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TWISTED FATE (Twisted Path Book 1)

NEW RELEASE!

Remember Becca Franks, Lucas’s girlfriend at the start of THAT FIRST BREAK ? This is the journey to her Happily-Ever-After!

Here’s the introduction to her story!

He promised me forever and vowed to never let them come between us.

As the sole heir to the Montgomery empire, he'd been groomed since birth to follow in his father's footsteps. It's why I tried to fight the attraction. As an impoverished girl from the fringes of our small town, I knew our relationship was doomed from the start. But with his charming smiles, longing glances, and relentless pursuit, Shane Montgomery shattered my defenses.

As our love grew, so did his family's disapproval. When Shane made it clear I'd be a permanent fixture in his life, his parents issued an ultimatum. For the sake of our future, I urged him to follow the path they'd laid out for him, with the promise I'd wait, no matter how long it took.

While he pursued their dreams, I navigated alone. Yet, despite the distance, our hearts remained tethered, clinging to the hopeful future we were certain was ours.

But when tragedy strikes, tearing our world to pieces, we're left teetering on the edge, uncertain how our love will withstand our newfound reality.

He swore he would protect me. 

If only we'd known the lengths they would go to break us apart.

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Prologue

Becca

Hiding in the dark where no one can find me feels as natural to me now as it did when I was a frightened 6-year-old girl. It’s a game my mother taught me early on. With a strained smile, she’d crouch down in front of me and whisper, “Hide, baby. Remember, don’t come out until mommy comes to get you.”

By then, I knew better than to ask questions. As the daughter of a drug addict, I was aware of the dangers that lurked outside the dark safety of the closet that over the years had become my refuge.

There were times when all was quiet, and Mother would return minutes later with my orange popsicle and a beaming smile that indicated all was right in our little world. Yet there were other times when hours slipped by while I remained huddled in the corner, clutching onto Roofus and my blanket tightly. With tears in my eyes, I’d listen to the awful sounds of my Mother fighting off the monsters that were a constant in her life. She always won.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t until she swung open the closet door with a smile on her face and the orange popsicle—a symbol of safety even to this day—that I finally felt the weight lift off my chest, and I could breathe again.

I think that’s what I’m waiting for at this moment, and why I’m choosing not to resist the fog that engulfs my mind. Nothing feels safe anymore. It’s as if I’ve plunged off the highest cliff, and I’m still plummeting downward, waiting for the inevitable crash that will shatter me to pieces.

A loud crash.

The piercing screech of rubber against pavement.

Metal grinding and twisting in a cacophony of unsettling sounds.

It’s the last thing I remember, but it affirms I need to do as Mother asked. It’s safer to remain in the dark where no one can find me until she returns with my orange popsicle to tell me it’s going to be okay. Because I’m not safe. Of that, I am certain, even as I don’t fully understand what’s happening.

As pain courses through my body, I resist the urge to open my eyes. The distant, loud hissing combined with a sweet acrid smell churns my stomach and fills my mouth with saliva in warning I’m going to be sick. Swallowing back the bile rising in my throat, something wet and sticky trickles down my forehead. Reaching up to wipe it away, I flinch at the sharp pain that compels my eyes open.

“No…” I wail miserably, berating myself for not succumbing further into the safety of unconsciousness. I’m not ready to confront reality. I don’t want to see the latest injustice that’s certain to upend my already difficult life. But when I make the mistake of looking at the bright crimson liquid that stains my fingers, I realize it’s too late. There’s no going back.

“Oh God. No…” As a gush of moisture soaks into the seat beneath me, I sob uncontrollably and squeeze my eyes shut. “Nooooo.” I can’t bear to look. I already know what this means, and I refuse to allow the image of this moment to imprint itself permanently in my memory. “Where are you, Shane?” I scream into the void, tears streaming down my face as the life we both longed for slips away. “You promised you would be here, that you’d keep us safe.”

Like my mother and everyone else who has claimed to love me, he’s absent when I need him the most. I never should have trusted him with my heart. I never should have believed him when he claimed our love was the only thing that mattered, and that it was strong enough to withstand any obstacle they threw our way.

He was wrong. We both were.

Our love didn’t shield us, it shattered us.

It’s just as they warned. We didn’t stand a chance because, in the end, people like them always win.

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Author's Note

:

What are your thoughts on the Prologue? Any ideas on what might be happening?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

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Chapter 1

Becca

(11 months ago)

The way my day begins is often the best predictor of how it’s going to end. So, when I woke this morning cocooned under layers of blankets because my small space heater had conked out overnight, I knew it was destined to be a rough one. This is perhaps why the big red ‘C’ atop my latest AP Statistics test didn’t surprise me, nor did the fluorescent yellow note stuck to it, that read: Mr. Blair would like to see you in his office at 2 pm today.

Now, just because I said I wasn’t surprised, doesn’t mean I’m not freaking out. In fact, since receiving that note, I’ve endured a good three hours and twenty-seven minutes… no, make that twenty-eight minutes of sheer torture in the land of “Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap!” Sitting here, watching the clock sluggishly tick by while waiting for the receptionist to utter the infamous last words “he’s ready for you,” is doing nothing but fanning the flames of my own personal hell.

“Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing here?”

Oh no, no, no! The fact that Shane Montgomery is here at the precise moment my life teeters on the brink of collapse can only mean one thing.

“I have a meeting with Mr. Blair,” I respond, purposely averting my gaze to steer clear of that infuriatingly charming smile of his I hate so much. Afraid to know for sure, but unable to help myself, I ask, “And you?”

“Same,” he replies, shifting in his seat. After several seconds, he pushes for the answer I’m not ready to give him. “Now, why do you think we’ve both been summoned to his office at the same time? Is there something you’re not telling me, pretty girl?”

“For the umpteenth time, stop calling me that,” I deflect, chastising myself for the annoying tingles that stir in my belly every time he uses that irritating nickname.

“Why? You like it.”

“I do not.” And that’s when I realize my mistake. He was baiting me, hoping I would look at him, something I make a conscious effort to avoid.

“There she is,” he ensnares me with his signature smile, and now I can’t look away. “Tell me the truth, pretty girl. What are you keeping from me?”

My mouth opens and closes a few times as I attempt to formulate a response to his question. The way he’s looking at me scrambles my brain rendering it impossible to piece a coherent thought together. Thankfully I’m put out of my misery when Mrs Wilson interrupts us.

“Miss. Franks, Mr. Montgomery, go on back. He’s ready for you.”

In an instant, my stomach sinks. The realization that the fate of my future hangs in the balance, to be determined by a man who never supported my taking on the challenge in the first place, doesn’t bode well for me. Neither does the fact that I’ve deliberately avoided asking my unlikely ally for his help.

“Have a seat.” Mr. Blair commands from behind his desk, his eyes fixed on his computer screen as his fingers glide across the keyboard. When he stops, he clasps his hands on his desk, his expression darkening into a scowl as he locks eyes with me. Under the weight of his scrutinizing stare, I look away.

“Mr. Blair, good to see you. How can we help you today?” Shane thankfully interjects, diverting his attention away from me.

“Well, that all depends on Miss Franks here.” When his icy glare returns to me, the boulder crushing my chest gets exponentially heavier. “Becca, you came into my office on the first day of school and requested a schedule change. Do you remember that?”

Of course, I remember it. I’m not a complete idiot. Despite feeling offended and furious about his condescending tone, I bite my tongue to keep myself from making things worse. As his pause stretches longer than necessary, I realize the stupid jerk won’t proceed until I acknowledge his perceived superiority.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Good. What about you Mr. Montgomery? Do you recall how I was against these changes until you came in to plead her case? Remember how you offered to take full responsibility for her success as her peer advisor?”

“Sir…” Shane responds. It’s neither a confirmation nor a denial, mirroring the typical response only the rich and powerful of this town are allowed to get away with.

“So my question to you both is: why did two of her teachers reach out to me this week, expressing concerns over her latest performance on two exams?”

As if the weight of Mr. Blair’s scrutinizing stare wasn’t enough, when Shane turns to me with disappointment evident in his soulful brown eyes, my shoulders slump under the weight. He’s hurt. I can see just as plainly as I can feel it, like a physical sensation in the very center of my chest. The fact that I didn’t seek his help, despite his offer, had nothing to do with him but with my need to handle my problems on my own. If only I had the courage to explain it to him.

As my eyes burn with shame and frustration, I look away from them both. Focusing on my lap, I swallow back the emotion, determined to keep it together until after my shift tonight. Only then will I allow myself to fall apart.

“You’re right to be upset, Mr. Blair. I’m very sorry, and if you afford me the chance, I promise to do better.” It’s all I have. An empty promise that I’ll continue to dig deep to find a way to do what right now feels impossible. I hate failure. Despise it to the point I’ve learned over time how to push myself beyond my limits. But that was before. When there was a safety net to provide me with basic necessities like food and shelter. Now that I’m on my own, things are different, and I’m quickly learning I can only push myself so much.

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, Miss. Franks,” he glares at me for a moment before turning his ire toward where Shane sits slumped in his chair. “And you Mr. Montgomery. I’ve had enough conversations with your father to know how he’d feel if your tenure as a Peer Advisor were to be terminated. Are you no longer interested in the role?”

“I am, sir,” Shane sits up in his seat. “Since the start of the school year, Miss. Franks and I have been meeting weekly to discuss her progress. When we spoke last week, she failed to mention she was struggling, so I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“That’s not going to cut it either, Mr. Montgomery. At this point, I’m giving both of you until the end of the marking period, which ends in four weeks, to ensure she gets her scores up. And by up, I mean nothing less than an ‘A’ in each of her six AP classes. If she’s not able to do that, regardless of the reason, I will pull her from the classes where she doesn’t have an ‘A’, and you, Mr. Montgomery, will be faced with the prospect of informing your father that your participation in the Peer Advisor Program has been terminated. Do I make myself clear?”

