There’s that damn word again. Freedom. Jen constantly struggles for it and I constantly try to hold her down. Maybe I’m more like my father than I know.

“I always thought it was you who wanted to stay away,” I say, my voice surprisingly calm. Though my head is spinning with everything I’ve discovered. “Mom said you hated Shingletown and that you were desperate to get away.”

He laughs, but there’s not much humor in the sound. “Your mom is right. I hated that stupid little mountain town. There was nothing to do, no good jobs. I was struggling. My father had cut me off, was dying and I had no idea. Twenty-eight years old and I should’ve had my head on straight, you know? I should’ve had it all figured out by then. But I was nothing but a big kid who wanted to party. I had no real responsibilities. Until you came along.”

I had no freaking idea he felt this way. That he suffered with all of this. Of course, he’s never really explained himself to me, while my mother would bad-mouth him every chance she got. Still does. I could call her at this very minute and she would call Conrad Wilder the scum of the earth and whatever other horrible name she could come up with.

“So why didn’t you two divorce?” That’s the one thing that’s tripped me up my entire life. If they hated each other so much and couldn’t live together, why not get a divorce and be done with it?

“It sounds stupid, but I don’t want her out of my life. Crazy, right? Maybe we’re just lazy. I don’t know.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “We’ve always stayed in contact, your mom and I.”

I’m stunned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” His chuckle deepens. “We fight most of the time when we talk, so . . .”

Okay, now I’m completely freaked out. “But . . . I thought you hated each other.”

“We do. We don’t. I don’t know. Don’t question it, son. Even I don’t get it.” Pushing away from the wall with a heavy sigh, he goes to a chair and plops down in it. “We may drive each other crazy, but we’ve always had a connection.”

I don’t even want to know about this connection. “Have you two seen each other since you . . . first left?”

He smiles ruefully. “We have. Never for long, though—we can’t be in the same room for more than a day or two before we start arguing.”

Sounds familiar. Though Jen and I argue more because we fight our feelings for each other.

I want more with her, but I need to hear the whole truth from her lips. Maybe what the bartender at Gold Diggers told my dad is a lie. I hope it is.

But if it’s not . . . then I can deal. I have to deal. She’s the only woman I want in my life.

I love her.

Jen

I find a taxi parked a few blocks down from The District and hop in the backseat, rattling off Colin’s address and demanding the driver take me there.

“I’m off duty, girlie,” he grumbles, starting up the car anyway and shifting into park. “I’m taking a break.”

“Please,” I say, not about to make a promise of a big tip. He’ll probably think I mean something sexual, and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.

“Fine.” He pulls out onto the street, turning up the radio, and I’m thankful for the sound of the mindless popular song filling the interior of the cab.

The song doesn’t chase away my depressing thoughts, though. I should be relieved Colin confronted me, not that I really told him anything. I need to get out of here quick.

And I need to make sure he never, ever finds out everything. I don’t like to think about it. It’s scary to face what you might do when you’re desperate enough. I hate that I let myself become so weak. But I’d been trying my best to earn back all the money I lost. Dancing every night, working for hours in the exclusive lap dance room, touching those men in the most intimate of places in the hopes they would give me extra-big tips, which they did . . .

When the first one propositioned me, I turned him down. I turned plenty of them down. But after everything was stolen and I needed money quick, I finally, reluctantly, agreed one night. At least that guy was handsome. Probably in his early thirties and lonely after a bitter divorce, he told me all about his problems when we met after I got off work. He was nice and kind and gentle, and so very, very nervous. He’d asked for sex at first, but I told him I would only give him oral, so . . . I did.

And felt like the lowest of the low when he pressed the hundred-dollar bill in my palm after I finished. What had I done? What had I become?

A prostitute. A common whore.

I couldn’t go back home. Couldn’t face my parents after everything I’d done. I was ashamed. Disgusted with myself because I didn’t stop after that first time. I did it again. And again.

“Here we are, girlie,” the taxi driver says. Interrupting my depressing thoughts, thank God. I didn’t want to go there and ended up doing it anyway. “That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”

I dig through my purse and hand him a twenty and a five as I exit the car, slamming the door behind me. He takes off with a roar, leaving me alone on the sidewalk, the night seeming to close in on me. It’s cool, the sky is dark and moonless, and the street is quiet. Past ten o’clock, and pretty much everyone has gone to bed since it’s mostly families who live on this street.

Colin and I are the exception. We’re definitely not family. Not even close.

Starting up the front walk, I pull out my key and unlock the door. As soon as I enter the house, car lights from outside illuminate the still dark interior and I hear the garage door start to open. My stomach drops into my toes and my mouth goes dry.

Colin’s home.

Swallowing hard, I try to fight off the wave of nausea that threatens and head to the kitchen, where I pour myself a glass of water. I chug it down, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and brace myself against the kitchen counter as I wait for him to enter the house.

Better to face him head on than run off and hide in my room. Not that I’m staying long anyway. He’ll no doubt kick me out and I’ll end up going to Sacramento early. I bet Jason would help me out if I asked him. Maybe I could break down and spend the money to rent a moving truck. I’ll call my new roommate first thing tomorrow and see if I can move in a few days sooner. I have a feeling she won’t mind. This way I can get settled and find a job right away.

Hopefully.

Finally, Colin enters the house, stopping short when he sees me leaning against the kitchen counter. “How did you get here?”

No hi, I was worried, just a how did you get here, like he doesn’t want me in his house any longer. Oh, how quickly our attitudes change! “I took a taxi.”

“A taxi?” he asks incredulously. “How did you find a taxi downtown?” They’re usually pretty scarce, so I understand his questioning.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. Why are we even having this inane conversation? “He was a few blocks down from the restaurant and off duty. I climbed into his car anyway and asked him to drive me here, so he did.”

“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I swear to God, your risky behavior is going to get you into serious trouble someday. He could’ve hurt you.”

“I’m a big girl. Besides, didn’t I get my quota in this week already when it comes to being attacked by creepy strangers?” I sound like a smug little bitch but I can’t help myself. When I feel cornered, I get defensive.

He stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “We need to talk,” he says slowly.

“What about?” I lift my chin, going for defiance, but my entire body begins to tremble. I’m this close to falling completely apart.

“About what you did when you worked at Gold Diggers.” He flicks his head toward the direction of the living room. “Let’s go sit down.”

I brace my hands against the edge of the countertop, icy dread slithering down my spine. How did he find out? I know he knows, and I can hardly stand it. “I don’t want to. Let’s talk here.”