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On the terrace there’s an abundance of small tables with branches as centerpieces stretching as far as I can see, and a dessert bar that goes on for miles. I watch as people line up to fill their plates and then nibble on the small petite fours and mini cake slices on their plate, most of which will just get thrown away—too many calories.

I’m struggling to suck in a breath and push through all this shit. I turn a corner and head into the courtyard area that’s filled with trees and pathways in the shape of mazes. I take the first turn into the foliage. Glowing path lights guide my way and lead me to a wooden gazebo where I halt. There she sits, alone in the dark. The soft lighting from the ground gleams off her hair—she’s gorgeous. She’s still a hundred yards away, but my heart is already thumping out of my chest.

I decide to approach her cautiously, not sure if she’s not going to be happy to see me. Her head is bowed but she straightens up when I approach, peering at me cautiously.

I can see her sad green eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

She clears her throat and brushes her long hair back over one shoulder. The same memory I’ve revisited a thousand times resurfaces. I can’t push it away . . .

I’m behind her and she swipes her hair to one side, tilting her head so I can kiss her neck. Burying my nose in the curve of her neck, I breathe her in, drawing my tongue down her skin—the smell of citrus and the taste of lemon was so enticing.

I shake it off the best I can as she answers. “Yes, I just needed some air.”

“Mind if I sit? I promise not to get in your way.”

She nods and actually lets out a small laugh.

My main focus as I sit beside her is getting my freaking breathing to steady itself. I try to facilitate the process by leaning down, putting my elbows on my knees. She watches me, her breathing erratic as well, but from her tears, I’m sure.

“Do you need a ride to get your car?”

“No, I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she answers quietly.

“Did you bring your spare set of keys?”

“Yes, but I don’t feel like dealing with the flat tonight.”

After a moment, my eyes cut to hers. “Who’s the asshole that’s had his hands all over you tonight?”

Her jaw drops before she manages to pull herself straight up again, her perky tits following as her shoulders move back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I tilt my head closer to her. “The guy in the suit you were showing the clipboard to.”

She huffs. “He’s my boss—and his hands weren’t all over me.”

“Yeah, they were. Did he upset you?”

She sets those full lips into a straight line. “It’s really none of your business.”

I think I struck a nerve. But I need to know if the asshole is overstepping his bounds. I push on. “Is he bothering you?”

“Ben, it’s nothing I want to talk about with you.”

“Look, if you need someone to help you out, I can.”

“I don’t. He’s my boss and I can handle him.”

I sit up and press my palms against the bench. “Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I doubt that; we shouldn’t even be talking.”

“Why is that, Bell?” I intentionally show her I was listening to her earlier, even though I prefer calling her S’belle or Red.

She wraps her arms around herself. “Come on, you know why.”

I take my jacket off, handing it to her. “Here, put this on.”

Her eyes stay glued to mine and when she doesn’t take it, I drape it around her shoulders. “Listen, what I know is that you and I had a thing a long time ago and, yeah, I acted like an asshole afterward, but that’s not who I am and I think you . . .”

She cuts me off. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What is it then?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes, I guess you do. I’m really not dense, but I’m not catching your drift at all.”

She clutches my jacket and pulls it all the way around her. “Your ex-fiancé married my brother.”

“Yes, she did . . . but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. They shouldn’t impact the two of us talking, especially when we’re thrown together in a work-related social situation.”

Her beautiful green eyes seem to soften. “I’m not mad about that, Ben. I went after you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not proud of who I was then, but that’s not who I am anymore.”

She lets her head drop until I lift her chin to study her face. “Hey, I’m not sure if I should say this. I really don’t know what’s considered right or wrong in this situation, but that night we shared—it’s one I’ve never forgotten.”

She places her hand over mine and at the gentle touch something surges through my body. I watch as she bites her lip and after a few seconds, she curls her fingers around mine. There are tears in her eyes and I’m not sure if they’re from earlier or fresh. She removes her hand and pulls her chin back as soon as the drops start to fall but the connection between us that threw me lingers on.

“About that night, I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she says in a shaky voice.

“Shhh.” I whisper to her and place my finger over her lips. “We don’t have to talk about the past.”

She shakes her head and more tears fall. “No, I want to,” she says, and I long to comfort her. I thought we were going to talk about her boss, but I guess she wants to talk about that night.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Sloan appears before us, slurring her words. She’s swaying as she moves through the darkness but stops to stand in front of us. I can tell in an instant by the redness under her nose that her wedding day wasn’t a day to forgo the cocaine habit.

Bell, thinking the comment was directed at her, responds. “Oh, sorry, Sloan, did you need something?”

Sloan smiles at her. “As a matter of fact I do,” she mumbles.

She sits in between us and places her hand on my thigh. Then she leans over and announces loudly, “I want you to come up to my room so we can have some fun again.”