Like the air has been sucked out of the room, I’m unable to move, let alone acknowledge the threat that’s been issued. Shane too must be caught under the same spell, for in a loud voice, Mr. Blair repeats, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Shane answers, while all I’m able to do is nod. It’s one thing to bear the responsibility for my failures, but it’s a whole other matter knowing Shane is unfairly being punished for something I’ve done.

By the time we make it out of the main office, school has been dismissed for the day. That the hallways are empty of students is a small mercy, given I’m a hair’s breadth away from breaking into tears.

How could I’ve let this happen?

Before I get the chance to answer my question, Shane is pulling me into the first empty classroom he finds. After pushing me inside, he shuts the door behind him, but instead of turning to face me, I watch as his shoulders rise and fall like he’s focused on his breathing. When he finally turns around, it’s not anger that I see; it’s a sad kind of resignation. At the sight, the ache in my chest deepens, prompting me to soothe the pain away with my hand.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry, Shane,” I respond, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“I know you’re sorry, pretty girl. It’s written all over your face. What I need to know is why?”

“I-I could make a thousand excuses, but it comes down to one thing. I need to get better at prioritizing my time. Making sure I balance work and my assignments…”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” he interrupts me, his voice more forceful than I’ve ever heard it. “I asked you why, Becca.” The way the tone of his voice shifts to sound more like a plea makes my eyes well up with emotion. For reasons I can’t explain, I hate that I’ve disappointed him.

“Look Shane, I’m sorry I didn’t come to you, but I need you to understand. I’m used to doing things on my own. I don’t like depending on other people because nine times out of ten it only leads to disappointment. At least if I screw up, it’s on me, but when it’s someone else who doesn’t come through for me, in the end, it’s still me who is left holding the bag.”

“You’ve hardly taken the time to get to know me, Becca.” When, for the second time, he utters my real name, the ache in my chest intensifies. “So what makes you think I wouldn’t have come through for you?”

“I don’t know, Shane!” Exasperated that he’s pushing me like this, I spread my arms wide to prove I don’t have an answer. At least not one he’ll be happy to hear. “Maybe because I’ve yet to meet someone who has. Plus, look at you. You’re a fricken Montgomery. Why in the world would I expect anything from you?”

Like I’ve slapped him, he takes a step back, then runs both his hands over his face. After a frustrated sigh, he meets my gaze and declares, “You will call out of work tonight…”

“I can’t…” I try to interrupt, to no avail.

“I said, you will call out tonight because from now on we’re not meeting at the diner, where you hide behind your job to avoid me. From here on out, we’ll meet at your apartment every Wednesday starting today. Expect me right after practice. Plan for 6:30.”

“Wait, you don’t understand,” I plead.

“No. You don’t understand! I went out on a limb for you. I’ve spent the past four months going out of my way to meet with you every week, not only to help you reach your goals but because I like you. I want more Becca. Hell, at this point, I’d be thrilled if you’d let your guard down long enough to let me be your friend. I thought we were getting somewhere. I was willing to wait for as long as it took, but with Mr. Blair breathing down my neck and the threat of what my father will do if I get kicked out of the program…” he scoffs, turning away and walking back toward the door.

When he reaches it, he pauses for a breath, then without turning to look at me, he says, “You’ve left me no choice. If I can’t trust you to come to me, then I’ll have to force you to let me help you. You’re not the only one whose future is on the line if you fail. Try to remember that.”

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Author's Note:

In case you haven't noticed, Shane is head over heels in love with Miss Franks, who on most days refuses to acknowledge him. You'll understand why that is as the story moves forward. 

For now, I'd love to hear your thoughts. What do you think about Becca and Shane so far?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 2

Becca

“What are you doing here?” I step aside, granting my two best friends entrance into my tiny one-room apartment.

“We came to see you, silly,” Felicia squeals in that high-pitched voice that aligns with her bubbly personality.

“And I live here, remember?” Jocelyn adds as she makes herself at home, collapsing onto the small hand-me-down love seat her mom gave me when she agreed to rent me the efficiency apartment over their garage.

“What I meant is, how did you know I’d be home?”

“Tommy,” Felicia smiles in that dreamy way she does whenever she speaks of her boyfriend. “He texted to let us know he and Parker would catch a ride over with Shane, and that Joss and I should wait here for them.”

“That’s just great,” I huff under my breath and shut the door behind them.

I can’t believe this. As If the crappy day I had wasn’t bad enough, it looks like I’m missing out on an entire night of tips to entertain Shane and his friends. Wasn’t the whole point of me taking the night off so he could come over to talk about my course load? Frustrated, I walk over to the stove without sparing them another glance.

“Oooh, fajitas!” Felicia comes to stand next to me, enthusiastically eyeing the skillet as I stir. “Why didn’t you tell us it was fajita night?”

“Probably because she’s not cooking for us.” Though Jocelyn has moved to sit at the kitchen island behind us, I don’t need to see her face to recognize the teasing grin interlaced in her voice. “So this thing with Shane, tell us, is it serious?”

“You know darn well it’s not like that.” Afraid they’ll mistake the heat in my cheeks as anything other than the effect of me standing over a hot stove, I keep my eyes on the simmering chicken and vegetable mixture.

“Why not?” Felicia bounces on the balls of her feet, and I don’t need to look at her to know she’s elated by the prospect. “You dating Shane would be so perfect. Think about it, my Tommy is the quarterback, and then you and Joss dating the two star receivers of Ruby Creek High… wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“No, it would not.” Why in the world she would think that is beyond me? I’ll never understand the appeal of a bunch of sweaty guys tackling each other to the ground as they chase after a stupid ball.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Shane? Is it because of Lucas? Are you still in love with him?” She fires back question after question, without taking a second to breathe.

At the mention of Lucas, my heart constricts. It’s been six months since we split up, but the pain of losing him still lingers, especially with what happened to him after the breakup. Though I’m fairly certain I’m over him, you can’t go ten months loving someone and not feel completely shattered when their entire world suddenly falls to pieces. Lucas lost not only his home but both of his parents in that fire, and that he didn’t reach out to me for help before running away hurt more than I care to admit. Had he called there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to help him.

“It has nothing to do with Lucas.” I turn down the heat of the burner and put the lid back on the skillet. Grabbing a pot holder, I open the oven, leaning down to take out the homemade flour tortillas. “Shane is my peer advisor, nothing more, and if not for Mr. Blair forcing us together, I wouldn’t be working with him at all.”

“We know,” Jocelyn cuts in. “But don’t you think it’s a bit more than that? I mean, think about it, the guy goes out of his way to sit in a booth at the diner every Wednesday night after practice just to see you…”

“To talk about school,” I interrupt.

“When he’s around, he can’t take his eyes off of you…”

“Because he’s a player, who in case you’ve forgotten, has been in some weird on-again-off-again relationship with Amanda Kline since middle school,” I cut in, curling my lip in disgust at the mention of my arch-nemesis, and apparent half-sister—though I’m not supposed to know about that, and chances are she doesn’t either. Amanda Kline is the legitimate daughter of my mother’s rapist.

“But didn’t you say he’s made it clear he likes you?”

“Yes, Joss! He did say that, but look at who he is. Saying whatever it takes to get what he wants is what people like him do.”

“So you at least admit he wants you?”

“No, what I admit is that he wants in my pants, but that has more to do with his need to add me to his list of conquests and less to do with him wanting to fall in love with me.”

“I happen to agree with Joss on this one, Becks. It has to be more than that. I mean, if it was only about sleeping with you, wouldn’t he have given up by now? It’s been months.”

“No. Think about it. No one ever says no to a guy like Shane. The fact I’m probably the only girl at school that doesn’t fawn all over him and his entitled entourage of rich asshole friends is the only reason he’s even bothering to try. It’s a game to him.”

“Maybe you should give him a chance. Out of all of them, he’s always seemed the most genuine.”

“Ha!” I snort in derision at Felicia’s assessment. While I get what she’s trying to say, it doesn’t change where Shane comes from. He’s used to people bending to his will. In his world, people like me are a means to an end. We mean absolutely nothing to them. We’re just pawns in the games they play, people they use and abuse without fear of consequence or retribution. But before I can tell her any of this, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

“It’s them!” Felicia bounces on her toes a few times before spinning away in a rush to open the door. “It has to be them.”

“Great,” I mumble under my breath, feigning indifference as my insides tingle stupidly in anticipation. This is what I hate most about Shane. His ability to twist me up and turn me into something I’m not grates on my nerves. I’m not one of those love-struck girls who worship the ground guys like him walk on, so why do I feel like crawling out of my skin, but in a good way? It’s so stupid!

In my attempt to tamp down the nervous flutters coursing through me, I keep my back to the door, going to my refrigerator to pull out the salsa and guacamole I made from scratch when I got home. Behind me, I hear the unmistakable sounds of Felicia sucking face with Tommy.

“You two seriously need to get a room,” Parker laughs, right before he grabs hold of Jocelyn and does the same to her.

While Shane doesn’t speak, I can sense him. It’s like a buzz in the air that infiltrates the space around me and slithers its way, like a soft caress over my skin.

“So what’s for dinner, Becks?” Parker comes up next to me, and with his arm around my shoulders, drops a kiss on the top of my head.

