Rachel took a few deep breaths, feeling slightly less shaky by the time she made it down the stairs. Her mouth tasted like toothpaste from how much of the stuff she'd slathered on her toothbrush before she scrubbed her teeth for the third time. Instead of feeling cleaner, her teeth felt almost gritty from the amount of times she brushed them. But at least she rid herself of the taste of her own bile.

When she stepped into the dining room the first thing Rachel noticed was the questioning look on John's face. It was immediately obvious to her that while Jamie might still be oblivious to what just went on upstairs, John was not. Rachel assumed Beth must have filled him in. Or at least told him enough to give him cause for concern. She found it a little strange that he seemed more concerned with her reaction to the fact that his son and son-in-law just killed someone than he was with the murder itself. And she swallowed hard, thinking about the other acts of violence she heard being alluded to on Dakota's video and how complicit John himself might be in such undertakings. He seemed like such a kind forthright person. She had a hard time picturing him as a violent man.

"Are you feeling alright?," John asked, raising his brow at her. "...you look a little pale." She knew the question was as loaded as it felt. And she swallowed hard before she answered.

"I'm fine," Rachel said, forcing out a nervous smile. John didn't look convinced. But he sat down at the head of the table anyway, clearly not concerned enough to let the small issue of a murder hold up family dinner.

"You do look pale," Jamie agreed, "...are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Rachel nodded, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against him. Despite his questionable actions as of late, the feeling of Jamie's strong body against hers still helped to calm her anxiety. Jamie hugged her back, feeling slightly unsettled by the intensity of her grip on the back of his shirt. He ran his hand over her hair, reminding himself that Rachel just had to tell her daughter that her father was dead. It was only natural that she would be a little unsettled. He hoped that would eventually give way to relief when Rachel realized she no longer had to live her life in constant fear.

Regardless of whatever information John did or didn't know, Kayce and Monica clearly had no knowledge of what was going on. And Rachel was grateful for that. It gave her the chance to pretend everything was okay, something she'd become an expert at doing after years in an abusive marriage. If she faked it long enough, Rachel knew she would start to believe the act herself. Monica asked her about how the closing went on her parent's house. And about the renovations she had planned for her bakery space now that she had the money to complete them. It felt good to have a normal conversation. And for a little while, Rachel was able to shake off the feeling of foreboding that was forming in her gut. She knew she was stalling on the conversation she needed to have with Jamie. But she was terrified that he was going to lie to her when she asked him about his involvement in Daniel's death. And she didn't want to think about the decision she'd be forced to make if that happened.

Rachel didn't have to make much of an effort to get Jamie alone after dinner. Their relationship was still in the stage where they tended to grab a bit of privacy whenever they could. She was leaning against the porch railing, not really drinking the glass of wine in her hand. It was a variety she liked, but for some reason the smell of it was turning her stomach.

Jamie leaned down to kiss her, resting his hand on the curve of her hip. He smelled much better than the wine, like soap and his musky aftershave lotion. Despite having shaved earlier that morning, his jawline was already covered in a slight shadow of dark stubble. His lips were soft in comparison to the rougher skin around them. And for a moment, she considered forgetting about the conversation she knew she needed to have with him and heading upstairs instead. The rough sandpaper of his cheeks would feel better against her thighs than it did rubbing across her chin.

"Jamie," she said, placing her hand on his chest and gently moving him out of her personal space. "I've got to ask you something."

Unlike her ex, who's moods were always impossible to read, Jamie's face was expressive. Rachel could easily tell how he felt just from looking at him. And currently, he looked concerned. The little line between his eyebrows was forming. His jaw tightened. And his dark eyes were scanning her own face, looking for some clue as to what the problem was. He nodded for her to continue, probably hoping for her to get over her inquiry quickly so they could move on to something more enjoyable for them both.

"Did you have anything to do with Daniel's death?," she asked. Rachel figured there was no point in dancing around the issue.

"What?," Jamie asked, his face turning from concern to slight shock. Whatever he was expecting her to ask him, clearly that wasn't it. "Why would you ask me that?," he added.

Rachel lifted her free hand, taking his hand in hers and rubbing her thumb gently over the back of his palm. She still hadn't sorted out exactly how she felt about Daniel's death. She felt like she might be able to accept what Jamie did. Just like she accepted Rip's actions. But she knew she wouldn't be able to accept dishonesty. Not after the lies and the cheating and the gambling and the drugs she'd endured for the last ten years. Rachel sent up a silent prayer, begging whoever was listening for Jamie to simply tell her the truth.