I glance over at Bell whose eyebrows have scrunched together as her eyes follow Sloan’s fingers all the way down to the crotch of my pants. She throws my jacket in my lap then glares at me. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey,” I call after her as she walks away, stomping her heels. “Hey, S’belle, wait!” I walk behind her grabbing her elbow.

I can hear Sloan behind us. “What the hell is going on?” She’s yelling, but I ignore her.

S’belle whirls around. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”

I can’t find any words to defend myself. I didn’t sleep with her, but we did do other things.

“I know you did, that day at the hotel. Sloan has made a few comments that I chose to ignore. But now I know for certain.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really, what wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like you pulled your pants down when you were supposed to be working? Is that what it wasn’t like?”

I glare at her. When I fail to answer she turns back around, but I stop her with my hands on her hips. “You of all people shouldn’t be judging me.” My words are curt, harsh, and my tone more of a hiss. I regret them instantly.

She goes stiff. She looks over her shoulder at me and her eyes look like they’re searching for something.

“I’ve been going through some shit and haven’t been in the right mind space lately.”

She turns around slowly, this time to face me and cuts me off. For a moment, by the look in her eyes, I think she understands me. “Here’s the thing, Ben, I don’t care what you’re going through or what you did. Don’t talk to me again. I mean it.”

So I put my hands up in surrender and let her leave. There’s no explaining what I did because I shouldn’t have done it. I stand there and watch her walk away from me again, all the while thinking I might have just blown the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

Moving onward through the maze of bushes that surrounds me, I leave Sloan, who is still sitting on the bench waiting for my return, without a word. I have something I want to take care, a small gesture to let S’belle know I do care.

I stop by Beck’s. He’s not there but I find what I need to break into her car in the backroom. I shimmy open her lock and pop the trunk. Once I’ve changed her tire, I hide the keys under the mat, and glance at my watch. I remove it and search for a piece of paper. Finding a stray receipt and a pen I write a quick note:

Bell,

Use this until you purchase another.

And call me if you ever want to talk.

Your keys are under the mat.

Ben

646-453-1234

Then I hit the lock button, slam the door, and head back to the motel hating myself for the way the night ended.

Pain

March first, a new month, almost spring, and it’s also two days until the anniversary of my death—that cluster of fucked-up events that I can’t wrap my head around. I’ve been reading through my journals—the ones I still have left. I came across an entry from when I first came back to Laguna. I read the pages over and over. How much pain had I caused the people I loved by making that decision? How had I changed the course of everyone’s lives?

Do you ever try to pinpoint any one event in your life that may have changed everything? I do—all the time. But there seems to be so many I’m not sure changing any one would ever change the whole or make anything better.

I lie on my bed, closing my eyes, just thinking. My choice to come back wasn’t all that bad. . . . I had helped Trent, I had made my mother’s eyes sparkle, I had been there to help my sister with her son. So, no, it wasn’t all bad. I sit up and grab my journal. Letting it fall open, I read the entry in front of one more time.

I asked Mom if Dahl was seeing anyone. She was hesitant to tell me anything at first, but admitted there was a guy she was serious about and Dahl had been seeing him for a while. I guess I can assume he’s the same guy Caleb told me about. It’s not that I didn’t want her to move on—I never thought I’d be back. But I just never thought I’d have to see it.

I also asked if Dahl had dated many guys and she told me no, just the one. I had hoped there were more because that would make her more like me. She would have been doing what I had been doing—trying to find a substitute to fill the hole. When I first got to New York I was lost. I had no one. For months I didn’t go out or talk to anyone. Then after a while I tried to date someone, but everything we did just brought me back to the life I left, the life I missed, and it wasn’t fair to that girl.

I started teaching that fall, but it didn’t help me forget Dahl. That Halloween I knew she must need me and I wasn’t there. I went out and got shitfaced and fucked a girl that looked like her. That started me down a road I can’t even remember clearly. Work, eat, drink, fuck. I never thought I’d see Dahlia again so I fucked just about every tall blond I ran into. And New York was loaded with them. But I never stuck around . . . they weren’t replacements for her and I didn’t want to get that close.

I stopped trying to replace her over time because no matter how much I wanted it, there was no substitute for her. My love for Dahl never went away, but I met Kimberly shortly after Caleb told me he had seen Dahl with some guy in the Hills. Although I hated that she had moved on, for some reason it brought me closure and I stopped fucking around. Kimberly and I started dating and after a few months, I felt like I’d found a happy medium. I didn’t screw around on her. I liked her enough. Yeah, maybe she looked a lot like Dahlia, but she didn’t act like her. She never called me on my shit and never put me in my place. We had a good sex life and a decent time together. She wasn’t needy and didn’t pressure me for more than I was willing to give.