“Nothing that’s for you. Now get your hands off her.” Shane’s voice sounds more like a growl. That he’s standing so close behind us catches me off guard. “Now go. I told you both, Becca and I have business to discuss. We’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Reeling from his mere presence, I keep my back to the room, unable to utter a goodbye to our friends as they exit my tiny apartment. How does he do this to me? I’m normally so confident, and self-assured, but when I get near him, it’s like I become a different person. I’m suddenly awkward and uncertain, something that’s made obvious by my inability to face him, or speak, never mind act like a normal human being. My cheeks choose this very moment to flame with heat as utter embarrassment settles over me.

Moving to the cabinets, I reach up to grab two plates and water goblets. Setting them on the counter, I go to the drawer where I keep my silverware and placemats. After getting everything I need, I move to the island and proceed to set the table.

“Is there a reason you’re ignoring me, pretty girl?” he asks in that smooth, seductive tone that does nothing to alleviate my current predicament.

“I-I’m not, I’m just…” intending to grab a serving bowl from the cabinet, I turn around, not expecting to run right into his hard, well-defined chest. The impact steals the air from my lungs, and when I take a deep breath, it’s like inhaling a fresh mountain breeze. Overwhelmed by the heat of his body, the hard planes of his chest under my fingers, and surrounded by his woodsy scent, it’s like I’m stunned. Unable to step back or pull away. To apologize, let alone pretend I’m not affected, which is why I just stare at the buttons of the black henley he’s wearing.

“Why won’t you look at me, pretty girl?” His warm voice wraps around me, cloaking me in a feeling of safety that’s as welcoming as it is terrifying. Still, I’m unable to bring this awkward exchange to an end. When his hands travel up to cup my face, with gentle fingers, he coaxes me to look up at him. “You feel it too, don’t you?” He whispers.

Oh god!

As my insides flood with warmth, a deep sense of need pulsates from somewhere deep inside me. This is dangerous. Not only does he make me feel safe, he makes me long for things I shouldn’t want.

For months now, I’ve judged my mother for allowing a monster to destroy her life, but what if this is how it all began? What if he, too, made her feel safe? What if he lulled her into a sense of security, only to pounce when her guard was down?

That thought is enough to snap me free from the trance that is Shane Montgomery. Stepping back, I avoid answering. Instead, I busy myself serving the food and filling the goblets with water.

“Take a seat. You can eat. I’ll be back in a second,” I blurt in a rush, before making a harried exit to the only room in my apartment with a door. Once in my bathroom, I lean against the wall, and promptly collapse on the floor, with my face buried in my hands.

What the hell am I going to do?

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

The chemistry between these two is crazy! But for Becca, the thought of being attracted to someone like Shane comes with such mixed feelings. 

What do you think of this Chapter and the chemistry between Shane and Becca?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 3

Becca

Pulling myself together after my freak-out takes way more effort than I care to admit. After some much-needed breathing exercises and a few desperate pleas for divine intervention, I’m back in control and more determined than ever to keep Shane Montgomery at a distance.

Though I’m stuck working with him, I’m not entirely powerless here. I mean, come on, I’m technically an adult now. A smart, independent woman with self-respect and morals. That I’m allowing someone like Shane to intimidate me is absurd. What I need to do is take charge of this situation, so for once, he’s the one caught off guard and left reeling. I need to be the one dictating the terms of this arrangement, and it begins with his ridiculous demand that I take every Wednesday off of work.

I have bills to pay and a roof to keep over my head. Unlike the entitled rich jerk, I don’t live a life of leisure, where rich mommy and daddy cater to my every whim after a hard day spent exploiting our community and crushing the dreams of those naïve enough to believe that hard work alone can help them overcome their subservient existence.

Ugh… why do I sound so damn jaded and bitter? Oh, that’s right. Because my only point of reference is my life, otherwise known as “the aftermath” of what that rich asshole—aka my sperm donor—did to my family.

“You know what to do. Get out there, take back your control, and tell Shane Montgomery exactly how it’s going to be,” I whisper with conviction, as I stare down the thunderstruck girl in the mirror.

Running my fingers through my hair to fix it, I note the remnants of red flush that still linger under my skin. It’s so embarrassing. I don’t understand why this keeps happening. I’ve never been this girl. Not even Lucas, whom I was actually in love with, got under my skin like this. That it’s Shane, of all people, who is affecting me this way is not only shameful but reprehensible. It’s all the more reason I need to limit how much time I spend with him.

With my newfound feigned confidence, I stride back into the room as if the awkward exchange between us never happened. With my shoulders back and head held high, I walk right past him to where my uneaten plate of food waits for me on the counter. After everything, I’ve lost my appetite, so I dump the contents into the trash before dropping the plate in the sink. Instead of taking a seat next to him, I opt to stand on the other side of the kitchen island, diagonal from where he’s sitting.

Very smart, Becca. Putting the kitchen island between you is what’s safest.

“I can’t afford to take every Wednesday off, Shane.” I declare, determined to take control of the situation. “I get this is important, and I assure you, I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to get Mr. Blair off our backs. But losing out on money I need to keep a roof over my head is a non-negotiable for me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod a few times before he says, “I get that. I do, but here’s the thing. I know your boss, and she doesn’t schedule employees to work more than five days a week. What I’m suggesting is that you ask for Wednesdays off. Consistently. A day in the middle of the week for us to check in, which shouldn’t take long. Then we could use the rest of the time to get caught up on our assignments. Maybe help each other if we need it. It’s one day, Becca. One day in the middle of the chaos to catch your breath from the present, to prioritize your future.”

Crap! When he puts it that way, it makes perfect sense, but to agree to his terms without question gives him way too much power over me.

“But why not on a Monday? Or Tuesday even, since they’re the slowest days at the diner?”

“Oh, I have every intention of meeting with you on Mondays. And Fridays. That’s my second stipulation. That you give me your lunch hour on those two days, so we can discuss your priorities and the assignments you’re working on. We’ll use the time to make sure everything’s progressing accordingly.”

“Three days? You’re asking for too much, Shane,” I protest in a high-pitched dramatic voice that, given the circumstances, feels justifiable.

“I’m asking for four, five hours tops, out of your week. One hour on Mondays and Fridays and two to three hours on Wednesdays. As long as you come to each meeting prepared to be open and honest about how you’re doing, most of that time can be spent on homework and studying.” When I don’t respond, he then says, “Look, I know what passing these classes means to you and I understand how valuable your time is. It’s why I’ll guarantee every minute of the time you spend with me will be time well spent, and if not, we can talk about it and reassess.”

“I don’t get it,” I shake my head incredulously. “Why are you doing this?”

“You heard what Mr. Blair said. I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t take a chance at losing my spot in the peer advisory program. My father would kill me, plus aside from that, I’m kind of invested in you. I think what you’re doing, working, living on your own and supporting yourself, pushing hard to get ahead in school, planning for college… you’re fucking amazing, Becca. And I’d love nothing more than to see you achieve your dreams.”

The reverence in his soulful brown eyes as he peers deep into mine sends another wave of warmth flushing over my skin. Suddenly uncomfortable, I look away, then reach up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

“Come. On. Pretty girl,” he’s holding his hands together like he’s begging, while his face is lit up with that stupid charming smile that makes my insides quiver. “Say yes. Please. Say yes, and I promise you, I will work my ass off to make both our dreams come true.”

He’s so damn dramatic I can’t help but roll my eyes. Biting back a smile, I reply, “I highly doubt being a peer advisor is your dream come true. So if not that, what could you possibly be getting out of this annoying little arrangement?”

“Well, aside from not getting kicked off the program and disappointing my father, I’ll have the opportunity to both tutor and be tutored by the smartest girl in our graduating class,” he grins. The sense of pride in his eyes when he describes me as the smartest girl makes my heart skip a beat. “And as a bonus, you’re also the prettiest. I want to get to know you, pretty girl. I thought I made that clear.”

“Why? I told you; I’m not interested in dating and I already have more than enough friends. My only priorities right now are work and school. It’s all I have time for.” I mean to relay this information calmly, but by the high-pitched tone and shake in my voice, I’m sure he can tell I’m anything but calm.

With his palms up, he attempts to reassure me, “I’m not expecting anything, Becks. I swear. For now, we’ll keep things professional. We’ll stick to only discussing school and our grades, then we can see what happens from there. Eventually, maybe I can change your mind. I’d like the chance to prove to you I can be a great friend.”

“Why would someone like you want anything to do with someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” He sounds genuinely confused, which only frustrates me more.

“Yes, someone like me! We might as well be from different planets, Shane. We don’t run in the same circles. We have nothing in common. People like me and you don’t mix.”

“Okay… I’ll bite. Why the hell not?”

“Why not?” Is he kidding me? “Oh, I don’t know, Shane, you tell me. Why is it you and your friends don’t associate with people like me?” I ask pointedly. When he rubs the back of his neck, I know I’ve got him.

“That you’re asking me that only proves you don’t know me at all. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, I can look you in the eye and honestly say not once have I ever chosen a friend for any other reason than they’re good people.”

“Is that right?” Dying to call his bluff, I cross my arms over my chest and cock an eyebrow in his direction. “You just said that you choose your friends based on the fact they’re good people. So explain to me, how do your three best friends, and biggest bullies of Ruby Creek High, fit into that picture? Because from my personal experience, there’s not a single shred of humanity in Amanda and Nicholas Kline,” I can’t help but cringe at the mention of the legitimate children of my mother’s rapist—aka my half-siblings. “The same can be said about Connor Matthews.”

“Becca, I know it may not seem like it from the outside, but the pressure for kids like us is different…”

I huff out loud, shocked at his audacity to defend his friends and himself by playing like they’re the victims. “How is that an excuse to treat the rest of us like we’re inferior? Like we’re not deserving of common decency and respect?”

“I’m not implying you’re wrong. I’m just saying there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye. In our world, expectations are unreasonably high, and the consequences for falling short of those expectations are life-altering and debilitating.”

