“Yeah. It takes time to open the closet of skeletons… but married, Tanner? Tanner, that’s not a skeleton in a closet. That’s a ring on your finger. That’s the person you look forward to seeing every morning even when they annoy you or you’re fighting. It’s your other half. Marriage is made —”

“Marriage is made in Heaven,” I say, giving her one of my favorite Clint Eastwood quotes, “but so are thunder and lightning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, and I can hear the annoyance in her newlywed voice.

I walk outside and take a seat in a lounge chair where I know she’ll follow me. “It means that we grew up with Mom and Dad’s marriage as an example. You have Colton. Not all marriages are like yours. What if there’s something wrong in hers? What if she’s trapped and can’t get out of it? What if he’s abusive and —”

“That’s a long stretch, Tanner. It sounds like you’re just trying to justify her actions.” She takes the chair across from me, her face toward the ocean, but her words are sharp. “Love makes you more of who you are, not less… and right now, her lies? Are definitely not making you more.”

I let her words sink in, tell myself I’m reaching for something to hold on to when I just need to let go and free-fall into the pain. Take the rough landing and broken heart in one fell swoop so that I can heal all at once instead of piece by piece where hope ties each one together with the thinnest of strings.

“You know, Ry,” I finally say, “I can handle being dumped for someone else. I’m a big boy who can handle rejection just fine… It’s this schizophrenic feeling that’s driving me crazy.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “How come I am so fucked up over this? How can I feel so strongly for someone after just a few months together? I mean one minute I miss her like crazy and feel like such a loser because I can’t let this go… and then the next minute I hate her guts and never want to see her again even if I had the chance to.”

She leans her head back against the chair and laughs before turning to meet my eyes, a knowing smile on her lips. “Because it’s love.”

“Do you care to elaborate since you think this is so funny?” I snip, not amused at all.

“It’s real love,” she says with a shrug that makes me uncomfortable instantly even though I could have assumed she’d say as much. But saying it aloud and feeling it in my own miserable silence are two different things. Once it’s out in the universe, you can’t take that shit back. “Real love messes you up no matter how long you’ve been with someone. Believe me. I’ve been there with Colton. We butted heads from day one, but there was something there I couldn’t deny no matter how hard I tried. Sometimes no matter how hard you fight it, it’s just there.” And of course my back immediately goes up that my brother-in-law made my little sister feel this way at some point. But at least I have comfort in knowing they obviously worked things out. “I can see you longing to work the Prince Charming angle, Tanner, but you can’t. Bad marriage or not, it’s her situation to deal with. You can’t go charging in on a white horse to save the day.”

“Why not?” I ask with more conviction than anything else I’ve said today.

“Do you love her?” I look at her like she’s crazy, because I definitely wouldn’t be this fucked up over a woman I didn’t love. “How do you know you love her, though?”

“Really, Ry? Are you going to treat me like an idiot now?” I’m getting more irritated by the minute.

“No,” she says, backpedaling. “You’ve loved lots of girlfriends, so why is she the one that you’re in love with? How do you know it’s real?”

“She knocked me on my ass, Ry.” The comment comes out before I can stop it, and I know I sound pathetic but don’t care because if I can be dead honest with anyone, it’s with my sister. “Because my heart races out of control at just the thought of getting to see her again. Because she’s all I – never mind.” I stop, knowing how ridiculous I sound.

“I get it. Believe me, I get it. You may love her, but unless she gives you something to go off now, unless she contacts you, then you have no right to be in her business. It sucks and it’s brutal and I know that feeling when your chest aches so damn bad you can’t breathe… but that’s love. It makes you crazy insane and doesn’t always work out.”

The flip side of being so comfortable talking to my sister is that she’s just as honest with feedback even when I don’t want to hear it. Like right now.

“You’re making no sense,” I mutter, not having expected her to solve my problems but at least wanting something a little more clear to go on.

“How so?”

