This is my version of Kenya Wright's Heartbreak Hotel. Most of the work is hers and I own none of this or any of the Glee World characters that I tried to mesh with this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Prologue

Sam

News reporters shoved microphones in front of my face and barreled me with questions.

"Sam, over here!" a cameraman yelled.

A reporter jumped in front of me. "Now that the Mantis has been caught, what will you do?"

I ignored him and another came from my right. "Will you still be running Evans Media?"

A reporter showed up on my left. "You've been adamant that the Mantis had an accomplice. Do you believe the authorities will catch this person?"

Putting on my sunglasses, I walked through the crowd. My lawyer and brother, Steve kept my pace, yelling out "no comment" here and there. People crowded us, almost blocking the path. Most held their cellphones up, recording my walk out of the courtroom. Many cameras flashed.

Others held signs with my face on it. "Sam Evans: The New Captain America!" And then "Sam caught the Mantis!"

My brother and I approached our limo.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Evans." My driver held open the door.

Nodding in greeting, I dove in. My brother followed, probably just as ready as I was to get away from the circus.

Seven months of court had finally ended. Seven months of witnesses going over the gory details of the Mantis' murders. Seven months of horrific crime scene photos and the sick fascination on her face as she gazed at them while chained to her chair. Six months of my having to relive the two nights she'd captured me. The pain. The broken memories. The nightmares that haunted in dark silence.

My phone beeped. There were over thirty missed calls. Most were from my mother. The rest were from faceless women.

A text message came in.

Brittany: Congrats on the case. U must feel good. Do U want to me to suck you off?

Neither her name nor the text gave me any indication of who she was or what she looked like. I didn't even remember when I'd used her services before.

I put the phone back in my pocket and looked out the window. Hundreds of people had crowed the courthouse with signs. This week it was the Mantis murders. The next week they'd be out here for some other gory high-profile case.

My phone beeped again.

Brittany: I miss that big dick. Give it to me, Sammy.

I shut it off.

My brother turned to me as the limo pulled away. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"Rachel is in jail now," Steve said. "It's over. You should feel better."

"They have her, but that's not it. There had to be someone else helping. There's no way she carried all of those bodies by herself."

"I've told you over and over. That woman had hands of a man. All she had to do was get a wheelbarrow or something to push. Let it go, man. No one else has been murdered since she's been caught. The cops are done. The state found their killer. You have to move on."

"I can't stop. I won't stop. I'm going to hire new investigators."

Steve let out a long breath. "You're obsessed."

"I'm not."

"Look. At least take a vacation and then come back to start this investigation afterwards."

I eyed him. "A vacation?"

"You know? One of those fun things people take to remind them about the joy of living."

"After what we've seen and heard in court, you still think there's joy in living?"

Steve frowned. "I don't like when you talk that way. Are you having suicidal thoughts?"

"Does it even matter bro?"

Steve's frown deepened. "We need to get away from New York."

I undid my tie and opened the top button on my shirt. "You're my lawyer, not my psychiatrist."

"I'm also your brother and I'm telling you that you need to talk to someone."

"No, I need to end Rachel's games for good."

"She was just put in jail for five lifetime sentences. I think you ended it, bro." Steve looked out the window. "We're going on a vacation. I'll give you a week to get your things together and make sure someone's overseeing Evans Media while you're gone."

"I'm not going—"

"Do you want my help with these investigations?" Steve took it there. "Or do you plan on doing this all by yourself? Because I'm telling you right now, I need a break from this Hell-storm." He rubbed his face with both hands as if massaging stress from his temples. "All the blood. The dead bodies. We've been digesting this shit for two years. It's all we talk about. It's all we've done. I need a frigging break."

"Fine," I muttered.

"So, do you want my help or not?"

I sighed, knowing that I needed him. He'd been right by my side the whole time, keeping my head in order and helping me find the clues we needed to get rid of my murdering ex-wife. In fact, he'd always stood by my side, from the time I met her until the time I put her away. While everyone else talked about their worry and tried to help me, Steve was the only person who was stubborn enough and tolerant of mt self-destructive acts and stubbornness to stick by me, making sure I got out of bed and ate food, giving me a mission to do to keep me walking on this earth day after day.

