Prologue

Lucas

18 Years Old

This is the end of my story.

While it may seem anticlimactic to some, I assure you, I still feel every bit of the pain from where my soul was ripped from my body, leaving behind nothing but this empty shell.

It was hell.

It was tragic.

It was well deserved.

It’s strange how, in the aftermath of death, the meaning of life becomes so clear. Life is hardship, pain, and suffering. It is fear, uncertainty, and if you’re one of the lucky ones, it’s filled with a lifetime of regrets.

To some, regret is something to be avoided. But for me, it’s a lifeline. The last link to my past. The final thread tethering me to a life where I once thrived. Where I was surrounded by love, by goodness, by the promise of a future.

My regret is proof that, for the first seventeen years of my life, I lived. Truly lived. And because of it, I remember what it felt like to have something worth fighting for. Something to live for. Something so worthy and pure that losing it made me appreciate it all the more.

Even when the guilt forces me to relive the moment my life shattered into a billion unsalvageable pieces, it’s still worth it. Because that feeling of loss, that unspeakable pain, is proof that the life I lost mattered. That it existed. And for someone like me, who’s already dead inside, that’s the only solace I have left.

Well, that and the knowledge that our time on this earth is a fragile thing. There’s comfort in knowing we’re destined to die from the moment we’re born. If I had the courage to end it all, I would. And though that might make me a coward, I also realize it would be a waste of the body whose heart still beats.

I have this one last chance to honor them. My mom. My dad. And after what I cost them, after everything they sacrificed for me, this is how I’ll spend whatever time I have left in this world:

Fighting for my country.

Putting my life on the line, not caring whether I live or die, as I carry out the missions of this great nation.

Because maybe then, when I finally breathe my last breath, I’ll know I did everything I could to find redemption.

It’s too late for my family.

It’s too late for me.

But for her—and those whiskey eyes that will forever haunt my dreams—I hope our tragic ending is the beginning of her happily ever after.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This story is a prequel to the first book in the series which was released to Inkitt on October 3, 2023. The name of that book is

BROKEN VOWS (Broken Redemption Book 1)

, and you can find it listed under my profile

.

The tone of this prequel is lighter than in later books, as it opens when the series’ main characters are young and unscathed from the trauma they must overcome in the books that follow.

If you enjoy my writing and want to read my future stories, remember to click the FOLLOW button, as well as like and comment on the chapters. I look forward to reading your feedback and I’m forever grateful for your support.

With love,

Ariana

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# Chapter 1

Lucas

1 Year Earlier

For the first time in months, I can finally relax. With the stress and pressure of junior year behind me, I feel lighter. Free. 

This year was a big one. The year to impress colleges, not just on my academic merits but on my extracurricular ones. I had to maintain my perfect GPA while leading the team to a state championship, which included working my ass off to stand out to the scouts who came to every game. Scouts who hold the key to a full ride to a Division 1 football program. The only thing I've wanted since I threw my first football when I was five years old.  

In the end, I accomplished everything I set out to do, and with any luck, by this time next year, I'll be weeks away from starting at my top-choice school. All that hard work finally paying off.

Smiling, I let out a contented sigh. Finally, I have time to go out and have some fun. After all, this is my last summer as a carefree high school kid. My last chance to screw around and make bad choices under the pretense that—
hey, I'm just a teen doing what teens do.

Ha! Yeah, right. 

As much as I'd love to kick back and relax, it's not how I'm built. No matter how hard I try to let loose, there's always this little voice in my head reminding me of everything I'm responsible for. 

Working hard and doing what's right—it matters to me. My parents made so many sacrifices so my sister and I could have opportunities they never did. So we could become people they could be proud of. 

It's why I've never given in to teen rebellion or the hormone-laced impulses that seem to occupy my every thought. 

Thoughts like what Embree's warm body would feel like if I let my fingers explore. What her plump lips would taste like if we kissed. Or what sexy noises she would make if I—
 

Christ! What the hell is wrong with me? 

Disgusted, I shake my head and push off the bed to go find my phone.

I don't have time for this, much less for the fallout if I ever let myself go there. Emilia Barrett, or Embree as I call her, is my kryptonite. Just having her in my periphery is enough to obliterate every ounce of control I have. She's like an addiction I can't kick. 

My mind knows I shouldn't touch. That I should never even risk it. But it's like I'm fighting the inevitable. Even the threat of the rock bottom that would surely follow—the kind that would likely mean the end of our friendship and probably ruin me—still isn't enough to make me stay away. 

She's the only thing in this life that makes me want to let go of the self-imposed control I need to exist. Which is precisely why I need to stay the hell away from her.

Damn it! Forget Embree. Think about Becca.

"Hey, Luc, you coming?" My best friend pants into my ear as he answers the call. 

Ben Chelsey and I have been friends since kindergarten. We bonded over our love of earthworms, our hatred of broccoli, and our mutual annoyance at having little sisters who were only a year younger than us.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, my brow furrowing at the strange sounds coming through the phone.

"Running," he huffs between words. "We're at Emilia's. Got Jen on my back. We're racing. Beating the pants off Parker and Emi." 

Then the fucker laughs, like Embree's sexy body draped over another guy's back as they play some stupid game, is funny.

"What the fuck?" I snap into action, yanking on my sneakers, before launching myself down the stairs. Every instinct I have demands that I go break Parker's face for daring to touch her.

"What man? We're just having a little fun."

"Well, stop. Right now. And for God's sake, stop touching my sister—" 
Yeah, because that's bullshit too. 
"—and get Embree the hell away from Parker. Now."

"Jesus dude. What the hell is with you?" His raised voice and the muffled shouts in the background confirm the game has ended.

Aware of how unhinged I sound, I try to play it off. "Nothing, man. Hold on." 

Spotting Mom in the kitchen on my way past, I circle back. There's no way I'm leaving without telling her where I'll be. 

"Hey, Mom. I'm meeting up with the guys. Jen and her friends will be with us. If you need anything, call my cell."

"Okay, honey. Have fun, and remind your sister curfew is still ten o'clock. Summer break doesn't change that." She smiles, and I lean down so she can kiss my cheek. 

After a brief nod confirming I heard her, I shut the door behind me and break into a jog towards Embree's house.

"It's not you, it's Parker I don't trust." I finally answer his question, hoping it's enough to explain my reaction without revealing too much. 

Parker Lewis is the star wide receiver of Ruby Creek High and one of my closest friends. Or at least he was, before I found out Embree's body was just wrapped around his. 

It's a line I need to remind my friends they are not to cross. That, and the fact they should never, ever touch her. Or look at her. Or hell, be anywhere near her.

"Since when?" Ben's voice is low, like he's trying to stay out of Parker's earshot, which I now realize just gives Parker extra unsupervised time with her.

"Can't talk about it now. I'm on my way. Keep him away from Embree...and my sister until I get there." I add Jen to the mix so he won't get suspicious. The last thing I need is for those assholes to know how deep my obsession with Embree runs.

"Fine, whatever."

With my phone tucked back in my pocket, I sprint the rest of the way. The entire time, I'm fuming over the fact Parker had the nerve to pull this shit. He knows better. They all do. 

Ever since that day three years ago when I made it clear she was off limits, declaring that if anyone was getting dibs on her, it was going to be me. 

I know how messed up that sounds, but hey, I was a stupid fourteen-year-old kid. Embree had just turned thirteen, and I swear to God, she went from looking like my little sister's friend to this beautiful goddess I couldn't stop staring at. 

Even then, I knew I couldn't have her. But I'd be damned if I let any of my asshole friends touch her. 

She was the daughter of my parents' closest friends and, by default, my sister's best friend. Being only a year older, I was always close to the girls. We shared the same friends, went to the same school, and hung out in the same places. Somewhere along the way, I took on the role of their guardian and protector. 

But after that summer, my reasons for staying close became so much more than doing my brotherly duty. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be around Embree. Her smiles and constant laughter fueled the need I had to make her happy. 

Thankfully, Jen was always there to serve as a buffer. An ever-present barrier that kept me from crossing lines I shouldn't cross.

Though I've always kept things platonic, my friends should know that threat still stands. Embree is not to be touched, claimed, or approached by anyone but me. 

This incident just proves it's time I remind them of that.

Because regardless of my intentions, the fact remains—none of my knucklehead friends are good enough for her. 

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Chapter 2

Lucas

Arriving in her backyard, I spot Embree, Jen, Nic, and Hannah sitting at the picnic table, talking in whispers. At the other end of the yard, Ben, Parker, and Will, stand together, laughing and cracking jokes.

As soon as I enter the space, the magnetic pull between Embree and me draws our eyes together. It’s like we’re peering straight through each other’s skin down to the place that holds our souls.

It happens every time.

Like an out-of-body experience.

No matter where we are or who we’re with, the second we get close, our eyes lock. Like we can’t not look. Like we’re tethered by something neither of us understands.

Though my feet carry me toward the guys, I can’t help but smile at her. It’s the blush that colors her cheeks that finally forces me to look away. The pleasure I get from knowing I have that effect on her is instantly swallowed by shame. I know I can’t have her, so why the hell can’t I force myself to stop reacting to her this way?

“Hey man, you get that stick out of your ass?” Ben smirks as he slaps me on the back.

“Look, I’ve told you before. Keep your hands off the girls. Jen and Embree are mine. My family. Mine to protect. I know exactly how you all treat the girls around here, and I won’t let anyone treat them like that.”

“Dude, we’re just having a little fun. You need to lighten the hell up.” The free spirit, “yolo” asshole Parker pipes in like he hasn’t noticed how close he is to getting throat punched. It takes everything in me not to swing first.

Stepping into his space, I meet him head-on. At 6’ 4“, I’m a few inches taller, so forcing him to look up at me feels like a power move.

“Let me clarify this for you, asshole. Have your fun somewhere else, not here, and not with these girls. You got that? That goes for all you fuckers.” Though my voice is low and steady, my tone leaves no room for argument. Having known me most of their lives, they can tell I mean business.

Parker steps back with his hands in the air and that arrogant grin he always wears. “Good lord, if it’s like that, why don’t you make your move already?” He smirks, the dumb fuck loving every second he gets to test me. “I’d be happy to take Becca off your hands if you need the help. Platonically, of course. Bro code and all that.”

“Consider this my move, Parker. Stay. The. Fuck. Away. From the girls. Becca, Embree, and my sister. Matter of fact, you can add Nic and Hannah to that list, too.” I include all my sister’s friends for good measure, keeping my voice even so none of them see how close to the edge he’s pushed me.

“Oh really? Now you’re calling dibs on Ben’s sister, too? And Hannah? Damn. Who knew golden boy Lucas Holt was such a player?” He laughs like this is all one big joke.

“Leave Nic out of this, Parker. Matter of fact, keep my sister’s name out of your mouth.” Ben steps in beside me, his voice edged with warning. “Lucas is right. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, so go dip your dick somewhere else and leave these girls alone.”

As always, my best friend has my back, even as he side-eyes me with that look that says, What the hell is going on with you?

“Okay, boys, time to put an end to this dick-measuring contest and get back to what’s important.” William Keller, the fourth member of our group, steps between us to break the standoff. “It’s our first night of summer break. So, are we doing this or what?”

The “this” he’s referring to is the annual Start of Summer Break party hosted by Amanda Kline. She’s the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in town, the most popular girl in school, and—according to Parker—every man’s wet dream.

To me, though, she’s nothing more than a spoiled rich girl who uses her looks and status to manipulate people while feeding off the insecurities of every girl around her. She has zero respect for anyone and even less regard for how her bullshit affects everybody else.

“Let’s do it, boys. As history has shown time and time again, it’s the only way to start the summer off right.” Ben bounces on his toes as though he can’t contain his energy.

“You all go. I’m staying back with the girls.” I say, nodding toward the picnic table where Embree and Jen still sit.

It’s the first night of summer, and all I want is to spend a chill night down by the lake. A party surrounded by loud music, teen angst, and a bunch of drunk, irresponsible idiots doesn’t sound all that appealing to me.

“Isn’t Becca going to be there?” Ben asks, his eyebrows raised in a hopeful question. By bringing up my girlfriend, he’s signaling that he wants to go, but won’t if I decide to hang back.

“Hey, Jen, you guys are going to Amanda’s party, right?” Parker yells to my little sister across the yard before I can answer Ben.

Immediately, my gut twists at the thought of my sister and her friends—okay, fine, my sister and Embree—going to that party and being surrounded by all the drunken bullshit that comes with it.

“Yep, we’re all going.” Jen smiles, her eyes locked on mine, like she’s daring me to say otherwise. “I already talked to Mom about it.”

It’s a lie.

It has to be.

There’s no way in hell she talked to Mom. If she had, Mom would have told me.

“You did not—”

“Come on, Lucas. Please. Let’s not argue about this,” Embree interrupts as she stands and walks toward me.

Her long, wavy hair flows in the breeze, matching the slow, sexy rhythm of her body as she moves. Like magic, our eyes connect, and it’s like I’m caught in a trance.

“Let’s all go together,” she whispers as she reaches me, standing only a foot away—close enough that I can smell that sweet, summery scent I can never get enough of. “After the year we’ve had and how busy we’ve been, we deserve this. I’ve missed you guys.”

Then, looking around at each of the guys, she adds, “Plus, with the four of you graduating and heading off to college next year, it’s our last real summer together. This is our last chance.”

In that instant, my body responds as though the “ last chance“ she’s talking about has everything to do with us. Me and her. My heart starts racing, and a rush of heat rolls through me so strongly I wonder if I’m blushing.

God, I fucking hope not.

Worst of all is the pressure building in my shorts as my dick swells, like her words were meant for him—and what she really meant was that this is our last chance to finally get what we want.

Fuck. Becca.

Stop being such an asshole and think about your goddamn girlfriend!

“Fine,” I grunt, clearing my throat to shake the gruffness out of my voice. “I’ll talk to Mom. But we only stay until ten, and if there are drugs or if things get too out of control, you two,” I point at Jen and Embree to make myself clear, “are out of there. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jen runs up and wraps me up in a hug, but it’s Embree’s eyes I can’t tear myself away from.

The happiness radiating from her face fills my insides with something I can’t even name. All I know is I want to see more of that look in her eyes. I want more of that smile, the one that feels like a sunrise and sunset all wrapped into one. A smile so breathtaking that, for a moment, all I can see, hear, and breathe is her.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say, sending one last threatening glare at Parker before turning on my heels and following the girls to Amanda’s house.

I’m not happy about the plan, but I’ll go.

Because it means more time with the girl who reminds me, there’s more to life than hard work and responsibility.

Chapter 3

Lucas

The loud music and sharp smell of stale alcohol hit me as soon as we step inside. Embree, my sister, and their friends disappear into the crowd, most of whom I don’t recognize, which instantly puts me on edge. Knowing Amanda, this party was probably an open invitation to anyone. It would explain why there are more bodies crammed into the space than there are students in our entire high school.

The Klines are infamous in Ruby Creek and the surrounding towns, not just because they’re loaded, but because they own so many of the local businesses. Their massive mansion—all white with stone pillars that make it look like a knockoff of the White House—sticks out like a sore thumb among the modest, middle-class homes in our small town.

While their life of luxury might impress most people, to me, it feels tone-deaf and completely disconnected from what our town is really like. To be that rich, surrounded by people scraping by paycheck to paycheck, would make me miserable. If I were in their shoes, I’d feel like it was my job to help the families here do more than just survive. I’d put my money into making sure everyone had a chance to thrive.

But that’s not what the Klines do. To them, offering menial jobs at minimum wage to our neighbors is as far as their goodwill extends. Never mind that half the people working for them are holding down two or three jobs just to stay afloat.

I glance up at the fancy chandeliers dangling from the ceiling and the obscenely expensive-looking furniture and decor scattered everywhere. I shake my head.

Why would anyone want this kind of life? Surrounded by stuff that doesn’t matter and people who only care about you for your money. Sounds like a pretty damn lonely way to live, if you ask me.

“Guess who?” Her familiar fruity scent hits me an instant before her hands cover my eyes.

“Hi, Becks.” I smile, reaching for her hands to pull her around to face me. Leaning forward, I drop a kiss on her cheek.

Becca Franks—my girlfriend of ten months—stands there in all her bright-eyed glory. Her wide smile, flushed cheeks, and that adoring look she always gives me remind me she’s everything I should want.

“You came…” Her voice is soft and a little breathless. The relief in it shoots a pang of guilt straight through my chest when I realize she thinks I’m here for her.

To hide my shame, I pull her in for a hug. She knows this isn’t my scene, which is why she wasn’t surprised when I said no to coming with her. That she believes I’m here because of her, when the truth is I only showed up to watch over the girls, feels so damn wrong.

I swear, I’m not a dishonest person, and the last thing I ever want is to hurt anyone. It’s why I’ve been trying so hard to build walls between the life that’s supposed to be mine and the one thing I can’t have. Becca is everything I should want, which is why I can’t figure out why it’s Embree I keep wishing was in my arms.

It’s like this twisted part of me can’t stop wanting what’s off-limits.

Embree is family—like a cousin, almost. Her connection to my sister, the bond between our parents… there’s just too much history. Too many ways this could go wrong.

Becca is what’s best for me. She’s the one I need to want. No matter how I feel or what I wish were different. This—right here, with Becca—is where I belong.

I drop a kiss on the top of her head, then pull back to look down at her. Her expression is soft, full of longing, when she asks, “Will you dance with me?”

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, I smile and nod, then let her lead me toward the open area set up as a makeshift dance floor. The song “ You and Me“ by Lifehouse blares through the speakers as we weave between a bunch of couples already swaying to the ballad.

No sooner do I wrap my arms around Beck’s waist than that familiar awareness prickles up the back of my neck. Before I can stop myself, my eyes lock onto the whiskey-brown ones staring back at me from across the room.

That spark between us ignites—hot and electric—and in an instant, everything disappears. The room, the people, the girl in my arms.

The only thing that exists for me in this moment is her.

My Embree.

As the lyrics drift through my head, I realize I’m helplessly caught. Completely captured and ensnared by this girl who’s so far out of reach, she might as well belong to another universe. But I can’t stop. Right here, right now, I know with absolute certainty that whatever hold she has on me is inescapable.

Overwhelmed by that truth, I tear my gaze away and step away from Becca. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending any of this is okay. As much as I care about Becks, the reality is I’ve been using her to keep from doing something stupid with the girl I can’t have.

My eyes flick between the whiskey eyes of the girl I’ve known my whole life and the girl whom I’ve spent the last ten months trying to love. All I’m doing is hurting them both. The pain on their faces is clear as day, but right now it’s Embree my heart wants to run to. She’s the one I want to comfort.

It’s never been more obvious that I have no choice but to end this.

With both of them.

“What’s going on?” Becca’s shaky voice tears at my chest as she follows my gaze to where Embree stands, looking heartbroken.

Without another word, I gently take her hand and pull her through the crowd and out into the foyer. I’m resigned to what I have to do, but I’m not going to do it in front of everyone.

Spotting an empty gazebo in the distance, I lengthen my stride. With every step, the ache in my gut deepens, but the messed-up part is that it isn’t Becca I’m hurting for. My pain is for the girl I left behind in that house. The girl I had no choice but to turn my back on.

It has to be this way. After everything I’ve done, I owe it to Becca to end things the right way. Just like I owe it to Embree to stay the hell away.

“Becca.” Like a coward, I pull her in close so I don’t have to look her in the eye when I say it. “I’m sorry. I…”

There’s so much I need to explain, but the words won’t come. Hurting people isn’t who I am, and I hate myself for what I’m about to do.

