I closed my eyes. Curled my fist. Thoughts of Lucas, of how hard I'd try to be the best dad for him, how hard I'd try to make him proud.

But I still could hear my father. "You always were that O'Malley girl's puppy. She trampled all over you like a doormat. A real man keeps his woman in line. A real man shows her who's boss."

"None of those things make a man."

"What would you know-"

"-One more word from you and I tell the cops you faked my signature." My threat sobered him up. Somewhat.

"If you do, the O'Malley girl goes down with me."

True. That was why I hadn't even considered it. "She was a minor. She'll say you forced her, you and that corrupt lawyer friend of yours, Webster."

I was bluffing, but my dad didn't have the sharpest mind, and alcohol dulled it even more.

"I can't stand the two of you anymore," he spat back at us while stumbling out of the room. "I'll sleep in the shed."

He could sleep there for the rest of his days for all I cared. Looking at my mom's empty stare, she'd prefer that too. When had things gone so wrong between them?

Had it always been like that?

"I'll get us some cocoa," she said while she tapped my chest gently. "Wait for me on the porch."

Cocoa was really the last thing I wanted tonight. I eyed the half-empty bottle of Jack my dad had left behind. I was craving the harsh taste of whiskey, but I turned my back on it. My mom had dealt with one drunk tonight, she didn't need another one.

I walked back to the front porch and sat on the bench. In five years, nothing seemed to have really changed.

"Your father and I are getting a divorce."

Mom held the two mugs of cocoa. She slowly set them down on the square low table at the side of the bench, then she settled next to me.

"That's why he lost it tonight."

I wanted to feel sad for her, for us, for my family. I wasn't. She deserved so much more than that big-headed, misogynistic loser.

"I can put you in touch with my lawyer."

That could very well have been the most insensitive thing I'd ever said, but Mom just chuckled. She stared back at me with twinkles in her eyes, and then burst into laughter. Although I felt like anything but laughing, I did the same. When we were done, she took my hand and squeezed it.

"I'm going to be there for you, Joshua. For you and my grandson."

I was a grown-up man. I was a father. Still, knowing that my mother was back by my side, it made me feel stronger.

"I had no idea, no idea at all about what Jack did to Cassie." Mom had her hand on her heart. "I'd never have let him use Mrs. O'Malley's illness to get Cassie to give your son up."

"I know."

I still struggled to reconcile the truth with what I'd believed for six long years.

Mom tightened her shawl around her. The night had turned chilly and I was only wearing an old T-shirt. My hoodie was still on Cassie's shoulders.

Out of nowhere, all those crazy images collided in my brain. Cassie in Sam's arms. Sam taking my hoodie off her. Him kissing the soft skin behind her ear...

"You still love her, don't you?"

The question broke the flow of snapshots right before it stepped into porn territory.

"I do." I locked my eyes with my mom's pale blue stare. "I've never stopped."

"I know. I know." She patted my hand. "It seems like you'll have to talk to this lovely fiancee of yours. Sooner rather than later."

"That, I do..."

thirty-seven.

Cassie Having a man around the house had many benefits. I couldn't believe Gran and I had survived without one.

Mending a fence here, fixing a leaking pipe there: Sam was a savior.

"You've got magic fingers." I cooed. He was tidying up the tools after spending a good hour under the kitchen sink.

"You have no idea, Kitten. My fingers could take you to parallel universes." Damn, he managed to make my cheeks heat up. "Places that Josh of yours doesn't even know about."

Well, I hated to disappoint Sam, but the places Josh had taken me not so long ago... I could revisit them at any time, any day.

Still, Sam was glaring at me. "Has Preppy Boy made a move on you?" He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

I was beginning to think that this was his signature move.

Granted, the guy had asked me to marry him, but that didn't make my sex life any of his business. I mean, not quite yet. So I kept my mouth shut.

"Maybe I was wrong about him. The dude is more of a player than I took him for."

"Josh isn't a player."

Sam whistled. "Quick to defend his good name."

I turned my back on him. "Sweet tea? It's my Gran's recipe."

I didn't wait for Sam's answer. I filled two glasses, handed one to Sam and stepped onto the porch. I sat on the bench, on the tiny half Gran used to sit on and gazed out at the fading light. It didn't take long for Sam to fill the empty space beside me. Ignoring his presence so close by would be a challenge for any full-blooded female. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands circling the glass. His shoulder-length hair fell over his face. For the first time, Sam made me feel nervous. I shifted on the bench.

"Don't freak out, Kitten," he said, without turning toward me.

"I'm not." I took a sip of the sweet tea and the flavor reminded me of Gran. Her secret was to use honey instead of sugar. I relaxed. "It's just we haven't talked about what happened last night."

