Chapter One

Jonah

In the end, I knew the guilt would eventually kill me.

As I lay on the harsh pavement in a dark alley, guilt—in the form of a couple homeless vagrants booting me in the kidneys—was kicking my ass.

I always protected my face. I couldn’t risk my brothers seeing evidence of what I was up to. Anything from the neck down was fair game though. Sometimes I even threw the guys a couple bucks for their trouble.

Tonight, though… Nope.

Tonight guilt would end my life.

And I welcomed it.

 

“Joe! Thank God!”

My sister’s voice. I opened my eyes. Marjorie’s form was a blur, but it was her. Her dark eyes shone with concern. Where the hell was I?

I groaned. My lower back throbbed, and I inhaled sharply. Big mistake. Damn, guilt had gotten a few of my ribs, too.

But I was alive.

Still alive.

“Thank God you woke up. I’ll go get Ryan. He just stepped out for a minute to take a call.”

Marj’s blur was replaced with a blue blur I didn’t recognize.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Steel?”

Like shit, thanks. I wasn’t sure if I’d said it out loud.

“I’m going to check your blood pressure. You might feel some squeezing.”

Not likely. I couldn’t feel anything over the bass drum beating on my back.

“You’ve been beaten pretty badly,” the blur said.

Not badly enough, apparently. I inhaled again, and a knife sliced through me. Damned broken ribs. Nothing I hadn’t experienced before many times. This was the first time I’d ended up in the hospital, though. As I tried to focus on the blur through slitted eyes, my heart sped up.

What had I been thinking? I didn’t want to die.

I had this revelation every time after I let myself get beaten up. Each time would be the last. I swore it. Well, this one would truly be the last. Even though she’d been a blur, Marj’s voice had cracked with fear. I couldn’t take that sound in my baby sister’s voice, nor in the voices of either of my brothers.

I breathed in again, wincing at the sharp, knifing pain.

Never again, goddamnit. This dangerous self-indulgence was over.

“Hey, you gave us a pretty good scare, Joe. Thank God you managed to crawl to that bar and get help. What were you doing in that neighborhood? What the hell happened?”

Ryan’s voice. A bar? I’d been at a bar? The last thing I remembered was blacking out in the alley. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a crackled croak emerged.

“It’s okay, bro. Don’t try to talk. Looks like you’re going to live.”

 

Dr. Melanie Carmichael sat across from me in her office decorated in dark wood and hunter-green. She was as beautiful as I remembered. She and I had met months ago in a hotel bar. We’d both been staying at the hotel for different conferences. Her golden-blond hair had fallen in gentle waves against her shoulders as she sat next to me, sipping a cocktail. She wore it up today, pulled back in a tight bun at the top of her head. She was still gorgeous, even with the severe schoolteacher hairstyle. Piercing green eyes, though—they were the same. I hadn’t been able to look away from them that night in the bar, and I was having a difficult time trying to do so now.

How was I supposed to tell this woman my innermost thoughts?

My brother Talon had, and he was on his way to healing from a horrific childhood trauma of being abducted and held captive by three men when he was ten years old. Once I had regained consciousness in the hospital, Talon had come and begged me to make an appointment with his therapist.

So here I was, three weeks later, my ribs still aching a bit, sitting in a supple leather recliner. My brother had sat in this chair, no doubt, and told this woman his deepest secrets. Now it was my turn.

“I’m not sure what to say.”

She smiled. My God, she had a beautiful smile. Her lips were full and red, the color of a ripe currant. “Say whatever you feel like saying, Mr. Steel. This time is for you.”

“First of all, no Mr. Steel. Only Jonah. Or Joe. Whichever you prefer.”

“Okay, Jonah. Why don’t you just start with what brought you in to see me today?”

I felt like a fraud. My brother had been through so much, and here I was, seeing a therapist when there was nothing wrong with me at all—nothing except the guilt that lived inside me like a parasite, killing me from the inside out.

I looked around the room, playing for time. On the wall behind her desk were her various degrees. I was surprised to see a medical degree.

“I thought you were a psychologist,” I said.

“I am.”

“But you went to medical school? Wouldn’t that make you a psychiatrist?”

She cleared her throat. “Technically, yes. But I also have a master’s degree in psychotherapy, which is what I practice. Because I rarely prescribe medication, I prefer the term psychologist or psychotherapist.”

I shook my head. “That’s a lot of schooling.”

She tilted her head back a little. “Yes, there were times when I thought it would never end. Being a psychiatrist has some advantages, too. I have admitting privileges at Valleycrest Hospital, in case any of my patients need more day-to-day care. But I consider myself more of a psychologist than a medical doctor.”

I nodded, continuing to peruse her office.

“So do my qualifications meet your approval?” she asked.

I turned back to her abruptly. “Of course. I was just curious.”

“You mean you were desperate for something to talk about other than what brought you in here today.” She smiled.

Guilty. She knew as well as I did. No need to prolong it. “I… Well, you know my brother’s story.”

Dr. Carmichael nodded. “I do. And he has given me permission to discuss his case with you if we need to.”

My neck chilled. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Talon had told the doctor. Hopefully this wouldn’t get to that.

“It was Talon who suggested I call you and make an appointment.”

“I know. He told me. And he talked to me a little bit about you.”

Christ. God only knew what Talon had said. He knew I’d gotten the shit kicked out of me by a couple thugs in a dark alley. What he didn’t know was that I’d been there on purpose, that I intentionally hadn’t fought back, that I’d actually started the fight. Thing was, I wasn’t a coward. I could’ve made quick work of the vagrants who’d attacked me. And I sure as hell didn’t want to tell this beautiful woman across from me that I’d let them beat me to a pulp.