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

Her familiar fruity scent fills my every breath, and I wish to God I could force myself to love her. With her head tucked under my chin, I feel the breeze catch in her hair, sweeping the soft strands over my skin.

Tightening my hold on her one last time, I close my eyes and just… feel. I’m searching for that spark, that pull—whatever it is that happens when I’m around Embree. But it isn’t here.

“I’m sorry.” I press my lips to the crown of her head as my fingers slide through her silky brown hair. “You’re amazing, Becks.” I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I can’t give you my whole heart. Not the way you deserve. And that isn’t fair to you.”

Though she doesn’t say anything, I can tell she’s crying. Pulling back, I lift her chin and force myself to meet her tear-filled eyes. “I swear, it’s not you. You’re perfect. In every way that matters. The problem is me. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay…” she whispers, her voice cracking as she wipes her cheeks. “I… I’m going to go.”

She turns to leave, but I reach for her arm..

“Wait—Becca, please let me walk you home.” I have to do this one last thing for her. I know how hard it was for her to trust me, and knowing I’ve let her down, hurt her like this…

There aren’t words for how terrible that makes me feel.

“No…” She shakes her head and gives me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. One already hidden behind walls she’s trying to throw up as fast as she can. She’s shutting down. Shutting me out. And I hate it. “Don’t.” She peels my fingers from her arm. “It’s still light out. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Rising onto her tiptoes, she kisses my cheek. Though it’s soft and meant as a goodbye, I can feel how deeply she cares for me in that one simple touch.

I’m a goddamn bastard.

Filled with self-loathing and rage, I rake my hands through my hair and watch her walk away. This is all my fault, and even though I know it had to be done, none of that changes the truth:

I never should have pursued a relationship with her in the first place. I knew what was in my heart, and in trying to ignore it, I did the one thing I swore I’d never do.

I broke Becca’s heart.

Turning back to face the house where I left Embree, I can’t do anything but stare, completely unsure of what to do next. I have to talk to her. I saw the look in her eyes tonight, and I know I need to take control of this situation before it all blows up.

The problem is, my head and my heart aren’t even close to being on the same page.

My mind wants to go in there and lay it all out—tell her exactly where we stand. That we’re friends. Nothing more.

But my heart…

It’s pounding so damn loud in my ears, it’s all I can hear. It’s begging me to go in there and tell her the truth. That she is it for me. That she’s the only girl I’ve ever wanted.

But I can’t do that.

So how the hell am I supposed to walk back in there and tell her nothing can ever happen between us… when I’m barely holding back the urge to claim her?

In the past, I’ve used Jen as my buffer. But there’s no way I’m having this conversation in front of my sister.

I can’t face Embree right now.

Not tonight.

So instead, I turn around and walk away. Resigned to the wreckage I’ve created—and the pain I deserve—I pull out my phone and text Ben to ask him to look out for the girls.

I’m going home.

I need time to think.

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# Chapter 4

Emilia

"Where are you going?" Mom stands over the sink, her back turned to me.

Surprised she's still here, I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and take a seat at the kitchen table. Though I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, it's hard to turn off that part of me that craves her attention.

"To Jen's. Lucas hasn't come around all week, so I want to check on him."

"Hmm," she considers as she turns off the water. Grabbing the kitchen towel from the counter, she dries her hands and turns to face me. "Is it true that he and that Becca girl broke up?"

"That's the rumor." Rumor because I've yet to hear it from him. "Has Aunt Jessa said anything?" Like the desperate girl that I am, I lean forward in my seat. To her, it probably seems like I'm eager for the answer to the question, when in fact, I'm just happy to have stumbled upon a topic that captures her attention.

"All she's said is he's not talking, and she doesn't want to pry." When she tosses the towel back onto the counter and leaves the kitchen, my face falls. From the foyer, I hear her yell, "I'm leaving. Your father will deal with everything else when he gets home."

Of course, he will. Just like he does every night because my mother is never here. Why she feels the need to remind me only fuels my disappointment. I can't understand why Daddy doesn't speak up and remind her she has responsibilities here at home. Instead, we all do this dance where we pretend not to notice that she only comes for an hour or two in the mornings before turning around and leaving us again. I know it sounds like I'm angry at my father, but it isn't that. I only wish he'd come right out and admit to me that their marriage is over. Or at the very least, it would be nice if he acknowledged that at this point, our family unit consists of only me and him.

"Okay," I mumble under my breath, at the same time the door clicks shut. Why her lack of interest in my life still hurts is beyond me. You'd think I'd be relieved since it means I don't have to constantly hear how I don't measure up to the type of daughter she envisioned for herself.

Annoyed at the burning sensation behind my eyes, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Without thinking, I open the text message Lucas sent late last night.

"I'm fine."

When I first read those two words, my stomach sank, and I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, worrying over how I'm going to fix this. 

Seven days. 

That's how long it took him to respond to my calls and messages. Seven days of radio silence which, coincidently, started after that awkward moment at Amanda's party. The last time we went this long without seeing one another was back in the seventh grade when he was hospitalized with the flu. It's how I know that no matter what the text said, Lucas James Holt is anything but fine.

Sick of waiting for him to come to me, I grab what I need and head out the door. After a deep breath of the clean mountain air, I make my way down the front steps and start walking down the tree-lined street to where Jen and Lucas live a few blocks over. I make this trip half a dozen times a week, but today's walk feels different since I don't have a clue what's going to happen when he finds me standing at his door.

I'm not one for confrontation and I've spent most of my life avoiding it or pretending not to notice when it's happening around me. Unfortunately, the only thing I hate more than confrontation is knowing that someone I care about is angry with me. This is especially the case when that someone is Lucas.

In all the years I've known him, which happens to be my entire life, he's never turned his back on me. That is, until that night, and while watching him walk away was difficult, his absence since then has hurt far worse. Each day that's passed has been harder than the last, and now I'm at the point where I can't sleep because my mind won't stop replaying that horrible moment that changed everything.

I still don't understand how I allowed it to happen. One second I was standing there laughing with my friends when suddenly the sight of his arms wrapped around Becca broke something inside of me. Even as my lungs failed to work and my eyes welled with tears, I couldn't look away, and then he caught me. During my stupid, emotional breakdown, he saw what for years I've been trying to hide.

It was a massive screw-up on my part. Since realizing I have feelings for him, I've made it a point to keep it to myself. Not wanting to put any pressure on him, or to make him feel like I have any expectations because I know him. He's the type of person who twists himself into knots to do what he deems is the right thing.

It's an admirable trait and something I love about him, but he has this way of basing what is right on what's best for everybody else. In this case, I could see him pushing me away. Putting distance and conditions around our friendship under the guise that staying away is the best way to protect me from a broken heart. 

Which is exactly what he's doing now.

By the time I make it to his front door, I'm a mess. I'm sweating through my Green Day t-shirt, which ironically reads 
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
. My heart is pounding in my chest and my stomach is doing aerial acrobatics in warning that I'm dangerously close to emptying the contents of my stomach. 

But I'm here.

Walking away and leaving things as they are isn't an option.

Closing my eye, I raise a fist and quickly knock on his door several times. I know he's home. I spoke to Jen this morning before she left for a hair appointment with her mom, and she told me he'd be here. I knew right then that this was my only chance to force him to talk to me.

My breath catches at the sound of movement on the other side of the door.

Oh god, oh god, oh god!

"Embree?" He peeks at me through the crack of the door. The subtle creases on the side of his face, along with his bedhead, make it obvious that I've woken him. Like clockwork, the butterflies in my stomach launch into kamikaze dive mode. "Uh, Jen's out with my mom," he tells me.

Though I can tell he's not exactly thrilled to see me, he allows the door to swing open. The wrinkled white tee and crumpled creases on his basketball shorts are clear indications he got dressed in a hurry. Even so, he's still the hottest boy I've ever seen, and it takes every bit of my self-control to not reach out and run my hands through the frizzy curls that fall over his eyes. Or to run my fingers down the center of his tight, wide chest that not even the wrinkles of his shirt can hide.

When my cheeks grow heated, I instantly regret where my thoughts have gone. Wrapping my arms around myself, I tell him, "I know. She told me. I'm here to talk to you."

Unmoving, he stares at me. His sea-green eyes scan over my face like he's searching for something, which only heightens my discomfort. The only reason I'm not crawling out of my skin with nerves is that I'm used to the way he's always assessing me. Like I'm some puzzle, his strategic mind can't help but want to solve. I think it's how he always knows what I need. It's yet another thing I love about him, at least most of the time. Right now, it just makes me feel so darn exposed.

After a few breaths, he puts me out of my misery and signals for me to come in. Without a word, he closes the door behind us and then turns, walking toward his kitchen.

Following, I cringe at the strange awkwardness that swirls between us. This isn't us. It's never been us, so to suddenly feel like this sends a pang of desperation that clogs up my throat.

"Lucas?" I force myself to do this now, for if I don't, I may never get it out. "Can we talk? I mean, like really talk?"

He hesitates for a step before continuing to the counter, where he reaches up into the cabinet to grab a bowl. That he won't look at me is unnerving. It makes me question if this is the right time for this conversation, but if there's any hope of getting back to how things were, the sooner we resolve this the better.

"Sure..." his back is still to me when he leans down to grab the gallon of milk from the refrigerator.

That's all he says, so I stand there in silence and watch as he pours himself a bowl of cereal, which he then starts to eat, all while his back is still to me.

"Lucas. Look at me." My voice is thick with frustration. "Why won't you look at me? Are you mad at me or something?" By the time I reach the word mad, I've lost all composure. As if shocked by the break in my voice, he turns. The instant our eyes meet my tears begin to flow and behind the blur, I see his features twist with regret.

"I'm not mad, Emb. I swear, we're good." Though his words are meant to reassure me, it's his eyes that speak his truth. Plus, his body language is all wrong. His shoulders are stiff with apprehension, and missing is the confident, relaxed Lucas I've known all my life.

"You're lying. Why are you lying to me, Luc? That's not what we do...we don't lie to one another." I try to be strong and I fight back the sobs that want to break free, but those damn tears continue to flow even as I furiously wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," he says in a whisper, his sad eyes tracking a tear as it slides down my face. "I'm going through some things, Emilia, and needed time to figure it all out."

"Emilia? You called me by my name which tells me that not only is something wrong but that it has everything to do with me." Unable to hold back any longer, the sob I've been fighting escapes. "You can't shut me out like this, Lucas. You can't just up and disappear without a word. I'm sorry about what happened at the party. I'm sorry you saw me like that, that I ruined things for you and Becca, and most of all, I'm sorry I ruined things between us. I need you, Lucas. I don't know how to exist without you. You're my best friend..."

Before I can finish my frantic tirade, he rushes to me. His desperation must match mine, for his powerful arms come around and pull me tight against his chest.

For the first time in seven days, I feel like I can finally breathe.

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Chapter 5

Emilia

Like it was all in my head, the fear I’m on the verge of losing him slips away. It’s courtesy of the feel of his arms around me, his body cocooning me from the terrible thoughts that have haunted me since that night. But as with anything that isn’t real, it’s not long before that feeling of safety is shattered by the truth. Now that he’s caught a glimpse of how deeply in love I am with him, I have no idea what happens next. What if things between us never go back to how they were? What if he decides my feelings are too much, and the best recourse is for him to put distance between us?

“I can’t lose you,” I whisper against his chest.

Since we were kids, he’s been a constant fixture in my life. Whenever I was scared, every obstacle I faced, I knew without a doubt he’d be there to help me conquer it. As a little girl, I have memories of Lucas helping me onto the large rock at Willow Creek Park for the first time. It was he who took my shaky hand in his and helped me climb the steps of the big scary school bus that first day. For as long as I can remember, he’s been my guardian and protector, but now something essential to who we are has shifted.

I can feel it.

It’s intense and confusing, and worst yet, it’s causing this thick, unbreachable divide to form between us.

“You’re not going to lose me.” He breathes into my hair. “You didn’t ruin anything, and I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me? The guys have all talked to you, and you and Jen are okay. The only one you’re not speaking to is me.”

I can’t help but bury my face deeper into chest. His warm masculine scent is like a balm that takes the edge off the uncertainty I feel. When his chest expands, he tightens his hold and pulls me closer. It’s why I don’t miss the tilt of his chin as he shifts his face over my hair and breathes me in.

I wish I could see his eyes. Would they betray his tight control and for once give away what he’s thinking? Would they show sadness? Regret? Longing? Or maybe pity for the stupid girl crying in his arms.

“I’m sorry about that. You’re right, we should talk.” While his tone is steady, I detect a hint of uncertainty. After kissing the top of my head, he pulls back. His hands slide over the sides of my face, and with his thumbs, he wipes away the remaining trail of tears. “What do you say we table this until after I eat? We can talk down at the park.”

Nodding, I let him slip away, back to the counter where he grabs his bowl of cereal and returns to eating. This time, however, he doesn’t turn away.

“Now, why don’t you tell me about your week? What did I miss?” When he looks at me this time, it’s like our troubles have melted away. It goes a long way to lifting the weight that has crushed my chest the past week.

For a girl who can’t stand having people be mad at her and who avoids conflict like the plague, the change in him is like a gift from the heavens that I refuse to question. Maybe it’s a sign that I overreacted. That things between us haven’t changed all that much, and that after today things can return to normal. As long as I have my Lucas back, I’m willing to sweep the offending week under the rug and pretend it never happened. Especially if that’s what he wants.

“Hey you, head out of the clouds.” He shakes the hand that’s resting in front of me on the counter. “Come back to me,” he beckons in that soothing voice that never fails to make me swoon.

God, I missed this. The wide grin and the warmth behind those sea-green eyes as he pulls me back into the moment. I’m a daydreamer who’s perpetually lost in my thoughts, but he never judges. If anything, the way he smiles when he catches me in the act is like he’s won a hand at his favorite game of cards. Like he’s thrilled to have caught me in a world that only he and I know exists.

“Sorry.” With warmth radiating over my cheeks, I look down at my hand, which still tingles from his momentary touch.

With a knowing grin, he scoops one last heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth and then walks the bowl over to the sink. “Let me grab Clara, then we’ll go.”

Clara is the guitar his mom gave him for his 15th birthday. He once told me that playing is how he processes hard feelings and copes with his need for constant perfection. The fact he’s bringing her today is significant because it means he’s serious about the conversation we’re about to have.

Twenty minutes later, we’re at our rock at Willow Creek Park. The flat stone surface is at the top of the hill and overlooks the lake. It’s a large enough area that all our friends can fit comfortably, but as per usual, we sit side by side, our bodies touching.

Time passes while I listen in quiet wonder at the way he expertly strums Clara’s strings. The beautiful tunes flow in the surrounding breeze, further enhancing the silent escape that, over time, has become our refuge.

I love this about us. The way we can sit quietly together, absorbing the wonder of everything around us with no pressure to fill the silence. Whereas with others that quiet can feel like a void, with him, the opposite is true. With him, the quiet fills all the empty little nooks and cracks inside of me, leaving me with a sense of completeness. Like I’m truly whole. My heart brimming full of happiness and life.

When the melody he was playing shifts, the tune pulls me back to that awful night. At first, worry trickles in, but that’s quickly negated by the feel of his eyes gently sweeping over my face. He’s staring at me with a look I’ve never seen. Maybe reverence? It sends a fresh wave of butterflies fluttering inside my chest.

“I like this song.” The melody continues to build, as with expert precision his fingers tug at the strings. “I’ve been working on it all week. Haven’t been able to get it out of my head since that night.” He says this out loud, but I’m not sure he meant for me to hear it.

You and Me by Lighthouse.

As the memories of that night come rushing back, emotion chokes me, and my eyes fill with that familiar burn. I remember so vividly the moment my gaze was pulled towards him, his eyes connecting with mine just as his arms went around Becca. As their bodies began to sway, I remember the feel of the song as it coursed through my blood, ripping through my soul with the demand that it was me who belonged in his arms. With each perfectly worded lyric, the melody fused into my being like the music wanted me to know it was written specifically for us.

I was so caught up in what was happening that I realized way too late that I’d dropped all pretense and let my true feelings show. It was there, written in his eyes. A look of shocked realization, which was followed by disappointed devastation. It was in that instant that he broke away and turned his back on me for the very first time in my life. As I watched him walk away, hand in hand with his girlfriend, the rejection was overwhelming. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, and it nearly brought me to my knees.

He must realize that I’m upset, for he stops playing and after setting Clara beside him, he turns toward me and takes my hand.

When my eyes finally meet his, he says, “I’m not mad about what happened that night. I could never be mad at you. Not ever.”

“Then why?” I need to know. More than anything, I need him to tell me so I can make sure it never happens again.

“Um…” He shifts and looks down at where our fingers are intertwined. “I think you know. I think you feel it too. What’s happening between us? I’m pretty sure you felt it that night, during that song…maybe even before then. I know I have.”

My mind falls into a wayward abyss, and my stomach plunges like the ground beneath our feet has disappeared.

I’m in freefall.

Uncertainty and possibilities swirl around me, and the only thing I’m sure of is that we’re headed for a crash landing. I know it. Nothing’s ever going to be the same after this, no matter how much I will it. But what does that mean and where will that leave us?

But I also can’t deny, his admission soothes a part of me I never knew needed the affirmation. I’m not crazy. This feeling that’s as tangible as the wind, and as glaring as an unspoken truth, must be real if we’re both feeling the same thing.

However, underneath that and just as prevalent is this dark undercurrent. This tension that’s like a silent warning that what we feel may not be a part of our path. Judging by the furrow of his brow, I can tell he feels that too.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes, and no.” He looks contrite as he answers. “I don’t want to avoid you. I just don’t trust myself to do the right thing when I’m around you.”

At his admission, tension crawls up my spine, as my biggest fear rises front and center in my mind. Lucas is driven by his need to always do right. What if he decides that to protect me, he has to stay away?

Terrified and frustrated, I blurt, “What does that mean, Luc? Don’t talk to me in riddles, just tell me straight out. What the hell does that mean?” The tears I’d been holding back break free, as overwhelming fear pushes me over the edge.

“It means that I want you Embree,” he blurts out, his brow twisted in frustration. “Every second of every day, all I want is to be with you. I want to touch you. To kiss you. It’s you I wanted to be on that dance floor …” He breaks off, looking away as a myriad of emotions I can’t decipher mar his face.

When he looks at me this time, the flutters in my belly swell into a wave of wants. I want him to touch me. To kiss me. Most of all, I want him to want me as badly as I want him. He’s the first and last person I think about each day. No matter where we are, I feel him like a current that springs me to life and sparks my awareness. It’s why these past seven days have been so miserable. Because somehow, he’s become as essential to me as the air I breathe.

“And that’s the problem.” He squeezes my hands, likely to ease the words he’s going to say next. “You’re one of my closest friends. You’re Jenny’s best friend. Our parents are friends. There’s just too much that could get screwed up if I allow myself to act on these feelings. Too many people could be affected if we mess this up. Plus, I don’t want to hurt you. It’s why I think it’s best that we remain friends. It’s easier that way. For everyone. It’s the right thing to do.” Though he says that last part with conviction, he shakes his head like his body is in total disagreement with his words.

Shattered doesn’t even come close to what those painful words do to me. Even as I expected them. Even as I know that he’s right, I can’t help the wave of disappointment and hurt that washes over me. Unable to speak and on the verge of tears again, I pull our hands apart and casually lean back on the rock, turning my attention up to the sky. It’s a lame attempt to look unphased as I fight to pull myself together.