"Yes," I said. "I need your help."

"Then, we're going on a vacation."

I gritted my teeth. "Where?"

He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. "You pick since you're so excited to go."

"Fine." I ran my fingers through my hair, happy that my hands weren't shaking. "I'm open to going away for a while."

"What about out of the country?" Steve asked.

"No. I don't want a long flight."

"Hmmm." And then a grin spread across Steve's face. My own spirit rose. It had been a long time since either of us smiled.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"Key West."

There was something about the Florida Keys that turned my black-and-white world into technicolor. My family's main home was in Manhattan, but during the chilly seasons we snow-birded to the Keys. It was the best way to grow up as a kid. New York was a concrete jungle of skyscrapers, melting pots bubbling over, and wild creatures that looked human, but acted like beasts. It was good to get a break from the city's coldness and bask in the sun.

Our time in Key West always was a dream. There, it was a marriage of land and sea, featuring a necklace of pearl islands linked together by forty-two curved bridges. They stretched southwest from Florida's mainland and lay 100 miles from Cuba.

And it was a flamboyant community made up of Floridians descended from Bahamian and Cuban settlers. A land of dreamers living the easy life. I closed my eyes and images flashed in my head—coconuts and angelfish, sour key limes and golden sunsets over turquoise waters. In Key West, the party never ended. Colorful bars stayed open all night. One could get lost for days as they dived in the ocean, searching for lobsters or exploring captivating coral.

It's been a long time since I've seen a proper sunset.

Key West owned the sun. There, dawn revealed the massive fireball escaping the ocean. In the twilight hours, tourists and residents rushed to watch the blazing orange ball ooze back into cool waters.

I haven't had a proper fish dish either.

But I hadn't been back to our family home in years. I looked out the window, hiding my shock from Steve. "Why Key West?"

"If you're worried about Mercedes, there's no need. She's not there."

"Why would I be worried about Merce?"

Mocking me, he batted his eyes. "Because you were in love with her."

"It was a teenage crush."

"Dude, you still had pictures of her in your college dorm."

"That was the past." I thought about the court case. "So much has changed."

"Yeah... it has."

Silence filled the limo for several minutes.

"I keep up with her sister all the time," he said. "Mercedes is in LA, engaged to a movie director."

I did my best to keep the bitterness out of my words. "That's great."

"Basically, she won't be in the Keys."

"Good."

"So, what do you think? Should we head off to Key West?" He made a big show of checking his watch as if there was a calendar on it. "It's almost October. Fantasy Fest will be in a few weeks. I wouldn't mind being surrounded by thousands of naked women."

Fantasy Fest ran for nine days and was Key West's biggest party of the year. Similar to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Carnival in Brazil, over 70,000 people came from all over to celebrate citywide. It was an adult Halloween festival with partygoers stomping down Duval Street in elaborate costumes. Many times, people wore nothing but body paint.

"I haven't been to a Fantasy Fest in six years, or got a good blow job like the one I had the last time I was there." Steve continued talking, but my mind had already gone somewhere else.

Memories of Mercedes faded out my brother's statements. I'd called her Cherry Coke when we were young. That was her favorite drink and I would buy it for her all the time. Even pack some in my suitcases and bring it from New York to Key West when I got older. I often imagined that if I ever got the courage to kiss her would she taste like her favorite beverage.

Back then, I'd been shy and a hundred pounds overweight. She was also what was considered thick but on the islands thick and fat were not synonymous. She'd never seen me as anything more than the cool snowbird boy who was her friend. We spent many years, soaking up the sun and skinny-dipping within the moonlight. Just friends. Nothing more. When we lost touch, it was more me than her. It was hard to hear her stories about boyfriends. Each of her confessions stabbed me in the heart.

"Eh. Sam?" Steve waved his hand in front of my face. "Did you just blank out on me?"

"Yeah." I unbuttoned my suit jacket, ready to get out of the stuffy clothes and into something more comfortable. And for some reason, the desire to disappear was stronger than usual.

Steve's right. I should get out of here for a while.

