will be done and over with. That will be one thing you can check off your list of can’ts. Well, that and I can’t swim.”

To my surprise, Jake didn’t shoot down the request straight off or strike back in an aggressive way. He just lay there in deep thought, perhaps deciding whether he’d trust us enough to reveal something so intensely personal. Just when I thought he would ignore Keith altogether, Jake sat up and pulled the shirt over his head.

The rest of us immediately shot up into a seated position but were careful to seek Jake’s approval before taking a peek. He met the eyes of each of us before wordlessly nodding. Dad grasped his arm, in a show of fatherly pride, as the rest of us circled around and got our first look at the scars Jake had spent so much time safeguarding. The skin was still raised and red in some areas but fading in others. Truthfully, it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting after all the buildup. Perhaps fearing our reaction, Jake sat with his shoulders slumped forward, cradling the shirt in his arms, and scrunching his eyes tightly closed.

My brothers and I exchanged dismayed glances before getting hold of our emotions. Instinctively we understood that how we handled this moment would define our relationship with him from that day forward.

“Okay, done,” Keith said. “Thanks for showing us. You ready for a swim?”

Jake kept his shirt off the remainder of the afternoon, and his and Dad’s farmer tans were quickly fading as a bronzed glow began to take form. The dark circles under his eyes brightened, and he even seemed to stand up a little straighter. The real surprise came when he managed to keep his composure when Gracie gasped in shock at the sight of his marked back. Instead of snapping at her, Jake calmly related that he’d been injured and those were the scars that remained. Whatever had happened out in that water seemed to have had a profound impact on him. It was as if he’d come to some sort of compromise with himself. And hopefully, just hopefully, that meant he’d decided to give life another shot.

Later that night, the four of us stayed up late watching a movie on TV and talking. It had been a long time since we’d felt that level of comfort with each other. Our voices must have carried into the other room as Gracie came out dragging her blanket behind her.

“Emma,” she groggily whispered. “Build the tent.”

“We don’t need it anymore.”

“Yes, I do,” she whined.

“When we get home. I can’t build it here.”

“Why can’t you?” Jake asked.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess we could.” I smiled at him, rapidly coming to the conclusion that this was actually an awesome idea. “Keith, strip the sofa bed. Kyle, fetch some pillows. Jake, we need snacks.”

As the boys brought the necessary items, I built a bed tent three times bigger than at home. Not to brag, but it was a masterpiece of entwined sheets, with socks used to tie them in place. Once it was retrofitted to accommodate six, we piled in, Keith cradling a still barely awake Quinn. And there we stayed, talking, snacking, and bonding like we had so very long ago. At one point, Grace sidled up to Jake and wrapped her little arms around his. Surprised by her touch, he flinched, yanking his arm back. My sister immediately crawled away, frightened of him once more.

“Sorry,” Jake apologized. “I didn’t mean that. Give me another chance.” He opened his arms to her. Grace looked to me for guidance. I nodded, smiling my encouragement, and she went to him, tentatively propping herself up next to him. Jake lay his arm over her shoulder, and she shyly peered up at him, her face filled with joy.

Whispers could be heard from outside the protective zone, and we all suddenly sealed our mouths shut. Busted. Mom and Dad would not be pleased. It was well past one in the morning, and we had Grace and Quinn out of bed. I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped my mouth, and Quinn flung himself into my arms laughing so hard the sheets shook. Suddenly the faces of our parents appeared in the opening, both sporting amused smiles.

“Is there room for two more?”

26

Emma, Present Day: Family Unit

Waking with a start, my head swiveled to the bassinet beside the bed. She was gone. My groggy heart roared to life as I tore the covers off and gripped the sides of her bed. Instantly, the panic eased. Darwin, the shark-turtle stuffed animal, was lying in the place our daughter normally slept. It was Finn’s way of easing my anxiety and letting me know that he had her. Sinking back onto the bed, I took a few deep breaths and covered myself back up with the sheets.

Although thankfully not a daily occurrence, these morning freak-outs were frequent enough that Finn and I had a plan in place to combat them. I was slowly resolving myself to the fact that I would need help to move past my fears. My daughter deserved a mother who was relaxed and didn’t hover over her day and night. I wanted to be young and fun and allow my daughter to grow by doing and laughing and feeling. In other words, I wanted to be Finn.

If ever there was a man made to be a father, it was he. There was no adjustment period or postpartum pouting from that guy. In fact, his only parenting lapse was the surgical masks he wore when changing the baby’s diaper. No matter, our daughter adored him with or without the protective covering, and though she was only three months of age, he already lit up her world as much as he did mine.

I heard his footsteps coming down the hall, and unbelievable happiness revived my tired body. Never could I have imagined the joy this life would bring me. Finn crossed under the doorframe cradling our daughter in his arms.

“Oh, hey, did you get my message?” he asked, referring to Darwin.

“I did. Thank you. How’s our girl?”

“Yeah, you know, so damn needy. She’s just me, me, me. Talk about a freeloader.”

It was a lot of tough talk coming from his mouth, especially seeing as his adoring smile told another story. Finn leaned down and kissed me before transferring the baby to my arms. And then, as if he couldn’t quite get his fill of his little girl, he ran his finger over her smooth cheek and beamed.

“I take it all back. She’s fierce, just like her mommy.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope junior here gets everything else from you… except the curls, of course. Those you can keep.”

“See, you say you don’t like my locks, but your actions speak otherwise.”

“Believe what you will,” I said, shrugging. It wasn’t easy to portray such indifference when we both knew I loved his hair like no other.

“And stop calling her junior,” Finn complained. “You know I hate that. I still can’t believe you talked me into it.”

“Oh, quit your bitching. It’s the perfect name and you know it.”

Then gazing down upon the snoozing baby in my arms, I smoothed a few silky strands on her tiny head and whispered, “Isn’t that right, Indiana?”

About the Author

J. Bengtsson is an emerging author of young adult biographies. Fiercely Emma is the third novel in the planned four book series based on the characters from Cake. If you would like to be on a mailing list for updates on future releases, click http://eepurl.com/chhhbX

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Book four in the Cake Series will feature…

Jake and Casey

jbengtssonauthor@gmail.com

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