“Sorry, Embree. I’ve stayed away because I needed time to work through all this. I should have been honest.” When I don’t say anything, he grabs my chin with his fingers and forces me to look at him. “I don’t want this to change us. I need you. Can we table all these feelings and weirdness between us for a bit? Just until we figure out if there’s a way to do this without screwing anything up?”

The hope in his eyes and the possibility in his words coax a sad smile from my lips. He’s offering me what I wanted. Normalcy. To go back to who we were before I went and screwed everything up.

I guess it’s a good thing that suppressing my feelings and needs for the sake of others is on par with who I am. It’s why I choose to school my expression, pushing away all those hurt feelings so I can mirror his hopeful ones. This is what he needs from me and after the hurt of the past week, I’m happy to give it.

“Okay…” I smile wide, hoping it looks genuine. “Maybe it will all die down and go away, right? I mean, in a year you’ll be leaving for college, and a year after that, so will I. Who knows where we’ll end up after that.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal when in fact that bit of truth makes me want to cry.

“Yeah.” He pauses, his gaze scanning over the profile of my face like he’s searching for my truth. “Maybe someday, after college, when we’re grown. Maybe then if we still feel the same?”

“Maybe.” I bump my shoulder against his, trying to make it seem like we’re back on firm ground.

“Okay,” he exhales, a sense of relief washing over him as his gaze joins mine, looking out over the lake.

“Okay,” I whisper back, setting us up for yet another first.

The first time I’ve blatantly deceived him.

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# Chapter 6

Lucas

"Okay son, that should be good," Dad smiles as he pats me on the back. "Why don't we rest for a bit before we head inside to help Mom?"

With a pained groan, I take a seat across from him, my body grateful for the rest after a morning of yard work and power washing. It's the fourth Saturday in June, and therefore the day of the Holt's Annual Summer Bash. For as long as I can remember, my parents have hosted this BBQ-style picnic, with an open invitation to anyone in Ruby Creek who wants to attend. It's the one thing my family is known for, and I have to say it's my favorite day of the year.

"Thanks for your help today," he says while pouring us a cup of iced tea from the blue beverage cooler on the table. "After what happened with you and Becca, have you thought about how you'll handle seeing her and her parents today?"

I stifle a groan. I haven't talked to Becca since that night, two weeks ago, and I have no idea what she told her parents about the breakup. Parents who loved that we were together, and who are the type to sit us down in the name of 
helping us work things out
.

"God..." I rub my forehead in frustration. "I honestly forgot they'd be here."

"Mind if I ask what happened? I thought the two of you were good together." 

To most, it might seem like he's trying to pry, but it's just how my dad is. He makes it a point to remain involved in our day-to-day, not out of a sense of trying to parent us, but because he cares about what's happening in our lives. He doesn't push us to open up, and no matter what we disclose, he never judges or lectures. It's one of the many things I love about him. He's easy to talk to, especially about things I'd rather not talk about. 

"I don't know how to explain it, exactly. It just hit me one day. I realized I could never care for her the same way she cares about me." 

As Dad mulls over my words, I remove the baseball cap from my sweat-soaked hair and turn my nervous energy toward shaping the bill.

"Well, not everyone loves at the same speed. That she cares more now doesn't mean you won't eventually catch up." 

"I know that, Dad." I sigh and take a minute to choose my words. Staring off into the distance, I recall the awkward exchange. "About a month ago, Becca told me she loved me. It was the first time she'd said it, and as badly as I wanted to say it back, I couldn't. The more I thought about it, the more I realized those feelings might never come."

"So you ended it." 

I nod, still unwilling to meet his gaze. "Yes."

"Any chance this has something to do with Emilia?" With a start, my eyes snap to his. "Don't look so shocked," he chuckles. "I have eyes, kid. I see the way you look at each other and as close as you are, I can see why it'd be difficult to love someone else." 

Frozen and unable to speak, I just stare. How the fuck does he know? How the hell am I supposed to explain to him how it happened? That I'm doing my damnest to keep to my respective boundaries, even with how hard it is to go against my desires?

"I-I swear, Dad. Nothing's happened. I would never..." I rush to stand. The trepidation coursing through my blood makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I can handle almost anything life throws my way, but disappointing my parents is not one of them. "Dad..." With my hands raised to my head and tears welling up, I accept my fate and meet his eyes.

With a worried look, he pulls me into an embrace. It's a gesture I'm not expecting considering the circumstances, so I stand there completely stiff, unsure of what to do. 

"It's okay, son." When he pulls back, he's grinning. His hands move to my shoulders in a show of support and he says, "It's alright. No need to get bent out of shape. You're a good kid, Lucas. And so is she. If the two of you like one another, it's okay."

What?

"It's not okay, Dad! Not even a little. Even she agreed it wasn't a good idea. She's Jenny's best friend, and with you and Mom being so close to her parents, our dating would only spell disaster. If things were to go wrong, it would mess everything up. For everyone. Not just us."

"You know, some of the best things in life come from messy situations."

Unsure of where he's going with this, I shake my head. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, like babies, for example," I scrunch up my nose, already sensing where he's taking the conversation. "When you and your sister came out, you were all slimy and gross. Green stuff. Blood. Weird goo all stuck to you, and yet, once you were all cleaned up, you were the most beautiful humans I'd ever seen."

"Gross Dad."

"Oh, and kissing. Some of the best kisses are the ones where you lose all restraint and slobber all over each other..."

"God Dad! Please stop..."

"Oh, and sex! It's messy, but geez Louise..."

"That's it..." I turn, ready to make my escape. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he chuckles as he throws a heavy arm around me. "Look, all I'm saying is messy things are some of the most memorable and worthwhile experiences one can have. It's part of life, son. You need to mix in a little mess to find the spice. So don't be afraid to get a little dirty now and again because those are the moments that make life worth living."

"I hear you, Dad. I do. It just feels like I already have way too many balls in the air. It's senior year, you know? I'm a year away from all my hard work finally paying off. Between school, football, and getting ready for college next year, there's already too much on the line. The last thing I want is to lose Embree because we rushed into something we weren't ready for. She's one of my best friends and with everything that's about to change, I'm not willing to risk it." 

Though it's all true, saying it out loud leaves me feeling deflated. Like in choosing to protect what she and I have, there's this hollowness that's formed deep within my chest. For the first time in my life, doing the right thing feels wrong, and it makes no sense to me at all.

"Now that I understand. You have a good head on your shoulders, Luc, and a good heart." He pulls me into a hug and this time I'm able to return it. "I'm proud of you, son. In case I haven't said it today, I'm so damn proud of you."

With a last pat on the back, he lets me go. His eyes move to something over my shoulder before he smiles big and says, "Oh, so now you show up. After all the hard work is done."

I turn around in time to see Ben return his smile. "Sorry, Mr. Holt. Yesterday was payday. I didn't want to leave Nic alone to deal with the mess."

Damn. My dad's cheerful expression turns contrite as we both consider the mess he's referring to. A mess no child should have to deal with, but when you're the son of an alcoholic and you have no other parent to protect you, you do whatever it takes to survive.

"I'm so sorry, Benny. You kids shouldn't have to deal with that. Now that it's summer, my offer still stands. We have plenty of room for the two of you."

"Appreciate that, but we're good. Nic won't leave him, and I can't leave her to deal with him on her own. It's all good though. He's not as bad as he used to be."

That's something I've learned about kids who grow up with neglectful parents. They tend to not only downplay their terrible home situation, but they're also masters at hiding the neglect. It's only because we've been friends for so long that I can see through his attempt at deceiving my dad.

"Okay, well, whatever you guys need, no matter the hour, give us a call." Dad reaches out to shake Ben's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Holt."

As we watch Dad head back inside, I tell him, "You don't need to lie to my dad. He'd never go against your wishes, even if you told him how bad things are."

"Maybe," nonchalant as ever, he shrugs his shoulders. "So what's with the miserable look you had going on when I came in?"

"Way to deflect the attention off yourself."

"Hey, I'm just returning the concerned friend act here, so don't give me that lip."

"It's not an act, Ben. We're all worried about you..."

"Well, stop," he cuts me off. "Because you see, I've been dealing with a shit hand all my life. I've learned to suck all that poison down so I don't choke on it and because of that, I'm as put together as someone in my position can be," he smirks. "Now you, having been raised by two competent parental units, you've been taught that the only way to feel better is to talk shit out. So talk. What's got you looking so damn constipated?"

"Don't be a dick just because you don't want to talk about your life."

"Then stop making me," he gives me an arrogant grin.

"Fine, whatever." Running a hand through my hair, I reclaim my seat at the picnic table. "Dad and I were talking about Becca, and how today's the first time I'm seeing her since the break-up."

He lets out a long whistle as he sits across from me. "Awkward, am I right? So what are you thinking, avoidance? Need me to run interference and keep the two of you from being together in the same room?"

"No, dumbass. I'm not avoiding her. There's one year of school left and if possible, I'd like to remain her friend."

"Okay, so what's the issue, then?" He snatches the iced tea cup from my hands and guzzles it down like the drink was his. "Aaah. That's good. Your mom makes the best iced tea." With a raised brow, he asks again, "Well? What's the problem?"

"It's this little thing called a conscience. It's something you're not familiar with given that you're feral, but for the rest of us, it means we feel bad when we hurt the people we care about. That night at the party, I hurt her."

"Why did you break up with her, anyway? You said you hurt her, but how? You're a damn boy scout so I know you didn't cheat on her, so then what?" Standing, he takes the empty cup to the end of the table where the beverage cooler sits, and proceeds to pour himself a refill.

"I realized I didn't like her in the same way she liked me. I felt bad that I couldn't return her feelings the way she deserved."

"So," he pauses to take a long gulp of the drink. "Aaah, so good. Mmm." Resuming his seat, he finally says, "It sounds to me like you actually saved her from wasting any more time on your sorry ass." He smirks hard like he's purposely trying to get under my skin, but it has the opposite effect because he's right. For ten long months, I led her on.

"Too little too late."

"Christ man. Snap out of it and stop acting like a whiny 5-year-old. You did the girl a favor and yeah, maybe a tad late, but as the saying goes, better late than never." 

When I keep quiet, he throws his hands up in exasperation. "Good god, dude, since when am I the half-full glass of this relationship? You're upsetting the balance of things, you know." 

When I still say nothing, he blurts, "Okay. It's cool then. I'll be the optimist while you go on and wallow. I have a feeling you'll need me to lift your ass up anyway after you hear how Parker asked Emilia to be his date for the bonfire."

That. Does. It. Snapping out of my pity party for one, I growl at my best friend, "What the fuck do you mean, Parker asked her out?"

Nonchalant as fucking ever, the asshole shrugs. 

He shrugs! 

My hands ball into fists and I'm seconds from jumping over the table and wrapping my hands around his throat when he finally answers. 

"I mean that Parker finally grew into his balls and said 
'fuck you and your meaningless threats Lucas Holt,
'" he says that last part in the worst Parker impression I've ever heard. "He's been trying to tell you he likes her, but you go all caveman and threatening whenever her name comes up. In the end, I guess he said fuck it. He circumvented you, went up the chain of command, and asked her directly." 

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Chapter 7

Emilia

Forty-five minutes. That’s how long we waited in the car before my mother finally pulled into our driveway. Elegant as ever, with not a hair out of place, she gracefully exits her car before shooting a scowl in our direction. What she’s angry at is anyone’s guess. Never mind that we’re the ones put out by her tardiness. Especially since she’s who insisted that for appearance’s sake, we walk into the Holt’s BBQ together, as a family. Yet if her face is anything to go by, she’d rather be going to this thing with anyone but us.

Looking over at Dad, I notice his usual jovial smile is strained and there’s tension hidden behind his eyes. It’s obvious he’s not happy with her either, but as usual, he’s refusing to talk about it. Well, aside from reminding me she’s my mother and his wife. Like that justifies why we’re constantly giving in to her whims when she does nothing for the family unit she’s so desperate to show off today.

I hated how sad he looked when he reminded me of her position in our family. It was a look of utter defeat and it only stoked the anger I feel toward the woman who birthed me. Not that I have the nerve to say anything to her about it, either. In that, I’m much like my father. My aversion to conflict, in addition to mom’s ability to cut me down to nothing with only her words, is enough to keep me from wanting to upset her.

“You were supposed to wash the car,” she chastises. “Now we look like a bunch of vagrants.”

“Sorry, dear. It was a busy week.” His tone is apologetic, but I don’t miss how he swallows back what he really wants to say.

My muscles tense when she pulls down the visor to open the mirror. As I thought, her piercing gaze comes straight to me.

“Why would you wear that mess down without straightening it? And in this June humidity?” she leans down and reaches into her purse. “Swear to God, I’ve no idea where you came from. If I hadn’t been there myself, I wouldn’t believe you were mine.” Reaching back, she hands me a black hair tie. “Here, pull that frizzy mop out of your face.”

Without question, I do as she asks, schooling my features so she doesn’t see how much her words hurt. I worked for over an hour and a half to tame my wavy hair into perfect curls. Separating the thick strands into small sections so I could pull the curling iron through them, just like she taught me. I’m such a fool. I wish I knew how to shut off that naïve part of me that yearns for her approval.

By the time we pull up to the Holt’s, I’ve tuned my parents out entirely. That silent thread that connects Lucas and me sparks to life, pulling my attention to where he sits on the steps of his front porch. He’s leaning forward on his elbows, looking downright mad, which sets me on edge. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Lucas angry, and each of those times it had to do with football and the team. It’s summer, so this can’t be about that, as there’s still another month before the season starts.

Unable to help myself, I take off my seatbelt in a rush, knowing I have to get to him to see what is wrong.

“Stop.” Her one-word demand leaves no room for negotiation. “Don’t you dare get out of this car to go chasing after that boy. You need to help your father. I’ll go in first to let them know we’re here.”

After that, she gets out of the car. Through the rearview mirror, Dad sends me a silent apology, before he too steps out of the car. By the time I’ve rounded the trunk to take the dishes Dad is handing me, Lucas is at my side offering to help carry things as well. The frenetic energy coming off of him is unnerving, and though he hasn’t said a word, it feels like his anger is directed at me.

The moment I set the dishes in the large kitchen, he takes my hand and yanks me away from the crowd and up the stairs to his room. The move has me speechless, as this looks to be another first for us. Never has he treated me this way. Angry. Almost possessive. Like he has every right to me, even above my mother, who he blatantly ignored as she protested my departure.

“Lucas. What are you doing?” I ask not because I have a problem with him taking charge of me this way, but because I can tell there is something seriously wrong.

“We need to talk.” When he slams his bedroom door shut behind us, I flinch. My reaction must bother him, for he softens his stance as he looks down at me. “Did you tell Parker you’re going to the bonfire with him?”

The bonfire?

That’s what this is about?

“Well, no, not yet. He asked if I had a date and I said no. When he asked if I’d go with him, I told him I needed to talk to my dad first.”

“So, are you going with him or not?” His question is clipped, leaving no doubt that he’s super upset about this.

“What is this, Lucas? Why are you so mad?”

“Oh, I’m not mad Emb, I’m fucking pissed because I told every one of my asshole friends to stay the hell away from you.” As if he didn’t mean to say it, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair and his expression turns sheepish. Unfortunately for him, I heard him loud and clear.

“You told our friends to stay away from me? Why in the world would you do that?”

“Because they’re not good for you, Emb. Especially fucking Parker. He’s a womanizer who treats girls like crap, and I’ll be damned if I allow him to do that to you.”

“He’s our friend, Lucas.” I shake my head incredulously, both at his audacity in trying to control who I hang out with and at his assessment of Parker. “I’ve known him almost as long as you have, so I know exactly who he is and what he does. Don’t you trust me to decide who is and isn’t good for me?”

“No. Not if Parker is who you choose.”

“Choose? This isn’t a choice, Lucas. I had no one to go with, and he asked if I’d go with him. What exactly would I be choosing if I said yes to his invitation?”

At this, he steps into my space. His face peering down at me almost threateningly, except that when I look into those sea-green orbs, what I see is raw, unadulterated hurt.

“Don’t you get it? It would be like you’re choosing him over me, and after what I told you last week, how am I supposed to take that?”

Stunned, I stand there with my mouth agape.

Last week?

“What, when you told me that nothing could happen between us? When you decided we should table our feelings until after college? You’re the one who asked for that, Lucas. I agreed because there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but it was your choice. Me going to the bonfire with Parker isn’t me choosing him over you. In fact, it has nothing to do with you at all.”

I’m not a yeller. Nor am I someone who gets angry, but after the way my mom treated me earlier, in addition to the anger he’s throwing my way, I’m at my limit.

“If I say yes to Parker, it’s because, for once, I’d like to go out and have a little fun. I can’t keep skipping out on experiences to hang out with you, Lucas, because after next year you’ll be off to college and I’ll have no one. This isn’t me choosing Parker over you, it’s me choosing myself over everybody else.”

My fury must catch him by surprise, for he just stands there, his hands on his hips. When he goes to speak, a knock at the door interrupts.

“What?” he yells at whoever is knocking, frustration evident in his tone.

“Lucas? It’s me, Becca. Your dad said I could find you up here.”

I watch his face closely as he processes Becca’s words. At first, I don’t know what I’m searching for, but based on the gaping hole in the pit of my stomach, I must have found it. It’s in that instant that a look of acceptance washes over him, while the anger that was there seconds ago melts away and disappears.

I’ve lost him. Whatever this moment was about, whatever doubts had crept in over the decisions he made on our rock that day, it’s all gone. With it, my opportunity to prove to him that maybe, just maybe, this thing between us is worth exploring.

When he steps away to get the door, my heart sinks.

When he opens said door and pulls Becca into his arms, it’s like a punch to the gut.

When he looks at me with an arm wrapped around her and tells me, “You’re right. You deserve to do what is best for you. Whatever you decide, maybe we’ll see you and Parker there.” It feels like I’ve died a thousand deaths.

Heartbroken and confused, it takes far too many seconds for my brain to process that I’ve been dismissed. It’s the intense burn behind my eyes that pushes me to move before either of them can see me break.

Humiliated, I walk away from him without so much as a second glance. I credit the sounds of the guests downstairs for helping me keep it together. The time to break into tears needs to come later when I’m in the safety of my bedroom. For now, I need to hold my head high and channel my frustration toward proving he doesn’t control me.

Steeling my shoulders, I march right out the back door, to where all the guests are. With little effort, my eyes zero in on the one person I need, and with determination like I’ve never known, my feet take me straight toward my target.

Ignoring all the familiar faces as they say hello, I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him. A lock of blonde hair hangs limply over his hopeful eyes as he looks down at me. Parker is a flirt. A guy who can sweet talk his way into any girl’s bed, but who has always treated me with the utmost respect. Something I’m willing to bet won’t change after one little date.

“Parker.”

“Yes, Emilia.” His brow lifts in amusement.

“Still need a date for the bonfire?”

“Why, yes. I do.”

“I’ll go with you.” Taking his hand, I give it a gentle squeeze. “And if Lucas gives you a hard time about it at any point, you need to tell me.”

“Ah, okay. I’m guessing you told him?” Judging by the smirk on his face, that Lucas knows pleases him immensely.

“No, I didn’t. He already knew and was more than happy to express his displeasure but get this Parker. He doesn’t own me. No one does, so the only person who gets to decide where I go and who I go with is me. You got that?”

His lips curve into a smug grin as he intertwines our fingers. “I hear you, beautiful. Message received.”

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# Chapter 8

Lucas

"You're right. You deserve to do what is best for you. Whatever you decide, maybe we'll see you and Parker there." The words taste rancid in my mouth, especially as Becca's shoulders tense under my arm and Embree's expression falls.

