“I wonder how much it would cost me to have him kil ed.”
“Vince, don’t even talk like that.” She looked at Sam, standing there with his arms across his long-sleeved T-shirt, al bel igerent. “I gotta go and make sure Conner didn’t put his jammies on backward.”
“Tel him I love him.”
“I wil .” She walked back across the kitchen. “Bye,” she said, and hung up the phone
“Was that your brother?”
“Yep.”
“You didn’t mention I was here.”
“Nope.” She shook her head and looked over at him. “Vince hates you, and I just didn’t want to deal with the stress of that right now.”
“I had a sister once, too, and she had a man in her life that I absolutely hated.” He moved toward her and took her hand. “I understand your brother. I don’t like him, but I understand him.”
She didn’t even understand her brother sometimes.
“I understand why he doesn’t want me in your life. I believe him when he says he isn’t going to let it happen.”
Her lips parted. “What? Vince said that? When?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, determination crowding his brow. “Al that matters is that you believe I’m not going to let your brother stand between me and my family.”
She took a step back. “You and Conner.”
“What?”
“Stand between you and Conner.”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.”
No. That hadn’t been what he’d said. This wasn’t about family. It was about him spending time with Conner and having sex with her. It wasn’t about her fal ing in love and hoping for things that weren’t going to happen. It wasn’t about being a part of a beautiful wedding and a white-picket-fences and happily-ever-afters.
She moved into the living room, her thoughts a speeding mess. It wasn’t about eating dinner and Conner doing homework with his dad. What was she doing? And what if Vince found out she was sleeping with Sam? He’d blow a gasket, and she wasn’t so sure he had many more to blow. She was confused and raw and didn’t want to think about it. Not then. The next day, when Sam was gone, and she could think. “Why did you hate the man in your sister’s life?” she asked.
“Because he was a control ing son of a bitch.”
She moved to the big picture window and looked down at Sam’s red truck in the driveway. If they were real y a family, it would be in the garage. Next to her Subaru. “What happened?”
He was silent for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. She glanced over at him, standing in the middle of the room. A tal powerful man, a deep furrow pul ing his brows together over his blue eyes. “He kil ed her.” He looked away. “When she final y got the nerve to leave him, he hunted her down and shot her.”
Her heart dropped, and she turned to face him. In an instant, her own thoughts forgotten. “Sam.”
“I was across the country enjoying my life. Living in Toronto, then—” He shrugged and glanced back at her. “Then my life stopped.”
Without thinking about it, she moved toward him. “When did she die?”
“June 13.”
The date was not lost on Autumn, and she recal ed his mentioning something about his sister’s death in Vegas years ago.
“She was young and smart and beautiful and had a wonderful life planned for herself. She wanted to teach little kids.” He paused and shrugged a shoulder. “Instead, we had to plan a funeral and box up her stuff.”
Without thinking, Autumn wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his heart. “I know what it’s like to put a person’s whole life into boxes. I’m sorry.”
He was so stiff, like stone covered in warm skin. “She was my little sister, and I was supposed to take care of her. Our dad died when she was ten, and she depended on me. I helped her with her homework and bought her first prom dress. I was supposed to keep her safe. I didn’t.”