“I saw you doing it with your friends, too.” She sounded upset, frustrated. “You’re trying to put on this good-guy image. Perfect son, perfect friend, perfect everything. You’re trying to be Joey. But you’re not him, AJ. You’ll never be him.”


Pain sliced into his chest. Her tone was so sad, so matter-of-fact. The urge to flee hit him hard, but he forced himself to stay put. He placed his fingers on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he gripped it tight, needing to steady himself with something. With anything.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love,” she said quietly. “I lost my mother around the same age you lost your brother. But my mom would never have wanted me to be anyone other than myself. And I think Joey wouldn’t have wanted that either.”

Her eyes flashed suddenly, anger coloring her cheeks. “You are a good guy, AJ. You’re sweet and compassionate and so frickin’ good to the people you care about. But there’s more to you than that. You run a successful business. You stick up for people even if you have to use your fists to do it. You like to fuck and fight and take chances. You get off on the adrenaline high from doing kinky shit in the bedroom, or punching some guy’s lights out in a fighting match, and I love that about you.”

AJ couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Every word she spoke was the truth, and it was making his head spin.

“It’s not your fault that your brother died,” Brett said, sounding tired now. “It was an accident. A very tragic accident. You were a little kid, and it wasn’t your fault. But you’ve been trying to be a dead guy ever since.” Her shoulders sagged. “And it’s turned you into a ghost.”

Panic skittered through him as she reached for the door handle. “Brett—”

“I can’t be with a ghost. I want you, AJ—the real you, every part of you. I want him all the time, not just in private, but in front of the whole world, and until you can accept yourself for who you are, I can’t be with you. I’m sorry.”

Then she was gone. Out of the car and inside the building.

AJ stared at the empty space beside him, feeling as if someone had plunged a knife in his heart.

And that’s when he realized he’d fallen in love with her.





Chapter Seventeen


“Can we talk?”

AJ looked up to see Darcy standing in the doorway of his office. He was supposed to be tending bar, but the thought of spending the night slinging drinks and chatting with faceless people was about as appealing as rolling around in mud.

Four days. It had been four days since he’d seen or spoken to Brett, and he was going through major withdrawal. He missed her with every fiber of his being. Couldn’t go a single second without thinking about her. He’d almost called her hundreds of times since Sunday, but he’d stopped himself every time, because he wasn’t sure what he would even say to her.

She’d been absolutely right. Every soft accusation, every resigned remark. But he was a fucking coward. He hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of telling her how he felt about her, only to have her crush his heart all over again.

“AJ?”

Darcy waited expectantly—and nervously. He could see it in her blue eyes, in the way she wrung her hands together.

He gestured to one of the visitors’ chairs. “What’s up, Darce?”

Her reddish-blond hair spilled over one shoulder as she settled in the chair and crossed her ankles together. “Reed told me you and Brett broke up,” she said tentatively.

“Yup.” He couldn’t control his bitterness. “Did you come here to gloat?”

Shame flooded her expression. “I guess I deserve that.”

AJ didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry.” Darcy blurted out the apology, her entire face going pink. “I’ve wanted to say that to you for days, but I was too much of a wimp, and I knew that the moment I said it, I would have to admit why I acted like a jerk in the first place, and it was too frickin’ embarrassing, okay?”

Curiosity penetrated the cloud of gloom he’d been battling since Brett had dumped him. He slanted his head, waiting for her to elaborate.

“I was jealous.” Sheer misery darkened her eyes. “There. I said it. I was jealous.”

His lips twitched.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” his ex-girlfriend grumbled. “This is mortifying enough as it is, okay? But Reed told me I had to man up and explain myself, so here goes. I took one look at Brett and I wanted to claw her eyes out.”

AJ’s brows soared to his hairline. Darcy was one of the sweetest, most laid-back people he’d ever known. Hearing her admit to experiencing violent urges was on par with finding out Mother Teresa was into BDSM.

“We were together for five months, AJ. Five months, and not once did you look at me the way you were looking at Brett.”