For several uncomfortable seconds, the three of us stand there. Just as I'm ready to break and tell her I didn't mean it the way it sounded, Embree turns and leaves my bedroom in a rush. As if the air in the room has gone with her, my legs almost give out, forcing me to release Becks and sit on the edge of my bed with my face buried in my hands.

"What the hell have I done?" The question forces its way up my throat in a desperate groan. This isn't how things were supposed to go. When I told her we should put aside our feelings and focus on our friendship, not once did I picture this. Her and Parker? What the fuck do I do now?

Next to me, the bed shifts. 

"God, Becks." I'd almost forgotten she was here. "I'm so damn sorry." It's all I say, hindered by the overwhelming shame gripping my throat. It's probably better this way, given there is nothing I could say that would excuse my actions.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Too exhausted for pretense, I nod. My gaze glued to the spot where Embree stood seconds ago. 

"I don't want you thinking we broke up so I could be with her, because it isn't true." With a shake of my head, I chance a look at her. Her sad eyes and furrowed brow are almost a mirror image of my own. "I ended things because you deserve better than a guy like me. A guy who's got his head so far up his ass, he can't love you the way you deserve. I'm not a good guy, Becks. What happened just now is further proof of that."

"That isn't true, Lucas." She goes to reach for me like she would have done a few weeks ago but stops herself. "I forgive you. If that's what you need to hear, I'll say it again, I forgive you. It hurt me, Lucas. I was heartbroken because the best guy I'd ever met is in love with a girl who isn't me. I saw it that night. Felt it in the air as the two of you stared at one another. Since then, I've done a lot of thinking and looking back, I think I always knew." Standing, she comes in front of me and then drops to her knees, forcing my down-turned gaze to look at her. 

Taking my hands in hers, she says, "That's what I came up here to tell you. That through our time together, I was aware of everything, yet it didn't stop me from wanting to be with you. It's because you're the kindest, most protective, loyal, and responsible person I've ever known. Thinking it over, I realize it's why we lasted so long. You're so duty-bound to doing what's right that you stayed with me out of some sense of obligation, which had the secondary benefit of keeping the two of you apart. A win-win. But in the end, we all lost because the heart wants what the heart wants. In my case, it led me to settle for a boy whose heart belonged to another."

She pauses, her eyes shifting between mine briefly before she continues. "In your case, you are so afraid to follow what's in your heart that you settled for a girl you can't love. As a result, you ended up hurting not only me but also Emilia and yourself. It's time you stop thinking with your head and start trusting what's in your heart, Lucas. That's all I wanted to say. That I'm okay and that I forgive you." With that, she gets up and goes to leave. When she gets over the threshold of the door, she turns. "You deserve to be happy, Luc. Even if that means bending some of those self-imposed rules you're so determined to follow. You deserve to find happiness, too."

When the door clicks shut behind her, I collapse back onto my bed. My palms squeeze over my eyes as I will back the moisture threatening to consume me. I don't deserve her forgiveness, any more than I deserve the happiness she claims is mine for the taking. 

She is right about one thing. I made the wrong choice and because of it, hurt them both. I am afraid to trust my heart because what it wants isn't something I can have. Not safely, anyway. There is no guarantee that if I give in and make her mine, that six months from now, I won't end up losing her when things inevitably turn to crap. Or if not then, what about next year when I head off to college and leave her behind? What then? Hanging my hopes on temporary happiness when we stand to lose so much makes no sense. It's too much risk. 

Decision made, I get up and make my way down to the party. I'll find Emilia first, so I can apologize for what I said since I don't want her to think that Becks and I are together. And as much as I hate the thought of her and Parker on a date, I meant what I said. I want her to do what is best for her, and if that means she goes to the bonfire with another guy, it's up to me to find a way to accept her decision.

When I make it outside, the cookout is in full swing. Our property sits on several acres that are bordered by trees that go on as far as the eye can see. It gives our yard a secluded feel, almost park-like. Especially now, with all the picnic tables and firepits Dad has added over the years.  

In mere seconds, the magnetic pull draws my eyes to where Embree sits with our friends. Eager to make things right, I take two steps toward her before I see Parker sitting next to her. They're not touching, but based on the smirk he's sending my way, he's well aware of how his proximity to her is affecting me. He's goading me. And it's working.

Pissed that he would come to my home to pull this shit, I stomp towards him. When he sees me barreling in his direction, he rushes to a stand, his shoulders squared up like he's preparing for battle. As our chests touch, Ben steps between us, pushing me back as he tries to save me from myself.

His voice is firm but quiet enough that only I can hear. "Stop. Not here. Not with your folks and the rest of the town as witnesses. You know you'd never forgive yourself for disappointing your parents, so let it go. For now." 

I'm so wound up that I grip the front of his shirt out of desperation. I want to kill Parker. I want to punch his pretty boy face until he's black and blue and begging for my forgiveness, but Ben's right, I can't do this here. Taking in a deep breath, I release him. 

"He's doing this on purpose. He's challenging me. Daring me to put him on his ass, which he knows I will."

"Probably. It's what he does," he shrugs. "We'll deal with it. For now, do your best not to kill him in front of all these people."

When I nod, he lets go. While my insides still vibrate with rage, I school my features and walk over to Embree. 

"Emb, could we talk?"

"No," then to add insult to injury, she turns to Nic, who sits on her other side and continues their conversation as if I'm not even there.

"Damn," Parker sniggers under his breath. "Guess she told you."

I. See. Red.

Next thing I know, Ben and my father have me wrapped up in what feels like a vice, while Parker is on the ground. His eye is red and already showing signs of swelling. His lip is split and his nose is dripping blood all over the front of his white t-shirt. The satisfaction of seeing him get what he deserves quickly fades when Embree kneels at his side and wraps her arms around him protectively. 

She's protecting him from me.

And when those whiskey eyes I can't live without look up at me, what I see steals my breath. Behind the pool of unshed emotion is rage. Anger. And worst of all, disappointment.

"No. Embree, please..."

"Don't you dare speak to me, Lucas. Not now. Not after this."

When she looks away, it rips my heart in two. The gravity that I may have just lost her hits me and suddenly it's like I can't breathe. Sucking in lungfuls of air, I try to get her attention. Begging with everything I have for her forgiveness while fighting Dad and Ben as they drag me back into the house and away from the girl who owns my soul.

"That's enough!" Dad pushes me through the sliding door. "Go to your room."

"No, I have to make this right, Dad. I have to fix it." I beg through sobs that on any other day would embarrass me, but today they seem very much warranted. 

"I said get upstairs," he demands in a tone he's never used, which stuns the fight out of me. 

When I drop my head in shame, he takes both of my shoulders and leans down, so I'm forced to look into his eyes. 

"Tomorrow you fix it. Today, you give her and yourself time to process. Now, go to your room. The cookout is over for you."

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Chapter 9

Emilia

“There you are.” Her high-pitched voice cuts through the din of the busy dining room and as if on cue, everything goes quiet.

With an apologetic grin, I place Mr. Souder’s lunch in front of him and ask, “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, my dear, I’m all set.” Over my shoulder, he addresses my pain-in-the-ass best friend. “Well hello there, Miss Jennifer.”

“Hi, Mr. Souder.” It’s incredible how her voice can go from shrill and scathing one minute to small-town sweetness the next. “How have you been?”

“Great. I’m healthy as a horse and wise as an old fella. Can’t get much better than that.” He gives her a grandfatherly smile before cupping a hand to his mouth like he’s telling her a secret. “Now you go easy on Miss Emilia. Whatever she’s done, I can’t imagine she meant any harm.”

“Oh, I’ll do my very best, Mr. Souder.” When she looks at me with her fake angelic smile, my stomach drops. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, now I’ve got an angry best friend on my hands.

With a final nod, I leave Mr. Souder to enjoy his food. Knowing this conversation requires privacy, I weave my way through the lunchtime crowd. Rosie’s Diner is packed with the familiar faces of Ruby Creek residents and a few others I don’t recognize. My aunt and uncle opened this place when they first married, and since then it’s become a well-known icon that pulls tourists from surrounding towns.

What makes it special aside from the food is the feel. Walking through the door is like you’re transported back in time. Black and white checkerboard tiles line the floors. The bright red accents mixed in with paraphernalia from days of old go a long way toward making the illusion complete. My favorite touch is the red and white pinstripe waitressing uniforms, which look the part of what a server in the 1950s would have worn.

Walking past the registers, I let Aunt Rosie know that I’m taking a quick break, then I walk past the kitchen, through the hall that leads to the back office. I can feel Jen’s angry eyes on my back, which is how I know she’s following close behind.

“So, this is how you’re spending your summer now?” She starts the minute she makes it over the threshold.

Closing the door, I turn to face my angry friend. “Yes. I’m working, earning money. Developing life skills which I hear come highly recommended.”

“Don’t you dare take that condescending tone with me, Emilia Jane Barette. It was a legitimate question, given that we were sitting in your room four days ago talking about our summer plans. Not once did you mention you’d be working at the diner.”

She’s right. Working the summer away wasn’t part of the plan, but after the fight with Lucas and everything that’s happened since, I needed a break. A distraction. Something to occupy my time and take my mind off the mess my life has suddenly become.

“I had to do something, Jen.” I throw my hands up in frustration. “My mom hates me, which was fine when she wasn’t around, but since the cookout, she hasn’t left. My dad, who pretended our family wasn’t on the brink of collapse for months, has picked up where he left off as if her absence never happened. And then there’s this thing between Lucas and Parker.” I shake my head and take a breath. “I needed a break, Jen. For once in my life, I needed to do something that was for me.”

When her eyes soften, she flings her arms around me, before quickly pulling away and tugging me to sit next to her on the couch.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know about your mom coming back. So that’s what this is about? A way to be out of the house and away from her?”

“Yes.” It’s the truth, just not the entire truth since I’m still struggling with how to explain what’s happening between her brother and me. “Something happened, either at the barbeque or later that night, but whatever it was, things between my parents changed. She came home and never left, but now that she’s there, it’s like she resents it. And my dad, though he’s acting like everything is normal, he’s different. Sadder. More withdrawn. I can’t explain it. Three days is all I could take before I called Aunt Rosie and begged her for a job. That was yesterday.”

“Geez, Emmie. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it isn’t your problem. Plus, I knew you’re busy helping your mom with her summer camp program. I didn’t want to burden you.” What I don’t say is that I didn’t want news of my crappy home life getting back to Lucas since he comes running anytime he hears I’m having a hard time. After what happened on Saturday, I’m not yet ready to see him.

“It’s not a burden. How can you say that? You’re my best friend…”

“I know,” I cut her off, reaching for both her hands and meeting her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a burden to you, but here’s the thing, I’m barely processing all the changes happening in my life. I needed a second to… I don’t know, sit with the mess inside my head. I promise I was going to call you tonight to tell you.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she fidgets nervously, I know what’s coming.

“If it’s about your brother, I rather not go there.”

“Come on, Emmie.” She pulls her hands away and stands. “What the hell happened? He’s sitting at home grounded and sulking, while you’re here hiding behind a waitressing uniform. Neither of you is talking to one another, let alone the rest of us. And Parker is walking around with that stupid smirk, preening like the cat who caught the canary, clearly proud he knows something the rest of us don’t.”

“You saw what happened, Jen. Everyone did.”

“No. I’m not talking about my brother punching Parker’s lights out. I’m talking about what led up to Lucas losing control like that. That’s not like him, Emilia. And you, of all people, know that.”

Deflated, I drop my head. This right here is another reason I didn’t reach out to her before now. I’m terrified of what my friend will think when she realizes I’m in love with her brother. Unfortunately for me, she is relentless in her curiosity, so I knew the events of that night would eventually come up.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Jesus. It’s that bad?” She plops down beside me, a leg curled underneath her so she’s facing me. “Maybe, just rip the band-aid and spit it out.”

“Parker asked if I’d go to the bonfire with him.”

“Oh. Oooh, I see. So Lucas went all brotherly protector and used his fists to fire a warning shot.” There’s a second where I almost correct her assumption, but that cowardly part of me chooses the easy way out and nods. Maybe it’s better this way. That she assumes his actions that night link back to his need to protect us. “What is wrong with him?” she scoffs. “He can’t control who we choose to go out with. We don’t go around telling him who to date, so where the hell does he get off meddling in our lives?”

“It’s because he cares.” Unable to help myself, I jump to his defense. Especially as my stomach churns with the unspoken truth I’m not ready to disclose to her. “He’s worried Parker won’t treat me right.”

“Like you would let him get away with that, never mind the rest of us. Please. It’s insulting how helpless he thinks we are.”

Inside, I cringe at her words since they aren’t an accurate representation of who Lucas is. Mostly, he’s happy to let us figure life out, while he stands on the sidelines making sure we’re all right. If I wasn’t so afraid of her hating me, I would remind her of this and explain that his actions this weekend stem from our unresolved feelings for one another.

“So, what now? Are you going to the bonfire with Parker?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling the weight of the decision hanging heavy over me. “Parker and I are friends, you know? Going with him was more about having someone to go with than anything romantic. But the way Lucas took it…” I break off for fear of giving away too much.

“Stop letting my brother control you, Emi.” She raises a hand to stop me when I try to defend myself. “Don’t pretend you don’t go around rearranging your life for him. It’s your fatal flaw. Whatever he wants, you bend over backward to give him.”

As much as I wish I could deny it, she’s right. It’s yet another reason I started this job. For as long as I can remember, I’ve planned my summers around him. Around his availability. Around his wants and wishes. I’ve grown too dependent on him to the point that doing anything without him feels wrong. But after the way he humiliated me on Saturday, doing what I’ve always done is a sure guarantee of more heartbreak.

“Come on, Emi!” She tosses her hands up in exasperation. “You said you took this job because, for once, you wanted to do something for yourself. So, take that rationale and apply it to the bonfire. What is it that Emilia wants?”

“I don’t know…”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious, Jen. I have a better sense of what I don’t want to happen than I do about anything else.”

“Fine. Start there. What is it you’re afraid of?”

“I don’t want to hurt either of them.” At this, she raises an eyebrow, which is a reminder that she’s unaware of the truth behind all the tension. Backpedaling, I rush on. “I don’t want Lucas to be angry with me for not heeding his concerns, and I don’t want Parker thinking I believe him to be a bad person because of the things Luc says. Plus, underneath all that male ego, they’re friends. Who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“Not your problem, Emi. Nor your responsibility. They’re big boys. Whatever dick-measuring drama is going on between them, it’s just that, between them.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m the one caught in the middle. Whatever I decide, someone is bound to get hurt, and I’m not sure I can live with that.”

With eyes full of pity, she shakes her head and delivers one last crushing blow. “And what about you? Did either of them consider your feelings when they put you in the middle of whatever is happening between them?”

As emotion burns in my throat, I shake my head and lower my gaze. While Parker isn’t innocent in all this, it’s Lucas who’s led us to where we are. He’s the one who insisted nothing could happen between us, yet the minute someone else came into the picture, he directed his frustrations toward me.

“You’re right,” I confess with a sigh.

“I know I am. So, what’s it going to be Emilia? Bonfire with a cute boy, all your friends, and a mighty good time? Or, sitting at home sulking with mommy dearest at your back?”

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# Chapter 10

Lucas

Turning my face toward the burning sun, I take a minute to sit with the discomfort. The feel of the scorching rays radiating on my overheated skin is damn near unbearable, but no less than I deserve. Running the back of my hand over my brow, I mop off the sweat and look around. After three torturous days of this, thankfully, it's almost finished. The once grungy-looking wood is bright and clean, and the parts I've already stained make our back deck look almost new.

Tossing the roller back into the pan, I reach for my water bottle and down what remains. It's hot. Unseasonably so, even for the first day of July. After a full day of working in the heat and high humidity, my stained grey t-shirt is soaked through and stuck to me like a second skin. It's an uncomfortable sensation, so I reach around to pull it off and then throw the offending fabric over toward the corner of the deck by the back door.

Leaning on one hand, I reach for the paint pan, pulling it down so I can continue with the section underneath. It's arduous work but part of my self-imposed punishment for having embarrassed my parents on the one day of the year when so many of our neighbors were here.

"Lucas, honey. Have you been out here all day again?" Mom's voice startles me, but I don't let it show. That she's home early means she came to check up on me.

"Yep." Grabbing the roller, I dip it through the brown solution before continuing to roll the stain over the planks. The way the wood beneath grows dark and shiny under the oily moisture is satisfying and soothes that part of me that demands perfection in everything I do. This is especially needed now that I'm struggling to cope with the poor decisions I've made of late.

"Okay. That's it." The sound of her small heels clacking against the wood speaks to her determination. The distinctive crinkling of plastic being ripped from the extra paint roller I brought earlier makes her intentions clear.

Swallowing back a groan, I drop my roller into the pan and sit up on my heels. "Stop Mom. You don't have to do this."

"Oh, really?" She drops to her knees next to me with the athletic grace of an elementary school teacher who's used to the position. When I notice the forest green pencil skirt that is the only barrier protecting her knees from the rough wood, I cringe.

"Mom! Dad's going to kill me if he sees you out here like that. Go back inside." 

"Then I suggest we get through this conversation quickly. Hmm?" With skill, I didn't know she had, she coats the deck with the dark solution. "Now come on," she coaxes with a smile. "Get to work."

With a heavy sigh, I take up my position and do as she asks. For a few minutes, the two of us work in tandem, moving through the small section in record time. Her presence, though disconcerting at first, alleviates some of the emptiness I've felt in my chest. The shame spiral I've been on since that horrible day pushed me into an exile of sorts, where I've resisted the lifeline of love and connection I so desperately crave from my family. After everything, the last thing I deserve is comfort and acceptance, especially from them. At least not yet. Not until I've done enough to make up for my mistakes.

"How much longer are you planning to punish yourself?"

Surprised by her question, I slow the motion of the roller while I try to come up with a response. The truth is unclear. My list of offenses at this point is too numerous to count. From falling in love with Embree. To hurting Becca. To my insistence that Embree and I remain friends, only to lash out at her when Parker asked her out. And then my biggest grievance of all, the fight. Losing control like that in front of all my friends, family, and neighbors. I'll never forget the look of disappointment on my parent's faces, and I'll never forgive myself for making them feel that way.

"I don't know." The anger that's overwhelmed me the past week boils under my skin, pushing my movements into longer, more determined strokes. I must fucking finish this. Regardless of how tired I am and how hot it is, I will not stop until I make things right.

"Lucas." Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her stop. When I don't respond she steels her voice and demands, "Lucas, stop and look at me." It takes everything I have to swallow back the emotion clogging up my throat as I force my gaze to hers. "After this, it's done. Do you hear me? It ends here, with the deck."

When my head shakes in disagreement, she puts a hand up and counts on her fingers. "First the garage. Then the shed. The deck. The sidewalks. Not to mention 6 days of locking yourself away in your room at night, after spending the daylight hours punishing yourself with heat and manual labor. My dear boy, the punishment does not fit the crime, so it ends now."

"You don't understand, Mom, I screwed up. I embarrassed you and Dad in front of all our friends. I punched one of my best friends and hurt Embree in the process..."

"You. Made. A. Mistake." Her firm tone leaves no room for rebuttal. "You were angry. It's a normal human emotion which sometimes turns even the best among us into jerks," she ends with a kind smile.

Tossing her roller into the pan, she twists and reaches for my face. "Big feelings are hard for everyone, Lucas. Just like being overwhelmed by them and losing control sometimes is as inevitable as getting wet during a rainstorm. Your dad and I, we're not angry with you, nor are we disappointed. What we are is worried because you are much too hard on yourself, my sweet boy. Everyone deserves a little grace when they make a mistake, and that definitely includes you. So please, stop punishing yourself. If you can't do it for you, then do it for me."

