This was the most awkward dinner I've ever had.

Fern was breastfeeding her daughter and eating spaghetti at the same time, Cage was desperately avoiding looking at anyone, Nick was staring at his plate full of untouched food, and Heath was on his phone. I was trying to survive through it all without moving. It was deathly silent. Someone needed to break the silence but no one wanted to be the first one to speak.

Except for my lovely sister, Fern.

She swallowed and looked at Cage. "You didn't have sex with my sister, did you?"

I choked on the meatball in my mouth as Cage's face turned from surprise to amusement. Coughing awkwardly, I glared at Fern. Now, what kind of table conversation was this? And how, exactly, did two normal sisters become the unexpected hostesses of a dinner with three globally famous criminals? That's the kind of question that Fern should be asking. Not the diddly daddle that happened in the bedroom. Not that anything ever happened in the bedroom between Cage and I- never mind.

Cage looked at me, smirking. "Strangely enough, no."

"Why is that strange? What does the 'strangely enough' have to do with anything?" I frowned.

"Garlic bread, anyone?" Nick asked uncomfortably, holding up the basket.

"Absolutely nothing, princess."

"Cage." Heath said, glancing up.

Cage ignored him. I don't think he heard Heath at all, and if he did, Cage didn't acknowledge it. "Whatever you think I'm implying, November, you're wrong about it. Your sister asked a simple question and I gave a simple response. There's nothing more to it."

I glared at him. "You had a brothel in Germany. How did that work out for you?"

"November!" Fern exclaimed.

Cage was trying hard to suppress his anger. It was the little things I noticed. The way his eyes flashed dangerously, the way the muscles in his jaw clenched. He pressed his lips together and fixed me with a cold glare. Nick put down the basket of bread and frowned. "That does not concern you."

I stabbed a meatball angrily. "Of course it doesn't. So why don't you just take your angry little self back to Chicago? If this doesn't concern me, why did you stay here Cage? Why not just drop me off at the door and drive away if it doesn't concern me? Because your personal life shouldn't matter to me, right? Even though you seem to think it's perfectly okay to involve yourself into mine."

Cage let his fork clatter against the plate. His piercing green eyes stared down my courage.

"Cage, we really need to talk." Heath interrupted.

Fern stared at Heath. "You look really familiar."

My anger with Cage instantly died down when I heard Fern say that. So it was true. It was Heath that saved us that night. Why didn't Fern ever tell me? There was no way she could have said that about Heath if she hadn't seen him before. However, the distraction was short-lived. I turned back to Cage, my mouth dry.

"Is there something you would like to say, November?" Cage growled.

"Oh, there are lots of things I would like to say." I snapped back. "But none that are appropriate for table conversation."

"Would you like to discuss this somewhere else then?"

I gave Cage my sweetest smile. "No, fuck you."

"November!" Fern gasped. And then, after silently contemplating something, she continued. "My daughter's name is Diana, by the way. I just wanted to let everyone know so the author doesn't have to keep referring to it as 'the baby' because my daughter is not a static character and will, in fact, reappear in the story on some random chapter."

The baby- oh excuse me, Diana, had fallen asleep in Fern's arm. Fern tucked her boobies back into her shirt and adjusted herself. Nick offered the bread basket up again, but everyone ignored him. After a moment, Heath grabbed his plate and left the kitchen. We heard it clatter in the sink, water running, and then the back door slam shut.

I glanced at Cage. He was picking at his food, not eating much. I suppose store bought spaghetti wasn't good enough for a criminal billionaire. Excuse Fern for not being able to make raw diamonds and unicorn meat for dinner. I was exaggerating, obviously, but I was mad. Why couldn't Cage and I ever got along for one night? We had to butt heads over everything. It was exhausting trying to figure out how the mind of Cage Vickers worked.

"November, you have to go to school. If not tomorrow, then the next day at least. They've been calling for the past five days asking where you've been." Fern said. "You already missed your Calculus final and I can't keep using the flu excuse anymore."

I was about to answer when I felt Cage's hand on my thigh. My mind suddenly went blank, everything I was going to say left me when his skin touched mine. I looked at Cage, panicking. He didn't look at me but I could see the smirk on his face. Since Cage and I were sitting on one side and Fern and Nick were opposite of us, they couldn't see Cage's flirtatious games.

"Um-" I stuttered nervously. Fingers tapped my thigh, slowly inching up. Cage kept a poker face but he knew exactly what he was doing to me. "O-Of course." I cleared my throat and placed my hand over Cage's, pushing him off my leg. It only worked for a moment. The hand returned. He seemed determined to make me as intimidated as possible. Was it for what I said to him earlier?

