Angel almost didn't want to ask. "What happened?"

"It was summer, so the kids were out of school. Ed and I were at work, as was Oliver, and Nick had left for the lake with some friends. Essie, who was sixteen at the time, wanted a lazy day, so she stayed home. This so-called friend came over, presumably looking for Oliver. My Essie thought that was strange because he and Oliver worked together, so she figured he should know exactly where Oliver was. That was when he forced his way into the house and... and tortured my baby girl for hours."

"Oh, my G.o.d." The strangled words whispered out of her as the horror of what the Santiago family had endured-Essie in particular-hit her like a physical blow.

"I think he would have killed her if Nick hadn't come home early. They scuffled before that monster managed to get away. Once the family gathered at the hospital and Nick told us who was responsible for raping and beating my girl, Oliver went looking for him."

"Of course he did." With his overprotective streak, she couldn't imagine him doing anything else.

"Oliver couldn't forgive himself for bringing this boy into our lives," Lynette went on, her voice going so low it was hard for Angel to hear her. "He's too good for his own good. What happened to Essie wasn't his responsibility, but he took it upon himself to try and get retribution because he felt so guilty about it. And once he'd caught up to that b.a.s.t.a.r.d and made him pay, my son called the police and waited to be picked up, along with Essie's attacker."

Angel had to swallow hard to get her throat unlocked. "I can't believe Twist got sentenced to five years for doing what any grief-stricken family member would do. There were extenuating circ.u.mstances-"

"Honey, he wanted to be punished. Not for beating that guy to within an inch of his life. No, my boy wanted to burn for bringing that thing into Essie's world. He told the judge who heard his case that he wanted the maximum sentence for the crime he committed, because he hadn't been a good enough big brother. I cried so hard when he said those words, because that was when I knew that in his own way, my son was just as damaged by this horrible event as my daughter."

In that moment, Angel could picture the scene as clearly as if she'd been there to witness it, and the weight of the tragedy that had hit the Santiago family nearly crushed her. "How is Essie now?"

"After several reconstructive surgeries and years of all sorts of therapy, she's better than ever. She's in grad school down in Texas, something Oliver takes great pride in paying for, though Essie swears she's going to pay him back every single penny."

"He won't accept it. That's not how he is."

"I love that you know this about him, and I love that you obviously weren't afraid of his record," Lynette added, and Angel could hear the grat.i.tude in her voice. "But the one thing you might not realize about Oliver is that he doesn't always know what's best for him. He's great at doing what's best for others-even when they don't want him to make the effort."

All too easily she thought of the healthy food he'd tried to force on her. "Tell me about it."

"But when it comes to doing what's best for himself, Oliver always gives himself the short end of the stick. And he doesn't deserve that. He deserves the best."

She bit her lip, hard, and focused on the pain to keep from giving in to the tears clogging her throat. "I agree."

"You're what's best for my son, Angel. I know this because we've heard about you for years, so whatever you do-or whatever he does-please don't lose sight of that. Don't forget that he needs you."

Chapter Twenty-One.

Angel barely slept, staying up until one in the morning waiting for Twist, before falling into a sleep that was troubled with crazy dreams. The only dream she clearly remembered was the one where she couldn't get out of her car. Twist was on the outside, holding up the car keys for her to see but otherwise not moving as she tried the locks and pulled on the door handle, but nothing happened. When she yelled to him to help her by pulling from his side or hitting the lock on the key fob, he didn't move, didn't help. He just stood there.

She didn't need a shrink to figure out what her subconscious was trying to tell her. Twist held the key to what she wanted most of all-to be with him. But at the moment he didn't seem to want to help her to make this a reality, and though she hated herself for the weakness, doubts about how real their relationship was kept pushing to the surface. After all, only a week of being lovers was far outweighed by four years of being enemies.

But oh, how she wanted to believe.

Believing, however, was a little harder to do when she woke alone for the first time in a week.

Icy dread sank its needle-sharp teeth into her when she sat up and looked to the other side of the bed.

Empty, and as neatly made as when she had gone to bed.

Considering that she was no longer suffering any symptoms from her concussion, she supposed on the surface it was understandable that Twist wouldn't feel the need to look out for her around the clock. So, yeah. On the surface, this could have meant nothing.

But their closeness was no longer about her concussion. It hadn't been since the first time they'd made love. So surface be d.a.m.ned, this was a big freaking deal. Their newfound closeness was supposed to be all about them now, and figuring out how two separate people can become a single, harmoniously working unit.

Being absent wasn't any way to make a unit work.

Flinging back the covers, Angel grabbed for her robe, but paused when she noted her alarm clock ticking away on the table beside the bed. She frowned at it, unsure if it had been there the night before. She was almost sure it hadn't been.

Had Twist been there after all? And left without waking her?

A wave of anxiety painted her insides with a heavy coat of acid, and she hurried out of the room in an unconscious need to outrun it. Of course he hadn't been there without waking her, she tried to tell herself to stay calm. That was just how it was with them. They couldn't be in the same place without letting the other one know they were all right. That they were there. They couldn't help but touch, even if only for rea.s.surance that they were there for each other. This was what they had become.