"You said no. I respect that."

Well, in Gran's books, the guy was supposed to go into full-on chasing mode. Not Sam, apparently. I wasn't worth the fight.

"But don't think I'm giving up easy." He could read my thoughts. "I just don't think I'm what you need right now. Getting married again would be the stupidest thing you could do. Even to someone as awesome as me."

"I'm glad your ego hasn't been hit too hard." I fought back the smile that started to twist my lips. If only I had a quarter of Sam's self-confidence, I'd be downright unbeatable.

He stole a side glance at me and the hurt I saw in his eyes made me reach for him. I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I don't give a shit about my ego. I only care about you," he muffled his words.

"Why?" Josh had cared about me but we'd known each other for years. I'd known Sam for a month.

"Because I'm a self-centered bastard and you make me think of me. So taking care of you is a bit like taking care of myself."

He rested his back against the bench and I pivoted slightly towards him. I'd never really tried to find out more. Sam Blackhawk had his own demons.

"How are we the same?"

"We're alone."

I had no family and only two friends. One was my ex-husband-to-be, the other-Woodie-well, it looked like I didn't know him that well after all.

"What about your father? Your sister?" He'd mentioned her the night I performed the private gig back in Oxford. "She's in England?"

He nodded. "You met her. She's the pretty American girl you served a couple of times at the pub. Petite, brunette."

I scratched my memory and a face shot in front of my eyes. Cute girl. I'd seen them talking to each other. "Madeleine?"

"Madison."

"Why didn't you tell me she was your sister?"

"Because at the time, she didn't know she was."

"Whoa! And here I was thinking I was the only one with the secret family." Sam shrugged but didn't share anything else. "And that loaded father of yours, does he know you exist?"

I bit my tongue. That was harsh, but it made Sam chuckle. "He knows about me. Thanks Kitten."

"Are you close to him?"

"I am. Didn't grow up with him though, but I've stopped holding that against him. I respect him now. But it'd been real nice if he'd been around when I grew up. It wasn't easy for me and it wasn't easy for my mom."

"Is that the reason for last night's big gesture?"

"Partly."

"So why do you think getting married to you would be such a dumb idea now?"

He placed the empty glass on the side table. For several long seconds he stared out into the front yard. Dusk had settled and I let myself enjoy the peace around us. His fingers entwined with mine. I let them stay there.

When he talked again, his voice was low, as if he was whispering a secret into my ear. "You need to live, Kitten. You need to move on and find out who you really are. And you need to do that on your own."

"I've no idea where to start. I'm selling the farm, cutting my ties with Steep Hill. After that, I don't know."

"You'll find out. Take some risks; be a bit selfish."

"Selfish?"

"It's always been about someone else with you. Your grandmother, Josh, Lucas. Never you. Time for a change. If you don't do that now, you'll keep on missing your life."

I was about to repeat myself because I still had no idea where or how to start over. Well, not totally true. Nashville was still my dream. I just wasn't sure I was brave enough to chase it.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I have to go back to England for a while. My sister needs me. But I'll keep an eye on you." He squeezed my hand and he let me see the hope in his eyes. "Maybe you'll make some time for me once you've figured out what you want to do."

I nodded. Could Sam be my second chance at love? Josh had found Eleanor after all. But could we work as a couple? Could I work with anyone?

"I'll always have time for you, Sam. But you need to be honest with yourself."

"How so?"

"I think it's a part of who you are to look after the people in your life and save the day. Like wanting to marry me and adopt Lucas. But you're not in love with me."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Maybe you're right, but I like you very much, Cassie O'Malley."

"And I like you very much Sam Blackhawk."

I rested my head in the hollow of his neck. He let me snuggle against him. We didn't say another word until long after night had fallen.

thirty-eight.

Josh The cab stopped in front of the grand avenue that led to the Carrington residence in Potomac Village. Seven bedrooms, same number of bathrooms, library, pool, the whole shebang. Still a modest affair given the owners' considerable wealth. The Carringtons were old money. They didn't splash.

I paid the fare and stepped out of the car, my travel bag slung across my shoulders. I'd come straight from the airport but I wouldn't be staying here tonight.

The double-paneled door opened before I even rang the bell. Lenor appeared on the porch. She looked as lovely as always. But I wasn't fooled by the perfect hair and the fashionable clothes. The mascara under her eyes was smudged and her lower lip swollen as if she'd been biting it for days.

As soon as I got close, she snuggled against me. I couldn't help wrapping my arms around her. She felt frail. I breathed in her familiar scent, "Chanel Numero Cinq" as Eleanor pronounced it in her flawless French.