“I can’t believe I used to be jealous of you.” I shake my head slowly. “Now I just feel sorry for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a single mom? At least I’m not some whore who got knocked up with a rocker’s babies.”

“I feel sorry for you because you’re ugly, Meredith.”

She snorts. “Look who’s talking.”

“Oh, no. You’re plenty beautiful on the outside. Anyone can see that.” I put my hand on the knob and pull the door open. “But inside, you’re as ugly as they come. That’s why Max doesn’t want you.”

Her face blossoms red. “Get out.”

18

BRADY’S IS crowded tonight. Everyone who’s here visiting family for the holidays fills the bars to escape them.

I scan the crowd, but before I spot Will, Liz grabs my forearm and drags me to the dance floor.

I raise a brow as she wraps her arms behind my neck. “No offense, but my years of crushing on you came to an end when I fell in love with your sister.”

She snorts. “This isn’t about you, Max. Get over yourself.”

I follow her eyes to the other side of the bar, where Sam is watching us with an uncharacteristic amount of jealousy on his face. “I see.” Not that I’m terribly surprised. Sam’s had a thing for Liz for quite a while. “So what’s happening between you two?”

“Nothing.” She closes another inch between us and leans her head on my shoulder. “He’s not what I’m looking for.”

I lock eyes with Sam and raise a brow in silent question. The fact that he shrugs and walks away is more telling than he knows. Sam’s never been shy about staking his claim, but the way he feels about Liz has evolved over the last few months.

“Can you imagine what would have happened if it weren’t for Hanna?” she asks. “Would those casual dates have turned into something more?” She removes her arms from around my neck and shudders softly as we leave the dance floor. “No offense. It’s just that, these days, you feel more like a brother than a potential screw.”

That makes me grin. “Damn. If you’d told me two years ago that you saw me as a ‘potential screw,’ it’s fair to say things would have been much different between us.”

She groans, and Cally hands her a drink. “And then I’d be the one dealing with Meredith’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Cally says, “and maybe you’d be the one with amnesia.”

I frown. “What do you mean, she’d be the one with amnesia?”

“Oh, who knows,” Cally says, “but there will always be part of me that suspects Meredith was the one who pushed Hanna down the stairs.”

Liz shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t think Max needs to hear your crazy conspiracy theories.”

“The one who pushed her down the stairs? Are you saying the accident wasn’t an accident? Are you saying someone pushed her?”

Cally’s face goes blank. Then she mutters a curse under her breath. “I thought he knew.”

“Knew what?” The women just stare at me, so my voice holds warning when I say, “One of you, tell me.”

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Cally says. “None of us was there except Hanna, and Nix says Hanna will probably never remember that day, but the nature and extent of her injuries indicated foul play.”

“Like someone pushing her down the stairs.” Jesus. Why did Hanna never tell me this?

“And maybe like someone knocking her around a little before they pushed her.”

Liz winces. I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. Because I know who was at Hanna’s house the night of the accident.

When Meredith climbs my front steps, I’m waiting at the front door, my arms folded across my chest. The days are short and the streetlights are already on even though it’s barely seven. They throw just enough light on her face for me to see the confusion on her face.

“Where’s Claire?” she asks.

“She’s sleeping.” I don’t budge from my spot.

“Well, move over. I want to get her.”

“I don’t think I want her going home with you.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “You can’t keep my daughter from me.”

“I’m pretty sure the police would have my back on this if they knew what you did to Hanna.”

“I seriously doubt the police care about some stupid drama. I don’t even think I care about it anymore.”

“Assault doesn’t fall into the same category as ‘stupid drama.’”

“What the f**k are you talking about?”

“Hanna’s accident. Her fall down the stairs? You went to her house that night. I know because you came to the gym afterward and mentioned you’d been there. Then you left town for two weeks. I’m guessing with a guilty conscience.”

“The only thing I feel guilty about was not acting on my suspicions that she was cheating on you. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she was always mentally somewhere else when she was next to you. I only felt guilty that I’d screwed up too much for you to take me seriously when I told you about my suspicions.”

“She never cheated on me.”

“Just because she was keeping you in limbo about the engagement doesn’t mean it wasn’t cheating.”

“We were broken up,” I growl. She stumbles back and grabs the porch rail, so I soften my voice when I say, “No one knew, but we were broken up.”