“Please!” I snap at him. “Look around you, Shane. Look at my life, how I’m living. I’m still in high school, for god’s sake. I only just turned 18 two months ago and I’ve been living on my own, completely responsible for my own financial support, going on four months now. And the worst part is, it’s not my failures or shortcomings that led me here. No. I’m in this position because of what Charles Kline did to my mother. To my aunt and uncle. To me. So don’t you dare play the woe is me card because I don’t care to hear it. You say you want to be my friend, Shane, that you want me to give you a chance to prove what a good guy you are, then tell me why people like you take advantage of people like me. Explain to me how your so-called terrible life of privilege gives you the right to use and destroy people like my family.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until Shane comes around to where I’m standing and pulls me into his arms. Like the lonely, affection-starved girl I’ve become, I close my eyes and sink into his warm embrace.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl. I didn’t mean to upset you.” After a few seconds, he tips my head back so he can look into my eyes. “You see, this is why we should get to know one another. I don’t know what happened between your family and Charles Kline, but I’m willing to listen if you want to talk. Truthfully, I just want to know you. From the good to the bad. To the in-between. Everything and anything that makes you who you are. And me, I want you to know me. Who I am, deep down, outside of my family’s reputation or expectations. I’d give anything for you to see me for me.”

Pulling away from him, I wipe away my tears and attempt to add some levity to this weird conversation.“Who would have thought you’re such an idealist, Montgomery?” Based on how he’s looking at me, I’d venture to say my attempt at humor failed miserably.

“Use me, pretty girl.”

“What?” My eyes snap to his.

“Use me. I’m giving you permission to take advantage of me. To use me in whatever way you need me. For tutoring. To get your grades up. As an accountability partner. For company or friendship. Hell, if you need someone to pick up some groceries, give you a ride, or unclog a toilet, use me. Let me be the one to bear the brunt of the injustice that’s been done to you, pretty girl. If only to prove to you we’re not all an extension of the world we come from.”

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Author's Note:

In this scene, Shane realizes that Becca's mistrust isn't about him directly, but with the world he represents.  

How do you feel about Shane's offer to let Becca use him? Do you think this was a smart way for him to show her he's not a threat to her?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

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Chapter 4

Shane

“You’re not coming to lunch?” Amanda asks in that artificially sweet voice she reserves for me.

Sorting through the stack of books in my locker, I grab what I need to get through my afternoon classes. “Not today, remember? I have that peer advisory meeting.”

Pouting, she bats her eyes and scoots in closer like she’s hoping I’ll reach for her. The familiar pang of guilt flares to life, but just as quickly, I push it away. Having known each other since we were kids, reacting to her needs is more of a habit at this point. It’s a by-product of the way our families have always pushed us together, which made it feel natural—or rather easy—to give in to the steady stream of affection she both gives and demands from me.

For a long time, I was content with what we had. But with both college and adulthood around the corner, I realized I was running out of time. My parents brought me into this world with one purpose in mind, to grow into a man worthy of stepping into my father’s shoes at our family’s Private Equity Firm. The clock is ticking. Set to start immediately after college, which leaves me with a little over four years to figure out who I am outside of the Montgomery legacy. Four years to find a path that leads to a future both my parents and I can live with.

It’s something I tried to explain to Amanda when I broke up with her a year ago. She’s under the same pressure and standing at the same crossroad. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite see things my way, which I understand. It goes back to how we were raised. Relationships in our world are transactional in nature. Political moves or business arrangements that are thoroughly calculated, leaving nothing to chance. I understood this when I ended things, and it’s why I left the door somewhat open, leaving us in a state of “broken up for now” while we figure out who we are and what we want out of life.

She’s still resistant. Opting instead to monopolize my time and treat me like we’re still together. I get this is hard for her and being cruel just isn’t me, which is why I give her so much leeway. Well, that and the fact our parents are so determined to force us together. It’s yet another reason I do the bare minimum to keep her happy and keep up appearances for our parents. The consequences of disappointing them are pretty dire for both her and me. More so for her, since her father is a sexist bastard who’s made it clear she won’t be inheriting any part of his business, and with her brother Nick refusing to fall in line, marriage to someone who’s been groomed to take over the Kline Empire is the only way to secure her future.

“Can you wrap up a little early? I’d like to see you even if just for a few minutes. With you having practice today, it’s the only chance we’ll get.” She coyly tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Her bright blue eyes reveal a small glimpse of the wistful innocence she rarely shows.

It’s a look that, over time, her parents’ cold reprimands have nearly extinguished. In our world, there is no room for anything other than calculated cutthroat indifference. Some of us—like her brother Nick Kline—are strong enough to stand up for who we are and rebel against their expectations. Others—like Connor Matthews—embrace it and become the very thing they despise as a means of survival. Then there is me—the eternal optimist and visionary who believes there is a better way. Exhausting as it is, I walk that fine line between being who they want me to be while fighting to remain true to myself and the man I want to become.

“Sorry Ames. Not today.” Frustration gets the best of me and I slam my locker shut with a bit more force than I intended, making her jump. “I promise I’ll call when I get home.” I rub her back in apology, leaning down to catch her eyes. Though we’re not together, I want her to see she still matters to me. In a world where it’s hard to find people who truly care, I refuse to be that guy. While the rest of Ruby Creek may see my friends as nothing more than rich, entitled assholes, I know the truth of who they are. Their cold, callous exteriors are part of the armor necessary to survive the cruelty of being born into families like ours.

The smile she gives me is weak, but she looks pleased. “Okay. I’ll talk to you then.”

I hate to admit it, but I’m relieved when she’s the first to walk away. Whenever she looks at me, I can see her yearning for something I can no longer give. As much as everyone insists our future is bound together, I just don’t feel that indomitable spark with Amanda that I do in the mere presence of Becca. I don’t understand what it is or why it happens, but it’s like a sixth sense of sorts. This strange awareness that permeates my senses and alerts me that not only is she near, but that I need to be closer to her. Becca is like a beacon that shines in the dark, and like a deer caught in a headlight, I’m helpless, unable to turn away. With my path in life already mapped out and at the mercy of my family name, I owe it to myself to figure out what this strange pull means. Especially if these next four years are my only chance at actually doing something for me.

“She’ll be okay,” I mumble under my breath, intending my words to be true. I’m determined to spend the next four years looking for a way to ensure Amanda is taken care of, regardless of what happens between us.

Stopping at the main office to grab the food delivery I ordered, I give the cranky receptionist Mrs. Wilson my most charming smile, while sweet-talking my way until her signature scowl disappears. It’s as close to a smile as I’ll ever get from the old bat, but I’ll take it.

“You’re making a habit of this, Mr. Montgomery.” She shakes her head disapprovingly, but I can tell it’s only to hide her amusement. “Need I remind you that having outside food delivered is against school policy?”

“See, I knew you’d feel that way, which is why I ordered you a little something to make up for your trouble.” I push the smaller bag in her direction. “It’s not much. Just a slice of the best apple pie in town.” Everyone knows Mrs. Wilson is a sucker for sweets. When she scowls and purses her lips, I smile wide. “Enjoy and please know the student body appreciates all your hard work. Now, I’m off to a peer advisory meeting. Please say hello to Mr. Blair for me.”

With our lunch in hand, I walk out the front doors of the school and head towards the side courtyard, where I told Becca to meet me for our first official peer advisory meeting. Surrounded by three walls full of windows that look into the administrative offices, the place is typically a ghost town. It’s why I chose it. For reasons I don’t yet understand, my pretty girl is skittish. Untrusting. I get the sense she’s been hurt pretty bad and if our last conversation is any indication, it’s somehow linked to Amanda’s father, Charles Kline. Whatever was done to her family, she’s lumped me in the same category as him and therefore doesn’t trust me. Her fear when we’re alone together is palpable, even as she tries to hide it behind walls of feigned fury. Those times she’s like a cornered animal, her eyes filled with a sense of desperation and pleading that leaves me confused and uncertain if she’s asking for me to leave her alone, or to stay and prove to her I can be trusted.

And God… what I wouldn’t give for her to trust me.

For four months now, I’ve been slowly finessing my way into her life, and though I’m not even close to convincing her she should give me a chance, I’m already halfway in love with the girl. Since that first day of school when I saw her in Mr. Blair’s office begging to add more AP classes to her already full course load, I’ve been desperate for more time with her. It started with spending my Wednesday evenings at the diner where she works, sitting at a table and having one-sided conversations as she looked at me with annoyance. Then I moved on to coordinating chance encounters at school, after having learned her class schedule and the routes she takes to get to each one.

I know Monday mornings are the hardest for her, after having spent the weekend working her fingers to the bone, and then staying up late Sunday night after working the closing shift. I know that on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she comes to school ninety minutes early to use library resources since she doesn’t have a computer or printer at home. On Wednesdays, I’ve seen how she sneaks off to the table no one uses at the back of the diner, to do homework and study for minutes at a time between running food and taking orders. And then there are Fridays when she takes off from school, already wearing her work uniform, as she rushes off to start her longest shift of the week. I’ve never met anyone who works harder than Becca, and her determination to achieve her goals and succeed in a world that cuts her no slack is not only admirable but captivating.

And then when she looks up at me from where she waits at the lone picnic table in the middle of the courtyard, dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a white coat, and her silky brown hair cascading from under a knitted beanie, that’s when I realize I’m not halfway in love with Becca Franks after all.

As it turns out, I’m all the way in.

Without a doubt, I’m head over heels in love with this girl and I’m more determined than ever to prove to her she and I are meant to be.