I was committed to Kimberly until I was told I could go back, at which point I told her I had an emergency back home and I’d be in touch soon. She didn’t know anything about where home was . . . I was always vague. She knew I was from California and she knew me as Alex. I didn’t want to explain anything different. So I haven’t talked to her since I left. I am going to call her—I owe her that. I just haven’t figured out what I am going to say.

All along I wanted to believe Dahl’s commitment to this guy was like my commitment to Kimberly—committed until something else came around. I had thought I would not only be her first, but also her last. And now hearing she’s going to marry another guy has torn my heart apart.

Yeah, my life might suck now, but it also sucked before I returned to things here. I called Kimberly a few times while in Australia but she didn’t answer. I wanted to find closure with her. Thinking back, there are many things I would want to change but the first would be how I handled finding out Dahl was in love with someone else. I knew she was happy. Why couldn’t I just leave it alone?

Why did I think I should try to change that? Now I miss the friendship we shared. I could have just tried to regain that. But instead I wrecked it.

The ring tone of my cell jolts me out of my thoughts. Grabbing my phone, I see its Caleb.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Nice way to answer the phone.” Caleb laughs.

“I called you over a week ago.” I settle back on the bed.

“Sorry, man. Haven’t had access to a phone.”

“I don’t want to know.” I chuckle.

“So what was so important?”

“Not so much important. Just odd.”

“Okay, what was so odd, then?”

“Strangest thing. Bass called me in her office and told me the data I had given her on the drive was useless. The team working with her thought it might have been pulled from a phonebook put on there to throw them off.”

“What did you tell them?” Caleb asked.

“What could I tell them? Just that I hadn’t dissected all the data before I wrote the story.”

“They’re fucking incompetent. They have no idea how to see their way through what’s right in front of them. I’ll make a few calls and see if I can get a copy of the info. Did Jason see it?”

“I have no fucking idea. He wasn’t in the room and his name never came up.”

“Look, man, I have to run, but I’ll see if I can find anything out and let you know.”

“Sure thing.” And with that we hang up.

Something about that phone call seems off. Caleb has never mentioned Jason working on the cartel case.

I glance at the time on my phone and decide to hop in the shower. It’s almost five and I haven’t left this room yet today.

While I’m washing my hair my mind shifts gears from Caleb to S’belle. I can’t stop thinking about how she looked at me the other night. She had such disgust in her eyes.
Fuuuuck!
I slam my hand against the glass and the door pops out of the track. What is it about that girl that constantly has me thinking about her? I turn the water off and stand there, letting water drip down my body. When I step out, all I know is that with all the bad ties between us, it’s better our conversation never went any further. Besides, I only fuck up everything I touch.

I know I need to get out and clear my head. So I quickly get dressed and head over to Beck’s.

When I enter I see him on the phone arguing with someone. He hangs up and heads over my way. He slams a mug on the counter and I put my hand out. “How about a cup of coffee?”

He laughs. “Haven’t ever seen you turn down a beer.”

I ignore his comment. “Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ruby’s fucking ex is giving her a real hard time.”

“What do you mean? I thought he moved out.”

“He did, but he keeps showing up at the apartment, at work. I called the cops and they say there’s nothing they can do unless he poses a threat.”

“Has he done anything threatening?”

“No, but something about him tells me he’s off balance.”

“My ex-brother-in-law used to work this beat. Let me see if he can help out at all.”

“Fuck, man, that would be great.”

A little while later I leave the bar sober and feeling like maybe a small part of my life is coming together.

***

The next morning I have to shade my eyes against the sun’s glare in the room as I roll over to pick up my cell phone and see who’s calling. Irritation flares through me as Agent Bass’s name flashes across the screen.

“Yeah,” I answer, as I sit up.

“Ben, it’s Agent Bass. We were wondering if you could come down to the bureau this morning. Josh Hart’s trial concluded yesterday and I’d like to fill you in.”

I throw myself back on the bed trying to process what she just said. “Ummm . . . yeah, sure but I was never called to testify.”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

“I just have to swing by the office and then I’ll head over.”

I hang up. Fuck, what the hell is going on? Why is Hart’s trial concluding already? And why hasn’t the drug cartel’s trial even begun? I can’t stand being left in the dark. All I know is that I am to stay put until all of the legal proceedings across these multiple cases are complete.

Last night I called Jason to ask him if he could help me out with Ruby’s situation. He said it was no problem. He had a buddy still on the force who he’d talk to. I was actually surprised that he agreed so quickly. But when I asked him what he knew about the data on the flash drive, he told me he had no idea what I was talking about. I’m going to throw it all on table today when I meet with Bass. Like I said, I hate being left in the fucking dark.