This was what they were.

As she moved through the condo, everywhere her gaze touched appeared to be completely normal. The front room was quiet and tidy, the bathroom empty and towels stored exactly the way she'd left them, and the kitchen- Her attention skidded to a halt on the note stuck under a magnet on the fridge.

She never left notes to herself. She used her phone for that sort of thing.

Suddenly cold, she moved to the refrigerator and plucked the paper free.

Call me when you're ready to be driven to your parents' place. There are two breakfast tacos in the fridge. Zap for thirty seconds.

T.

Numbly she reread the note, as if that would help her make more sense of what he was really trying to tell her, before she yanked the refrigerator door open. Yep. Plain as day, sitting on the top shelf was an unfamiliar take-out bag, filled with good food Twist had left for her to eat.

G.o.dd.a.m.n it.

He'd come into her place at some point after she had fallen asleep, stood right by her bed to put that d.a.m.n clock back, and didn't even let her know he was there. Didn't wake her, didn't come to bed. Try as she might, she couldn't figure out why he had done that.

Unless it was the obvious answer.

He didn't want to see her.

"Don't be stupid," she muttered to the rising tide of anxiety. "He's protecting you from your pen pal, that's all."

But, a calm voice inside her head pointed out, if her letter writer really was watching her closely, that meant he would have seen Twist arriving at her condo in the wee hours of the morning, using her keys to get in. If Twist was genuinely worried about giving the appearance of cooling their relationship to throw her pen pal off, wouldn't he have wanted to keep away completely?

She couldn't understand his actions. The only thing she understood was that talking to oneself was the first sign on insanity.

She was freaking losing it.

After a quick shower and dressing in black tights, a dark flowered skirt, a black pullover hoodie with a front pouch pocket and her favorite stylized combat boots that had glittery soles, she told herself she was calm enough to talk to Twist. But the moment she unplugged her phone she chickened out, fearing that Twist wouldn't want to talk. And if he didn't want to talk to her, that went beyond just trying to show physical distance between them. If he didn't want to talk to her, that meant...

Her brain shut down on the thought. She didn't have the strength to think about it.

Better to leave the talking for when he couldn't get away, like during a car ride, she decided and opened the texting window. Then they could get to the heart of things.

"Ready."

She stared at her phone for almost a minute waiting for a response, then went into the kitchen when there was none. Her rebellious streak pitched a minor fit over heating up the food he'd left for her, and she nearly opted for a Pop Tart instead. But registering her displeasure at how standoffish he was playing things by refusing to eat perfectly good food was going a little far. She'd come a long way from the woman she was a week ago. Too bad that with every step she'd taken in her ever-evolving relationship with Twist, she didn't have any real confidence that he'd kept pace with her. And she hated that. She hated that her faith in him could be so easily undermined.

Nevertheless, she had to wonder if her mother had had similar thoughts when her father had begun to drift away.

Angel was watching out the front window for Twist's car when a yellow cab pulled up in front of her walkway, and for a moment she stared at it uncomprehendingly. Then, when the lanky female driver headed toward her front door, her blood pressure climbed into the stratosphere. In a heartbeat she had her phone out, this time too p.i.s.sed to think about being afraid to talk to Twist.

"A taxi?" The doorbell rang just as she heard the line engage, and she headed toward the door while trying not to lose her s.h.i.t entirely. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Yeah, a taxi, and I'd like to add what the h.e.l.l else were you expecting?" Even over the phone, she could see the scowl reflected in his tone.

"I was expecting you, preferably with my keys so I can take care of my own d.a.m.n life from here on in." She opened the door, tried to smile and nod at the driver, grabbed her bag hanging by the door, and headed out into the chilly autumn morning. "When you're done with your concierge appointment, do me a favor and drop my keys off in my booth, okay? Because without them, I'm now officially locked out of my house, I can't drive myself home, and I'm getting the strong impression that you're no longer going to be my ride to work later on."

"Another taxi that I've scheduled to pick you up at half past noon is how you're going to get to work, so I've got you covered. But I am gonna need you to check if the person who's driving you matches the picture on the cabbie's license. In fact, you need to do that right now for this cab ride as well."

Pausing to do as he instructed before giving the driver her parents' address, Angel climbed into the back of the taxi. "It's fine. I'm safe. Everything is hunky-freaking-dory."

There was an ominous beat of silence. "Am I reading your tone right? Are you p.i.s.sed off at me?"

"p.i.s.sed off?" Angel sucked in an audible breath as the cab pulled away from the curb. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she pitched her voice lower so it wouldn't carry, and struggled to get a handle on the chaos erupting inside. "Yes, now that you mention it, I'm a little peeved at you. But even more than that, my biggest problem right now is ma.s.s confusion."

"What about?"

"If you're so determined to make a public show of how we're no longer together for the sake of my pen pal, why drop in at my place? And then, once we were both behind closed doors where my letter writer couldn't see us and putting on a show wasn't necessary, why didn't you bother to wake me up? Sneaking in and out of my place without letting me know you're there isn't part of putting on a show, Twist. It's avoiding me. And I don't know what I did to deserve that."

