The Monday sky was the color of a bruise by the time I reached Daniel Kane's office at the Gaffney outskirts. Without warning, the trees broke away all at once, in a clean line, letting the sky have them. It was the huge track where the forest had been cleared for the power lines, running in and out of town. The rolling hills would prevent me from seeing Gaffney unless I drove up on top of one.

I found Montreal noisy and congested in comparison to my hometown. In there, it felt like the mountains weren't just around the corner, because buildings blocked them out. It felt like the meadows had gone brown, replaced by dull roads. The only saving grace was the sea breezes. That, and the much-desired cloak of anonymity. Imagine Montreal through the eyes of a nineteen-year-old, seeing it for the first time. The energy, the lights, the way the people who walked the streets seemed like they just woke up one day and decided to be whoever the hell they wanted to be. You could be anyone and still, no one would look twice at you. Everyone in Montreal wanted to be someone, but everyone was no one. And it was good to be no one.

Heart jackhammering, I backed off the gas pedal, slowed to a creep. A light rain had begun to fall. I flicked my wipers on. The scene blurred around me. Green and brown trees, blue light, gray highway—they spun into each other like paint on an art wheel. A daddy longlegs hobbled out from under my seat as I halted the engine—a metal growl. The headlights flicked on, through the bars of the gates, glaring against the sign, into the darkness beyond. Taillights stained the morning red. Horns and "hey, watch its" sounded as I pulled off the main road, into a parking spot by the building.

The office of Daniel Kane, attorney-at-law, was in a four-story monstrosity. The Carmichael & Co. Real Estate Agency was uncomfortably wedged between Fargo Financial Advisors and a gynecology practice. The lobby was just big enough to serve its primary purpose—accommodating people making complaints about their asshole neighbor using a leaf blower before eight a.m., or reports about stolen car radios. It was completely nonthreatening, all pea-soup-colored walls and linoleum. There was a map of the county on the wall next to the chairs in the waiting area. And a soda machine.

I plopped into a free spot across from a bunch of interchangeable men and women in suits. Next to me, an abandoned Tupperware holding the soggy remains of a salad nested on an empty seat. A radio behind the desk blipped, followed by an unintelligible garble. A woman, probably in her late twenties, was manning the desk, occupied by a phone blitzkrieg. She had strawberry-blond hair in a side-swept chignon, with curtain bangs, and disarming sapphire eyes.

When she noticed me, her jaw stiffened, as if she were trying to hide that she had a piece of gum lodged there. Her crystal-blue gaze blazed. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No." I jutted my chin at her. "But I think Mr. Daniel Kane is going to want to see me. Tell him Rhiannon Carmichael is here."

Mr. Kane was sitting with his back to me when I rapped on the doorframe of his office. He swiveled around in his chair, his face brightening when he saw me. He was in a charcoal-black polo that made his matching eyes pop, a fleck of shaving cream on his tan jaw. His forehead was shiny and his frizzing brown hair was drenched in sweat. He actually looked like he hadn't slept in days. He stood up, sheepish, as if he had just gotten called to the principal's office in the middle of class, his glasses sliding down on his nose.

The stale tang of alcohol hung in the air around him. The dark circles under his eyes made more sense now, after the will had been read, the gray tinge of his skin. I never cared to notice the signs before, or perhaps the signs were never there when I was younger.

"Rhiannon?"

What are you doing here? What can I do for you? All were understood, in subtext. Eli's father had said maybe one hundred words to me in all the years I had known him. It wasn't personal; it's just how he was. He was a quiet man, the type who got home from his job as a CFO, and self-medicated with online poker. The stone-faced, dutiful dad in the audience of his son's competitions who sighed and looked away every time a routine involved any sort of ass-shaking or tackling violence. There was a photo on his desk—Eli's mom was posing with the two of them in front of a football stadium. It was obvious the photo was taken at least ten years and ten Daniel Kane pounds ago.

"Will?" he said, monosyllabically.

"No, not really. I have nothing to say about it, actually. I decided I will transfer the property to my mother, and that is my final decision." I started pacing around his office, and Daniel gestured toward a leather couch. "You must be wondering why I left Gaffney all those years ago." I crossed my legs, making myself comfortable. The cool, smooth surface was oddly soothing against my restless energy.

