“He will,” Kevin said. His voice sounded stiff and stilted, and I had to fight the urge to pull out of his arms, because he didn’t get it. How could he? He didn’t really know my uncle; he didn’t really understand what I’d lost.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly thick with tears. I clenched my fists, as if mere force of will could keep the grief at bay.

It didn’t help. I felt suddenly lost. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to anchor, and any moment now I knew I would spin out of control.

Damn.

I’d been doing so well—missing Jahn, yes, but not crossing the line into self-pity. I’d been surviving, and the fact that I was coping had made me proud.

I wasn’t coping anymore. Evan’s coldness had thrown me off my game, and without warning, I’d become antsy and all sorts of fucked up. I wanted to step out of this weird triangle made up of me and Evan and Kevin, but I couldn’t seem to move.

All I knew was that Uncle Jahn had always been my way in. He’d always understood me. He’d always been there to rescue me.

But he wasn’t there right then—and to my total mortification, the tears began to flow.

“Angie,” Evan murmured. “Oh, baby, it’s okay.”

I have no idea how it happened, but suddenly my face was pressed to Evan’s chest and he was holding me and his hand was stroking my back and his voice was soothing me, telling me that I should let it out. That it would be okay. That I would be okay.

I clung to him, soaking up the solace that he was offering. His body was hard and firm and strong, and I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to draw in his strength and claim it as my very own.

But then my nose started to run, and I pulled back, afraid of mucking up his gazillion dollar tux. “Thanks,” I said, or at least I tried to. I don’t think the word actually left my mouth, because when I looked up at him, it wasn’t friendly concern that I saw. No, it was heat. It was desire. Vibrant and pure and absolutely unmistakable.

And it was wild enough to burn a hole right through me.

I gasped, and the sound seemed to flip a switch in him. Then—as quickly as it appeared—that fire was gone, and I was left feeling cold and bereft and desperately confused.

“She needs you,” Evan said, passing me off to Kevin, who took me into his arms even as a shadow crossed his face.

“Didn’t you want to say something to the crowd?” Cole asked, his voice reminding me that he and Tyler were standing just inches away, their penetrating eyes taking in everything.

“I did,” Evan said, his expression now bland and his tone businesslike, as if that could erase those last few seconds. But it was too late, and everything had changed. I’d seen it. Seen? Hell, what I’d seen in his face had just about knocked me over.

But he was walking away from me now, and as I watched him go—as I stood there clinging tightly to Kevin’s hand—I knew that if I wanted him, I was going to have to go after him.

Because where Evan Black and I were concerned, he would always walk away.

And in a moment of sudden clarity, I goddamn knew the reason why.

three

I started my freshman year at Northwestern right about the time that Evan was dropping out, too successful in all of his various ventures to bother with anything as mundane as grad school.

The air seemed scented with lilac that fall, and Jahn had thrown one of his famous parties. Evan was there, of course, flanked as usual by Tyler and Cole. I’d sat with them by the pool, my bare feet dangling in the water as I answered their questions about how I was surviving my first weeks.

The conversation was casual and easy, and I was proud of myself for playing it cool. Or I was until Jahn asked me to go inside with him to pick out a bottle of wine.

“You know that you’re like a daughter to me,” he said, once we were standing in the bright and airy kitchen, looking out at the pool through the huge bay window.

“Sure,” I said happily. Then I caught sight of his face and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, just the tiniest of motions. But the shadow in his eyes suggested something else entirely. “I just hope you know that I would do anything for you. That I’ll protect you from anything and anyone.”

My chest tightened and I felt the beads of perspiration rise on my lip. “What’s going on?” My mind filled with images of knives and threats, of assault and rape. Oh, god, no. Surely—

“No.” Jahn’s voice was as forceful as his hand clutched around my wrist. “No,” he repeated, but this time more gently. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Nothing like that.”

Slowly, my fear ebbed. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at them, Angie.”

“Them?” For the briefest of moments, I was genuinely confused. Then I got it—and my cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

“Those boys will always look out for you,” he said, ignoring my discomfiture. “They’ll watch over you until the end of time because you’re important to me. But it can’t ever go further than that. Not with any one of them.” His voice had hardened, taking on a commanding and serious tone that I rarely heard from him. “I said I’d protect you,” he said. “Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

“I don’t know what you—” I began, but he cut me off sharply.

“They’re not the men for you,” he said firmly. He faced me straight on, his expression deadly serious. “And they know that you’re off-limits to them.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again, because what the hell was I supposed to say? This was totally freaking surreal.

My instinct was to deny, deny, deny. But curiosity got the better of me. “What’s wrong with them?” I asked.

“Not a goddamn thing.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

He turned his back to the window and leaned against the granite counter, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrowed, and I felt my posture straightening automatically under his appraising gaze.

He glanced quickly away. “They’re too old for you.”

I almost spit out my laugh. “Seriously? That’s the problem? Daddy’s thirteen years older than Mom, and no one thought that was a big deal.”

When he looked at me, there was something almost wistful in his eyes. “Sarah is special,” he said.

“And I’m not?” I was teasing, sure, but I was also serious. “Evan’s barely six years older than me, and he’s the oldest of all three of them. Come on, Uncle J. What’s really going on here?”

Instead of answering, he grabbed a corkscrew from where it sat on the counter, and went to work on one of the bottles he’d pulled out for the evening. I watched silently, both amused and frustrated, as he poured a glass, took a sip, and then poured another. When he handed the second to me, I had to bite back an insolent smirk. Technically, I was under the drinking age.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and even and tinged with a hint of regret. “When was the last time you’ve seen me with my wife?”

The question was so unexpected that I answered right away. “Not for years.” I hadn’t seen his most recent wife, or any of the parade of previous ones, in ages. I knew they’d all left him, but I’d never known why. And since I’d never gotten close to any of them, I hadn’t ever asked.

“Too many secrets will destroy a relationship,” he said.

“I don’t have any secrets.” Except, of course, I did.

Jahn paused, and for a moment I thought he was going to call me on my lie. But then he nodded, almost casually, as if my words were a given. “Maybe not. But he does. His own, and those he holds for others.”

He.

That one simple word rattled around in my head, making me a little dizzy. Because I knew what it meant. It meant that we weren’t really talking about the trio, but about Evan. About the fact that I wanted him—and that Jahn knew it.