to see him, she’d sneaked around behind their backs. She’d offered everything to him—her loyalty, her heart, her virginity.
And had ended up pregnant.
Understandably, her parents had been horrified and disappointed. They’d wanted to send her away, have the baby and give it up for adoption. And Reagan had been determined to keep her unborn daughter or son. But neither of them had their wish. She’d miscarried. And the boy she’d been so certain she’d spend the rest of her life with had disappeared.
The price for her stubborn foolishness had been her utter devastation and her family’s trust.
And sometimes...when she couldn’t sleep, when her guard was down and she was unable to stop the buffeting of her thoughts and memories, she believed she’d lost some of their love, too.
Over the years, she’d tried to make up for that time by being the obedient, loyal, perfect daughter they deserved. It was why she still remained in her childhood home even though, at her age, she should have her own place.
But ten years later, she still caught her mother studying her a little too close when Reagan decided to do something as small as not attend one of her father’s events for his law firm. Still glimpsed the concern in Henrietta’s eyes when Reagan disagreed with them. At one time Reagan had made her mother physically ill from the worry she’d caused, the pain she’d inflicted with her bad decisions. So to remain under the same roof where Henrietta could keep tabs on her, could assure herself that her daughter wasn’t once again self-destructing... It was a small cost. She owed her parents that much.
Because in her family’s eyes, she would never be more than that misguided, impetuous teen. She was her family’s well-kept, dirty little secret, a cautionary tale for her sister.
The weight of the knowledge bore down on her so hard, her shoulders momentarily bowed. But she’d become the poster child for fake it until you make it. Sucking in an inaudible deep breath, she tilted her chin up and met her father’s dark scrutiny.
“I guess we’re at an impasse, then. Again,” she tacked on. “Have a great day, Dad.”
Turning on her heel, she headed inside the house before he could say something that would unknowingly tear another strip from her heart. She quietly shut the door behind her, leaning against it. Taking a moment to recover from another verbal and emotional battle with her father.
Sighing, she straightened and strode toward the rear of the house and the kitchen for a cold bottle of water. The thickly sweet scent of flowers hit her seconds before she spied the vase of lush flowers with their dark red petals.
I hate roses. I mean, loathe them... Every morning there are fresh bouquets of them delivered to the house... And every day I fight the urge to knock one down just to watch them scatter across the floor in a mess of water, petals and thorns. Because I’m petty like that.
The murmured admission whispered through her mind, dragging her from the here-and-now back to that shadowed balcony a little over a week ago.
Back to Ezekiel Holloway.
She drew to a halt in the middle of the hallway, her eyes drifting shut. The memories slammed into her. Not that they had a great distance to travel. He and their interlude hadn’t been far from her mind since that night.
Zeke.
She’d once called him that before she’d fallen in love, then fallen out of favor with her family. Before her childhood had ended in a crash-and-burn that she still bore the scars from.
Before she’d erected this imaginary wall of plexiglass between her and people that protected her. But she’d slipped up at the dinner party. The pseudo-intimacy of the dark coaxing her into falling into old, familiar patterns.
An image of Zeke wavered, then solidified on the black screen of her eyelids.
Lovely.
Such an odd word to describe a man. Especially one who stood nearly a foot taller than her and possessed a lean but powerful, wide-shouldered body that stirred both desire and envy. Regardless, her description was still accurate. He’d been beautiful as a teen, but the years had honed that masculine beauty, experience had added an edge to it. The dark hair cut close to his head only emphasized the stunning bone structure that reminded her of cliffs sculpted to razor sharpness by wind and rain. A formidable face prettied by a firm mouth almost indecent in its fullness and a silken, neatly cropped beard framing his sinful lips.
Then