As if hearing me, he asked. "What do you think?"

"I don't know."

"We had some good memories in Key West," Steve said. "Lots of clear blue water and powder white sand. Mom bought some new jet skis last winter and left them there. Plus, we could probably buy a yacht or something. Sail somewhere. Fish and swim."

"Yeah." I did my best to focus on what he was saying, but I couldn't get Mercedes out of my mind. "Fishing sounds good."

Had Mercedes heard the news? The Mantis and my face had been on every popular paper on the East Coast. She lived in a popular city out in the west. I doubted the killings had been Los Angeles' top news—a city brimming with Hollywood stars, hungry paparazzi, and celebrity gossip trending each day.

"Sam? Is it Key West or bust?"

"Yeah." I blinked Mercedes out of my mind and blew out a long breath. "Key West or bust."

"Good." Steve clapped his hands together. "We'll leave in a week. I'll handle everything."

Chapter 1

Mercedes

Heartbreak was like death.

Both stripped away the soul and left the body as an empty shell.

And I was broken. Torn apart. Soul shredded, and spirit ripped into tiny pieces.

Heartbreak sliced away at the inner peace of life. Due to my major and public break up with my ex-fiancé, the past year had been a cycle of darkness.

And every time I tried to write, my fingers hovered over the keys in mid-air. No words ever came out.

A continuous blank screen was the ultimate demise of a writer. It symbolized the emptiness within. Nothing was more lonely than white space dominating a page.

And Los Angeles was the last place to help me out of depression. It was already a lost world full of fake surgically stitched smiles and friendships that came with an Appropriate Times to Backstab clause. The LA streets served as a drug-induced fashion runway, showing off the beautiful people—artificial creatures that were hollow on the inside.

Basically, I hated that city. The only reason why I'd stayed there for so long was because of Artie, and now... we were done.

And so, I returned to my second home to heal and mend myself back together again. This was the third time I'd ran back to the Keys, due to a shattered relationship. I'd even dubbed my room—Heartbreak Hotel.

Welcome home.

I looked out the window. The sun began to set over my sister's bed and breakfast.

The place was named Dolphin View because it was the best spot to watch those lovable creatures. Sitting on its own secluded white strip of sand, it was a massive structure of four levels. My great grandfather built the first part of Dolphin View. My grandfather continued construction. My parents expanded it.

And my sister, Grace took it to a new level. When I was young, the property had been an ancient, broken-down business with barely one reservation each month. Grace and I had a seventeen-year age difference. Growing up, she was more my mother than a sibling. And then my parents died in a car accident, leaving Grace the family business and custody of me. I'd been an eight-year-old kid at the time. Tracy and Grace had just been dating.

But he was a good man. They married a week after my parents' funeral. He dumped all his savings into the property, sold everything he owned, and was the main person that took me to school and helped with my homework.

In their early twenties, they should've been doing anything else but raising an eight-year-old and budgeting a failing business. But they were the best. Champions. And with that type of fire in their hearts they made a success out of Dolphin View.

I can't believe how much things have changed.

Now Dolphin View was an elegant Key West getaway. Forty rooms featured king-sized beds. There was high-quality linen, high-definition flat-screens, and private bathrooms stocked with luxury products and Jacuzzi bathtubs. Most rooms had balconies. Some had fireplaces. Guests enjoyed use of kayaks, bicycles, snorkeling gear, and barbecues grills.

The new chef delivered gourmet cuisine. Grace kept the library stocked with recent bestsellers and leather-bound classics. And there was an in-ground courtyard pool in the back just in case a person didn't simply want to walk a few feet to the beach.

The attic had been renovated into an apartment for me—my own little getaway when things got heavy. I'd written a lot of books in this space.

Everything is so high-end now.

Still, I couldn't ignore the haunted quality of Dolphin View, especially in the attic. Up there, the floorboards didn't just creak throughout the night, they groaned like an animal in pain. Cold spots lingered. Shadows slithered along corners. Ancient ghosts danced within the freshly painted walls.

I'd just arrived last night. That evening, I lay in bed and swore a dead woman sang this sad song. However, it could've just been the ocean breeze whispering through the windows. Or it could've just been me. In this mood, everyone—even the spirits—walked in gloom.