"You alright?" Nick asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes." It was the last thing I was. Cage moved his hand up my leg under the table, out of sight from Fern's catching eyes. His fingers were traveling places they shouldn't be, skimming across my thighs and dancing around on delicate skin. Cage caught my eye and he smiled. Instead of holding humour, his eyes held a lustrous glint that scared me witless. Cage's red tongue flickered out and licked his lips tortuously slow, a carefully selected action that made my stomach twist. How could I hate someone who made me feel like this?

His cold fingers danced up, higher and higher- until I couldn't bear his teasing any longer.

I pushed his hand off me. Standing up, I avoided meeting Cage's amused eyes. "I'm gonna- I have to go." I whispered. I knew how flushed my cheeks were and I also knew that Fern was starting to suspect exactly how reckless Cage could be.

"November, where are you going?" Fern called after me as I pretty much ran out of the dining room. The heat was suffocating and I needed some air. I didn't answer Fern. I couldn't, my voice would give away how much I suddenly hated Cage Vickers. All of his teasing and kisses and fake affection was killing me. I wanted him to leave. That promise Cage said about never having to see his ridiculously gorgeous face again? I needed that to happen because a part of me knew that if I really did have feelings for a criminal, there was no going back.

I couldn't let that happen. He was wrong, he was dangerous, he was all the things I shouldn't be playing with. People who got close to Cage Vickers ended up six feet in the ground. They got hurt. What Cage did before we left for Alberta was an example of that. He played games and he played them well. I just needed to find out how to even the playing field before I got myself into something I couldn't talk my way out of.

Stepping out onto the front porch, I closed the door behind me. Wind blew circles of caught leaves around my ankles and tickled strands of hair into my face. The cold air calmed down my racing heart and flushed cheeks. God, I hated him. I hated Cage so much.

For a moment, I stood there and did nothing. It felt good to be away from Cage...felt....less vulnerable. I could have avoided all of this if I just drove away that night instead of jumping in the backseat and hoping they'd pass. Well guess what, November? They didn't pass. They got into your car and then you got yourself into this mess. And now one of the worlds most wanted criminals was sitting in my kitchen having dinner with my sister and his friends.

What would my mother do? My father? Micheal? It's not like I could ask them. They were dead because of Cage. Perhaps not in a direct way but he did play a part in it. There was no denying that. And there was also no denying that after everything Cage did and has ever done, some terrible part of me fooled itself into thinking that he was still a good person. That somehow, I could still love him. How silly of me to think that.

"November?"

I looked up. Heath was standing on the steps, watching me carefully. He had a cigarette stuck in the corner of his lips. Taking it out and blowing smoke into the air, Heath coughed gently. "Can we talk?"

I sighed. As much as I wanted to avoid ever thinking about that night, I had to face it one last time. Climbing down onto the steps where Heath waited, I took a seat. "Yes."

He sat down beside me, resting his elbows on his knees. For a while, Heath didn't say anything. He smoked and contemplated things in the silence while I waited patiently. We just sat there together in the growing darkness. After a moment, Heath cleared his throat. "I don't know how long Cage plans on staying there but it's probably not for long. Before we leave, I feel as though there are some things we need to discuss before the cheesy goodbyes are said." Heath said slowly.

I nodded. "Okay."

He took a long drag of his cigarette. "Well, let's talk."

"Okay."

Silence.

"November, you're gonna have to say more than that if you want me to tell you anything."

"Oka- sorry." I took a deep breath. How do I even begin? "What happened that night-"

"-was a mistake." Heath finished, his voice soft.

"A mistake." I repeated. "You regret saving our lives?"

"Yes, November. I do. Because you and your sister were meant to die that night. I don't know what Cage has told you, but Romeo intended to kill you both that night as well. A family homicide, isn't that cute?" Heath dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it hard. "It's because I saved you and your sister for what's happening now. That's why Romeo is after us, why he finally turned on Cage after years of doing loyal business. He needs to finish what was meant to be ended ten years ago- shit."

Heath suddenly stood up, pulling out a gun.

My heart dropped straight to my toes.

Big red shoes crushed the carnations from the past spring. Standing across the yard was a face that I hoped to never see again. Five others flanked him. Two of them carried Micheal's corpse. All of them carried the same rifles covered with blood and dirt from what happened in Alberta Carnival. Covered in blood and wearing the same frilly colourful costumes, they all grinned happily at Heath and I.

Rainbow Clown held up his gloved hand and gave us a mocking wave.