When a tear rolls down her face, I have to look away. That I've made my mother cry is yet another infraction to add to my growing list of sins. However, if this is what she wants, if this is what I have to do to take that sad look from her eyes, I'll do it. For the woman whom I love more than any other in this life, there is nothing I wouldn't do.

"Okay, Mom."

"Thank you," her voice is full of relief as she pulls my face down so she can kiss me on the forehead like she used to do when I was little. "Thank you. Now, I'll let you finish, but after this, promise me it's done. Tomorrow's a new day. A fresh start."

Resigned, I nod. The worry lines around her eyes show she's still concerned, but I'm grateful when she stands. With one last smile, she turns away from me, reaching down for the sweat-soaked t-shirt I'd discarded earlier, before making her way back into the house.

For a couple more hours, I immerse myself in the work. Taking my time, for once not out of a desire to do the job right, but to prolong the last bit of self-punishment. When the back door opens, I don't bother looking up to see who's there, but I brace myself to go yet another round with whichever of my parents is checking up on me now. From the long whistle behind me, I'm surprised to discover that it's Ben.

"You've been busy." I turn my head in time to see him look over the deck. Spinning around in a slow circle, his gaze scans over the immaculate walkways, the freshly painted shed, the deck again, and then back to me. "Well, aren't you the little martyr?" He smirks.

"Go to hell," I bite back the curse words I want to say, given I don't know if my parents are within hearing distance. "What do you want? I'm grounded."

"No, you're not. Momma Holt called me about an hour ago begging I come over to help dig you out from... whatever this is."

Of course, she called him. For if there's anyone who can annoy me out of the mess inside my head, it's fucking Ben. The guy is like a bull in a china shop.

"This is the last section, so either go back inside or get off the deck."

"Rude," he scoffs under his breath, but he slides the back door open so he can perch himself inside the threshold. "Deck looks good."

"Mm-hmm." I slather the roller into the solution and turn my body, preparing to end where Ben stands.

"So, umm, the bonfire is tomorrow night."

"Subtle." Fucking asshole.

"Hey, I find ignoring the elephant in the room to be an enormous waste of time. Well..." he drops off and kicks at my feet like he's expecting me to respond.

"What is it you want me to say?"

"What is it I want you to..." he parrots me in disbelief. "I want to know what you're planning to do about it," he looks behind him to check if the coast is clear and then he whispers, "fucker."

"Nothing. That's what. I'm not going."

"You're not going?" he shakes his head incredulously.

"No." I toss the roller into the pan and sit back on my heels so I can glare at him. "Now drop it." Taking advantage of his stunned silence, I grab the pan and the rest of my tools and place them carefully on the mat next to his feet. "Now move. I have to get in there."

Reluctantly, he moves back and allows me room to kneel just inside the door. Dipping the roller into the pan one last time, I take great care to not let him see how unsettled I am with my decision. I haven't seen, much less talked, to Embree or Parker since last weekend. After what I did to both of them, showing up at the bonfire like nothing is wrong seems like a dick move. Plus, to be honest, I'm not that great of an actor to begin with, so acting like nothing is wrong, well, fuck that.

"So you're giving her up? Just like that?"

At his words, my breath catches, and a sharp pain stabs under my sternum. Is that what I'm doing? Giving her up and walking away like she doesn't belong with me?

Fuck.

With the last stroke completed, I set the roller back on the pan and drop my head. Giving her up would be the right thing to do. It would set us both on the simple path, where she and I could remain friends, and all our problems would be solved.

"It's better this way."

"Is it? Because from where I stand, you look miserable, dude. And she..." When he pauses, my eyes instantly snap up to his. "She's so fricken sad Lucas. I saw her yesterday for the first time. She took a job at the diner, probably to avoid all of us, much in the same way that you are. But man," the look in his eyes as he shakes his head shoots pangs of regret through my chest.

"It's palpable. You can feel her heartbreak as plainly as you can see it. It's why I'm sorry, I disagree. This platonic distance you're so desperate to hold on to isn't working. Not for you. And most definitely not for her."

"What choice do I have, Ben?" Angry, I rise to a stand, facing my friend as I desperately cling to the hope he has an answer because I sure as fuck don't.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he confirms what I already know. "That's just it, Lucas. If you don't at least try, whatever choice you have will be taken away and made for you. It's time you man the hell up. If you want the girl, then go get her. If not, quit your fucking sulking and let her move the hell on."

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Chapter 11

Emilia

“Wow…” he trails off. The way his eyes scan over me with intense appreciation does nothing to calm the nerves that have plagued me since agreeing to this date. “You look amazing.”

Unable to hold his gaze, I make the mistake of looking down at my dress. Not for the first time today, I’m hit with a pang of guilt that nearly steals my breath.

Of all the dresses in Nic’s closet, why did I pick this one?

Not that the off-the-shoulder floral print dress isn’t beautiful. With its cinched waist and short flowy skirt, it fits me like a glove and accentuates my shoulders and legs in a sexy, yet modest way. The problem is, it happens to be the same color as the sea-green eyes of the boy I can’t stop thinking about. The very same boy whom I wish was the person standing in front of me now.

“Thank you,” I shift nervously, tucking a loose curl behind my ear while averting my eyes to the collar of his shirt.

Parker is an attractive guy. Blond hair, blue eyes, athletic build, and a chiseled jaw few could resist. Today he’s sporting khaki shorts with a moss green button-up shirt that’s rolled up at his elbows and shows off his wide chest and slim waist. He’s the type of guy who knows he’s attractive and, given the smirk he’s pointing my way, he’s well aware I was checking him out.

My cheeks heat under the weight of his assessing stare, while tendrils of guilt and embarrassment coil into a ball that sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. All the bravado that led me to say yes was a byproduct of the hurt and humiliation I felt at that moment, but now? Now I wish I’d reached out to Lucas to clear the air. So, at the very least, I’d be sure that going out with Parker tonight won’t interfere with our friendship.

“Mr. Preston,” Parker greets, extending his hand to my dad, who’s come up behind me.

“Parker.” Dad wraps an arm over my shoulder as he shakes my date’s hand. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise, sir.”

“I see you’re driving tonight,” Dad juts his chin toward the black pickup truck parked at the curb. “No alcohol for either of you, you hear?” he looks down at me briefly before turning back to my date. “I’m entrusting you with my daughter. Don’t do anything that would jeopardize that trust and have her home safe and sound by no later than midnight. Do that and maybe they’ll be a next time.”

After saying our goodbyes, Parker leads me to his truck. The ride to Ruby Creek Park is awkward. The silence that hangs between us is nothing like the soothing quiet that exists when it’s just Lucas and me. After almost a week of no contact, I miss him intensely. The sound of his voice. His soothing presence. The silent show of support and acceptance that takes away all my insecurities whenever he looks at me. Inadvertently, I expel a heavy sigh.

From the driver’s seat, Parker glances my way. “You okay over there?”

Am I okay? No. I’m the opposite of okay, given that nothing about tonight feels right. Dressing up for Parker. Agreeing to go on a date with him. Going against Lucas’s wishes. No… I am definitely not alright.

“Parker…” it’s all I can manage before my shoulders deflate. I have to tell him what this is. Somehow I must find the words to communicate that for me, tonight is nothing more than two friends hanging out together.

“It’s okay, Emi.” When I look at him, his eyes are back on the road. “You’re not that into me, which is crazy, I know.” His lips pull into that mischievous smirk of his that’s somehow adorable and charming. “But hey, I get it. Some girls like a guy with skilled hands, while others prefer the bossy asshole who snatches the ball from another dude’s ass.”

“Really?” I laugh. “Another football joke?” It takes a second for me to realize he’s just mentioned my feelings for Lucas, and when it registers, I fall silent.

“Hey,” he reaches out and lays a hand over mine in a friendly gesture. “Don’t be embarrassed. If you overlook the annoying brooding and the fact he’s an alphahole with a weak right hook, Holt ain’t that bad.”

He knows. How?

“Don’t look so shocked, beautiful. I have eyes, including the one currently sporting a shiner courtesy of your Romeo,” he chuckles. “Dude is head over heels in love with you and has been since before he started growing hair on his chest.”

“So why? If you know he likes me, why would you ask me to go to the bonfire with you?”

“To get under his skin, of course.” At this, my stomach drops. Something he must sense, for he takes my hand in his. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay? You’re a beautiful girl, Emilia. Prettier than most because your beauty isn’t only on the outside. If it weren’t for Lucas, I’d be honored for even a small chance at a shot with you.”

“Then why? I don’t understand.”

“I asked you out to make him act. To push him out of his holier-than-thou, self-righteous way of thinking that is holding him back from the one thing he wants more than anything. More than football. More than that scholarship he’s chasing.”

“You’re wrong.” What I wouldn’t give for Parker’s words to be true. For Lucas to want and need me with the same intensity that burns through my soul.

“Am I? Think about it. Mr. Always-In-Control kicked the shit out of me in two seconds flat at his family cookout. In front of his parents, the town, and our friends, all because I confronted him with the idea that I had a chance with you. In all the years I’ve known him, I can’t remember him losing control like that,” he pauses like he’s thinking it over, then shakes his head. “Nope. The only time he’s ever let go and given in to what he’s feeling is when it comes to you.”

I want to believe him, but everything I know points to the contrary, including that day two weeks ago on our rock. When we both admitted we had feelings for one another, it was just us and the electric current that pulsed between us and pulled us toward one another like magnets. Yet it was he who put the brakes on. It was he who insisted we ignore what we feel, and go on pretending there is nothing between us except friendship. It was all so easy for him. While I drowned and suffocated in my disappointment and desperation for him, he walked away from me that day with a smile. Like all was well and exactly as it should be in his world.

Friendship.

That’s all he wants from me.

“He doesn’t want this.” Tears well up in my eyes, so I look away. I hate how pathetic I sound. How broken and lonely this ache in my chest makes me feel. It’s like there’s this part of me that is missing. Like there is this gaping hole that nothing or no one can fill but him.

“Trust me. He does.”

“It’s been a week, Parker. One week since he broke my… since the cookout and fight. He never reached out. Not once to apologize or to check-in. He’s angry with me. Done with whatever this is. Me being here with you tonight won’t change that.” My voice breaks and the tears I’d been holding back now fall unbidden.

Grateful for the darkness that surrounds us, I quietly wipe them away. Parker must know I need a moment, for he too falls silent. The sounds of the road beneath the tires of his truck build into a soothing rhythm that allows me to pull myself back from the brink of despair.

As we pass the sign welcoming us to Ruby Creek Park, he finally says, “He didn’t reach out to any of us either. The only one that’s spoken to him is Jen, and even she’s had a tough time getting through to see what he’s thinking.”

“Jen said he’s grounded. Disappointing his parents is something he’s not used to, so I’m sure that’s part of it.” What I don’t say is that he’s probably consumed with guilt, and therefore he’s most likely busy punishing himself.

“Maybe. Except that according to Ben, his punishment lasted only four days.” Now that we’re parked, I meet his eyes. “Luc’s mom called Ben yesterday, begging him to come help get Lucas out of the funk he’s in. When Ben got there, Luc did his best to pretend he was grounded and couldn’t have company. Ben said he looked a mess, but he pushed him anyway. Goaded him into getting out of his own way. So we’ll see. My money is that he’ll show up tonight, ready to fight me for what’s rightfully his.”

When he gets out of the car, I sit there in stunned silence. He’s wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I’m angry he’s planted this seed of hope that’s taking root in my heart. Hope is something I cannot afford right now. Not in my current mental state. Especially since I’ve never wanted anything more than what Parker is proposing right now.

When he comes to my side of the door and opens it, he takes my hand and helps me climb down. With his fingers, he pulls my chin up and forces me to look up at him.

“Do you trust me, Emilia?” Gone from his face is the usual gleam of mischief, replaced instead with this serious side he rarely shows. Looking between his eyes, I take a minute to consider, but in the end, there is no question that I do.

“Yes.”

“You two are the best people I know. You both deserve this. To be happy. Together. This little push I’ve given him, he’s going to show. Regardless of what his head is telling him, his heart won’t let you go.”

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# Chapter 12

Lucas

Love is the greatest form of torture. I've grown more convinced of this with every day that's passed since the last time I saw her.

Seven days since that terrible day, and I can't escape the look of utter devastation I saw in her eyes. It haunts me. In my dreams. Each second of every waking hour. It chases me through my days and nights, rendering me unable to take a proper breath. To know that I am the cause of that look sickens me to my core and makes me question my worth as a man.

I love her.

I know I do, but how could I possibly hurt her so, if indeed my love for her was pure? Long ago, and unbeknownst to her, I made a promise to always protect her. To put her first. Yet here I am.

Rubbing against the incessant ache inside my chest, I sit up and look at the clock on my nightstand. It's 9:30, which means the bonfire is in full swing. At that thought, my stomach rolls and not for the first time tonight, I feel like I'm going to be sick.

She's there.

The girl that I love more than anything in this life is there with him. All because I'm a coward. In my desperation to hold on to her friendship, to not upset the balance of what exists between us and risk losing her, I did just that. So what the hell was the point?

Standing, I go to my window. Eyes scanning the dark horizon in search of the telltale signs of the party going on at Ruby Creek Park. It's impossible to see through all the trees, yet my eyes still scan like if I look hard enough, I'll somehow see where she is. What she's doing. Who she's with...

Sucking in a pained breath, I collapse against the windowsill. My head rests against the cool windowpane as I fight the urge to give in to my frustration and break my room apart.

I should have reached out. Should have called to beg for her forgiveness. I thought that by keeping my distance I was doing the right thing, but now she's there with him, with no idea of what she truly means to me.

I feel helpless.

Scared.

Could this truly be it?

Ben's warning yesterday replays in my mind. 
"If you don't at least try, whatever choice you have will be taken away and made for you."

Is it too late to try?

Desperate to find out, I rush to my closet. Discarding the wrinkled t-shirt I'm wearing, I throw on a maroon-colored henley with a pair of dark-wash jeans. Grabbing my shoes, I rush back to my dresser to grab my wallet and keys, then run down the stairs.

The downstairs of our home is dark, and I'm reminded that my parents went to bed early. Not wanting to wake them, I stop in the kitchen to leave a note on the whiteboard that clings to the refrigerator door.

Went to the bonfire after all. Will see Jen home safely and will be back before curfew. Love you guys.

Once the message is written, I take off in a rush, locking the door behind me. For the sake of time, I opt to take Dad's truck, knowing he won't mind as long as I'm back by midnight.

Backing out of the garage, I have to remind myself to breathe. To take my time, which is damn near impossible, as every cell in my body demands, I rush to the park to finally claim the girl for whom my heart beats. My Embree. The love of my life. I was a goddamn fool to push her away.

Pulling into the gravel lot, I park in the first empty spot I come to. With my mind focused on nothing but finding her, I barely register getting out of the car. The sound of music, both from a radio off in the distance and from various instruments being played, floods my ears. The smell of burning wood hangs heavy in the air and sparks forth memories from years past. Still, it's not enough to distract me from the reason I'm here.

Navigating through the crowd, I keep moving. Nodding my head at the various people who try and stop me to say hello, but never slowing long enough to allow them to pull me into conversation. As I get closer, the unmistakable connection that syncs my heart to hers springs to life, and in that instant, everything disappears. Gone is the crowd of people. The party sounds. Even the nighttime sky fades away behind the girl who stares back at me with a mixture of fear and hope hidden behind whiskey eyes.

She's so fucking beautiful. Her hair is pulled back in a messy braid, with those errant curls that refuse to be tamed, framing her face. The dress she's wearing, a greenish-blue hue, shows off her trim waist, her shoulders, and those legs that have starred in so many of my fantasies.

When I stop to take in her face, what I see puts an immediate halt to my errant thoughts. She's wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders drawn forward, and the sad look I remember from the other night is back. It shatters yet another piece of my heart because I'm to blame. With my constant rejection, and my inability to see past my fears, I overlooked her needs. But no more. I'll be damned if I leave here tonight not having fixed the mess I've made of us.

Meeting her where she stands, I wrap my hands around her face, my fingertips touching the soft curls at the nape of her neck. As if weighed down by the intense relief of having her so close, my forehead drops to hers and I close my eyes while I breathe her in. She smells like my Embree. So damn sweet. A mixture of coconut and vanilla that reminds me of summer and possibilities.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Emb. So damn sorry."

She whimpers softly at the sound of my apology and then wraps her arms around my neck. Her soft body melting into me feels like forgiveness and gives me hope that I'm not too late.

"I love you," I blurt out. "I'm so in love with you that I was terrified of losing you. It was wrong to push you away. Wrong to suggest we ignore what we feel. Forgive me. Give me another chance to show you what's in my heart. To take care of you. To be what you need. Please, Embree. Please tell me it's not too late."

Looking up at me, she cups the side of my face with one of her hands. There is still fear within those whiskey pools that stare back at me, but behind it, I see the same hope that's burning in my soul.

"I love you, too."

Tendrils of need crawl up my spine and suddenly I'm desperate to taste her. The ache to finally feel her skin against my lips constricts my lungs and renders me unable to breathe. I'm a starving man. My very survival hinging on the woman who's become as essential as the blood that runs through my veins.

Drawing closer to those rosy lips that call to me, I take a second to search her face for a sign that she's ready. A small gasp leaves her lips, but before I can register it, she closes the distance. Soft lips graze over mine in a timid kiss that sends chills through my body and elicits a gruff moan from deep inside my chest. Desperate for a real taste, I take her face in my hands, and with my tongue, I part her lips. That first taste... my god! That first fucking taste damn near unmans me, and when she rewards me with a whimper, I vow right then that the only thing that matters from this point forward is her. Her needs. Her pleasure. Just her.

Pulling back to give us both a chance to catch our breath, I lay my forehead against hers once more. It's then that I notice the frenetic noise inside my head has disappeared. Gone is the frantic doubt. The helpless fear. The angry frustration over my lack of control. Here, with her in my arms, as we breathe the same air, I finally feel at peace.

"I want this Embree. I want you, I want us, I want today and all your tomorrows for as long as you'll have me. I know there's a lot we'll need to figure out, but I can't bear another day of the hell I've lived through this past week. All I ask is for a chance to prove to you I can be what you need."

"Well, well, well..." I know that fucking voice, and at the sound, I inadvertently tighten my hold on Embree's waist. "I turn my back for just a second, and here you go, making a move on my girl."

Embree's eyes grow wide, I'm sure in part, because of the darkness that now cloaks my eyes. When I go to turn toward my former friend, it's the squeeze of her hands around my biceps that pulls me to a stop. Her eyes are frantic. Desperate to communicate something that feels more important than my need to deal with Parker.

"No Lucas. He's kidding..."

"Yeah, Holt. Can't you take a joke?" He chuckles as he tries to put an arm around my shoulders.

Shrugging him off, I pull Embree against my side in a possessive move. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Relax, Luc." Ben steps between us. His hands are on Parker's chest, as he pushes him out of my reach. "He's not after Embree, so you can relax."

"I can relax?" I turn my anger toward my best friend. "He knew how I felt about her and still he went behind my back to ask her out." The feel of Embree's hand on my heart pulls my attention.

"We're here as friends, Luc. Only friends," she attempts to reassure me, but it's not enough.

"Bullshit." If looks could kill, Parker would surely be dead.

"It's true. It was a ruse to get your head out of your ass, which obviously worked. I'm a regular cupid. From this day forward, I shall be known as Mr. Matchmaker." He laughs to himself like he's some kind of comedian.