Before getting up, I roll over and grab my journal from the nightstand. I quickly flip to the entry made on March third, three years ago—that’s today, the anniversary of my death. Quickly skimming over those painful thoughts, I find an entry that was made much later—the day I learned Dahl had been attacked.

***

When I saw her beautiful face bruised and battered, my gut instinct was that that son of a bitch sitting next to her had hit her. It wasn’t until she left and Caleb sat me down that I realized her injuries were a direct result of my actions. Fuck me—what had I done? How can I ever make this up to her? I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I need her to give me the chance . . . because if she does I’ll spend my whole life making it right. I swear I will.

I knew then the incident must have had something to do with me, and it did. Actually, she was hurt because of me—because for some reason even after I shut up, even after I killed the story, even after I gave everything except that one flash drive to Caleb, it wasn’t enough. I sit there for the longest time with my head in my hands until I’m able to move. Today is the day I get to the bottom of this—Bass needs to come clean.

***

I’m riding as fast as I can, weaving in and out of stopped cars to get to the courthouse. Entering the building, I empty my pockets and walk through the detectors. I announce myself at the reception desk and within five minutes Agent Bass is guiding me down that same fucking hall. She ushers me into the conference room and a fresh wave of panic overtakes me. Why would I get called in at the end of the trial? Is he going free?

“Ben, have a seat,” she says.

“What’s going on?” I stare at her.

She meets my glance head-on. “We couldn’t call you to testify because we couldn’t charge Hart with anything to do with the cartel. We just haven’t been able to link him to the heads of the operation. All the evidence we have is circumstantial and hearsay. He was tried strictly on aggravated assault and battery charges. The court reconvened yesterday and the verdict is in.”

I look at her in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? A pony charge?”

“Ben, look, we’re not giving up. We just can’t find anything solid to link him to the cartel. All we have is the attack on Dahlia London, which isn’t enough. The District Attorney didn’t want to wait, he pushed the case through.”

My ears start to ring and I feel like I’m beginning to hyperventilate. Bass pulls a chair out and this time I sit. After a few minutes I look up at her. “Did Dahl have to testify?”

“No, there was a witness and that was enough.”

Thank, fuck. I’d have hated for her to have to go through that.

“Ben, we need more information. There has to be a connection. Someone had to have contacted Hart when he was first released. We need to figure out who it was.”

My jaw clenches. “You have all I had. Did you ask Jason about it?”

She forms a scowl. “Jason?”

“Jason Holt, Caleb’s brother. He’s a vice detective.”

“No, I haven’t. Should I?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure, but Caleb mentioned him when I brought up the flash drive. I thought maybe you were working together.”

“His name isn’t familiar. I’ll look into it. Ben, are you sure you didn’t keep a copy of anything?”

I slam my hand on the table and stand up. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure.”

We are face-to-face. Her gaze drifts to the folder on the table. “I just had to ask.”

Fury crashes through me. “Are we done?”

She nods. “Yes, but we need you to stay in this jurisdiction.” Her voice is softer this time.

“Right!” My pulse thuds as I turn and walk out the door and down the same fucking hallway for what I hope is the last time.

***

Lingering on the threshold of sanity, I swerve to the right. My hands grip the bars and my heart pounds. Horns honk, but I keep going. I skid to a stop at a traffic light, wishing I had just run it. I’m not sure why I feel such an overwhelming urge to see that son of a bitch get what is due to him. I swerve to the right and turn on La Cienega. The courthouse is only five blocks away but even that seems too far. I park as close as I can. I flash my press pass and surprisingly it works. For once, I’m grateful for my fucking job. I feel a tightness in my chest as I race up the stairs to the courtroom. I file in quietly and have a seat. All I see is his back, but I recognize him immediately—the slick dark hair gives him away.

Glancing around the room, I see Jason sitting in the front row. Confusion descends on me. What the hell is he doing here? How is he connected to all of this? I try a million different ways to put the pieces of the puzzle together but they just don’t fit. Thirty minutes pass and Jason sits there, waiting, like me. Time seems to move so slowly. I wait for the asshole to turn around but he never does. Finally, the judge enters the courtroom. As the jurors file in, the bailiff asks everyone to rise. The jurors all take their seats in the jury box and we follow.

The judge addresses the jury. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

The foreperson responds, “Yes, we have, your Honor.”

The bailiff hands the verdict form to the judge as he reads aloud, “As to Count 1, the jury finds the Defendant guilty . . .”

I tune out the rest. Guilty was all I needed to hear. I stand to leave just as he turns. He looks the same—a spray of black bangs over dark round eyes, a slight mustache covering his lip, and a stance like he could never be defeated. I notice the eye contact between him and Jason and know there is something going on. I tense even further at the thought. With my eyes locked on Josh’s, I stay where I am. Fury overtakes his humbled face when he recognizes me. In that instant, he flies into a rage—his eyes turn wild.