Eli's dad simply observed me, his thin glasses reflecting the muted light of the room. It was unsettling. His stillness, his unwavering attention, made me feel exposed, like a specimen under a microscope. There was a detached quality to his gaze, this... analytical air that put me on edge. It all felt strange. Uncomfortably intimate, in a way I hadn't anticipated. His silence wasn't hostile, not exactly. It was more like a deep well, inviting me to speak, to delve into whatever it was that had brought me there. He didn't prompt me, didn't offer a leading question. He just waited. And in that waiting, in that silent, intense observation, I felt a bizarre role reversal. He was not Eli's slightly eccentric father right now. He was... something else. Something akin to a psychologist, a silent figure inviting me to unpack the burdens I had been carrying.

The longer he remained silent, the more the pressure to speak, to finally break through this suffocating quiet, built within me.

"And you are probably wondering what kind of person would leave her mother and her brother alone for ten years. But my father left us alone a lot longer than that. He was there physically, sure. But he was like a dead man walking, never engaged with us, never interested in anything we had to say. We were his, and he had full control. It meant he did not have to invest in us anymore."

Eli's dad lowered his head, steepling his fingers.

"He was never a good husband, a good father or... a good business partner, I assume. All Victor Carmichael cared about was Victor Carmichael. Not leaving the house to my mother, and not leaving the business to you..."

Daniel's lower lip twitched almost imperceptibly.

"...it was his final joke. Before he vanished forever. Mock everyone he ever knew in existence. And this is why so many people had the motive to murder him."

Daniel Kane's eyes snapped open, fighting a gasp. His gaze flicked to me. "What?" he rasped, clutching the expensive leather handle of his briefcase, pulling it onto his lap like a shield. "Murder him?" His knuckles were white against the dark leather. "Any evidence?" he demanded.

"It's a serious accusation, I know. But had you seen his body..." My voice trailed off, the image of those strange markings still vivid in my mind. "...you would have thought the same too. Trust me, I have a medical degree. Everyone said liver failure, but what if it wasn't? As a matter of fact, today I am getting tox screen results, and I am positive they will confirm my theory. That is why I still haven't gone to the police. Aubrey knows too."

At Aubrey's name, his eyebrows shot up, a flash of surprise quickly followed by a weary slump of his shoulders. He must have known about the affair all along.

"You, too, are the victim of his ego, aren't you?" I pressed gently, sensing a vulnerability beneath his guarded exterior.

The dam broke. Suddenly, the silence shattered, as a torrent of words poured out of Daniel Kane. "Fired," he almost spit the word. "Did you know? He almost fired me. Because I dared to question him. The way he was... using the company. Our company, really. But his name was on the door, wasn't it? Victor Carmichael. The great Victor Carmichael." His voice was thick with bitterness. I felt so sorry for him. "And Aubrey... she told me. Right to my face. 'I'm with Victor.' Like it was some kind of triumph. Didn't matter, she said. Didn't matter that I built that company from the ground up, the late nights, the risks... my blood, sweat, and tears. It was always Victor's. His vision, his brilliance, they all said. They only ever saw him."

His voice cracked, a raw emotion finally breaking through the years of carefully constructed silence. "Lived in his shadow my whole damn career. Always in his shadow. And what have I got to show for it? Nothing. I should have never gotten involved with that two-faced... For all I know she might not have been the only lover Victor had. He liked being the sun, and other women orbited around him. My late wife was the only person in my life who truly loved me. And my son."

I remembered how Daniel would always wait up to make sure Eli got home okay. That was the kind of father he was. The kind of husband he was. My father was the kind of husband who would make my mom wait up, sick with worry, until he stumbled in smelling like Johnnie Walker.

"Do you know where she actually was that night? Aubrey?" Let's see if he could confirm her alibi.

Daniel sighed. "Out of town. I can confirm that. She had some... conference, I think. Left that afternoon."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. She had an alibi. It wasn't Aubrey. It's not Aubrey. But if it's not Aubrey, then, I needed it to be Daniel Kane. I needed it to be anyone, really, but my mom.