His nonchalance sends blood roaring in my ears, but as if she can sense it, she lays a hand on the side of my face, pulling my attention back to her.

"He knows where my heart belongs. With you. Only you." Like a balm, her word soothes the feeling of betrayal and quiets my anger down to a mere simmer. Still confused, I look at Ben, hoping he can fill in the gaps for me.

"Look, I don't agree with his methods, but in this case, it worked. The bastard somehow figured out that the only way to bring you two together was to make it look like you had some competition. While yeah, it was kind of an asshole move, he did it cause he cares. We all do. The both of you were miserable."

"Uh, why the look of surprise?" Will, whom I didn't realize was here, steps in to ask. "It's fucking Parker. Asshole moves are kind of his thing."

"Exactly!" Parker exclaims, his arms out to the side like he can't believe we forgot. "And you're welcome, by the way."

"So you're in love with my best friend? What the hell, Lucas?" Jen comes out of nowhere to stand in front of me and Embree. Though her posture is stiff and squared up like she's looking for a fight, the gleam in her eyes tells me she's thrilled by the revelation.

"I am." I look down at Embree, who looks at my sister with worry. "It's my fault, Jenny. I should have told you." I hope by turning the blame on myself, I can set Embree at ease and avoid any conflict between them. It turns out it was all for nothing, for the next thing I know, Jenny's ripping her out of my arms and pulling her into an embrace. 

"I'm so happy!" She squeals, as Embree laughs at her exuberance. The sound of her laughter after so much angst and hurt the past few weeks is music to my ears and leaves me desperate for more.

Just having declared my feelings for the woman I love while surrounded by my sister and our friends, for the first time in months, I feel complete. For a guy like me who rarely feels at ease, I should have known that this was the moment fate would step in to turn the tables on me.

Not thirty minutes later, in a heap of fire and ashes, my entire world and everything I loved would crumble at my feet. All because I chose to go after a girl who wasn't meant for me.

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Chapter 13

Emilia

It doesn’t feel real. Sitting here on a blanket, wrapped up in his arms as we chat and laugh with our friends. The tingles that crawl over every surface of my body at the mere stroke of his fingers, only add to the feeling this is all in my head. The warmth of his chest at my back is the only sensation that grounds me in reality, but even that isn’t enough to take away the worry that still lingers in my chest. I’m afraid to move. Hardly able to breathe. Overcome with fear that at any moment I’ll wake up in my bed, only to find this is all a dream.

“Hey,” with his thumb and forefinger, he gently takes my chin and forces my eyes to his. “You okay?” A slight nod is all I can give him. With a knowing smile, he kisses the tip of my nose. “Breathe, baby. I meant what I said. I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.”

He scans my face for a moment. “If this is too much, we can leave. We can go somewhere and talk. Just the two of us.”

Before he finishes, I’m already shaking my head. I don’t want to go. Truth be told, I’d give anything to stay here in his arms forever. “No. I’ll be okay. I think I’m just processing everything.”

“Still in shock, are you?” He smirks. When I nod, his lips curve into a radiant smile that fades as his lips draw closer to mine. “I love you,” he whispers, and then he kisses me. Slow and tender. His lips are gentle as they imprint themselves onto mine. Remembering the last time I open up for him, using my tongue to coax him to kiss me deeper.

I can’t believe this is what kissing feels like. Like an explosion deep inside my body, that leaves me feeling more alive than I’ve ever felt. At the same time, it’s like an out-of-body experience, except I can feel every single sensation deep down to the root of my soul. Every touch. Every breath. Every heartbeat. When he pulls away, I’m breathless. With eyes still closed, I swallow down the disappointment and lean my head back against his chest.

Nothing in this life has ever felt more right and I’m grateful I waited to give him my first kiss. It was everything I’d imagined it would be, and so much more. It makes me long for a time in the future when I can give him all my other firsts, since after this, there is no doubt I belong to him.

The sound of a phone interrupts my thoughts, but just as quickly, I’m distracted by the feel of his warm breath against my ear as he kisses the side of my face.

“Hi, Dad,” he pauses. “Yeah, they’re right here.” When Lucas tenses behind me, I look up to see Will staring at him. “O-okay.” Then to Lucas he says, “It’s my dad. I’m putting him on speaker.”

“Lucas…” Will’s father, the chief of police, comes over the line. His usual authoritative tone is different. Almost cautious. It’s the first sign something isn’t right. “Is your sister with you?”

“Yes, sir. She’s right here.” Lucas releases me and the next thing I know, he’s moved away to grab Will’s phone. Though his back is to me, I can see the tension coursing through him.

“Good. You two stay there. I’m sending a unit over for you…”

“What? Why?” He rises to a stand, worried gaze staring right at his sister.

“I can’t say over the line. Just stay put…”

“No. No!” He yells. “Don’t send anyone. I’ve got my Dad’s truck. It’s faster, just tell me what’s happening.” A nervous Jen stands in front of him now, her body vibrating with anxiety as she looks at him imploringly.

“Not over the phone, and it’s not up for debate. I’m sending a unit. Wait for…”

To everyone’s shock, Lucas hangs up the phone and tosses it back to Will. “I’m not waiting.” He tells him unapologetically, before turning his attention to his sister. “Let’s go.”

To my relief, he reaches for my hand and pulls me to a stand. On the outside, he is every bit of the controlled Lucas we know, but the tight grip he has on me and the way he avoids everyone’s gaze tells a different story. He’s terrified, which sends my stomach plunging into freefall.

As we rush toward the parking lot, I hear our friends scramble and when I look back; I see they’re all following. Will and Ben take the lead, with Parker trailing behind Nic and Hannah.

“What are we doing? Tell us where you need us and we’re there,” Ben says when he catches up. When Jen stumbles, he puts an arm around her and pulls her close.

“Home. There’s only one reason Parker’s dad would call like that. Something’s wrong at my house and I’m not sitting here waiting to see what that is.”

At the sound of a whimper, I look at Jen. Even in the dark, it’s impossible to miss the tears that trail down her face. A sudden wave of dread sweeps over me and it takes all I have not to succumb to the panic. The weight of it is so oppressive that I’m having a hard time seeing beyond the dark dizziness that swirls in my periphery. As if he can sense it, Lucas squeezes my hand and then shifts so he can hold me closer.

After that, the trip to the car is a blur, as is most of the ride to their house. I’m in the front passenger seat next to Lucas, while Ben and Jen sit in the back. I’m so overwhelmed by what is happening, I don’t know if the others are following or if they elected to stay behind.

Jen’s silent tears have turned into full-on sobs, and with every heaving breath she takes, I see Lucas coming more undone. The lights on the dash are bright enough to let me see the paleness of his face. His eyes are frantic, shifting from the road down to the phone that sits silently on its mount. His desperation for it to ring is palpable and chokes me up. The burn behind my eyes is excruciating, but not as painful as watching two of the most important people in my life fall apart.

It doesn’t take long for us to notice the unnatural brightness that lights the sky. As realization sets in, Lucas pushes the truck to go faster and when I look at him this time, there is no mistaking the tears now pouring down his face.

“No. No. No. No.” He punches the steering wheel, eliciting a harsh sob from Jen in the back. “Fuck! No. Please God, no!”

“Lucas!” Ben’s voice is forceful yet calm. “We don’t know anything for sure, so keep it together until we get there.”

As we come up the winding driveway, what we see leaves us gasping for air. The house we’ve known our entire lives is barely recognizable under the flames that shoot from the roof and windows. There are first responder trucks everywhere. Their flashing red and blue lights add a layer of confusion to an already unbelievable situation.

When the car pulls to an abrupt stop, Lucas rushes out. Shocked, I just sit there in disbelief, staring at the keys that remain in the ignition, and the car door he left open. The chime of the car alerting us to the open door mixes with the sounds of Jen’s cries, the yells of those working the scene, and the roaring of the fire as it consumes everything in its wake. It’s a cacophony of sounds that’s unbearable, but there’s no escaping it.

This has to be a nightmare. A bad dream. This can’t be happening.

“Fuck!” Ben’s voice comes from the back before he too, is out of the car.

And then I hear it. A shrill, agonized wail that cuts me to the quick and sends shivers trailing up my spine. Recognizing its source, I stumble out of the car in time to watch Lucas get tackled to the ground by Ben, Parker, and a police officer. Though it’s three against one, Lucas fights like hell to get free. His determination to walk through the flames to get into the house, in addition to the fear he’s being hurt, prompts a litany of screams I don’t recognize as my own. With a hand to my mouth, I fight unsuccessfully to mute my anguished cries.

What is happening? What the hell is happening?

The question rolls through my mind repeatedly as I try to make sense of this alternate reality that looks nothing like the world I know. Sobbing uncontrollably, I turn my back to the scene, which is when my eyes connect with Jen. She’s standing by the car. Harsh sobs rip through her body as she watches the violent scene playing out with her brother.

Without thinking, I rush to her. Taking her in my arms, I turn her around in my lame attempt to shield her from what’s happening. It’s so stupid, I know. So damn stupid, given the sounds, the flashing lights, the unmistakable smell of burning, never mind the heat that scorches over our skin from the fire that burns hotter than any other I’ve ever felt.

“Don’t look. Don’t look.” I say the words over and over again, not knowing if they’re meant for me or her. When we can’t bear it anymore, we both collapse. Falling hard on our knees but never letting go of the other.

When arms come around us, we startle. “Christ. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Ben’s voice breaks, even as he tries to console us.

Terrified he’s left Lucas, I turn to look for him, only to immediately regret it. His prone body lays at the feet of the police officer unmoving except for the rise and fall of his chest with each agonized sob. Parker and Will are kneeling at his sides, both holding on even as he no longer fights.

When I attempt to stand, Ben’s arms squeeze tighter. “Please,” I beg. “I have to go to him.”

“Not yet. Not just yet.”

“Emilia…” I hear the voice that’s like a hint of light amid all this darkness. “That’s my daughter. I need to see my daughter.”

“Daddy,” I wail louder, sounding more like a little girl than a 16-year-old, but I don’t care. I need my dad.

The police must let him through, for in the next breath, I’m wrapped up in his arms. “Oh, my sweet girl.” His hand finds its way into my hair as he kisses the top of my head. “Oh, God, my sweet girl.”

At the sound of my dad’s cries, I collapse against him. The reality that things must be as bad as they seem hits me like a punch to the gut. Lucas’s parents. Aunt Jessa. Uncle Tom. If they were okay, they would be here. Standing with their kids. Providing them with comfort and reassurance. Never would they leave them to face their fears alone unless…

The thought proves too much for me to think about, so I squash it down. Burying my face against my father’s chest, I soak in the comfort. The relief he’s here with me dispels some of the grief, but just as quickly, I’m overcome by the guilt that this is something Lucas and Jen might never experience again. It’s why I pull back. Pleading with my eyes that he please tell me this isn’t real.

“Chief Keller called to tell me what was happening. The minute I heard I knew the three of you would be together.”

“What’s going to happen? I can’t leave them, Dad. We can’t walk away and leave them to face this alone.”

His eyes fall as deep grief passes over his features. When he looks at me this time, his eyes are glassy, but his face is more composed. “They’re coming home with us. Don’t worry. They won’t be alone.”

I remember little of our ride home. One minute we were broken and grieving in Lucas’s driveway, and the next we’re in the car with my dad. Me sitting in the front. Jen and Lucas still sobbing quietly in the back. At my limit for sad things, I refuse to look behind me for fear that once again I’ll fall apart.

Falling apart isn’t an option for me. Not if I want to help them. For Jen, my best friend. For Lucas, the love of my life. I have to be strong. Unwavering. Steadfast. To save them from this nightmare, I have to be every bit of the person that Lucas has always been for me.

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# Chapter 14

Lucas

Dawn. The magical time between night and day, where the darkened sky welcomes the first hints of light from the rising sun. As a child, I can remember watching the subtle changes with anticipation. Every second that the sky grew brighter brought me closer to whatever adventure I was looking forward to. Christmas mornings. Road trips. Birthdays. All those memory-making highlights of childhood that center around love and family.

I don't have to look much beyond my immediate circle of friends to know that I'm one of the lucky ones. I was born to parents who've made us the center of their universe and who shower us with an unlimited supply of love and acceptance. As a construction worker and teacher, it took a tremendous amount of sacrifice on their part to give us the amazing life we have. It's something Jenny and I don't take lightly and have never taken for granted.

As I look beyond the window at the changing sky, for the first time in my life, the threat of sunrise fills me with dread. Up to now, the cover of night served as a sanctuary, shielding us from facing the truth of our reality. A truth that's grown more and more apparent with every minute I've laid here waiting for my parents to walk through that door.

Sitting up, I throw my legs off the side of the bed and then run my hands over my face. Looking behind me, I use the bit of light coming through the window to check in on the girls who are huddled together and still asleep. My sister is curled up facing Embree, her face relaxed, in direct contradiction to how she looked a few hours ago. Like I'm afraid this is the last time I'll see her at peace I zone in, unable to look away.

When my breath catches in my throat, it takes a second to reign in the tears that threaten to fall. She looks so much like my mom. Something I never noticed before, but from the shape of her face, her eyes, and her light auburn hair, there is no mistaking the resemblance. Suddenly breathless, I close my eyes and drop my head into my hands.

When Uncle George brought us home, Jenny was so distraught that he didn't object to the three of us collapsing together on the bed. Me and Embree on either side, with my shattered sister laying between us. For the few hours it took for her to fall asleep, Embree and I offered whatever small comfort we could. It wasn't much, but to my relief, she eventually passed out. Not long after, Embree's hand—which had held mine since we laid down—went slack, signaling that she too had given in to exhaustion.

For me, on the other hand, sleep has proven elusive. The sound of my sister's pain continues to reverberate through my ears even as she's gone quiet. The horrific visions from the night continue to bombard my thoughts in an endless loop I can't escape. And then there's the fear that inundates my head with worst-case scenarios. It's like I'm stuck in a mighty ocean, fighting for air amongst waves determined to drown me.

As is the case when I'm on the verge of losing myself, I search for the cure to everything that ails me. Embree. The balm to my wounded heart and my soul's salvation. Even in sleep, her face reflects the same grief and worry that consumes me.

It doesn't seem fair.

Last night we were together, just as we're meant to be. We were happy. So damn happy that I'll never forget the bright light of hope and contentment that settled deep within my chest. And that first kiss, my very first taste of her, that moment will forever be one of the highlights of my life. But with everything that's happening, how do I honor the promises I made to her last night? Especially if the very foundation of my existence may have crumbled into ash.

Unwilling to face the questions ruminating in my head, I rise from the bed. While I'm not ready to face the day, I'm much too restless to continue sitting here dwelling in misery. With quiet steps, I leave the bedroom, stopping to cast one last glance at the girls before carefully shutting the door. Dropping my head against the cool wooden surface, I take a second to steel myself. For the sake of my sister and Embree, no matter the news, I must keep it together. They need me to be strong. To be present and confident. Steady. To be their lighthouse amid the waves and darkened sky that threaten to take us under.

"Focus on that which you can control." 
I chant the mantra in my head, over and over, using it to ground me.

Getting answers.

That's where my focus should be. As terrifying as it is, I need to know what's happened to my parents. And I need to understand what the hell happened in our home after I left.

Making my way down the stairs, my steps falter at the sound of voices. It's barely 5 am, so whatever is happening must be related to the fire. Determined to get answers, I ignore my racing heart as I draw closer to the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air, as do the voices of Uncle George—Embree's dad—and Will's father, Chief Keller. Though I can't see them from where I stand, I can tell they're sitting around the small breakfast table. Stopping just outside their line of sight, I slow my breath and listen closely.

"All signs point to it starting in the basement. According to the fire marshal, most likely electrical. By the time the first trucks made it on the scene, most of the first floor was engulfed. They could hear the smoke alarms going off in various parts of the house, so as far as that goes, they had some warning."

"So why?" Embree's dad asks in a tone that's almost pleading. "If the alarms went off, and the fire started in the basement, why didn't they get out? Even if they were asleep when it began, their bedroom is on the first floor. Why in the world would they go upstairs?"

"It's why I need to talk to the kids. When Jessa called for help, she told dispatch she'd made it out. That she went back inside is telling. I'm thinking they thought the kids were in the house?"

Covering my mouth to stifle a sob, I fight against the urge to collapse. There's no time for this. I can't give in to the intense emotions tearing me apart. Not until I know the truth. Even if said truth kills me.

"Christ, Chief. How do we tell them? How do we sit those two kids down and tell them their parents are gone?"

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" I burst through the door, startling them both. "Take it back. Now! Take it the fuck back..." My voice breaks as the news seeps into my bones, tainting and poisoning what's left of my youthful innocence.

With a look of pity, Uncle George steps forward. His hand is extended and his eyes plead for me to take the lifeline he's offering. "Son..."

"I'm not your fucking son!" I scream with such rage that he takes a step back. The shock on his face only compounds the guilt that's coursing through my veins.

Unable to breathe, I rush from the room. I need to escape. To get away from this place, from the pain, from the inevitable truth, I'm not ready to face. Using the sliding glass door off of the den, I take off toward the woods in a run. All the while, I ignore the voices calling for me to stop.

Don't they get it? I can't be here. Not after everything I've done, everything I've lost. Without them, I have no fucking place. No fucking life. No fucking future.

Reaching the small creek that runs behind Embree's house, I collapse on the bank and spill the contents of my stomach.

I did this. Oh my fucking god, I did this!

Painful sobs wrack through me as my body purges everything I wish weren't true. Everything hurts. My heart. My soul. Every part of my body. With shaky hands, I crawl to the edge of the water, and upon seeing the bottom, I'm struck with disappointment. All night I fought against those waves that threatened to drown me, and now that I'm desperate to sink and disappear into nothingness, all that's available is a shallow pool of calm water.

It's ironic. Another of life's cruel jokes. When we wish to sink, we float, but when we want to live and do more than merely exist, the waves close in to steal our hope.

Overwhelmed by the excruciating pain in my chest, I sink into the arms that suddenly wrap themselves around me. I'm so desperate for relief from the weight of my failures that I soak in the comfort I don't deserve. Like the coward that I am, I don't fight it. No matter how much that voice inside my head tells me I should, I just can't. The thought of pushing away the loving embrace, especially as I don't know if I'll ever feel this again now that they're gone, renders me weak. Instead, I close my eyes and pretend it's my parent's arms that surround me.

I don't know how much time passes, but he waits until my chest no longer heaves with grief to speak. "We'll get you through this, Lucas. You have my word."

"I did this," the confession pours out of me in a rush. "They're dead because of me."

Stunned, his grip on me tightens. Probably searching for the right words, he doesn't immediately respond. "Why would you say that, Luc? What happened to make you think any of this is your fault?"

"I left," I sob. The anguish returns in a tidal wave of agony as I force myself to say out loud that which I'm not ready to confront. "They were sleeping when I left. I didn't wake them. I left a note, but I didn't wake them so they didn't know. They died trying to save me and I wasn't even there."

"Christ," his voice cracks and I can feel the shake of his body as he fights through his own emotions. "This isn't on you, Lucas. I know it's hard to believe it right now, but I'm telling you, kid," he pauses and shakes me like he's trying to get me to listen. "This is not on you."

When I don't respond, he pulls back and forces my gaze to his. "I need you to promise me, Lucas. Right here, right now, promise that you'll trust me to get you through to the other side. Promise and I will spend the rest of my life reminding you that you are not to blame, until the day you wake up and finally believe it. I give you my word. Put your trust in me and I'll make damn sure you and your sister will be okay."