Grace opened the door and peeked inside. "The guests just got on the bus to go to Mallory Square."

The sun took center stage here. Mallory Square had a daily sunset celebration ceremony full of fire-eaters, jugglers, and musicians.

Grace showed me her watch. "You have twenty minutes."

"Good." I jumped off the bed and gathered my things.

"This is insane." Grace stepped inside, looking like she'd just strolled down the stage of a runway. She wore heels, designer slacks, and a lovely silk blouse. My sister was a stunning woman. Her makeup was perfection—beautiful plums to highlight her brown complexion. Her long dyed blonde hair curled at the ends.

She shook her head, but smiled the whole time. "What the hell do you have on?"

My coffin black gown hugged my body. Rose-shaped sequins covered the bust. Silk formed the rest and flowed out to the floor. Usually, I slung my hair into a ponytail and threw a baseball cap on. Tonight, I'd let my long mane fall to my waist.

Grace laughed. "Where did you get that gown?"

"A pawn shop on Main Street."

"So..." She laughed again. "Why are you wearing it?"

"Because Artie and my love died. So tonight, is the funeral where I mourn the loss and walk away free."

"Really, Merce? Overdramatic much?" She walked over to where my unpacked luggage lay. "Are you really going to do this?""Jesus Christ, you have a ball gown on."

"Shut it."

Are you sure you didn't dabble into drugs and some weird cult when you were out there in LA?" "Whatever you do please don't scare my guests away.

"I won't."

"Merce, are you okay?" my sister asked. "Like...mentally...okay?"

Sucking my teeth, I turned back to her. "Did you bring the romance novel?"

"Yes." She showed me a thick book. On the cover, a full moon glowed in the background. At the center was a silhouette of a muscular man carrying a big-breasted heroine. "This is my favorite. It takes you into another world where—"

"Come on. I said don't bring your favorite."

"Yeah, but I wanted you to get caught up in an amazing story, instead of drag around the beach like a crazy woman to get your mind off Artie."

"I'm not going to drag around the beach. I promise." I held up my hand like a boy scout would. "And by the way, doing things like this helps me get out of my funk."

"Funerals?"

"Yes. I'm grieving and trying to get over my loss."

"Why can't you just smoke weed and binge watch shows on Netflix like everyone else?" Grace shook her head. "No, you have to have funerals and believe in ghosts."

"Weed and Netflix and you accusing me of being on drugs?" I raised my eyebrows "Who have you been hanging around?"

"My guests keep me relevant." She held out the book to me. "I'm just saying. Be careful. You're leaning very close off the ledge and I'm afraid you're going to fall. What's next, a séance to the dead? A summoning of the devil?"

"I wouldn't do anything that crazy." I gave up on my search for the vial of blood. "The funeral is more a metaphor than wanting to commune with the dead or evil."

"Wow."

Laughing for the first time in a long time, I grabbed the romance novel, put it with the rest of my things, and headed out. "Fine. I told you not to give me your favorite, but whatever. I'll just buy you another copy tomorrow."

"Buy me another copy?" She followed me. "Why?"

"Because I'm burning your book."

"No, the hell you will not. You will not burn Wesley."

I paused at the top of the staircase and looked over my shoulder. "Wesley?"

"He's the alpha in the book and he is so amazing." She reached out for the novel.

"Wesley?" I backed away. "He sounds like a Princess Bride wannabe hero. I swear I'll buy you another one." I left her and hurried down the stairs, passing the third floor.

"Wait." Grace followed. "Do not burn my book. Burn one of yours."

"I'll get you a brand-new copy tomorrow." I skipped a few steps to gain more advance. "It'll be leather bound and signed by the author."

She was getting close. "You won't be able to get a signed copy."

"I can try." I kept my distance. "I know people."

Tracy met us at the end of the staircase and grinned. "What are you two arguing about now?"

"I asked Grace to give me a novel that wasn't her favorite which she didn't and now she wants it back." I twisted around and hid behind him. "Save me from this crazy woman."