My gaze sharpened. "And you? Where were you, Daniel?"

He looked away. "The retirement dinner. I was there. Your family can confirm. Made a toast, even. But..." He paused. "...I excused myself. Left early. Couldn't stomach the forced camaraderie any longer."

"And then?" I pressed, needing the timeline, needing to piece things together.

He looked back at me, a raw honesty in his gaze. "I came here. To the office. Sat in this chair, drinking. Scrolling through Aubrey's damn Instagram feed. Every perfectly posed picture with those young, muscular men, every smug little caption..." He trailed off, clenching his jaw. "...the cleaning lady, Marta, she would have seen me when she came in early the next morning. And the security guard, Miguel, he does his rounds at night, oversees the cameras, too. He would have seen the lights on. I... I spent the whole night here."

Damn it. I slammed my fists against the table.

"Is that all?" he said, a single tear tracing a path down his weathered cheek.

"I... It is." I turned to leave, needing to process everything he had just revealed. My hand was on the doorknob when his calm, composed voice stopped me.

"You know what's strange, Rhiannon?"

I paused, turning back to face him.

"I thought I would be happy. When I heard that Victor died. A dark, selfish part of me imagined some kind of release. But I wasn't. It was like him dying changed nothing about my life. Who I am, who I was, where I've been, and where I'm going. Maybe I've used living in his shadow as an excuse to not do any real work on myself. As you did. You are so brave, Rhiannon."

I nodded, uncomfortable, lost in the maroon depths of his eyes, so much like his son's.

"I get it now, you know," he added, a faint, almost wistful smile touching his lips. "Why Eli has always loved you."

I managed a weak nod again, unsure how to respond to such a personal and unexpected statement. I turned and finally stepped out of the office, pulling the heavy door closed behind me. The Gaffney air felt cooler on my skin as I walked toward my car, Daniel's words echoing in my mind. Brave? Eli loved me? It was all a confusing jumble. I fumbled for my keys, my thoughts still tangled in his unexpected confession.

And then he was just... there. Leaning against his car, arms crossed, a familiar silhouette against the twilight sky.

Eli. What was he doing there?

My stomach did that suction-cup thing it always used to do, it always did whenever Eli was around. I thought about last night, the tug of his fingers through my hair. I tamped down the image, because it was oh so distracting. I didn't feel like setting my life on fire anymore. I wanted to fast-forward to the part where I could control my emotions and be their mistress, not their slave.

His phone fell onto the driveway and skittered at my feet. I reached it before he could bend to pick it up, my brow furrowing as I flipped it open.

SHE IS HERE, a message on the screen said. Sent by Daniel Kane, half an hour ago. It must have been the moment his secretary informed him of my arrival.

My mind raced, in sync with the wheels of old Cindy's bike.

"What's wrong?" Eli asked.

"The text, I..." My gaze moved to see what Eli had written in his Notes app.

To-do list:

❒ Choose menu for Wednesday

❒ Book eye test

❒ Book dentist

❒ Health insurance

❒ Rhiannon

My eyes circled my own name there, at the bottom of the list. I ran my finger across it. Well, what the fuck did that mean? My name, as something to be done, below health insurance and dentist. Empty checkboxes, so nothing had been completed yet. Was he planning to do something to me?

"Nothing," I was about to say.

"Okay. Sure." He put his fingers in his pockets. "You just thinking about how much you'll miss me when you go away to Montreal, then?"

But then I didn't feel like lying. I spent most of my life lying about how I felt, so I wouldn't make other people uncomfortable. The best way to hide a lie was to bury it with some truths, I knew that. Heck, I had done it so much I could no longer discern a lie from the truth myself. Now, I needed to tell Eli everything. This time, things would be on my terms. I was tired of letting things happen to me.

Lines of concern crisscrossed his black skin. He dropped his eyes to his phone, long, dark lashes blinking rapid-fire. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"I saw what your father texted you. She's here?"

He blushed, not looking at me. "I was looking for you but you weren't answering your phone. When you arrived at his office he simply told me. I imagined you went there to ask him about the retirement dinner with Victor."