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Author's Note:

This is the first time we get a scene from Shane's point of view. Through his eyes, we get a small glimpse of the challenges that are a part of his world.

I'd love to hear what you think about Shane and this scene. Comment as you read along and let me know what you think. 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

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Chapter 5

Shane

“You’re late.” The haughty look she shoots my way is so darn sexy and unexpected that my lips twist up into a grin.

“Sorry, pretty girl. Had to stop by the main office to pick up our lunch.” I lift the brown paper bag to show her before setting it on the table. “Since I’m the one who asked to meet over lunch, I figured the least I could do was feed you.” Sensing her objection, I quickly unpack the food. “I didn’t know what you like, so I went all in. Consider this a tasting of all the appetizer options at Souder’s Bar & Grill.” When she tears her eyes away from the food and looks at me, my heart stutters in my chest. That right there is what I’m talking about. One look from those gorgeous hazel eyes is all it takes for my body to react. She’s the only person to hold that kind of power over me, and my God is that heady feeling addictive.

“You… you didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to. I meant what I said the last time we talked. I’m invested. I think you’re amazing, and I’d love nothing more than a front-row seat from which to watch you teach that asshole Mr. Blair a lesson. The bastard never should have underestimated you.” She drops her gaze, as she often does under the weight of my attention. I wish I knew why she does this. Is it to hide the crimson hue that flushes over the surface of her beautiful, perfect skin? Or could it be she’s afraid I might see that she’s just as desperate for me as I am for her? “Here you go.” I set down a paper plate and roll of plastic utensils in front of her. “Let’s dig in.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t hesitate, filling her plate with a little of everything before she unrolls the plastic ware from the napkin, and goes in for the first bite. At the sight of her enjoying something I provided, my heart swells with something akin to gratification. Like some primal part of me has awakened, I’m suddenly filled with an intense desire to give this beautiful girl whatever she needs, whenever she needs it.

“So, how do we do this?” Her words cut through the silence, pulling me out of the Becca-sized love haze, scrambling my thoughts.

“Well, while we eat, why don’t you tell me about your week?”

“You said we would stick to only talking about school.”

“That is why we’re here, isn’t it?” Biting back a smile at the sight of the red flush highlighting her cheeks, I feign innocence. “Unless… is there something else you want to talk about?”

“No.” She lowers her gaze and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “The way you asked, it sounded like… never mind.” Flustered, she huffs out a breath before reaching into her backpack to pull out a paper planner. “I haven’t had another test since we last talked on Wednesday, but I submitted a few assignments. They haven’t been graded yet, but I’m confident I did well. If you like, I can show you the final grades when they come in.”

Taking a bite of chicken quesadilla, I nod and watch closely as she fidgets under my stare. She’s nervous, made even more obvious by how her fingers palm at the corner of the pages in her notebook, while her other hand tucks another non-existent strand of hair behind her ear. The way she reacts to my proximity sends pools of warm need down to my groin. The longer I stare, the more willpower it takes to keep my hand from palming the growing bulge inside my jeans.

“I’d love to see them. What else?” I need to keep her talking. Since this is the last time I’ll see her until Monday, I intend to take advantage of every second we have left.

“Next week I have three quizzes and one exam on the schedule, but I’ve been studying a little every day, so I’m not too worried about those. My biggest concern at the moment is the Microeconomics presentation that’s due on Tuesday.”

“What’s the topic?”

“How companies use microeconomics to maximize revenue.” Fuck, that’s hot. She’s so damn beautiful, I sometimes forget how incredibly brilliant she is. “I’ve done all the research and prepared the exhibits and examples I’d like to cite. All that’s left is pulling everything together.”

“Why are you worried? Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“Well, I’m working the weekend. With my work schedule, I’ll have to buckle down hard to get everything done on time.” The notable way her shoulders droop as she stares vacantly at the planner in front of her makes my chest ache.

“Is there any way you can take time off?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need the money.”

“Becca…” I hesitate. What little I know about her, I can tell she’s not someone who’d ever accept financial help from anyone. Still, I have to try. “If you need money…”

“Don’t!” She slams her notebook closed and proceeds to pack her school bag like we’re finished and she’s ready to go back to class.

“Becca, wait. Please don’t leave, not like this.”

“I don’t need a handout, Shane. I’ve been doing just fine taking care of myself. I’ll figure this out on my own, just like I always do.”

Not knowing how else to get her to stop and listen, I circle the table, getting to her just as she’s slipping the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. Somehow I know that touching her will further spook her, so instead I stand a few feet in front of her, and with my palms up and facing her I beg, “Wait. Please. I didn’t mean to offend you. I only wanted to help, but I see now that my offer was inappropriate. I’m here to help you with school, so let’s just stick to that. Please stay, and together we’ll devise a plan to get you to the finish line.”

I’m not afraid to admit that I’m terrified she’ll walk away and never speak to me again. She’s made it clear she’s not okay with my world or the wealth my family and friends are known for. I should have expected this reaction and, therefore, kept my mouth shut. It’s a mistake I won’t ever make again.

Like she’s searching for my deepest, darkest truths, she scans back and forth between my eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay, but only as long as you promise to never speak about money again. I refuse to be treated like a charity case.”

“Understood. I promise.” I make the vow with a hand over my heart, before signaling for her to rejoin me at the table, which she does—much to my relief. “Now tell me, how can I help?”

“There’s nothing you can do, except… maybe help me talk it through.”

“Whatever you need.” Relieved, I give her my signature grin, which triggers that nervous tick where she looks away and tucks a ghost strand of hair behind her ear. It makes me want to pull her into my arms so I can kiss her until we’re both breathless and achy in our most intimate places.

“Okay, well, I won’t have time today since my shift starts right after school and I’m scheduled to close. I will have a couple of hours before my shift tomorrow morning, so I think I’ll start the initial draft then. I close again tomorrow night, but if I load up on caffeine, I can probably have most of it done by the wee hours of Sunday morning. If I can somehow manage the same schedule on Sunday, by Monday all that will be left are the final edits and then polishing up my talking points for the presentation.”

She makes it sound simple and doable, but as I do the math inside my head, all I can think about is when will she find the time to sleep. While I admire her work ethic and ability to push through adversity, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that keeping up this pace can’t be good for her long term. I also know that she feels like she has no choice, and hell, at one time, that may have been true. Now, though, she has me, and what I want more than anything in this world is to be the man who takes care of her. While I know it’s a tad dramatic, I’m at the point where I’d lay down my life for her. I want to bend and mold myself to her will, to be her protector and savior, her knight in shining armor. At the very least, I want to be the man at her side as she conquers the world while I stand by and at the ready to slay down monsters and dragons for her.

What can I say? I’m not ashamed to admit, she’s turned me into a sappy, hopeless romantic.

I’m desperate to help her, but I also know she’ll fight me tooth and nail out of stubbornness and pride. I’ll need to handle this delicately and come up with a plan where she’ll have no choice but to accept my help. Plus, it will give us more time together, a fact that makes risking more of her ire completely worth it.

Shamefully giddy with newfound excitement, my smile grows impossibly bigger. “Sounds like a good start. Consider me your accountability partner. Now all I ask is that you please trust me and let me help.”

“Umm, what do you mean? Help me how?”

“Exactly what I said. Trust me this one time, and let me prove to you I’m someone you can rely on.” When she sits there staring down at her hands, I know what to say to give her the gentle nudge she needs. “Come on, pretty girl, don’t be scared.”

Sharp eyes snap to mine with such fire it ignites the blood in my veins and sends it straight down to my crotch. “I’m not scared.”

“Then prove it. Just for this weekend, put your complete trust and faith in me and I’ll guarantee not only will you ace that presentation, but you’ll learn you have a reliable accountability partner and friend in me. It’s a win-win, I promise. And it won’t affect your job or income in the least.”

“I don’t believe in anything that could be construed as cheating.”

I gasp in feigned shock. “Who said anything about cheating? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

Lost in her thoughts, I watch the furrow in her brow as she looks back and forth between my eyes. That’s when I know I’ve got her. Hook, line, and sinker!

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Author's Note:

I'd love to hear what you think about this scene. Comment as you read along and let me know what you think. 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

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Chapter 6

Becca

Crap, crap, crap! I can’t believe I’m late again. Why can’t I get it together? I’m sick of feeling like my life is a game of whack-a-mole, where for every one thing I get done, several others fall by the wayside.

Rushing through the diner’s entrance, I’m greeted by the ding of the bell over the door and the low din of the patrons sitting inside. Though my heart still races in my chest, the familiar sounds are like a mist of rain after a long summer drought.

Since moving out of my aunt and uncle’s house, Ruby’s Diner is the closest thing I have to a home. Unlike my tiny, lonely apartment, there is life here and people who genuinely seem to care about me. As resistant as I am to letting people get too close, I recognize how starved I am for connection. Though a part of me wants to lean into the warm compassion and care of the owners—Aunt Rosie and Uncle Andrew, as everyone calls them—history has taught me that trusting in others is a one-way ticket to heartbreak and disappointment. I know, I know. It’s an incredibly jaded view for someone my age, but here’s the thing: if you can’t trust the people who brought you into this world, then who the heck can you trust?

No one.

That’s who.

When Aunt Rosie spots me, she waves me over from behind the register, where she’s ringing up a customer. “Hey sweetheart, good to see you. Go on back, get yourself ready, and wait for me in the office. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

I inwardly groan, hoping it isn’t about me being late again. I need this job to pay my bills. Jobs in our small town are few and far between, especially for someone who can only work outside of school hours. While I’m sure I could eventually find another, none have the added benefit of allowing me to leave with cash in my pocket at the end of each night. Most people are content with waiting for a payday that comes every week or two, but my cash flow problems make it so I need to be paid more frequently.