I wish I could make him that promise, I do. But that part of me who's driven to always do the right thing is conflicted. Blinded by guilt, that voice is telling me I don't deserve to ever be okay again.

"I don't know if you know this, but the first time I met your parents was on my wedding day," he pauses and lets out a deep sigh. "I was terrified. We'd found out that Muriel was pregnant, so we moved back to town and planned a quickie wedding. It was your mom and Muriel that grew up together. Embree's mom isn't an easy person to love, and that your mother loved her and went out of her way to help us with the wedding spoke volumes about who she was as a person.

"The first time I met them, I was pacing the floors at the back of the church, waiting for the ceremony to start. I was alone. A stranger in a new town, I knew no one, but the minute your parents saw me, that all changed. I'll never forget how your mom pulled me into a hug like she'd known me her entire life. Then she side-eyed your dad, and quickly excused herself," he chuckles. "It's like they had this secret language. At the time, I found it odd, but over the years, I realized that's what true love is. Awareness of one another. Knowing what the other is thinking or feeling merely because that other person's experience in this life means that much to you.

"Anyway," he exhales. "Your dad, who I'll remind you was a total stranger, patted me on the back and told me I'd be okay. That he and your mother were there for both of us, no matter the time of day, all I had to do was call. You were in his arms during that conversation. The entire time, your adorable baby blues stared back at me with such wonder and curiosity that I couldn't help but touch you. When you reached out and wrapped your little fingers around mine, I swear..." his voice wavers like he's fighting back the emotion. 

"At that moment, I knew I'd be okay. You gave me peace that day, kid. You and your dad gave me the confidence to take that step into the next phase of my life. For that, I'll be forever indebted to you and your parents. It's why no matter what happens from this day forward, Lucas, I'm here. For as long as God lets me. In the meantime, I promise to create a home where you and Jenny will eventually feel safe again. I love you and your sister as if you were mine. While I know I'm not your father and that our home doesn't feel like yours, I promise someday you'll wake up to find that you're exactly where you're meant to be."

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Chapter 15

Lucas

The strangest part about death is our inability to fathom its finality. Even as we understand that death will someday come for us all, it’s still hard to wrap one’s mind around the idea that a person—who once had a home, a family, and a place in society—can cease to exist. All the threads that connected them to this world cut in an instant, leaving behind fragmented pieces of a former life.

According to the therapist, Uncle George forced us to see, our burden now is to pick up what remains of those jagged remnants, so we can keep their memory alive and use those pieces to build a future without them. But how? How are we supposed to go on when, just six days ago, they were as essential to our well-being as the air we breathe? How is one expected to pick up those damn pieces when, with each attempt, the jagged edges cut through the flesh of your heart?

Dropping my head to my arms, I fight back the tears I refuse to let fall. I deserve this. The pain. The anguish. The guilt that’s got me wasting away like a parasite desperate to consume its host. After what I’ve done, sitting here absorbing the burn in my throat, in my eyes, in my fucking chest, this is how I honor them. My version of picking up the remnants of their lives by depicting and enduring every bit of the pain they may have felt at the end. This is my penance.

Handshake.

“Your parents were the most wonderful people. I’m so sorry for your loss. If you kids need anything, and I mean anything, please stop by and see me.”

Nod, and then, “Thank you for coming.”

Handshake.

“Oh, my dear boy, I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Your mother was the most amazing woman and your father… God did he love her.”

Nod, and then, “Thank you for coming.”

And round and round it went. For hours, my sister and I stood together, forced to endure everyone else’s pain. Their tears. Their pitying stares. Meaningless platitudes and well-meaning words that did nothing but fan our grief into a raging inferno.

Embree’s dad, our self-proclaim sentinel, stood by our side through the funeral service and burial. Amid tragedy, the meek and unassuming man morphed into a watchful and fierce protector. As he promised, he spent the week sharing in our grief, and walking us through the endless maze of coordinating my parent’s “end-of-life celebration.” That’s what the funeral director called it, but based on the somber mood of those in attendance, nothing about today felt like a celebration.

Leaning my head back against the brick wall, I look up toward the bright blue sky. White fluffy clouds hang above, as a bird of prey glides through the air in a circular pattern. The treetops, heavy with the green leaves of summer, sway in the breeze, emitting the swishing calm that not long ago would have filled me with a sense of peace. Today though—the surrounding beauty, the tranquility that coats the air—it does nothing but stoke the rage and resentment I have toward a universe that continues to turn even as my world has stopped spinning.

Then, as if that cruel realization wasn’t enough, the flowery scent of the rose bushes takes me back to that god-awful moment when Jenny and I said our final goodbyes.

It was Uncle George’s idea. The plan was to give Jenny and me a few minutes alone with our parents and, given how lost we felt, neither of us knew whether to agree or object. Regardless, nothing could have prepared us for the sight of two mahogany caskets displayed at the front of the room. The smiling faces of our parents sat upon easels behind each of the caskets to identify where they lay. Not even the white blooms that cascaded like a blanket over the top of the caskets were enough to hide the wreckage that’s now our reality. A reality that slammed into us violently. Mercilessly, to the point, all we could do was weep.

It made everything real. Until that moment, there was a part of us that refused to believe they were gone. Refused to believe that our lives, along with the stability we knew, had crumbled under our feet. It broke me. Especially as I watched my sister fall apart. I did this to her, and as unfathomable as it is, there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Because of me, her future, her hopes and dreams, and every opportunity that a week ago was guaranteed is forever and irrevocably changed.

And then there’s Embree. Since the night of the fire, the same night I declared my love for her and vowed to put her first, I’ve done the opposite. Less than an hour. That’s how long we had before the bubble I’d so callously assumed was our destiny, exploded in a fireball of guilt and misery. My decisions that night set off a chain of events that destroyed everything I loved, and now every time I look at her, that is all I see. Death. Grief. Guilt.

I regret everything about that night and based on the sadness hidden behind those whiskey eyes, it’s obvious she knows. It’s why I avoid her gaze. Why I’m back to using my grief-stricken sister as a buffer. Keeping Jenny between us under the guise she needs us both to get through this, when really, I just can’t bear the high cost of everything I’ve lost, including her. My Embree. There’s no coming back from this. At least not for us.

At the sound of voices coming out onto the back deck, I freeze. Tucking my legs closer to my chest, I slow my breaths, determined to remain hidden away. By the time we got back for the reception, I’d had enough and couldn’t handle not one more I’m sorry or heartfelt condolence. It’s why I snuck away the minute I had the chance.

“I’m sorry to come by unannounced, especially with everything happening today, but I’m afraid this conversation couldn’t wait.”

“That’s all right. We can spare a few minutes.” Embree’s dad tells the woman whose voice I don’t recognize.

“Mr. and Mrs. Preston, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to come right out with it. As you know, the Holt’s estate plan didn’t include guardianship instructions for the children in the event of both of their deaths. As such, Lucas and Jennifer Holt are now wards of the state. Though your temporary guardianship over them has been approved, I’m afraid that given your health situation, Mr. Holt, the state can’t approve permanent placement…”

“Now, wait a minute. Why the hell not? These children have been in our lives almost from day one. They’ve been raised alongside our daughter, in the only town they’ve ever known, and you’re telling me the state doesn’t see us fit to continue raising them?” Uncle George’s voice is taut with tension, and as the words settle into my brain with the grace of an explosion, tremors rattle through my body.

“The state is aware of your close relationship with these children, and if circumstances were different, your request for guardianship wouldn’t be an issue. But Mr. Holt, your prognosis is six months. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but your cancer is terminal and your wife… well, Mrs. Holt, the state has concerns over your ability to afford three children on your own.”

Everything goes eerily quiet. The unspoken question hangs heavy in the air as we wait for Aunt Muriel’s answer. That she doesn’t respond is barely a blip in my awareness. Instead, my mind is stuck on the words terminal cancer and six-month prognosis .

“No…” I whisper, my head shaking in utter disbelief as tears fall fast and furious down my face. How can this be? After losing my parents, after all the assurances he made to help Jenny and me through the grief, how could he be dying?

“So what’s the appeal process, and what does it mean for these kids in the meantime?” Uncle George’s voice projects every bit of the fierce protector he’s become since our world came crashing down, but it’s what I don’t hear him say that sends waves of dread and betrayal crashing over me. He knew. Six days ago, when he comforted me and made promises to be there as he begged I put my trust in him, he knew. He fucking knew he was dying and still, he made those impossible promises.

“So you still want to pursue guardianship?” The woman asks sounding surprised.

“Yes, Miss McKee. We’re still pursuing guardianship of these children, and while I may not have much time left, I assure you I will use every bit of that time, and every resource at my disposal to make sure these kids stay here, where they belong. So, again. How do we appeal, and what happens to them in the meantime?”

“I’ll submit the appeal on your behalf, and the children can remain in your care while it’s under review. However, please understand the chance of both these children remaining under your care is a tough sell for the state. One child, maybe, but both? Under the circumstances, I don’t see the state reversing its decision.”

“We’ll see about that,” Uncle George challenges.

“Mr. Preston, please understand that all decisions made by the state are based on what’s best for the children.”

“I’m happy to hear it. So, if the state revokes our guardianship, then what? Where do they go?” The woman hesitates, and Uncle George scoffs. “That’s what I thought. So explain it to me, Miss McKee, how is sending a 17 and 16-year-old into the foster care system what’s best, hmm? How could anyone who advocates for children deem foster care the most suitable option over a home and life they’re already accustomed to?”

Foster care? And just like that, all hope that at least some part of our lives would remain intact disappears.

“I get your frustration. I do. And if it were my call, I would never consider removing these children from your care. But I have no power here other than making a recommendation which I already submitted. I’ll submit the appeal and again, recommend to the powers that be that it’s in the best interest of the children that they remain here. I just can’t make any promises. In the end, it may not be enough.”

“You said we could keep one of them?” Aunt Muriel voices out of nowhere.

“No. I said possibly, but to be honest, separating siblings…”

“If that’s our only option, then so be it. Lucas is what, seven months away from turning 18? He’d only be in the system for a short time…”

“Absolutely not, Muriel!” Uncle George roars. “We are not sending either of these kids into the system in hopes the short stint in foster care won’t do permanent damage. I won’t allow it. Never. And you should be ashamed of yourself for even suggesting it.”

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# Chapter 16

Emilia

Snapping awake, I sit up. With a hand over my pounding heart, I take in the darkness and listen closely. Late-night noises aren't an unusual occurrence as of late, given that our house turned into a makeshift operations center since the night of the fire. People come and go at all hours of the day or night, and there's no avoiding the animated yet hushed conversations happening all around. Tonight, however, all is quiet. Eerily so, which makes me wonder what roused me from sleep. Now that the funeral is hours behind us and everyone is gone there's nothing left but this empty void.

Maybe it was a dream. Or given the circumstances, most likely a nightmare. Nothing could have prepared us for the intense grief and uncertainty that has descended upon our lives like a noxious fog of doom. It's everywhere. Smoky tendrils that somehow dampen and distort the safe world we once knew, turning it into something dark and unrecognizable. Nothing feels familiar. Not the house where I grew up, the friends I've known all my life. Even my parents and the community we rely on, everyone's different. Some are somber, while many others have grown distant, almost despondent. 

Since the death of Lucas and Jen's parents, no one knows how to be anymore. How to act. What to do. How to cope. It's like everyone is stuck in the muck with no way to pull themselves out. It's a terrifying time, for if the adults don't know how to go on and return to their everyday lives, then what hope do we kids have? Lucas and Jen? Me and the rest of our friends? Will there ever come a time when we'll feel safe and secure in our lives again?

Wrapping my arms around myself, I look over at the clock on the nightstand. The blue numbers are blurred and hard to read behind the tears welling in my eyes, so it takes a second to see that it's just after midnight. The chances of getting back to sleep are slim, so with a sigh, I stand from the bed hoping a cup of hot tea will help.

I hate this. 

The constant trail of tears.

The deep sense of helplessness that plagues me as I attempt to help Lucas and Jen through this impossible situation.

Most of all, I hate how heavy everything feels. Gone is the light that shone brightly in Jen's mischievous smile. Gone is the comforting presence that accompanied Lucas whenever he entered a room. The playful banter and back and forth that brought us solace during times of stress no longer exists. Instead, there sits this awkwardness that has us tiptoeing around one another, unsure of what to do or say to not add more pain to an already unbearable situation.

And then there's this weird distance between Lucas and me. So much has changed since the night he took me in his arms, declared his love, and kissed me senseless. That brief but oh-so-perfect moment came to a crashing halt the instant Will's dad called with the news. Since losing his parents, not only has Lucas put me back in the friend zone, but he's done it with such force that calling what we now have a friendship feels like a huge exaggeration.

For reasons I don't understand, it's like he can't stand the sight of me. He leaves the room when I come in and does everything he can to ensure we're never alone. I've tried on dozens of occasions to get him to talk to me, but he won't. He's pushing me away again, and this time I don't have a right to demand that he stop. He's dealing with a major tragedy and it would be selfish of me to put my feelings above his. As someone who loves him unconditionally, I have to find it in myself to be okay with granting him the space he needs.

I  only wish it didn't hurt so darn much.

For the first time in days, the house is completely dark. Not wanting to wake anyone, I use the hints of moonlight to navigate my way down the stairs to the first floor. As an only child, I'm used to the silent noises of my house, which is why it takes no effort at all to notice that I'm not alone down here. Walking through the darkened hallway, past the dining room and kitchen, I turn toward our family room.

Even blanketed in darkness, I see him sitting alone. His shoulders slumped in grief, elbows on his knees as he sobs into his hands. Gone is the confident young man I love, replaced instead by this broken boy I don't recognize. Lucas is the strongest person I've ever known. The one person in my life who, no matter the challenge, stands with resolve and determination to get himself and those he loves through to the other side. It's why seeing him so crushed and defeated is as shocking as it is heartbreaking.

Unable to stop myself, I hurry to him. Dropping to my knees, I pull his hands from his face and bring him into my arms. That he allows it and so easily melts into me, says everything I need to know. He's done. The strong facade he put on the past week has given way, leaving behind nothing but inescapable grief. With his face buried in the crook of my neck, he sobs, and the way he clings to me like I'm the only thing keeping him afloat brings my tears to the surface. Crying together, we hold on to one another, each of us coming to terms with a future we'd never imagined. The weight of it is so suffocating that it's difficult to see how we'll ever make it through.

Closing my eyes, I issue yet another silent prayer, begging that this all be a dream. That life as we know it and the security we've taken for granted is still our reality. But there is no escaping the shuddering agony coursing through the boy in my arms as he purges the pain. This is real. His parents are gone and with them, the innocence of our youth. Life will never be the same and while there is nothing I can do to fix it I can be there for him. Like he's done for me a thousand times before, I will see him through the darkness.

When our tears finally slow, he pulls back, taking my hands he guides me to sit on the couch next to him. By the way he's avoiding my eyes, I can tell he's embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. Unwilling to let him rebuild the walls that for a week have kept me out, I thrust forward.   

"Don't Lucas. Don't push me away. Not now when we need each other."

 With a heavy sigh, he nods and intertwines his fingers around mine. His head falls back to the couch in a move that speaks to how exhausted he is. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." Not having any answers, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. "I still can't make sense of what's happened, let alone figure out what comes next." Falling quiet, we sit there, absorbing his words.

 "I don't think there's a simple answer for something like this, Luc. Like my dad always says, the best we can do is take it one day at a time. Putting one foot in front of the other until we figure it out."

"Hmm," he closes his eyes, and when he goes quiet for several minutes, I begin to wonder if he's fallen asleep. "You know what the last piece of advice my dad gave me?" he tilts his head down and gives me a rueful smile. "He told me to not be afraid to get a little dirty now and again because those are the moments that make life worth living."

We both erupt in a fit of laughter that's as unexpected as it is healing.

"What?" I giggle. "What in the world brought that on?"

Sobering, his smile falls. His eyes drop to my lips briefly before returning to meet my gaze. "You. We were talking about you."

"Me?" I whisper, my breath catching in anticipation. The look in his eyes is reminiscent of how he looked at me right before he kissed me that first time.

"Yeah," he breathes out the word, a look of reverence passing over his features. To my disappointment, he clears his throat and looks away, breaking the connection and leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined it. Leaning back against the couch, he continues, "Dad knew how I felt about you. He was trying to convince me it was okay to explore things between us. It's the last meaningful conversation we had and the irony of how things turned out makes that memory all the more difficult."

 "Why?"

"Before that night, my biggest fear was that I'd screw things up and hurt you. That if I took our relationship further, I'd eventually lose you and cause a rift between you and Jenny, or even our parents. That's why I thought it would be best if we remained friends. Especially with me heading off to college next year. Leaving you is inevitable, and I couldn't imagine how much harder that would be if I allowed us to cross the line to something more. But Dad pushed me that day. He convinced me that playing it safe wasn't living. He hadn't a clue, just how wrong he was."

"Why do you say that? Sounds to me like he was right. What's the point of playing it safe, if it means you don't get to experience all that life offers?"

"Because playing it safe does just that. It keeps everyone safe. If I hadn't gone to the bonfire that night, they would still be alive. Jenny and I would still have our parents. We'd still have a life. A future. Instead, because of the selfish decisions I made on a whim, we have nothing but pain, regret, and a lifetime of having to endure it alone. And the worst part is that while I deserve it, Jenny doesn't. In pursuing something I knew I shouldn't, I ruined her life. I'm her brother, for god's sake. My job is to protect her. To make sure she's safe and happy. How the hell am I supposed to live with myself after everything I've taken from her?"

At this, my heart sinks. "So, you regret what happened between us that night?" His head drops, and it takes everything I have to fight back the ball of despair choking up my throat. Oh God, does he blame me? Does he blame what exists between us? That possibility is far worse than anything I could have imagined, for it's something we may never overcome.

"My parents went to bed early that night. I'd told them I'd be home. That I wouldn't be attending the bonfire after all. I was so sure keeping my distance was the best thing for everyone, but as I sat in my room with the walls closing in, I couldn't do it. The thought of you with Parker, of him being the one to hold you that night. To kiss you... I just couldn't. Without thinking, I grabbed my keys, wrote my parents a quick note, and then rushed out the door. I never imagined that would be my last time walking out of our house. The last time I'd share a roof with my parents. The last time I'd feel completely at ease and safe in my own existence."

"It wasn't your fault, Lucas. The fire marshal said..."

"For god's sake," he springs to his feet. Running a hand over his face in frustration, he adds, "I know what the fire marshal said. I know I couldn't have stopped the fire, but if I'd been there, the three of us would have made it out."

"You don't know that, Lucas. You can't know what would have happened."

"Yes, I do," he raises his voice to a loud whisper. With eyes like icy daggers, he stares me down. "I do know because that same fire marshal told your dad that my mom made it out, that my parents had a chance to escape, but that something drew them back into the house. They thought I was home. They went back in to save me and I wasn't even there. They suffocated and burned in a scorching inferno trying to save a son who, by all accounts, is the only person who deserved to die that night." His words are spoken with such certainty and contempt that I'm left gasping for breath. 

 "I killed them. Me going after you that night is the reason my parents are dead!"

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Chapter 17

Lucas

How did I get here?

From innocence and possibilities, to hopelessness and broken dreams.

Rock bottom.

It’s the only way to describe my newfound reality. Gone is the boy who strove for bigger and better things… anything he could think of to make his parents proud. Gone is the 17-year-old kid who dreamed of football, scholarships, and a successful future. Most of all, gone is the man who fell in love with a girl not meant for him, but who was certain that in the end, she would eventually be his.

“I killed them. Me going after you that night is the reason my parents are dead!”