I winced at my father's name. Even though he was gone, he would always be a conversational landmine.

"Okay," I said slowly, tamping down the memory of Eli's face, hair clinging to his forehead, wet from sweat. The way he looked at me, before he went down on his knees and kissed me. A single glance at my phone confirmed what he said: I had five missed calls from E. Kane. That checked out, I guessed.

"And your to-do list?"

"It's a surprise," he said. "Seeing how you're flying back to Montreal on Thursday, I wanted us to have dinner together on Wednesday. My treat."

The look on his face made me feel unsettled, like a dog sensing a coming clap of thunder. I wondered if he was hiding something from me. Something he didn't want me to know. But then again, wasn't everyone in Gaffney?

"And then..." He hesitated. "...I was thinking of coming to visit you."

A visit? He just decided this, without even asking? The thought of him in my life, in my space, again, sent a shiver down my spine. It was excitement; but it was also cold, hard fear of intimacy. Of vulnerability.

"You'd... visit? When were you planning on telling me this?"

He shrugged, the easy charm faltering slightly. "Just thought of it. Life giving us a second chance, and all."

"A second chance? Just like that, out of the blue? And what about the tox screen results, Eli? You said you'd have them on Monday. Newsflash: that's today! Why didn't you give them to me?"

His smile vanished completely. "They'll be ready tomorrow. It takes time."

Alarm bells were screaming in my head now. Tomorrow? He was conveniently getting the results tomorrow, just before I left, just before he might be... running away to Canada. Was he withholding something? Was he involved in this somehow?

"Tomorrow?" I challenged him, my voice rising. "Or are you planning on using that as an excuse to follow me to Montreal? To get out of Gaffney before... before what, Eli? Before the truth comes out?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Did you have a motive to kill my father, Eli?"

He recoiled as if I had slapped him. "What? Are you serious? Motive? Plenty! He was going to shut down our lab, and build another one of his offices there, plus he was a controlling bastard who made my dad's life a living hell. But do you really think I'm that kind of person, Rhi? Do you really think I could do something like that?"

"I don't know anymore! Everyone is hiding something! And you... you're just suddenly deciding to follow me across the country? What am I supposed to think?"

"You're being ridiculous!" he yelled back, his face flushed. "I'm trying to be there for you, Rhiannon. To support you. And you're accusing me of... of murder?"

"Then why didn't you give me the results today?" I demanded, tears welling in my eyes. "Why, Eli? What are you hiding?"

"I think it's best we talk tomorrow, when the tox screen results are done." He delivered the verdict with a gravity that suggested I asked to cook crystal meth in the back office, and drove away in his car.

The rest of the evening drags. The gears in my brain turned on my ride home, my rage hardening into sadness. I parked the family car and crawled back to the mansion, the fight with Eli leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The grand foyer felt even more cavernous and cold tonight. As I started to climb the stairs, Beverly appeared, her face soft in the dim light.

"Rhiannon," she said, her hand resting protectively on her small stomach bump. A faint smile touched her lips. "The baby kicked. Would you like to feel?" She stepped closer, her eyes hopeful. "You know... Tom... he's told me so much about you. I'm really glad I finally got to spend time with you."

Her words were unexpected, a small balm to my raw nerves. Beverly's smile didn't waver. "I know you'll be leaving soon. But at least we got to see each other. And... I hope we can see each other a bit more when the little one arrives. You know... your nephew or niece."

"Thank you," I said, because that was all I was currently capable of.

In my bedroom, I wolf down a banana and went back to reading my book, one of the few possessions I had managed not to lose over the years of constant shuffling back and forth between houses. It was a compilation of fairy tales that had belonged to my mom as a child, even though I didn't know why anyone would give this shit to a kid. They weren't the Disney type of fairy tales, where everyone gets a prince—they were the real stories, the ones that came first. The story where the sea witch cut out the little mermaid's tongue and she decided to throw herself over the cliff.

I found a dark spot between two trees, where the moon couldn't reach, and I stared at it. Curled up on my side, I waited for the sleep to come, but it didn't.

A choice, binary, this or that, front or back, Eli or no Eli, but I wasn't ready to choose.