My sister got to the end of the stairs. "Basically, I'm going to kill her if she doesn't give me my book back."

Chuckling, Tracy grabbed his wife. "You already have two copies of that book."

"Wow." I wagged my finger at her. "Two copies of this chick's work? You've betrayed me."

Grace stuck her tongue out. "I can buy books from other authors."

"Umm," I said.

"They're emergency copies. It doesn't matter." She pouted, but remained in her husband's embrace.

Tracy interrupted. "The guests are gone." He kissed her on the forehead. "Don't we have some quality time we should be attending to?"

And then my sister forgot about the book or her favorite hero. Tracy was her king in the castle. He was the dashing knight that saved the damsel. He was the prince that would stop at nothing to free his heroine from a world of darkness.

Tracy looked over his shoulder. "You're safe, Merce. Go ahead and do your funeral, before the guests come back from the sunset ceremony."

"You're my hero."

"Always."

They giggled, kissed each other, and headed up the stairs. My heart ached. I loved that my sister had this perfect man that I considered a father. I just craved the same type of love for myself one day.

Sighing, I embarked on my mission, heading out the front door. It slammed behind me. The ocean breeze slipped against my skin. This side of the beach was owned by my sister and other private owners. Nearing the end of the day, no one walked around with their dogs or helped their kids make castles and dig holes.

There was no sound but the waves twirling and singing to the wind. A dance between the water and the breeze—caressing and twisting against each other.

As the sun set, a full moon rose. Like the ocean and the wind, the moon had an endless dance with the Earth, both orbiting the sun, but never coming close enough to touch.

I stopped by an old campfire. My sister let her guests start fires on the beach at night as long as she supervised the lighting and putting out.

I stood at the blackened-out hole, full of charred wood and ash.

Am I really going to do this? A funeral pyre?

"Ah!" I jumped and turned at a sound I heard of someone approaching me.

A man stood in front of me with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand. He wore a white V-neck t-shirt—cotton fabric that did nothing to hide the chiseled muscle beneath. His jeans hung loose from his hips. Leather sandals guarded his feet. I caught a symbol on the buckle. It was some designer brand that I couldn't afford.

For one crazy moment, I wondered had I truly lost my mind and was imagining him...

How could I not? This towering man appeared more like one of Grace's fantasy alpha heroes than a human being. Dark blonde hair. Glowing white skin like some vampire in a paranormal. And he had these piercing green eyes that sliced through my soul.

A dark smile spread across that gorgeous face. "Are you burning a sacrifice for everyone's sins?"

I found my voice. "No."

"Too bad. I was hoping you could save my soul."

"Sorry. I'm still trying to save mine."

His cold confidence disrupted the air. I feared the flames would wither away with the new temperature. He came closer to the fire. The blaze's glow lit every delicious angle of him.

"What are you burning?" he asked.

"Letters and items that my ex gave me..." I stopped talking as he sat down next to the fire and set the bottle on the sand along with the glasses.

"Do you mind?" he asked as he settled in next to me.

"I..."

He hit me with that same dark smile. "Better yet, do you even remember me?"

Remember him? That took me aback. I studied this mysterious man. Wait. I know him. Memories flickered in my head as I took in each detail as I finally focused on his green familiar eyes.

"Oh my Lord." I gasped. "Samuel?"

His face fell with embarrassment. "They call me Sam now."

"You look freaking amazing."

Some of his cool confidence disappeared as he blushed. "I lost a little weight."

"Oh yes, you lost weight. You are all muscle and hardness and..." I cleared my throat. "I mean...you look...amazing."

I swallowed as he drank me in. His gaze slipped along the top of my gown featuring a bosom that I didn't have to buy, followed down to the sequenced curve of my hips, and ended at my bare feet. "And you're still beautiful, and even more crazy."

I blushed.

"Would you like a glass of wine, after your pyre?" His gaze rested on my hair. "I figured you could use a drink."

"You did. Why?"

"Because it's nighttime and you're in an elegant gown and burning shit on the beach. If you don't need a drink, then you may need a shrink."

"Fine." I laughed. "I will have a glass of wine, after my—"

"Exorcism?"