"I swear I won't be upset or hold anything you did against you," Rachel urged. "I just want the truth. Did you have anything to do with what happened to him?"

Jamie's face went tense again, his brows furrowing together. And for a moment, Rachel was sure he was just going to fess up to what he did. But then his face went blank, transforming into the blank expression she knew he used in court and during business transactions. As soon as she saw that, she knew he was going to lie to her.

"Of course not," he practically gasped. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Rachel forced herself to keep quiet, hoping Jamie might fill her silence with the truth. It was hard to describe how sad she felt, almost like the betrayal was physically weighing her body down from the inside out. Having a family again was better than anything she could have ever imagined. And Jamie made her so happy. She'd allowed herself to thrive in that happiness, totally in denial that everything good in her life had always come at a steep price.

Instead of speaking, Jamie leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. Rachel pulled back, breaking the kiss just long enough to lift her almost full glass of wine. She tipped it back, swallowing the sickly contents down in a few hard gulps. Jamie's chest rumbled with quiet laughter, tickled by her frat house style wine drinking. Rachel lowered the glass, leaving it on the railing and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed her lips back against his, parting them eagerly when she felt the gentle press of his tongue.

Jamie could tell that something was still bothering Rachel. There was a soft sadness in her eyes. And the way she was kissing him felt oddly final. Almost like the way she kissed him before she left for a few days to pack up her parents house but more intense. Like she was saying goodbye. He attributed it to the upsetting news she got earlier, refusing to admit that the cause of her sudden melancholy might be due to the conversation they just had on the porch.

They headed up the stairs to Rachel's room together. A room that was really both of theirs now since Jamie moved what was left of his things out of his childhood bedroom and into her closet some time ago. Once the door shut behind them, Rachel started pulling at his clothes almost immediately. Jamie still felt like something was off. But as eager as she was for him, he quickly convinced himself that there was no way she could be upset with him.

Rachel left the windows cracked earlier. And the cool evening breeze was blowing in. Once they both stripped their clothes off, they climbed under the blankets together. Jamie broke their kiss several times, intent on licking his way down her body. But each time she pulled him back, capturing his mouth with hers again. He finally settled on roaming over her body with only his hands as their tongues tangled up together inside her mouth. Shifting his body, he settled his hips between Rachel's parted thighs. She rocked her hips up, pressing her slick folds against the base of his dick. He quickly adjusted his body. Pulling his hips back, he lined the swollen head of his dick up with her core, pushing inside. Rachel caught his face between her palms, kissing him as they rocked their bodies together. It wasn't long before she finally broke the kiss, turning her head and gasping for air as she found her pleasure. With her insides spasming around him, he didn't last much longer. He gently withdrew, moving to kiss her again before he rolled off. And when he did, he found her cheeks damp with tears.

"What's wrong?," he asked. "I didn't hurt you did I?" Rachel shook her head, shifting her hips. He rolled off, breathing a small sigh of relief when she cuddled into his side.

"No," she whispered. "It's just been a long day."

Jamie kissed Rachel's forehead, accepting her simple excuse. He held her against him as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were an odd swirl of the things in his life that he regretted doing. Faces of the people he killed appeared, laughing and taunting him. He tossed and turned, waking up in the early hours of the morning to an empty bed. Rachel's absence didn't worry him at first. It wasn't until he reached across and found her side of the bed cold that he began to wonder where she was.

Jamie swung himself out of bed, pulling his boxers on before he hurried from the room. He eased Dakota's door open, assuming that the girl was upset and Rachel might have gone in to sleep with her. But peeking inside only increased his worry. Not only was Rachel not in Dakota's room, Dakota was missing as well. Jamie rubbed the sleep from his eyes, flipping the light on and taking a better look inside. Not only were both Rachel and her daughter gone, Dakota's dresser drawers were hanging open. They looked half empty, like she packed in a hurry. Jamie felt his anxiety rising as he raced back into Rachel's room and flipped the light on. The drawers were shut. But when he yanked a few of them open, he found that most of her things were missing. The closet was in the same condition.

Unconcerned with his current state of undress, Jamie thundered down the stairs and out the front door. He felt his stomach clench when he realized her car was not in the driveway. With the amount of things she took with her, it was obvious that wherever Rachel went, she wasn't planning on coming back anytime soon. Jamie heard the flick of a lighter and turned towards the noise. Beth was sitting on the railing, a lit cigarette in one hand and a folded piece of paper with Rip's name written on it in the other.

"Where the hell is Rachel?," he demanded, fighting the urge to strangle his sister when she didn't immediately answer his question. Beth took another drag off her smoke, fixing her evil gaze on him before she answered.

"Gone."