He slapped a few bills on the bar. “Bottle of Jack.”

Her brow climbed. She looked him over with a narrowed gaze, as if trying to decide if he was worth giving the bottle to. “Why?”

Cal snorted. “Because I said so. Do I have to talk to the owner to get my drink of choice?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and scowled. “I am the owner. I serve who I want, when I want. If you wanna get plastered and make a scene in my bar, I’ll make sure you can’t walk in the morning, and it won’t be from the alcohol.”

If he’d been in a better mood, he would’ve laughed. Right now he needed only one thing, and the fastest way to get it was honesty. Bartenders were like priests. They didn’t give a crap what you did and always took your apology. If he was sincere, she’d give him the bottle for his sins instead of a rosary. “I need to forget. Today is a bad day, and the only way to get to midnight is to be drunk enough where I don’t care.”

She jerked back, her dark eyes reflecting a shock of pure pain that stalled him. Then it was gone like a flash of light, and she nodded. “Give me your keys.”

He slid them to her, and they jangled as she dropped them into a large glass jar by the cash register. Then plucked a bottle of amber liquid and set it beside him with a shot glass. “Go slow and pace yourself. I agree with you.”

He poured two fingers into the glass. “About what?”

“Today is a shit day.”

She turned back to her customers. He stared at the liquid in the glass for a while. The memory came rushing back in all its violent, gory form.

Cal had taken the call.

He’d been in the kitchen cooking a late-night dinner and wondering why his mother wasn’t around. Cal had been working late at the job site and entered an empty house. She usually had a plate ready for him when he returned home, but lately he’d noticed she missed dinner a few times per week, citing mysterious errands.

The voice on the line iced his blood. They couldn’t reach his father. His mother had been involved in an accident. He needed to come now.

Fighting back panic, he’d driven frantically to the hospital, telling himself she would be okay, because shit like this only happened to other people or in the movies. He wasn’t going to lose his mother at twenty-six years old. He was going to marry Felicia, give his mom a bunch of grandchildren, and watch her grow old. That’s the way things were done. That’s the way life was supposed to be.

But Cal learned life made its own rules.

She died before she could get to the ICU. Limbs crushed from crumpled metal and skin peeled off from the fire. They tried to keep him away, but he went apeshit so they finally left him alone. Cal wept at her bedside before they could take her away and hide her under a sheet. He held her charred hand before they could stick her in a coffin and plaster makeup on her and pretend she was okay.

His father came, with Dalton and Tristan trailing behind. The horror hit full force when they all realized the fight was already over before it had even been fought. Mom was really gone.

When the police told them the driver had also been killed, Cal remembered the confusion that struck them all. When they discovered it was a man’s name they weren’t familiar with, even his father reacted with disgust and denial.

Until they learned it wasn’t a mistake.

That there were two fully packed suitcases in the trunk. And two tickets to Paris booked in his mother’s name and the stranger’s.

It was then that Cal learned life wasn’t done with them yet. Caught in a tangled soap opera, they found his mother’s closet halfway bare. The damning evidence kept building, but Cal knew the truth the moment they discovered the small shell-like box she’d always treasured, zipped up in a protective pink pouch in her suitcase.

Her sons’ baby teeth. She treasured each tooth fairy visit with an open joy that was part of who she was, collecting each one like gold on a pirate hunt. She labeled each one with their names and kept them all in a box Tristan had given her one Christmas. Cal used to tease her about the creep factor of keeping teeth, but she always insisted having a part of them with her all the time soothed her. It was a way she could let go as they grew up.

Cal realized she’d never been planning to come back.

Somehow the mother he loved and adored had had a secret life. She’d left her sons and her husband behind, never realizing an ignored red light would be the turning point in all of their lives. They’d never be able to talk to her, get any explanations, or find a way to understand the horrific betrayal.

After that, Christian Pierce became so cold, Cal wondered if real blood actually ran through his veins. All of them died a bit that night. They never seemed able to recover once the light of their lives flickered out.

Six years. How had six years gone by so quick? How had six years gone by so slow? Pain clawed at him. Cal lifted the glass in silent salute to the Fates and tipped it back. The fiery liquid burned his throat and warmed his belly. It would take a long time to wipe out the images, though. But the bartender was right.

Cal needed to pace himself.

Morgan touched up her lipstick, ready for her night out, when her iPhone beeped. Sydney’s voice echoed on the other end. “Morgan, it’s me. I’m so sorry about this, but I have to cancel tonight.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes. Becca just has a low-grade fever, and I don’t want to risk it. I hate that it’s last-minute, but I’d be worried about her all night.”

“Oh, my goodness, of course! I understand completely; she needs some fine chicken soup and her mama.”

Sydney laughed. “That sounds like the perfect combination.”

“No worries. I’ll snuggle up with a good book tonight and order in.”

“Good.” She paused. “Have you spoken to Cal?”

Morgan stiffened. She didn’t want to think of Cal and his odd detachment. “Not since I saw him at the office. Why?”

The pause was longer this time. “Did he seem like he wanted to see you tonight? Or act differently?”

“He definitely didn’t want to see me tonight,” she said. “He seemed fine. What’s going on, Sydney? I feel like I’m missing something.”

A sigh poured over the line. “Normally, I’d mind my own business, but Cal’s changed since you both started dating. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, but he’s not the type to reach out and ask for help. I think he needs you.”