"Funeral," I corrected. In the fire, roses burned and melted into Grace's prized novel and my ex's old love letters.

He watched. "What are you healing from?"

"Heartbreak."

"Hmm." An odd emotion crossed over his face. And just as I tried to study it, he shifted his expression to neutral. "These flowers are from your boyfriend and you're mad at him?"

"They're from my ex-fiancé and I'm done with him. I don't care enough anymore to be mad at him."

"Sure."

"I'm not."

"Okay." A knowing smile spread over his lips as he pulled out the cork and poured us two glasses of wine. "Tell me something." He pierced me with his gaze. "Was it really love or were you telling yourself it was?"

"It had to be." I sat down next to him and the fire. "We were together for five years."

"Some people sit in a relationship because they're afraid to be alone."

"That wasn't me." Suddenly uncomfortable, I poured sand over the fire to slow it down. "Well...I thought we loved each other."

"How did he treat you?"

"In the beginning, he treated me like a princess."

"Most do that to get what they want."

"And then he stopped."

"Because he got what he wanted inside your panties." He poured the glass of wine.

I frowned. "There's no sugarcoating things with you."

"No, that's not my strong point." He handed me the glass. His finger brushed against mine. His skin was warm and soft.

I had this instant urge to feel more. "How are you, Samuel?"

He held up one finger. "You're not allowed to call me that anymore. Everyone calls me Sam."

"Okay."

"Anything is better than Samuel or Sammy."

"I like both names," I said.

"It was my mother's last name. She thought it would be cool to carry it on, not guessing that kids later would call me names like Sammy Fat Mamby."

"Well, I thought it was the coolest name."

"We've already established that you're eccentric, my funny little conch."

Those born in the Keys were called Conchs. Those born other places were considered Keys Characters.

He hit me with an intense gaze. "I'm happy to see you, Merce."

"Me too," I said, although I wondered why we had lost touch. It was true that childhood friends grew apart, but I thought we would stay in contact. With technology nowadays, there were so many avenues of communication. Anytime I signed up on a social media app or site, I would try to add him as a friend. I often wondered if he was just one of those people who never really got online and hadn't seen my invite, or if he was just not interested in reconnecting. But. Samuel went from cuddly and round to a stranger with a tower of muscle. Sam it is.

"To old friends." He raised his glass.

"Yes. To old friends."

We tapped our glasses together and I sampled the wine.

"We should catch up on our lives," I said.

"Maybe another time on the catch-up talk." The fun expression left his face as he stared at the dark ocean dotted in moonlight. His tone darkened. "I'm currently escaping my life."

"Me too." I wondered what he meant, but didn't have the courage to ask. A chilly quiet settled between us that was colder than the wind.

After a few minutes, he broke the awkward silence. "I didn't think you would be here, but I'm glad you are."

"I didn't know you visited this place anymore."

"I don't, but this time... I needed this place."

"I know exactly what you mean. Every time I get knocked down or hurt out in the world, I come back here." I gestured toward Dolphin View. "I call this place, Heartbreak Hotel. I check in broken. I check out with hope and a healed heart."

"That's a good name. I may steal it from you like you did Elvis."

"Boy I am talking about the song that Whitney Houston sang with Faith Evans and Kelly Price. You must have forgotten about my love for all songs Whitney?"

"I should have known. Sorry. Who could forget why I still don't understand why are you not singing number one hits like she did."

"I tried but writing was a passion that actually paid the bills."

"Well I am glad you did find success in life not that I was worried. You were always so ambitious and stubborn and crazy as hell."

Nodding, I poured more sand onto the fire. "Luckily, you happened to walk in on my funeral pyre so hopefully the smoke around us is healing you."

"That's exactly why I came over here."

Shocked, I asked. "Really? To heal from the fire?"

"No." He chuckled. "I came here because I was looking out of my window and saw this beautifully dressed woman who walked familiarly on the beach, and I was hoping it was you."

He sipped some of his wine. "Once you started throwing things into the fire and screaming, I knew it was you. Still crazy and dramatic. Still Merce."

"And you're still catching me doing ridiculous things on the beach."