“Well in one breath you say that it’s real love and imply how rare it is, which makes me think it’s worth fighting for, and in the next you tell me I can’t fight for it unless she gives me a reason to. Talk about fucking confusing.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s all you’re going to give me?” I groan through the smile that graces my lips for the first time in what feels like forever. “You suck at this because you’re deliriously happy.”

“Yep on all accounts,” she says as she scoots to the edge of her chair. “This is so hard for me because I’m trying to be objective, to tell you that if you really feel how you feel and if she gives you a single opening, you need to fight like hell for her, and at the same time I hate her because she did this to you. She doesn’t deserve you, Tanner. You know what Mom says, ‘Cheating on a good person is like throwing away a diamond and picking up a rock.’”

“The question is, am I the diamond or am I the rock?” I murmur as she steps forward and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I watch the ocean for a long time after she leaves, lost in my thoughts and not sure if I want to hold on or to purge the memories that are still so vivid I can taste them. I wander into the house, grab a beer, and settle down on the couch, Rylee’s comment about me not being Prince Charming on constant repeat for some reason.

Maybe it’s by the third beer in that I realize she’s right. Completely right. I’m the farthest thing from Prince Charming. I’m a reporter who rides an adrenaline rush instead of a horse. I have nothing to offer someone long term except for constant worry for my safety, missed birthdays, lonely anniversaries, and middle-of-the-night phone calls due to time zone differences. Dating casually is one thing, but there is no room for happily-ever-afters in my world. Look at Pauly and the number of wives he’s lost count of because they couldn’t handle the loneliness.

And even if I did rush in to try and save the day, who exactly am I saving her from? A husband who flew thousands of miles in a heartbeat because his wife was injured? Yeah, because that screams, “I’m a husband who doesn’t care.” Not.

Suck it up, Thomas. You were played. Now man up and get over it.

“Fuck,” I sigh out into the empty room, feeling so out of place in my own home. Setting my empty beer bottle down, I shift on the couch so that my head is on one armrest and my feet are on the other. The problem is when I look up toward my ceiling, the cracks I’m so used to tracing as I work through my thoughts aren’t there. Restless, I move onto my side so that I can look elsewhere, when something jabs my rib cage. Shifting again, I reach down to find my cell phone there, but when I pick it up to toss it on the table and glance at the screen, my heart stops for a beat.

It was all a lie and none of it was a lie. —Rookie

It takes me a moment to really believe that the message could be from her, but I can’t deny she’s the only person I’ve ever called that nickname. I slowly exhale the breath I’m holding. Just when I’ve decided to get the fuck over her, she comes and slaps me in the face. No, not a slap in the face. She’s given me something to go off, and in Rylee’s book that’s a sign I can start fighting for her.

Damn. I guess it’s time for Prince Charming to learn how to ride a horse.

Chapter 26




Several times in my career I’ve heard the saying, “Ideas pull the trigger, but it’s instinct that loads the gun.” Until the moment I walked through the Kansas City International Airport, I never thought it would pertain to me. Or have led me to this moment.

I was disappointed but not surprised when I called the cell phone number that texted me, only to find that the call went unanswered and there wasn’t a voice mail. A quick Internet search told me the number was most likely from a disposable cell phone, meaning it was untraceable.

And even though my gut reaction was to immediately call her back, I was still confused. If she didn’t want me to come after her, why did she text me? Why send me a cryptic message instead of just letting me be?

I’m a reporter, someone who asks the tough questions in situations that are not easily answered. She had to know I’d go apeshit over having a clue to something that I couldn’t figure out. Was that her point? Was she in trouble and needed help, or was she just trying to tell me she was sorry in some fucked-up way? Or even worse, was she toying with me again to see if I’d come running and play right back into her hands?

I hated wondering as much as I hated thinking she needed me but was playing me at the same time.

The whole thing didn’t sit well with me. So after I had spent days calling in favors and being put on the back burner, one of my old military liaisons turned federal agent turned source took pity on me. Well, pity mixed with the delivery of a rare bottle of aged Macallan for the Scotch aficionado. Regardless, he attempted to trace the cell phone number for me.