Nervous, I toss my backpack into my employee locker, keeping only what I need to continue the first draft of my microeconomics project. As I tie on the white apron that’s part of my uniform, I check the board to see what section of tables I’ve been assigned. But no matter how many times I scan for my name, it just isn’t there.

This has to be a mistake. Or…

No! That can’t be it. Aunt Rosie wouldn’t fire me over this, not without talking to me first. Besides, she just told me to come back and get ready, which means everything’s okay. Right?

With my stomach twisted into a painful knot, I enter her office and take a seat. Setting my schoolwork on my lap, it dawns on me that having it with me for this discussion is a mistake. Though in the past Aunt Rosie has allowed me to work on my assignments when business is slow, I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s changed her mind. It would make sense, I guess, since I can’t imagine too many employers wanting their staff to work on other things during company time.

By the time she strides into the room, I’m nearly shaking with anxiety. “I’m sorry I was late. I stayed up working on a school project and fell asleep on the couch. I take full responsibility and promise to do better. It won’t happen again. I swear it,” the words rush out of my mouth.

“Relax, Becca,” she says with a soft smile as she takes the seat next to me and scoots in closer. “You’re not in trouble. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Opposite?” I stare at her, dumbfounded.

“I got a call from a friend of yours yesterday—”

“A friend?”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Six advanced placement classes? That’s just—wow, Becca!” She gushes with a look of pride that makes my eyes burn with unshed tears. How long has it been since someone who mattered looked at me this way? “I knew you were smart, but gosh,” she laughs. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us how amazing you are?”

Because I’m not.

What I’m doing isn’t amazing. It’s a means to an end, a way to escape the circumstances I was born into, along with the long list of people who have failed me. Not sure how to respond, I shrug and tuck a strand of hair behind my ears.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I’m just so proud. I know you’re estranged from your parents—”

“They’re not my parents.” I interrupt, my tone more forceful than I intend. “They’re my aunt and uncle. That’s what I call them now.”

“I understand.” She places a soothing hand over mine. “What I meant to say is I know you’re doing all of this on your own. While I may not be your mother, I’m still so incredibly proud of you.” She lifts my chin with a finger, forcing me to look at her. “Just thought I’d tell you in case no one else has told you lately. You truly are an amazing girl, Becca.”

“Thank you,” is all I can manage before my throat closes up.

“You’re welcome. So,” she sits back in her chair, looking mighty pleased with whatever she’s about to say. “Here’s what’s going to happen. For the rest of the weekend, you, my dear, will sit at your usual study spot in the back. There, you’ll spend your work hours solely focused on that amazing project you’re working on.”

“Wait, no. I can’t… I’m sorry Aunt Rosie, I know you’re trying to help, but I really need the money—”

“You have nothing to worry about. Your sweet friend has taken care of everything. For the next two days, Mr. Montgomery will be working your tables. He’ll handle it all, from taking orders to running food and clearing tables. Then, at the end of the night, he’ll turn all the money he made over to you. Per his words, as a thank you for the best server interning experience available this side of the Susquehanna River .” She chuckles as I sit there, stunned.

“Apart from the project, your only other responsibility this weekend will be to keep an eye on him and answer any questions he may have. He shouldn’t have much trouble, though. He came in two hours ago so we could show him the ropes and put him through the paces. He’s done surprisingly well and took it all on with a heaping dose of enthusiasm. My guess is that has a lot to do with how much he likes you.”

“He-he’s my peer advisor,” I utter mindlessly, my brain still trying to understand what is happening.

“Well, I’d say he’s doing a mighty fine job of it. Anyway, I’ve assigned him the four tables in Section F, right next to where you’ll be sitting, in case he finds himself in the weeds and needs some assistance.”

That must be the end of our conversation, because the next thing I know, she’s dragging me back out to the dining room. Whereas my stomach had been tied up in knots at the start of our conversation, it’s now a twisted, churning mess that makes me want to hurl. When she pushes me toward the section Shane and I have been assigned to, my skin heats, the sensation so intense I’m certain my skin has flushed crimson.

As soon as I turn the corner my heart stops, brought to a complete standstill by the infuriatingly charming smile on the face of the man I want to hate, but don’t.

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Author's Note:

I'd love to hear what you think about this scene. Comment as you read along and let me know what you think. 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

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Chapter 7

Shane

Having grown up in this town, I’ve always appreciated Rosie’s Diner as the iconic treasure of Ruby Creek. With its modern take on the Golden Age of the 1950s, walking through the door is like entering a time warp back to that nostalgic period where stability and hope for a brighter future ruled. Between the black-and-white checkerboard tile, bright red chairs around white tables, and the authentic 1950s paraphernalia—including an old-style jukebox—being here is an escape from the complexities of the modern world.

People come from miles away to see this place, descending upon our little town year after year, just to get lost in the ambiance. Though I could always appreciate the appeal, I never truly understood it until now.

Wow!

It’s the one word that comes to mind when she turns the corner, completely stealing my breath. While I’ve seen her in her uniform many times before, this is the image I’ll forever hold on to and recall for the rest of my days.

She stands before me like a dream in her vintage 1950s waitressing uniform. The red-and-white pinstripe dress flares below her waist, stopping just around mid-thigh, perfectly spotlighting those sexy legs I’d give anything to have wrapped around me. The way the white apron accentuates her thin waist, highlighting the shapely flare of her hips, forces me to bite back a groan. Her silky brown hair is tied back away from her face, accentuating those big hazel eyes that peer at me with a mix of conflicting emotions. The sight snaps me out of my lust-induced haze and tugs me back into the present with the force of an invisible rope.

Stepping towards her, I’m filled with ambivalence. I can see she’s overwhelmed and needs my help to get through this next part, but she’s so darn skittish I’m afraid any move I make might scare her. Before I can overthink it, I reach for her hand. The feel of her soft skin against mine, as her fingers instinctively wrap around mine like we’ve done it a million times in a past life, feels like coming home. It’s a sensation that’s seconded by the sudden spark of need that zaps through every part of my body, demanding I take her into my arms and breathe her in.

If I was unsure of what Becca was to me before, I know with absolute certainty what she is to me now. She’s my fate. My soul mate. The woman who was put on this earth for me to care for, to love, to build a life with.

Down to the marrow of my bone, I know she’s meant to be mine.

To my relief, she doesn’t pull away, not even as I tug her to follow me to the back of the room where her study table awaits. Though she’s allowing my touch, the look on her face is one of uncertainty, her brows drawn down in a considerable frown, especially when she notices the laptop sitting there waiting for her.

“It’s a loan,” I rush to explain, hoping to silence the objection on the tip of her tongue. “It will cut back on how long it takes for you to finish since you won’t need to handwrite it and then take it to the library to type it up.”

“A loan,” she repeats like she’s in a daze, though I can see her mind racing like she’s trying to ascertain my motives.

“Yes. It’s an old computer. An extra. I got a new one for my birthday, so I kept this one around as a spare.” Not entirely the truth, but I don’t feel an ounce of guilt since I’m right. Typing the first draft will save her a ton of time, guaranteeing she’ll make the deadline. After how she reacted yesterday when I offered to help her financially, I knew there was no way she would accept a new computer from me. So instead, I went out last night and bought myself a new one, figuring I’d give her this one.

“Please don’t overthink this, pretty girl. I’m lending it to you so you can finish your project. I promised I’d help you get it done, and this is a small part of my contribution toward that promise. When you’re finished with it, it’s as simple as giving it back.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

“This again?” This time I don’t hold back my groan. Doesn’t she get it by now? “I told you I’m invested. I care about you, Becca, and I want nothing more than to see you succeed. Unlike that idiot, Mr. Blair, I have complete faith that you can do this. I only want a front-row seat, a chance to stand at your side as you prove to him what I already know. There’s nothing you can’t do, pretty girl.”

Like clockwork, that adorable nervous tick of hers flares to life. Looking away, she tucks a non-existent lock of hair behind her ear. It makes me smile, something she must catch in the periphery of her sightline, given the pink that flares over her cheeks. It’s such a goddamned turn-on. She’s a mix of contradictions—strong and assertive on one hand, uncertain and innocent on the other. She’s like this complex puzzle waiting to be pieced together and I’m the sucker chomping at the bit for the honor of doing just that, if only to better understand who she is. What she wants out of life. How I can grow and evolve to become the man she needs.

“Now come. You’ve got a project to finish, and I have tables to serve. Plus, Mr. Souder promised me a big tip if I can sneak in some onion rings under his curly fries. Apparently, it’s a line Uncle Andrew refuses to cross. I’m thinking I can convince him, if only this one time.” I wink at her, and as expected, her cheeks darken into a deeper shade of red.

When she scoots into the booth, I slide in right next to her, close enough I can feel the heat of her bare leg under the fabric of my slacks. This close, her fresh fruity scent is overwhelming and I’m overcome by the sudden urge to bury my face in the crook of her neck. I wonder if she tastes just as sweet, just as decadent as the finest dessert. God, I so badly want to taste her. And I will. Sometime in the near future, I will convince this girl we’re meant to be. But until then, school. Helping her with her classes—that’s my in.

Opening up the laptop, I click on the setup screen. “Here, I wiped the hard drive, so it’s like new and ready for you to use. Go ahead and set up a password.” I slide it over to her, barely able to contain my smirk. Having her take ownership this way is all part of my master plan. With luck, she’ll use it without guilt, and encouraging her to personalize it will go a long way toward making it feel like it belongs to her.

“Is this really necessary? I mean, since it’s a loan, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to set up the password and just tell me what it is?”

