Calder sighs. "There have been no formal criminal charges, if that's what you're asking. There is-or was-a lawsuit, but Carolson's death complicates the matter. We'll have to wait and see how things are handled from here. A couple of major investors threatened to withdraw their support of Huntington Manor after you... after the incident. The whole project is in flux."

I nod, barely comprehending. There are no formal charges. I'll probably still owe someone a ton of money, but I feel like I've been given a free pa.s.s. Maybe the universe is trying to make up for some things.

Ward still grips my hand, steadying me. He's been too quiet. Maybe he just doesn't know how to behave around my brother, considering the circ.u.mstances.

When I look up at him, he smiles at me-one of those huge Ward grins that makes me want to melt-and raises my hand to his lips. There will be time to discuss everything that happened today. Right now, I just want to focus on the fact that he's beside me, and by the way he's looking at me, I suspect he's thinking the same thing.

I squeeze his fingers. Whatever else happens, I'm never letting anyone tear me away from him ever again. And if someone tries, I'll break his nose.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Calder insists on putting me and Ward up in a hotel for the night. I hate the idea of taking charity from my brother, especially after everything he's already done today-and judging by Ward's expression, he feels the same way-but before I can say anything, Lily cuts me off.

"I'd love the chance to get to know you better, Louisa," she says, smiling.

I remember the last time I talked to her. I was sneaking out of Calder's apartment in the middle of the night and she tried to stop me. My neck goes hot remembering some of the things I said to her.

But Lily's obviously trying to play nice, to bridge this gap between us, and honestly, the only thing holding me back is pride. This is my chance to make things right.

I look back up at Ward. His eyes are on me, and he gives me the smallest nod, leaving the decision to me. "Okay," I say.

Which is how, less than an hour later, Ward and I find ourselves in an enormous room at the Royal Suites Hotel.

After all the motels we've seen in the past few weeks, this place is almost like a dream. Everything is so clean that I swear it almost sparkles. The bed is enormous and covered in a fluffy white comforter. I spread my arms and collapse on top of it. I'm exhausted, and I can't seem to remember the last time I slept.

Ward flops down beside me. We've promised to meet Calder and Lily for dinner, but they've given us an hour and a half to relax and clean ourselves up.

Which leaves us time for other things, too.

I don't even have to say anything. Ward yanks me towards him and kisses me. Hard. I moan and open my mouth beneath his as I hook a leg around his hips.

Suddenly he laughs against my lips.

"What?" I ask.

He pulls back his head and grins. "I don't think I've ever been in a bed this big. I don't even know what to do with all of this extra s.p.a.ce. Is this how your family normally travels?"

I look around the room. Honestly, at one point this was the norm. But it's been years since I allowed myself to enjoy luxury like this-even before my father's death, I was too ashamed to admit that I might want to stay in a place like this.

I must show something of my thoughts in my expression, because Ward's smile drops a little.

"I'm sorry," he says gently. "I wasn't trying to bring up any bad memories." He brushes his lips against mine. "I just can't believe I get to share this with you."

I don't want to think about the shadows of the past couple of years. He's right-we're blessed to be here in each other's arms.

"I was so worried about you," he says. "When I saw him handcuffing you, I went crazy. I tried to get back to you, but these cops were yelling at me and I was afraid I was just going to make it worse for you." He stares down at me. "But if that f.u.c.king reporter had been in front of me right then, he'd have a lot worse than a broken nose right now. I was... I was in a bad place. And you were gone." He brushes my hair back from my face. "At some point I realized that if I wanted to help you, I was going to have to stop acting like a violent idiot."

"So you found my brother," I whisper.

"I thought you might be p.i.s.sed. But at the time, it seemed like the best option. I'd rather you be free and p.i.s.sed with me than sitting in a holding cell all night. Or worse."

"I'm fine," I a.s.sure him. "And I'm not p.i.s.sed. Not even a little." And though it's hard to admit it out loud, it needs to be said. "I shouldn't have avoided him for so long."

Ward continues to stroke my hair, and he seems to be lost in thought. Finally he sighs.

"I know how that feels," he says. "I'm guilty of it, too."

He doesn't have to tell me he's talking about his father. I run my hand down his chest, silently encouraging him.

He gives a bitter laugh. "I think that's what's p.i.s.sing me off so much. You kept telling me to go back. To talk to him. And what did I do?"

"You couldn't have guessed this would happen," I say gently.

"Yeah, well the world loves to teach you lessons the hard way." He rubs the side of his face. "I have no love for the man. I never spent enough time with him to feel any real connection, you know? But that's not the f.u.c.king point. The point is that I had the chance and blew it. After all these years, I finally meet my a.s.shole of a father, and before I can even figure out what the f.u.c.k I'm going to do about it, he's gone."

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

He slips his fingers through my hair again. "You've been nothing but amazing this whole time." His eyes drift over my face, drinking me in. "You know, if I had the chance to do it all again, I'm still not sure I could have left you. Even knowing what would happen."

I'm not expecting a confession like that, and I'm sure it shows on my face.

"I mean it," he says. "I would never have left you on your own. My place is with you. It wasn't even a choice."

"It's always a choice," I whisper.

"Maybe," he whispers in return. "And I made it long ago."

The letter arrives the following morning with our breakfast trays.