“No…” she sobs into her hands. Her whiskey eyes drowning in disbelief as she stares back at me with a look that’s almost pleading. “I don’t believe that. You didn’t cause that fire and you left them a note…”

“A note on a refrigerator door that they probably never saw.”

“It doesn’t matter. You did exactly what they would have expected and what happened after that is not on you.”

“You’re wrong,” my voice breaks and it takes a second to pull myself together. “I could have woken them. Told them I was leaving, or better yet, I should have kept my ass at home so I could have been there to help save them.”

“Or you could have died too!” she yells, her voice rough and so fraught with anguish it takes everything in me not to reach out to comfort her.

If I touch her now, I’ll never stop. If I hold her in my arms, it will make what I have to do next that much more difficult to get through.

“You could have died with them, Lucas, and then what would Jen and I have done? We never would have survived that. We wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to exist in a world where you don’t, so I’m sorry. I’m glad you weren’t there. That you were safe with me, Jen, and our friends at the bonfire and I am certain if your parents were here, they would tell you the same thing.”

At the mention of my parents, my breath catches in my throat and the traitorous tears I’ve been fighting begin to fall. She’s right. I know that’s what my parents would have said, but here’s the thing, they’re not here. They’re dead. Their lives were stolen from them by circumstances I could have prevented if only I’d stayed where I told them I’d be.

When she steps into my space and places a gentle hand against the side of my face, I lose the battle. I need her. Fuck, do I need her, which is why I lean into her touch, close my eyes, then pull her into my arms. The scent of vanilla and summer breezes infiltrates my lungs like a breath of fresh air. It blankets me in a cocoon of warm comfort that after the past week, I would do anything to hold on to. It’s her. My Embree. The balm to my broken heart. If only it were enough to piece me back together and make me whole, but no. Nothing will ever be enough to turn me back into the man I was meant to be before that night.

“I ruined everything,” I whisper through a quiet sob. “I’m so sorry I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t,” she shakes her head and when she tries to pull back to look at me, I stop her. I cannot bear to have her look at me right now. Not with the evidence of my guilt, my faults, and my mistakes seeping out of me like the ugly pus of an infected wound. “You didn’t ruin anything, Lucas. You’re here. Jen’s here. You’re both here, safe and sound, just as your parents would have wanted.”

She doesn’t understand that I’m not only talking about my parents, but about us. My actions that night and what happened in the aftermath are the reasons she and I will never be. It’s done. We’re over. Any chance we had at a future together was reduced to a pile of ashes alongside the life I’ll never have. For me, there is no coming back from this, and I refuse to drag her or Jenny down with me.

“Lucas,” she forces her way past my tight hold until she’s looking up at me. “It may not seem like it now, but I swear you aren’t to blame for what happened, no matter what that guilt-ridden brain of yours tells you. You didn’t cause that fire and there was no way for you to know what was going to happen when you left them that night.” When I shake my head, she takes my face into her hands. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m stubborn then,” she gives me a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t believe me right now, which is okay because I have zero problems reminding you of that truth, over and over again, until you finally believe it.”

The vehemence in those whiskey eyes is my undoing. That she so firmly believes what she’s saying grips me by the throat and drags me back from the depths of doom with a force that leaves me questioning if I’m looking at this all wrong. God, do I want her to be right. The thought of digging out from the suffocating weight of this guilt is enough to make me want to pretend. It’s enough to bring some life-saving air back into my constricted chest.

Desperate for more and determined to get lost in the feeling she’s invoked, I look down at her rosy lips. Even through the darkness, they call to me like a beacon. Luscious and soft. Full and exquisite, just like my very first taste of her.

The sound of her breath hitching in her throat pulls my gaze back to hers. The desperate longing that was a low simmer flares to life when I find that same passionate yearning staring back at me. Lost and helpless to fight it anymore, I give in to the magnetic pull that draws me to her. Lowering my lips ever so slowly, I listen as her breath tells me all I need to know. She wants this. Christ, she wants this just as much as I do, and that thought alone is enough to shatter all my self-control.

With fervent desperation, our lips come together. Desire and need course through my blood, as her plump lips open, yielding and begging for me to devour her. To own her. To take care of her. It’s intoxicating. All-consuming.

I don’t know how it happens. One minute we’re standing in the middle of the room and the next we’re on the couch, her soft thighs straddling me as her warm center scorches over my aching cock.

“God, I want you, Emb. You have no idea how much I fucking want you.” I pant through kisses that become more frantic.

“I’m yours. I’m yours,” she chants, then hisses, as my lips move to explore the curve of her neck.

Fuck, she’s amazing. The feel of her soft skin under my lips, under my fingertips, as I squeeze the back of her supple thighs, I’m undone. All common sense and reservations melt away, leaving nothing but this incessant ache only she can allay.

I want this. More than anything, all I want is this chance to lose myself inside of her. To bury all this pain and regret under layers of pleasure for what I’m sure will be the greatest moment of my life, but what if it only makes things worse? What if she ends up hating me? The thought of leaving her behind is hard enough, but doing so knowing she might hate me instantly douses my desire to take this further.

“Wait,” I pull back, dropping our foreheads together as we breathe each other in. “We can’t do this. We just can’t.”

“Why,” she pulls back, the look of hurt behind those whiskey eyes tells me she’s interpreting my actions as rejection.

“Hey, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that we shouldn’t. Not with everything…” I trail off, afraid I’ll say too much.

“But I want this, Lucas. I want you and I want you to want me.”

“I do want you. More than anything I’ve wanted in my entire life, but Embree, there’s so much up in the air right now. The last thing I’d want is for you to end up hating me.”

“Why would I hate you?” She searches my eyes. “I love you. It’s why I’ve saved all my firsts for you. More than anything, I want to do this with you.”

And just like that, she sparks the desire back to life. Tendrils of pleasure and need crawl over my skin until I’m almost vibrating with it. Unable to help myself, I squeeze her hips tight and I grind up into her sweet center. The sound she emits damn near blinds me with pleasure, as my mouth scrambles to find her lips.

“You’ve been saving all your firsts for me?” I groan at the thought. It’s all so wrong, but it’s like I’ve been reduced to a primal state where all I want is to take those first and stake my claim. The slight nod she gives isn’t enough for the caveman asshole I’ve suddenly become. “I need to hear it, Emb. Our kiss that night. Was it your first?”

“Yes…” she breathes with a look of embarrassed innocence that nearly unmans me. I never would have known had she not told me. When I took her in my arms that night, I did so with the determination that by the end of the night, she would be mine. Now I wish I’d taken it slow and cherished those precious first moments.

“You’ve never let anyone else kiss you like this?” I take her lips, slowly parting them with my tongue, as I take her face in my hands so I can deepen the kiss. She tastes like heaven and feels like sin, but damned if I care. I would spend an eternity in hell for just one more minute with her like this.

“No. Only you. Please, Lucas.”

“What are you asking for, Emb?” I pull back to look at her as nerves I’ve never felt flutter to the surface. Now I’m the one feeling timid. I’m desperate to have her while terrified I’m not good enough to be her first.

“This,” she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it over her head. My eyes instantly zero in on the rosy peaks at the tips of her beautiful breasts. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”

Fuuuck…

Not needing to be told twice, I pull her close, gently swiping my tongue over a pert nipple, while palming her other breast. My god, she’s amazing. This moment is better than anything I could have imagined. When a deep moan slips past her lips, I swear I damn near come in my pants. I’m so enthralled by what’s happening that I sit there helpless and confused when she pulls back and stands. With the same urgency I feel, she pulls down her pajama bottoms and panties, and the sight of her standing in front of me gloriously naked steals my fucking breath.

Even in the dark, I can see the swell of her breasts hanging heavy just above her flat stomach. The outline of her waist guides my eyes until I zero in on the dark thatch of hair that covers her center. Christ, everything about this girl is perfect, which begs the question, what the hell am I doing and why would she ever want someone as screwed up as me?

I have little time to ponder the question when I see her reach for my wallet on top of the end table. I know what she’s looking for, even before I see the gold foil packet. When she drops to her knees in front of me, my breath catches. The fog of lust and desire that descends upon me renders me helpless to stop her, as with wide eyes, I follow the movement of her hands. When she takes the waist of my sweatpants and boxers, looks up at me, and pulls, my hips and hands oblige. Moving of their own accord to help her pull down the offending barrier to free my cock. The look in her eyes as she looks at it only fuels the heat that’s now bearing down on me like a runaway train.

I need her to touch me just as badly as she needed me to touch her, but I won’t say it. I can’t. She needs to lead this. It’s the only way to make sure I’m not reading more into her actions than she might actually want.

Without hesitation, she reaches down to touch me. The feel of her warm hands around me radiates red-hot pleasure through my groin, forcing my eyes shut as I bite back a groan. Christ, I want more. More of that. Of her. Of everything.

“Did that hurt?” It’s only then that I notice she’s stopped. With eyes full of concern, she waits for my answer. The intense need as my balls draw up tight renders me speechless, and all I can do is shake my head.

Needing a second to pull myself together, I pull her up and back onto my lap. Dropping my forehead to the crook of her neck, I heave in a breath and draw her close. When she melts into me, it’s then I realize my mistake. With every breath we take, the wet heat of her body slides seamlessly over my dick, and my god, does it feel amazing.

“Fuuuck! Don’t move. Please don’t move,” I beg, all the while I’m almost blinded by the desire to thrust into her.

“Don’t stop this, Lucas. Please. I need you, I need this.”

“Are you sure, Emb? You have to be sure…”

“I’m sure,” she interrupts as she pulls back far enough to kiss me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That’s all it takes. Like a damn burst open, we come together in a heap of passion. Limbs grabbing and caressing with a desperation that speaks to the uncertainty this past week has taught us. Nothing in this life is a guarantee, just like nothing is forever. Reality and responsibilities. Those things will always be there, but this? Love and lust. Passion and desire, especially with the one whose soul aligns with yours, now that isn’t a sure thing. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that only comes around if luck and time are on your side.

My father’s words choose this moment to reverberate in my head, and this time I think I finally understand what he meant.

“Look, all I’m saying is messy things are some of the most memorable and worthwhile experiences one can have. It’s part of life, son. You need to mix in a little mess to find the spice. So don’t be afraid to get a little dirty now and again because those are the moments that make life worth living.”

I will use tonight to show her what she means to me. Loving her body. Using whispered words of affection that I hope will forever cement themselves onto her soul. Taking my time and making sure we’re both here in the now, cherishing and ingraining this experience into our beings so that tomorrow when she finds me gone, she’ll never doubt the depth of my love.

It’s because of love that I must leave.

My love for Embree. A love that will burn for all eternity, but that if I stay, will end up destroying her thanks to my building anger and resentment.

My love for my sister who deserves a chance at a regular life, something that won’t be possible if I stay and she ends up in foster care.

And most of all, my love for my parents who lost their lives attempting to save me. In their honor, I must go off into the world to atone for my sins and to ensure their sacrifice was not in vain.

Tonight marks the end of my story, but I hope the coming dawn will mark the beginning of theirs. I only hope that with time they’ll both find a way to forgive me.

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# Chapter 18

Emilia

"Emi wake up. Please, wake up!"

Jen's frantic plea cuts through my dream-induced haze and when I open my eyes, I'm disappointed to find I'm in my room. The morning sun shines bright through the white sheer curtains, which sway in the breeze coming from the open windows.

On any other day, I'd welcome the chance at an early start. Nothing compares to the cool mountain air of a summer morning, never mind the sights and sounds of nature as the world comes awake. Today, though, I'd give anything to go back to my dreams, where the events of the previous night replay in a loop of endless pleasure and contentment.

Last night was everything I'd imagined. The feel of his lips on my skin, the sweeping caresses, and his shiver-inducing touch as he explored my body. The way he held me so tenderly and yet possessively as if he was trying to imprint himself into every part of my being. He wrecked me in all the best ways I never knew I needed to be and ruined me to the point I can't imagine doing what we did with anyone else. He's it for me. Without question, he's the only man I ever want to be with.

"Emi please, you need to wake up," she sniffles. At the sound, I jolt upright, taking in the sight of her puffy eyes and the tears streaking down her face.

"Jen, what is it? What's wrong?"

"He's gone," she heaves in a sob. "I can't believe he's gone."

Pulling her into my arms, I close my eyes as the cold and unwelcome grief returns with a vengeance. For several hours, the bliss that is being with Lucas Holt pushed away all thoughts of death and loss, allowing me to forget the events that led us here.

"I'm so sorry. It's okay. It's going to be okay," I stroke her hair, hating myself for reiterating the same useless platitudes I give whenever she wakes with a nightmare from that night. I'm her best friend. You'd think by now I'd have better insight to offer, but what could one say to ease the catastrophic feelings that come with losing not one, but both of your parents in such a sudden, tragic way?

"No, it's not. How can you say that? How can you possibly know that?" Agitated, she pulls away. Rising to a stand, she begins to pace. "How could he do this? How could he leave like this?"

Confused, it takes a second to process what she's saying. A wave of tension creeps up my spine as dread settles deep in the pit of my stomach.

"Who, Jen? Who are you talking about?"

"Lucas!" she blurts. Her bloodshot eyes glower at me with anger that's most likely not meant for me, but that's not what stops my beating heart.

"What?"

"Lucas is gone. He left sometime through the night, leaving nothing behind but a note that your father won't let me read."

"No," it must be some kind of mistake. "Luc wouldn't do that. He wouldn't just up and leave like that, Jen." Not after what happened between us last night, and he definitely wouldn't abandon her after everything the two of them have already lost. "He probably walked down to the lake after waking with another nightmare. He's been doing that a lot."

"No. No, he didn't," she sobs. "Your dad and I already checked, and he's not there. All his stuff is gone. His clothes, his pack, Clara. He took everything and left a note addressed to your dad."

"He wouldn't do that," I choke up as my soul chatters at the mere thought he might. "We talked last night. At first, he was upset, but by the end he was good. I swear to God he was good." He was. At least I think he was, but what if I missed the signs he wasn't okay? What if in my sex-induced haze, I neglected to see the turmoil still churning inside of him?

Suddenly sick to my stomach, I rush out of bed and slip on the robe hanging on the back of my door. He wouldn't do this. Not after he made love to me last night. Not after he whispered so many pretty words and told me he loved me with a sincerity that struck deep and infused him into every fiber of my being.

Not waiting for her to follow, I hurry down the stairs. My father's voice reaches me before I make it to the kitchen, and though I can't hear what he's saying, his frenzied tone confirms what my heart refuses to believe.

He's gone. After the most amazing night of my life, after he made sure my heart could only ever be his, he left.

How could he do this?

How did I miss the signs?

How am I supposed to go on when he's the other half of my soul?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Want to see the letter Lucas left for Emilia's father? Read on to the next SECTION. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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# The Letter

Dear Uncle George,

I want to thank you for stepping up and helping Jenny and me through the loss and burial of our parents. Your support meant the world to me, and without you, I don't know how Jenny or I would have made it through. It's what makes what I have to tell you next that much more difficult.

I'm leaving Ruby Creek. 

I'm sorry for springing it upon you without so much as a face-to-face, but it's something I need to do and didn't want to be talked out of. Losing my parents has left this empty void in my life that right now, I can't fathom how to fill. All I know is I have to find a way if I've any hope of enduring this miserable reality.

It feels like I'm drowning. Like I'm struggling against the tide, desperately trying to reach a surface that no longer exists. Everything in me wants to give up and give in to the darkness, especially if it's the gateway to rejoining my parents. I sound suicidal, I know, but I promise that's why I'm leaving. To save myself from giving up. To force myself to find an alternative path that would not only make my parents proud but would honor their memory and sacrifice.

Living for me is no longer enough. Living for them, that's how I hope to find redemption for the damage I've done to Jenny's life. To theirs. To my own.

Plus, I heard what the social worker said to you and Aunt Muriel when we got back from the funeral. You're sick. 

Why didn't you tell me? 

Why didn't you tell us that staying with you and Aunt Muriel for the foreseeable future wasn't a sure thing?

I wish you had told me. Not that it would have changed anything, but at least it would have preserved the trust that existed between us. Now I'm not sure I can trust things will work themselves out. It's yet another reason I have to leave. By taking myself out of the equation I hope to guarantee that Jenny won't have to endure a single day away from the town and people she loves. 

All I ask is that you please tell Jenny that I'm sorry and that I love her. Tell her she's the best little sister a guy like me could ever ask for, and that I want her to go on and live her life. To be happy and make new and better memories with those who care about her. Please tell her I'll be okay, that I have a plan, and that someday when I'm free of the grief and the guilt, I will come back for her.

For Embree. Please tell her I meant every word I said to her the last time we were together. Tell her I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to say goodbye and that I hope she goes on to build a happy, healthy life.

Please ask Jenny and Embree to take care of each other, especially if what the social worker said about your prognosis is true. Having first-hand knowledge of what it's like to lose a parent, the two of them will for sure need each other.

As for Aunt Muriel, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm asking.

Aunt Muriel, please proceed with what you talked about and take custody of Jenny. After everything she's lost, she deserves to stay with your family, in the only town she's ever known. It's what my parents would have wanted, so I ask that you please take your friendship with Mom and her wishes into account as you consider my request.

Thank you both for what you've done and what you're going to do. I ask that you please not look for me. Given the circumstances, your time is better spent focusing on your family and Jenny, as I'm sure the next several months will be quite difficult for all of you.

I promise I'll be okay. I have a plan, so please don't worry about me. Again, thanks for all your support.

Sincerely,

Lucas James Holt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE

"Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes.

Because for those who love with their heart and soul, 

there is no such thing as separation."

- Rumi

A lesson that Lucas will soon learn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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# NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

"The night is darkest, just before the dawn. 

And I promise you, the dawn is coming."

- Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight

Don't worry, my friends. THIS IS NOT THE END!

While Lucas saw this as the end of their story, for him and Emilia, it's actually the beginning. 

The trials and tribulations Lucas will face over the next decade are like nothing he ever imagined. He'll endure pain worse than the loss of his parents, which will only compound and affirm the false belief that he's unworthy of love and happiness. 

It's that pain that will fuel the resilience he'll need to survive. In the end, it's what will transform him into a man worthy of fighting for the life and love he never believed he deserved.

Stay tuned and buckle up, for the next part of Lucas and Emilia's story. 
BROKEN VOWS (Broken Redemption Book 1) is out NOW!!! You can find it listed under my profile.

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NEXT BOOK IN THE SERIES

Broken Vows: Broken Redemption Book 1

Welcome to the true beginning of Lucas and Emilia’s Love story!!!

Choosing her cost me everything I'd ever loved... including her.

It's why I left the small town where I grew up and vowed never to return.

I'm no longer the "golden boy with a bright future" they all remember. Instead, I carry the scars of a tortured past. A broken man deemed unfit, even by the Navy SEALs he'd dedicated the past decade to serve.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to sell my parent's property turned into this twisted journey that forced me to confront my demons.

And then there she was. My first love, and deepest regret. The woman who still owns every piece of my blackened heart. When she asked for my time, I couldn't refuse.

Now I can't walk away.

Not after hearing of the danger her husband, a missing FBI agent, has brought to her doorstep. After everything, I owe her my help. It's why I offer to protect her and her two little girls from the danger circling them.

It's a vow I never should have made, given the trail of bodies I've left in my wake.

Like the harbinger of death, I'm the last man either of us should trust.

THE FIRST CHAPTER of this book is scheduled for release...

- (
EARLY ACCESS)REAM Paid Tiers: September 29th, 2023.

- 
WATTPAD: 

October 6th, 2023

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(Link in my profile)

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