“Nope.” I chuckle at her attempt to get out of this. “Though I’m loaning it to you, the work you do is personal. For your eyes only. At least until you’re ready to present it. Therefore, you need a strong password to protect your work. So get to typing, pretty girl. The sooner you do, the sooner we can both get back to our respective duties.”

It takes her a second, but when she finally relents, I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything’s going to plan, and to my shock, she’s not fighting me. That’s the sweetest part of all of this. I asked her to trust me, and so far, it looks like that’s exactly what she’s doing. When she’s finished, she slides the computer back to me, and after completing the final few steps of the setup, I slide it right back in front of her.

“There. It’s all yours for as long as you need it.” Sensing her objection, I slide out of the booth before she can voice it. “Now, is there anything else I can get you? A drink? An order of fries? Maybe a milkshake?” I give her my most charming smile and close it out with a wink. As I expected, my efforts are rewarded when her cheeks flare into that lovely shade of pink I’m fast growing addicted to.

“You don’t have to do all this, Shane. Lending me a computer, working my shift only to give me the money you earned—it’s too much.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe what I’m doing. If only she knew the lengths I’m prepared to go to keep her, she’d probably run out of here screaming.

“I disagree. As your peer advisor, it’s my job to help wherever I can. Whether it’s acting as your accountability partner, a study buddy, or lending you a helping hand so you can focus on what needs to get done. It’s what I’m here for. Plus, I promised you that if you put your complete trust and faith in me, I’d guarantee you an A on that presentation. And as a bonus, maybe then you’ll finally see what an amazing and reliable friend I can be.”

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Author's Note:

Shane is so darn adorable! He is head over heels in love with Becca.

I'd love to hear what you think of Shane and what he's doing for Becca. Comment along as you read and let me know what you think. 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 8

Becca

How is this my life? It’s like I’ve been thrust into an alternate reality where up is down and left is right. A strange world where Shane Montgomery almost feels like a friend and someone I can trust. What he’s done for me today is not only unexpected but surprisingly appreciated. It worries me immensely.

There was a time when I relied on being taken care of like this. A time when I had people I trusted to help me navigate life’s struggles. I appreciated having them and not once did I take them for granted, but then I woke up one day to discover that the amazing life they’d created for me was nothing but a lie.

A lifetime of lies, in fact.

The family I loved, whom I trusted with my whole heart and who I thought loved me back, did so out of pure selfishness. Their love, their sacrifice—they did those things not because they loved me specifically, but the idea of me. Because if they had truly loved me, the way a parent should love a child, they never would have helped my mother’s rapist conspire to steal me away from her in the first place.

It’s why I know better than to trust this warm feeling settling over me like a weighted blanket. It’s a mirage of sorts. A false sense of safety, of security. Two things that can easily be stripped away, especially when they’re dependent on trusting others to have your back. Since that horrible day when I realized love could be selfish, I vowed to never again rely on others to provide the safety and security I need to thrive. So, as much as I appreciate what Shane is doing, I can’t allow it to continue. I know my weakness, and the longer I let this go on, the higher the likelihood I’ll grow dependent on yet another person who will someday rip out my heart and send my life back into upheaval.

Logically, I know what I have to do, but as I watch him work my tables with the camaraderie and grace of someone meant to lead movements rather than be a lowly waiter, I’m filled with something akin to infatuation. It’s crazy and downright stupid, but there’s something about Shane Montgomery that sends those butterflies in my belly fluttering into a frenzy.

“Well, it was an absolute pleasure getting to know you this evening. Any way I could convince you to stay a little longer? Maybe I could entice you with a decadent cup of coffee, or how about a warm slice of Aunt Rosie’s delectable apple pie?” And just like that, he nails himself another upsell. The ease with which he convinces customers to order appetizers, desserts, or even coffee with very little effort is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Whether it’s his easy smiles or his quick-witted banter, one thing is certain—the customers love him.

“How’s it going over here, pretty girl? Getting lots done, I hope.” He smiles at me as he brings yet another refill of my favorite orange soda.

“You don’t need to keep checking up on me. I’m not a customer.”

“You think I’m…” he throws his head back and lets out a hardy laugh that makes my stomach swoop. “I’m not taking care of you because you’re a customer; I’m taking care of you because I want to. Because you deserve it.”

Because I deserve it?

I have little time to dwell on what he’s just said, for at that moment Shane’s friends appear. The bell over the door signals their arrival, as the dining room falls silent—probably from shock that the golden spawn of Ruby Creek’s finest are gracing us with their presence. In the next breath, whispers break through the oppressive quiet, a sure sign everyone is wondering what the four children of the three most powerful families in our small town are doing in our little diner.

“Uh, I think your friends are looking for you.” At the sight of the legitimate children of my mother’s rapist, and secret half-siblings—Nicholas and Amanda Kline—the butterflies fluttering in my stomach die a quick death. Since discovering the truth of how we’re related, being in their presence is a dark reminder that my entire life has been a twisted merry-go-round of deceit and lies. Taking in their miserable expressions, for the first time, I wonder if we have that in common. Perhaps they are aware all isn’t as it seems, and their life feels like a lie, much the same as mine.

When he looks toward the front entrance, Shane’s normally jovial expression falters. “Get back to work, pretty girl. I’ll deal with them.”

Except they’re already on the move and headed straight towards the corner booth at the back of the diner, where Shane looks like he’s attending to my every need as if I’m a customer.

“Now, what do we have here?” Conner Matthews’s smarmy smile glides over me before turning its focus to Shane. “You slumming it with the peasants now?”

While Amanda lets out a snicker, Nicholas Kline responds in an apathetic tone. “As opposed to slumming it with the likes of you, Con, I’d say he’s better off.”

“Quit being an ass, Conner. I’m working here. What do you all want?”

Noticing how Shane angled himself between us, Conner’s smile grows impossibly bigger. Rising to the challenge, he moves closer, bumping shoulders with Shane to get him out of the way. The lecherous way his eyes sweep over the curves of my body feels like a violation and leaves me squirming uncomfortably.

“So, are you going to introduce us to your pretty little friend? Becca is it?” He extends a hand to me, his mouth now twisted into a mocking grin.

The jerk knows exactly who I am, though until now, he’s never deemed me worthy enough to be acknowledged. It’s a truth I’m just about to call him out on when Shane steps in front of me, and with a hand on Conner’s chest, he pushes him two steps back.

“Don’t fucking speak to her, and while you’re at it, keep your disgusting eyes to yourself,” he growls under his breath, loud enough to make it clear there will be consequences, but low enough so customers don’t hear him. “Whatever it is you want, spit it the fuck out so you can be on your way.”

“Shaney, what’s going on?” Amanda’s sickeningly sweet voice is irritating, but not nearly as grating as watching her slide under his arm and curl up against him. “You’re angry, but we’re only here because we were worried. You weren’t answering your phone.”

For reasons I don’t understand, my body recoils at the intimate way she’s touching him. The longing look she shoots in his direction while shamelessly rubbing up against him makes my stomach sour. The rage suddenly manifesting within pushes hard against my skin, demanding I jump over this table to tear out her bleach-blond hair and punch her in her near-perfect face.

Sibling rivalry.

That’s what this must be.

As Shane works to extricate himself from her octopus-like grip, he responds with a sharp, “Because I’m working. Which is why the three of you need to go. You’re disrupting the customers.”

“Really?” Conner spins around in a dramatic display that only draws more attention. “Because by the looks of it, the only person bothered by our presence is you, Montgomery. What’s up with that?”

“I. Am. Working. What about that do YOU not understand?”

“Simple, you don’t work here.” Nick Kline states matter-of-factly, as he takes in the space like he’s seeing it for the first time. “I wonder what Papa Montgomery would say if he knew you were here, working a menial job beneath someone of your station .” He says that last part in a mocking voice like it’s an impression of how Shane’s father speaks.

“I’m here for the weekend. He knows it’s for school, and in line with my responsibilities as a student advisor.”

At this, Amanda’s perfectly manicured brows draw down into a frown. “So, that’s what this is? She is who you’re advising?” She says it like I’m trash. A low life not worthy of Shane’s time, let alone the air she and her friends breathe.

And now I want to gauge her eyes out.

“Trust me. Neither of us wants this.” I tell her, my voice laced with resentment.

“Uh-huh.” She considers, her eyes searching and full of venom, like she’s assessing if I’m telling the truth while also trying to scare me.

“Well,” Conner throws an arm around Amanda, breaking our stare down “If that’s the case, let’s get out of here, Montgomery. It’s Nick’s first night home for winter break. With my parents due back next week, I say it’s time we throw ourselves a party.”

“Can’t tonight. I’m working until close.”

“You don’t have to…” I attempt to let him off the hook, but without taking his eyes off Conner’s, he lifts a hand in my direction, effectively silencing me.

“This weekend does not work for me. I’m already committed, and have no intention of changing my plans.”

“Shane, it’s been so long since you and I spent any real time together. I’m sure…” She extends a hand palm out, gesturing in my general direction in a way that feels demeaning. “Becca, or whoever she is, can handle her own assignments for the weekend. Right?” She turns to look at me, her expression pinched like I’m no better than the dirt under her shoe.

“Yep. I can handle it,” I respond stiffly, doing my very best not to break a tooth under the pressure building in my jaw.

“I am NOT leaving you. I made you a promise, Becca, and if nothing else, I’m a man of my word.” His stern expression leaves no room for argument, so I keep my mouth shut and watch as he turns that cold hard glare I’ve never seen before, toward his friends who clearly have. “I said leave. I’m not available this weekend, so I suggest the three of you find something else to keep you occupied. Do not come looking for me again. I will reach out when I’m free.”

“Shane…” Amanda looks stricken.

“I said no, Ames.”

