It has been three years. Three lonely, three empty, three sorrow-filled years since the Archer brothers went from a trio to a duo. I am close to Rome—he’s awesome and has always been my role model when it comes to being a badass—but Remy was my other half, both figuratively and literally. He was my identical twin, the light to my dark, the easy to my hard, the joy to my angst, the perfect to my oh-so-totally fucked up, and without him I was only half the person I would ever be. It has been three years since I called him in the middle of the night to come pick me up from some lame-ass party because I had been too drunk to drive. Three years since he left the apartment we shared to come get me—zero questions asked—because that’s just what he did.
It’s been three years since he lost control of his car on a rainy and slick I-25 and slammed into the back of a semi truck going well over eighty. Three years since we put my twin in the ground and my mother looked at me with tears in her eyes and stated point-blank, “It should have been you” as they lowered Remy into the ground.
It’s been three years and his name alone is still enough to drop me to my knees, especially coming from the one person in the world Remy had loved as much as he loved me.
Remy was everything I wasn’t—clean-cut, well dressed, and interested in getting an education and building a secure future. The only person on the planet who was good enough and classy enough to match all the magnificence that he possessed was Shaw Landon. The two of them had been inseparable since the first time he brought her home when she was fourteen and trying to escape the fortress of the Landon compound. He insisted they were just friends, that he loved Shaw like a sister, that he just wanted to protect her from her awful, sterile family, but the way he was with her was full of reverence and care. I knew he loved her, and since Remy could do no wrong, Shaw had quickly become an honorary member of my family. As much as it galled me, she was the only one who really, truly understood the depth of my pain when it came to losing him.
I had to take a few extra minutes to get my feet back under me so I sucked back the rest of the coffee and shoved open the door. I wasn’t surprised to see a tall figure coming around the SUV as I labored out of the sports car. My brother was an inch or so taller than me and built more along the lines of a warrior. His dark-brown hair was buzzed in a typical military cut and his pale-blue eyes, the same icy shade as mine, looked tired as he forced a smile at me. I let out a whistle because his left arm was in a cast and sling, he had a walking boot on one foot, and there was a nasty line of black stitches running through one of his eyebrows and across his forehead. The Weedwacker that had attacked my hair had clearly gotten a good shot at my big bro, too.
“Looking good, soldier.”
He pulled me to him in a one-armed hug and I winced for him when I felt the taped-up side of his body clearly indicating some injury beyond the busted ribs. “I look about as good as I feel. You look like a clown getting out of that car.”
“I look like a clown no matter what when I’m around that girl.” He barked out a laugh and rubbed a rough hand through my spiky hair.
“You and Shaw are still acting like mortal enemies?”
“More like uneasy acquaintances. She’s just as prissy and judgmental as always. Why didn’t you call or email me that you were hurt? I had to hear it from Shaw on the way over.”
He swore as we started to slowly make our way toward the house. It upset me to see how deliberate he was moving and I wondered if the damage was more serious than what was visible.
“I was unconscious after the Hummer flipped. We drove over an IED and it was bad. I was in the hospital for a week with a scrambled noggin, and when I woke up they had to do surgery on my shoulder so I was all drugged up. I called Mom and figured she would let you know what the deal was, but I heard that, as usual, you were unavailable when she called.”
I shrugged a shoulder and reached out a hand to steady him as he faltered a little on the stairs to the front door. “I was busy.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“Not too stubborn. I’m here aren’t I? I didn’t even know you were home until this morning.”
“The only reason you’re here is because that little girl in there is bound and determined to keep this family together regardless if we’re her own or not. You go in there and play nice; otherwise, I’ll kick your ass, broken arm and all.”
I muttered a few choice words and followed my battered sibling into the house. Sundays really were my least favorite day.
CHAPTER 2
Shaw
I closed the bathroom door with a soft click and turned the lock. I collapsed against the sink and ran shaking hands over my face. It was getting harder and harder to be Rule’s chaperone to these family gatherings every Sunday. I already felt like I was getting an ulcer, and if I had to walk in on him and one of his disgusting bar bimbos again, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out of his apartment without committing homicide.
I turned around to splash some cold water on my face and lifted the heavy fall of blond hair off my neck. I needed to get it together because the last thing I wanted was for Margot or Dale—or Rome for that matter—to notice that something was off. Rome was one of the most observant people I had ever met and I had a feeling that even drugged up and in pain he wouldn’t miss a thing when it came to his younger brother and sister, since by association I had technically been lumped into the category of surrogate little sister.
It was getting harder and harder to spend time around Rule and not just because looking at him reminded me of everything that I no longer had—which was the problem Margot and Dale struggled with, not that the insensitive ass had any empathy for his parents. My struggle was that Rule was complicated; he was brash, mouthy, careless, thoughtless, often cranky, and generally an insufferable pain in the ass. But when he chose to be, he was charming and funny, artistically brilliant, and more often than not, the most interesting person in the room. I have been head over heels in love with both sides of him since I was fourteen years old. Of course I loved Remy, loved him like a brother, like the best friend and consummate protector he had been, but I loved Rule like it was my mission in life. I loved him like it was inevitable, like no matter how many times I was shown what an awful idea it was, what a bad match we were, what a callous asshole he could be, I couldn’t shake it. So each and every time I had to have the fact that he didn’t even think of me as more than a carpool driver shoved in my face it tore a little bit more of my battered heart apart.
Because my own family was such a mess, there was no way I would be half the person I was today without everything the Archers had done for me. Remy had taken me under his wing when I was a friendless and lonely teen. Rome had threatened to beat up the first boy who made me cry because I liked him and he didn’t like me back. Margot had taken me shopping for homecoming and prom dresses when my own mother was too busy with her new husband to care. Dale had taken me to the University of Denver and the University of Colorado–Boulder and helped whittle down the choices logically and rationally when it came to picking a college. And Rule, well, Rule was a constant reminder that money didn’t get you everything you wanted and that no matter how perfect I tried to be, how hard I worked at being everything to everyone, it still wasn’t enough.
I blew out a breath that I felt like I had been holding for more than an hour and took a piece of Kleenex to wipe away the black smudges from under my eyes. If I didn’t get down to the dining room fast Margot was bound to come looking for me and I didn’t have a reasonable excuse as to why I was currently freaking out in the bathroom. I fished a hair tie out of my pocket and pulled my hair into a low ponytail, slicked on a sheer coat of gloss, and gave myself a silent pep talk, reminding myself that I had done this a