"You didn't do anything."

That was good to hear, but it didn't change things one bit. "Then why didn't you wake me up?"

His sigh was a short burst of impatience. "Because you deserve better than this."

At last understanding dawned, and a wave of dismay froze her from the inside out. "You're not just talking about the situation, are you? This is about that hang up you have about your record and not being good enough because of it."

"Angel..." There was a tense beat of silence. "You're a delicate little princess who deserves a prince that doesn't come with a rap sheet."

Her chest squeezed so hard at the anguish in his voice that it made her eyes sting. "Unacceptable. Every last word you just said is unacceptable."

"Angel-"

"And just so you know, if you were here right now, I swear to G.o.d I would punch your lights out."

A sound of shocked outrage escaped him. "What the f.u.c.k did I do?"

"You're telling me what I deserve. You don't get to tell me that, d.a.m.n it. I know what I deserve. I deserve a man who thinks enough about me that he does everything he can to keep me healthy, happy and safe. I deserve a man who won't let me eat Pop Tarts for breakfast. I deserve a man who's on the lookout for creepy pervs who might otherwise show up in my tattoo booth demanding that I tattoo them in icky places. What I don't deserve is a man who's there with me in the middle of the night but doesn't let me know about it, because he feels guilty about things that are beyond his control."

"I didn't plan on going to your place at all last night, but I just couldn't keep away. My mother told me that she talked to you," he went on, and there was something in his tone that she couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was raw and jagged and it hurt her heart to hear it. "She told me I was f.u.c.king careless and left you all by yourself at the condo last night where anything could've happened to you."

Angel blinked. She seriously doubted Lynette put it like that. "It was no big deal. Novak's team has made it to the playoffs. Since the season's not over for him yet, Joey and Novak were both at the stadium last night. They have another game tomorrow, and like I told you, today is a travel day for them."

"Anything could have happened to you," he repeated on a growl, apparently uncaring of the Shockers' playoff schedule. "Because I didn't think about covering that base."

She sighed, and even she could hear the worry mingling with frustration in the sound. "Twist, you're going to drive yourself nuts if you keep going down this road. You can't think of everything all the time. And I can't believe I have to point this out to you, but I made it through the night all by myself just fine." Then she reconsidered. "Well, not fine. I almost died of loneliness without you, but I made it through the night."

"That's not the point," came the flat response, and the potential for a romantic moment fell on its face with a thud. "I do have to try to think of everything, baby, and you know why. I know you've heard all about Essie and what I brought into our world, so I know you understand where all this s.h.i.t is coming from."

Yikes. "I refuse to acknowledge that statement one way or another, because to do so means that I somehow accept you're responsible for a monster's actions. I'm not going to do it, because I don't accept it. You weren't responsible."

"Yeah, just like I'm not responsible for some a.s.shole sending you messages about staying away from me, right?"

"Right."

"Except that I am, because said a.s.shole is fixated on me, and that drags you into whatever circus that's going on in his head. I'm not dodging the blame on this. All I can do is try to nullify the problem. You're too important to me to put at risk."

The words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and she couldn't help but make a sound of pure frustration. "d.a.m.n it."

"What?"

"Just when I've decided to be angry with you, you throw me off my game by saying something sweet. What am I going to do with you?"

"Stop being p.i.s.sed at me for trying to keep you safe."

"I will if you try to remember that you can't control everything," she returned, her voice dipping as compa.s.sion for her wounded man tightened her throat until it was hard to breathe. "s.h.i.t is going to happen, my beautiful man. It's inevitable. But that doesn't mean you're at fault because of it. You're hot as h.e.l.l in bed, but that doesn't make you G.o.d."

There was a moment of surprised silence before she heard a reluctant chuckle. At the sound, the almost-painful tension within her loosened. "Hot as h.e.l.l, huh?"

"And then some."

Another amused sound hit her ear. "I missed you too, you know."

"Glad to hear it." The taxi turned onto her parents' street, and she sat up straighter. "Look, I understand that you come with some seriously intense baggage, and that baggage may have turned you into a wild-eyed, whacked-out control freak."

"Wait, what?"

"And I also understand that this baggage probably screws up your thinking from time to time-"

"What the f.u.c.k, Angel."

"-but I'm going to do all that I can to support you, honey, even when the conclusions you come to aren't the greatest. I'm going to support you, because I know that you're always thinking of my welfare, and trying your best."

"Thanks... I think." There was a small huff that could have been indignation or amus.e.m.e.nt, she couldn't tell which. "What conclusions have I come to that aren't the greatest?"

"Besides thinking everything is your fault? Well, let's take last night as an example. This pen pal of mine wants you gone, right? So you were gone. That left me all alone. Now, nothing happened and that's awesome, but what if isolating me is this dude's plan all along? Are we really going to let some total stranger with access to pen and paper dictate how we live our lives? Because I'm not down with living the rest of my life like that, baby. Just so you know."

This time there was no question about the frustration in his sigh. "s.h.i.t."

"What?"

"I hate it when you make sense. p.i.s.ses me off so much. d.a.m.n."