“Yeah, but did you tell him you were in love with her? Specifically.”

“No.” He drops his head into his hands. “I never told Beau about my feelings. I don’t know why I said that.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I knew Beau wouldn’t do something like that to a friend. I feel sorry for Dylan.

“Can you think of anything else that would help me find out who killed Cassandra?”

“No. I wish I could.”

“Okay. Thanks for coming.” I start to stand.

“I miss him.”

Dylan’s words catch me off guard. I’m not sure what to say other than to lay into him for not taking the time to visit Beau.

“I tried to see him a couple of times. In the beginning. He left as soon as he saw me sitting at the table. He never answered a single letter. I miss him. Isn’t that stupid after everything?”

Again, he surprises me. I had no idea he’s been trying to stay in contact. “No. I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” I say quietly. “I miss him too.”

He drops his hands and stands. “Get him out of there. Find out who really killed Cassandra and get him out of that damn place.”

“I’m doing everything I can. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

“I will.”

I walk him out to reception and give him a hard hug. It’s the closest I’ve come in five and a half years to hugging my brother. The door opens as we pull apart. Leo stands in the doorway, glancing between Dylan and me. I never got to tell him about Dylan’s visit.

Behind me, Savannah sing-songs, “Uh-oh.”

Dylan kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do. Thanks for coming. I appreciate it,” I tell him.

Dylan squeezes past Leo, who is gaping at me like he can’t believe what he just saw. I turn on my heels and head for our office. Let him think what he wants. I don’t care. I have work to do.

For some reason Cassandra’s calls to the police never appeared in any of the documents. I need to find out who the officer was who gave Cassandra his card. He might have vital information. I start a new search, guesstimating on the timing of that call. The page pops up just as the office door opens, then slams shut, rattling the pictures on the walls.

“Who in the hell was that?”

Chapter 22 Leo

My head is going to explode. Literally shatter into tiny fucking bits, splattering the walls and everything in the room. Less than twenty-four hours after getting naked with me and Cora’s already in the arms of some other guy. I debate for half a second about going after the asshole and punching the shit out of him for touching her. Then Cora strolls off like nothing and closes the door to our office, shutting me out. No. Fuck, no.

I go after her. Before I reach the door Savannah gets in a jab: “You snooze, you lose. Idiot.”

I ignore her and the fact that she’s totally right and storm into our office, slamming the door after me. I’ve got to know. “Who in the hell was that?”

“Hmmm?” Cora doesn’t look up from her computer screen. She jabs at the keys, the clicking of the keyboard echoing off the walls, punching up my anger.

I stalk forward, more jealous of anyone or anything than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s a fire blazing through me, consuming me, hazing the edges of my vision. Cora is mine.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She turns to me then. “Excuse me?”

“You go off and kiss some other guy—”

“Slow up. I did not go off and kiss anyone. He kissed me. On the cheek. And what do you care, anyway?”

“What do I care? What do I care?” I couldn’t give three shits that I’m shouting. “Last night!”

“What about it?”

She’s doing this on purpose, purposefully trying to get me to say what I can’t say. “You know what!”

“No. I don’t. I don’t know what or why or anything about what’s got you so pissed off.”

“Yes, you do. Stop messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you. You made it very clear that last night was it for you. You don’t want anything more and that’s fine. But you can’t come at me now like some jealous boyfriend, demanding answers to questions you don’t have the right to.”

My hands fist. “Jealous boyfriend?” I need to punch something. I look around, but there’s nothing. “Jealous boyfriend?”

She turns back to her computer. “You’re repeating yourself.”

“What the actual fuck, Cora?”

Rolling her eyes, she glares up at me. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want? What—”

“Did you hit your head? Is that why you keep repeating everything?”

“I did not hit my head.”

“Then either shut up and help me or say something that makes sense. I’ve got work to do.”

I growl—actually growl in frustration. I’m so in over my head with her it isn’t even funny. I’m drowning and she won’t throw me a fucking rope. “You can’t go around letting other guys kiss you.”

“Whatever.” She goes back to what she was doing.

I grab the arms of her chair and swing her around to look at me. “I mean it, Cora. Knock that shit off.”

“Or what?”

Gripping her face, I smash my mouth to hers. She pushes at me. I give it everything I’ve got. Pain shoots up my groin, making me sick to my stomach. Releasing her, I grab my dick and drop.

She stands over me. “If you ever come at me like that again I’ll grind your nuts to dust with my boot heel. You got it?”

I can’t breathe, let alone answer her fucking question.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I wheeze.

“I’m sorry, but you have to admit you had that coming.”

She’s right. I did have that coming, and now that it’s here—and I’m barely managing to hold down the vomit—I see where everything went wrong. I see what an idiot I’ve been. Cora didn’t want or need me in her life, but she let me in anyway. That’s no small thing, and yet I treated it as if it was. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. Cora leans over me, reluctant concern in her vivid blue eyes. I did this to her, to us. I got what I wanted and then for some reason decided I didn’t deserve it. I jerked her forward, pushed her back, then tried to pull her to me all over again. She was right to drop me like this.

I put my forearm over my face, cutting off the sight of her. I can’t look at her right now. Looking at her means looking at what an asshole I’ve been. Savannah was right. About everything. I’d tell Cora to knee me again because I deserve it, but I don’t think I could survive it.

“Do you need a doctor?” I can hear the worry in her voice.

So all that not caring one way or the other about me—about us—was partly for show. Or at the very least to show me what I should’ve seen all along. Funny how a swift knee to the crotch clears the head.

“No.” I snake my other hand out and wrap it around her ankle. I need to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. I need her right here for what I have to say because if I don’t say it, if I don’t act in this moment of clarity, I could lose her. If I haven’t already.

“I’m sorry,” I say, still a little out of breath and queasy. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you and kissed you like that.” I move my arm to my forehead so I can look up at her again.

I shouldn’t have done that because all the words are backing up in my brain while I just stare at her, taking in how incredibly beautiful she is. Our gazes lock. Hers is very direct, but there’s something else there too and it gives me the encouragement I need to press on.

“I really am sorry.” My voice cracks on the last word like I’m going through puberty. I’m sorry about so many things with her.

She kneels down on the floor next to me. “Okay.”