That night—hours into a thunderstorm that had been raging since after dinner—I snap awake, every muscle in my body tight and hot. I clench the sheets at my side, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, and sweat dripping down my neck.

I gasp, trying to breathe, but I can’t fucking move. I try to swallow, but it takes four times before I’m able to wet my dry throat.

I roll my eyes around the room, fear lingering in my brain, but I’m not sure why as I take inventory of my surroundings.

The room is dark, the storm still rocking against my windows, and I hear the drops pummel the deck outside my room.

Slowly, I stretch out my fingers, prying my hands off the sheets, and I sit up, wincing at the ache in my shoulders and neck from being locked up too long.

Did I dream? I close my eyes, the tears I don’t remember crying seeping out and joining the ones already wetting my face.

I don’t remember anything, but I must’ve been crying or screaming, because my throat is burning and my knuckles ache from clenching my fists. I quickly glance at my door, relieved to see it’s still closed. Thank God I wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone.

I throw off the covers and walk to the chest of drawers to retrieve my phone.

When I was a kid, I had terrible episodes of screaming and crying—absolute midnight mania—where I’d wake up and carry on, but I was completely asleep. They said it was night terrors, and when it was over—when Mirai or whatever nanny soothed me back to the sleep—I never remembered anything. I only knew it happened, because my muscles would be drained, my throat would be dry, and I’d wake up with my eyes burning from the tears.

I pick up my phone and turn it on.

1:15 a.m. Tears prick my throat, but I push them down.

It was always somewhere around 1:15 a.m. my parents had said. Some kind of internal clock thing.

But my night terrors ended. I haven’t had one since…fourth grade, maybe?

I drop my phone back onto the dresser, propping my elbows on top and holding my head in my hands.

I’m an adult. I’m alone.

I glance at the door again. I don’t want them to hear me screaming like some nutcase.

I finally notice a sting on my arm and look down to see three, red half-moons on my forearm, and I instantly know what they are, the memory coming back like it was yesterday.

I’d clawed myself in my sleep.

The bag of candy still sits on my dresser, and I shoot out my arm, swiping the bag off the dresser and into the garbage can off to the side. What the hell was I doing in my sleep? How could I not wake up? What happens if I’m alone in L.A. or when I go off to college, and I have to have a roommate?

I shouldn’t be alone.

But I’m not sure I should stay here with them. My parents’ death could be triggering it.

Or it could be something else.

Jake

She shouldn’t be here. This is a mistake.

I can’t do Tiernan any good. I can barely keep my own kids under control. Noah is ten seconds from packing a bag and leaving any day, and Kaleb…

Jesus, Kaleb... I’ve never been able to imagine that kid’s future, because men like him don’t live long. He makes too many enemies.

I throw off the covers, having a shitty night’s sleep despite all the space I had in bed without Jules there.

I need to start locking the doors at night. I mean, what guy doesn’t want to wake up at two a.m. to a twenty-three-year-old, naked redhead on top of him, but she’s making a habit of it.

And the sex isn’t very good.

I rub my hands over my face. I don’t know. Maybe it is good, and I’m just bored. I can’t talk to her. Or the three who came before her.

I certainly don’t have any business having another responsibility under my roof right now.

Or ever. I’m a terrible father, and I’m too old for more surprises like a teenage girl living in my house. Hannes could go fuck himself wherever he was in hell.

Sitting up, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, grabbing my jeans off the chair.

That son-of-a-bitch. I hadn’t spoken to my step-brother, or anyone in that family for over twenty years, but I’m worth a mention in his will? Was there really no one else who knew her and would’ve gladly taken her?

But no, I called her up that night, heard something in her voice that grabbed hold of me, and I spoke before I had a chance to think.

The kid has problems.

Of course, that makes her no different than my own kids, but Hannes and Amelia fucked her up. She’s so different than I thought she’d be. Quiet, rigid, afraid. I have no idea how to handle her. I’m not smart enough for this. People like her, who don’t show emotion are finding other ways to release it.

So, what is it with her? Drugs? Alcohol? Cutting?

Sex?

I stop, an image of Tiernan in the backseat of some car—sweat on her face, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes closed, breathing hard—pops into my head.

I let out a breath and yank my T-shirt off the chair, tucking it into my back pocket for later. She better not. I’m not supplying this town with new pussy. I cock my neck side to side, hearing it crack a couple of times.

Hannes and Amelia should never have had a kid. I never understood what her parents saw in each other, but shit sticks together, I guess. The best thing that could’ve happened to Tiernan was to lose them, and I’m only sorry it didn’t happen sooner.

I walk to my bedroom door, open it, and cross the hall to her room.

I knock. “Tiernan.”

It’s only just after five, and I rub the sore muscles on my neck. I don’t want to wake her up, but I didn’t get a chance to apologize yesterday because she stayed in her room the rest of the damn day.

But I’m not letting her hide in here just because I was an asshole.

When there’s no answer, I knock again. “Tiernan?”

The house is silent other than the faint music Noah sleeps to drifting out from underneath his bedroom door.

Hesitantly, I crack open her door, slowly in case she freaks out, and peek my head inside.

“Tiernan, it’s Jake,” I say in a low voice.

Her smell hits me, and I pause.

It smells like…

Like skin, wet from the rain. Déjà vu suddenly washes over me, and I inhale deeper. Skin with the faintest hint of fragrance. Like that soft, hidden place behind a woman’s ear that smells like her but also a little of her perfume and shampoo and sweat.

And suddenly I can taste it. It used to be my favorite place to kiss her.

God, I’d forgotten.

I clear my throat, straightening my spine. “Tiernan,” I call, but it comes out as a bark. Not sure why I’m aggravated now.

I take a step into the room, but as the bed comes into view, I see it’s already made, and she’s definitely not in it. My heart skips a beat, and I open the door wide, looking around her bedroom.

She wouldn’t have left…

The lights are off, but the dim morning light pours through her balcony doors, and I see the room is just as neat as when she arrived, although a few things have been moved. Her personal items sit on the top of her desk and her dresser, and I see a pair of flip flops by the bed stand.

Okay, she didn’t leave, then. Not sure how she could anyway—remote as we are—but I wouldn’t put it past her to try.