He turned back to the dark ocean rolling over waves in the moonlight. "I couldn't believe it was you. I'd just spent an hour staring at a blank canvas and holding a wet paintbrush. I went to the window for inspiration and spotted you."

"You're an artist now?"

He finished his glass. "Do I look like an artist?"

He was so fine it was considered rude. Women probably considered many activities that Sam did, but I bet none of them had to do with paintbrushes and canvases.

"How are the Pendergrasses?" he asked.

"Great as usual."

"I always liked them."

"You should come by and say hello."

"I will."

I smiled. "And how are your siblings?"

The Evans family had a reputation in the keys for breaking girls' and guys' hearts. Sam was the only one that was shy and peaceful. He'd been overweight and obsessed with comics, science fiction, superheroes, and video games. Sam was the only Evans boy Tracy would let me hang around alone with. He swore Stevie or Sebastian would take my virginity and I would end up a teenage pregnancy statistic.

Sam took a sip of his wine. "My siblings are my siblings. Still the same, but now the world is their playground. Steve's here. Stacy is on tour in Europe. Sebastian tagged along to help Stacy with her groupies."

"Sebastian's always been such a good Samaritan."

"That's one way to describe him."

"I follow Stacy on Facebook. I love her music." I tried to think back to any news I'd heard on Sebastian and drew a blank.

Sam turned to me. "How long will you be here, Cherry Coke?"

I giggled at the old nickname. "I have no idea."

He frowned. "None?"

"There's no set time. I'll be here until I'm done healing...and probably when I finish writing a novel that's due to my publisher next month."

"Of course," He gestured to the gown. "Now everything is making more sense. So, you are really here to heal?"

"Pretty much. Every time I get knocked down in life, I come back here, work it out, and get back on my two feet to race after my destiny again."

"Good. I hope you get there."

Silence hit us for a minute.

He cleared his throat. "Make sure you come by the house this week and I'll open a bottle of wine. We'll talk about anything you want." He paused. "Any time."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

A good explanation left my tongue. There was just so much heat radiating from him. My intuition screamed at me to stay away. I loved too much. It had always been my problem. I was in a weak position right now. The more mature me knew that time healed wounds.

Hanging with Sam would be fun, but it wouldn't be like the brotherly-sisterly moments from the past. We weren't kids anymore. He'd become this hardened man of muscle and gorgeousness. A few moments with him alone and I would want to see how hot he could get, how delicious he could taste. He would be a sexy distraction that would shift into my falling in love. Where some women could sleep with a guy and not catch feelings, I hadn't learned that trick yet. It was better to keep my distance.

Or am I just being a wimp? All scared to be around men.

"I wasn't asking you on a date," he said out of nowhere. "That's not my thing."

I quirked my eyebrows. "Dating isn't your thing?"

"No."

I shook my head. "Well, I didn't think you were asking me out."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew. I like to keep everything out in the open."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have a line that I always tell the woman I'm seeing."

"Okay. This is going to be good." I giggled. "You have to tell me the line."

"Here it goes." His face shifted to a cold mask. "'I would be your death wish. You should guard your heart when you're around me.'"

"Wow. Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"To me that's cheesy and depressing all at once." I shrugged. "And what's the typical response?"

His mask fell away. "They usually think I'm playing."

"I would've probably ran."

"You're smart."

The noise of a bus sounded off in the distance. I looked over my shoulder and figured my sister's guests had returned. "I should get back and change. I promised to help my sister and the chef with dinner tonight."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

"Hmm. That depends." I put my hand on my hip. "Michael Jackson or Prince?"

"No. Last time I answered that, you threw a slice of purple cake at me."

"You answered wrong."

"Was that how it went?"

"Yes." I checked behind us. The bus had pulled up to the front of the house. Guests had begun departing the big vehicle.

"Well...I have to go." I put everything back in the bag. "I'm glad I saw you, Samuel... I mean, Sam."

He helped me put out the fire until it was gone. "Do you need me to carry anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

He rose with a frown on his face. "Then, I'll see you soon."

"Yes, you will. And next time, I'll make sure to guard my heart." I winked at him.

He smiled. "Good."