At first I think it's a mistake. After all, who the heck even knows we're at the Royal Suites? But when I see Ward's name printed on the envelope, I go cold. Is it common knowledge that we're staying in this hotel? Have the reporters and paparazzi found us? I'd hoped we'd have a few days of peace, at least.

My eyes dart to the return address on the envelope: Thomas, Ridgeton, Thorpe, & Rosenthal.

A law firm. My stomach sinks deeper. Is Ward being sued? Is Asher Julian trying to bring charges against him, too? Why isn't there a letter for me?

Ward steps out of the bathroom. He's just had his first shave of the past few weeks, and he smiles as he rubs his newly-smooth cheeks. But he freezes when he sees my expression.

"What is it?"

I hold the letter out to him.

He looks as perplexed as I feel. He frowns as his eyes skim over the envelope.

"What the h.e.l.l?" he murmurs as he flips it over and tears it open.

I pick up a piece of toast and force myself to munch on the crust, trying to give him some s.p.a.ce to read the letter. But I'm not hungry. I want to know what's going on. I watch Ward's eyes as he reads. At first, he still looks confused. But as his gaze continues to dance over the letter, his eyebrows slowly rise, as if in surprise.

"What is it?" I ask, fearing the worst.

He looks up at me, and though his eyes are wide, they're full of wonder, not anxiety.

"He included me," he says.

I don't understand. "What do you mean? Who?"

"Edward Carolson. My father. Apparently he included me in his will." He hands me the letter.

It's from one of the Carolson family's lawyers. It doesn't give many specifics, but it explicitly states that Ward will be involved in the distribution of Edward Carolson's estate. It closes with a request for a meeting where details might be discussed more openly.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" Ward says. "This is some sort of sick, twisted revenge for being his secret son."

"It doesn't look like a joke," I say, as I reread the letter for a third time.

"I can't be in his will."

"Why not? You're his son."

"Not his real son."

"As real as the other one." I look up at him. "We're not exactly living in the nineteenth century or anything. People have kids outside of marriage all the time."

"You know what I mean." Ward gives a bitter laugh. "Carolson spent most of my life pretending I didn't even exist. Why would he put me in his will?"

"The same reason he gave you a job at Huntington Manor." I put my hand on his arm. "Maybe he had a change of heart. Maybe he wanted to make it up to you."

"Well, I don't want anything from that a.s.shole." Ward jerks away from my grip. "He tried to buy me off before, and it didn't work then, either. I don't want his f.u.c.king money. I don't want any of his s.h.i.t."

Just a moment ago he seemed so genuinely shocked and pleased by the idea that his father had remembered him in this way. Now, he looks absolutely disgusted. It just goes to show that there are still a lot of complicated things going on in his head.

"What are you going to do?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. The only thing I ever wanted from that b.a.s.t.a.r.d was a f.u.c.king apology for the way he treated my mom. I don't care about the rest of his s.h.i.t. If he wanted to make anything up to me, he should've started by treating me like family and not a d.a.m.n charity project."

Ward's shoulders are heaving. He grabs the letter out of my hands, and for a minute I think he's going to tear it up, but when he looks at me, some of the fight seeps out of his eyes.

"I need to calm down," he says matter-of-factly. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."

He's trying to get himself under control, and I'm not about to stop him. He seems less and less inclined these days to throw his fist at the first thing he sees whenever he gets upset.

"Of course," I tell him. "Whatever you need."

He doesn't say another word to me as he tugs on his jeans over his boxers. He's already somewhere far away. I want to help him so badly that I hurt, but I know that I need to give him his s.p.a.ce. Sometimes we all have things we have to figure out on our own.

And when he does leave, I realize it's my chance to figure out some things of my own.

When I return from the drugstore, I find a note scribbled on the back of the envelope from this morning.

Lawyer said he could squeeze me in during lunch. I'll be back in an hour or two.

And below that: I love you. And I'm sorry for being a jacka.s.s this morning. I'm working on it.

He also leaves the lawyer's number in case I need to reach him.

I've just finished reading the note when there's a knock at the door. When I open it, I find my brother standing there.

"Hey," I say in surprise. We talked about meeting up sometime today, doing a little sightseeing, but he told me he needed to work until at least lunch.

"Can I come in for a few minutes?" he asks.

I nod. "Sure."

I step aside and let him into the room. Things are still a little awkward between us, but I guess that's to be expected. You can't overcome years' worth of strained relations overnight.

But at least both of us are willing to try.

"Are you by yourself?" he asks, glancing around the sitting room.

"Ward had some stuff to deal with," I say. "He'll be back in a little while."

Calder nods, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he seems to think better of it.

"How are you feeling today?" he asks.

I give a little laugh. "I sat in a jail cell for a few hours. It's not like I was hurt or anything."

"Of course." He runs his hand through his hair, the way he does whenever he's nervous. I smile at the fact that I remember that. We might not know how to talk to each other, but we're still brother and sister.

"I'll pay you back," I say. "For the bail, I mean. It might take me a few years, but I'll do it."

That gets me a smile. "You don't have to do that. Just try not to get arrested again."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises."

That gets a bigger smile.

"I know I have a lot of things to explain," I say. "I'm not sure where to begin."

"Then I'll begin." He straightens his back. "I need to apologize. I'm afraid that I didn't handle things well after our father died."