“Come on, sis. Let’s give the man some space.” A look of understanding passes between Nick and Shane before he takes Amanda by the elbow and leads her away.

“Whatever this is, Montgomery, I hope like hell you know what you’re doing.” Though he’s talking to Shane, Conner’s eyes don’t stray from me.

“Since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind you.” Shane steps into his space, forcing Conner to look at him. “My life. My choices. They’re none of your goddamn business, Con. You have problems of your own. I suggest you work through those first, before coming around and trying to fix mine.”

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

We finally get a glimpse of the dynamic between Shane's friends and the rest of the town.

I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter, and the way Shane handles his friends. Are you surprised by Becca's reaction to Amanda when she cuddled up to Shane? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 9

Becca

With a heavy sigh, Shane watches his friends leave the diner. As if suddenly remembering I’m still here, he runs a hand through his thick brown hair and gives me a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about that, pretty girl. I, uh, better go check on my tables. You go on, get back to work. I’ll come check in on you in a bit.” And then he disappears around the corner toward the kitchen, probably to check on the status of the food for his tables.

The awkward visit from his friends lingers in the air well into the night, like a mist of fog that makes it impossible to think of much else. While their poisonous attitudes were right on par with how they normally act, there were parts of that exchange that hinted at something more. A subcontext hidden beneath Conner’s taunts and Amanda’s desperate need to stake her claim on Shane, while making it clear I don’t belong near one of their own. Given I never wanted to be near him in the first place, I should be okay with that. Yet here I am, like a little kid who’s been told they can’t have something, suddenly wanting to prove her wrong.

What the hell is wrong with me?

For the rest of the night, I watch him work. Traversing the space and managing the job with the ease of a seasoned waiter, rather than someone who only learned the basics a few hours ago. Though his charming smile has returned, I hate that I notice it no longer quite reaches his eyes. Why it bothers me so much is something I’ll have to work out later . As the last customers get up to head home, I shut down the computer. While I appreciate him helping me out by working my shift, I figure the least I can do is help with the side work and closing duties.

“I got it, pretty girl. No need to get up.”

“It’s alright. I’m at a good stopping point. You were right about the computer. I finished the first draft, which puts me ahead of schedule. Means I’m available to help close things out.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. As I busy myself with completing our side work, he tends to the few remaining customers, closing out their checks and then waving them goodbye like you would a long-lost friend you’ve recently reconnected with. Not an hour later, we say our goodbyes to Aunt Rosie, then step outside into the cold December night.

“Here, I should have given this to you while we were inside, but I went to grab an envelope from the office, then got distracted.” He hands me a thick envelope. “It’s everything we made tonight. Now come, I’ll drive you home.”

When he realizes I’m not following, he stops and turns to face me. Still staring at the envelope, I blink a few times, hoping to clear the emotion blurring my vision.

“It’s okay. I-I really am grateful, Shane. You know, for everything you did for me today, but uh,” I point over my shoulder, “I’m only a few blocks down. I’d prefer to walk.” Because right now I don’t trust myself to be alone with him. It’s been so long since I had anyone insist on taking care of me that my emotions are now raw and exposed, like a live wire with frayed ends.

Looking behind me at the street I’m pointing to, he nods a few times before he offers me his hand. “Then come. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You don’t have to,” is what comes out of my mouth, yet I surprise us both by reaching up and placing my hand in his. Just like when he took my hand earlier, the feel of his warm skin against mine sends sparks of heat racing up my spine.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” His smile grows impossibly bigger, and then, without another word, he leads us toward my small garage apartment.

“What about your car?”

“It’ll be fine. Once I know you’re safely tucked away at home, I’ll come back for it.”

“Won’t your parents be upset you’re late coming home?”

He laughs loudly, then wraps my hand in both of his in a move that makes my insides tingle. “Edward and Catherine Montgomery don’t care what I do or where I go, as long as my actions don’t embarrass them.” When I tense, his worried gaze meets the side of my face.

“Like what happened today? You know, with you helping me and working at the diner?”

“God, no. Fuck. That’s not…” he pauses for a beat, taking a deep breath before he tries again. “Look, you were right before. Wednesday night at your place when you insinuated my friends are assholes. They are. That night I made excuses for them, but after today—the way they acted, how they treated you—I’ll never defend them again. In answer to your question, nothing I did today reflects badly on either me or my parents, and even if by some twisted turn of events it did, I wouldn’t care. The past couple of hours—spending time with you, getting to see you in your element, and watching you deep in concentration, head down working on the computer I lent you—it’s the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

There is a reverence in his voice I don’t quite understand, but his words wash over me in a cloak of heat that thaws my insides. Shane Montgomery is nothing like I expected, which is why even as my common sense screams at me to keep my distance and not trust him, I can’t bring myself to pull my hand away. Not for the first time, I wonder if this is how it happened to my mom.

Did Charles Kline trick her into trusting him?

Was she drawn to him like I am to Shane?

Did she feel the same strong connection and is that what rendered her helpless to fall for the man who would eventually destroy her?

If I’d never met Charles Kline before, I might have said yes to each of those questions, but much like Conner Matthews, my biological father deems himself too good for the likes of pretense. He wouldn’t have wasted his time pretending to be a good guy, nor would he have spent the extra energy wooing a girl. No. Guys like Charles Kline don’t vie for a woman’s attention—like Shane is doing with me—guys like that… they see something they want and they take it.

“We’re here, pretty girl.” Shane’s worried eyes scan over me like he can see every ugly thought running through my mind. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I croak, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with my free hand. Just behind him, I catch sight of my front door and realize he’s right. I’m home. Looking down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined, I’m suddenly unable to breathe.

What is wrong with me? Why am I feeling like this? Like I don’t want him to let go, like I’m afraid that if he does, I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting I didn’t hold on.

“Would you like to come in?” What are you doing Becca?

“I’d love nothing more, but you look spooked, pretty girl. Like you’re not quite ready for that step, which is fine. Maybe another time.”

“That step?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, then takes both my hands in his. Rubbing circles with his thumbs over my skin, he explains. “The next step. You and me. In case you weren’t aware, we’re inevitable, pretty girl.”

“Inevitable?”

“Mmhmm. Inevitable. I meant what I said, getting to spend time with you tonight…” Smiling, he shakes his head, and the way he’s looking at me mixes with the feel of his touch, eliciting goosebumps along my skin. “I want more.” He shrugs his shoulders like he can’t find any other way to explain it.

“You and Amanda? Are you together?” What in God’s name are you doing, Becca? It’s none of your business, plus who cares if they’re together? It doesn’t change….

“No. We haven’t been together in over a year. Our families are close. We’ve known each other since we were little, which is why she often forgets to respect my boundaries.”

“They hate me,” I blurt the words and immediately wish I could take them back.

“Believe me when I say it’s not you they hate. I said I wouldn’t defend them and I won’t. All I’ll say is what they hate is the circumstances they are bound to. Someone like you represents something they’ll never have. Freedom to be. To exist outside of a legacy. Outside the microscope that judges us differently, and the expectations attached to our names. What they hate is that they’ll never get the chance to be you.”

“How? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“As someone trapped under the same pressures as them, trust me, it does.” This time it’s him who reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Either way, I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. At the risk of being too forward, I want to be with you, Becca. In all the ways that count. I want to be able to call you in the morning when I wake, just so your voice is the first one I hear. I want to be able to touch you. To hold you in my arms, just because, whenever I see you. I want to be there while you study, bringing you that orange soda you love so much and watching that mesmerizing brain of yours at work. I want to spend my evenings with you, sitting on the couch, watching reruns of Friends or those sappy rom-coms Tommy and Parker complain about—apparently, it’s all Felicia and Jocelyn want to watch.”

When he reaches for my face this time, I can’t help but lean into his touch. “Most of all, I want to kiss you.” He stares at my lips with a longing I feel down to my toes. “I want to feel those lips on mine more than I want my next breath, but not tonight.”

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself, my mouth once again running away with my thoughts.

“You’ll need to clarify what you mean. Are you asking why I want to kiss you, or are you wondering why I won’t kiss you tonight?” He smirks, though his eyes are alight with awe.

Swallowing hard, I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I’m so damn embarrassed, but at the same time, desperate for his answer. “Why won’t you kiss me?” I whisper.

“Open your eyes for me.” When he lets go of my hands to cup both sides of my face, my heart skips a beat. When I do as he commands and our eyes lock together, it’s like he’s stolen the breath straight from my lungs. “Do you want me to kiss you, pretty girl?”

The time that passes as he waits me out is pure torture, but like he’s determined to let this be my choice, he doesn’t make a single move to put me out of my misery. “Yes,” I exhale with a sigh that shoots sparks of need to my lower belly.

Nodding, he stares deep into my eyes. “You have to make me a promise first. Promise me you’ll give us a chance. That tomorrow morning when you wake, you’ll call me and let me hear your voice. If we do this tonight, don’t pull away later. Promise me that starting tomorrow you’ll let me prove to you what I said is true. You and I are meant to be.”

“I promise,” I nod, the buzzing in my blood rendering me powerless to fight against the desperation coursing through my veins. For reasons I don’t understand, I need this. I need him.

With our eyes transfixed on one another, Shane Montgomery leans in, closing the distance between us until those magical lips I never knew I needed graze over mine in a subtle, barely there kiss I feel over every inch of my body. At the sound of my whimper, he moans just before his lips crash into mine with the force of a wave lapping against the shores of paradise. Shane kisses like a man without restraint. Like he’s desperate for air, my lips being the only oxygen he needs. By the time he pulls back, we’re both panting and breathless. My thoughts scrambled to the point I can’t remember why I ever thought Shane Montgomery was a bad idea.

“Wow,” is all he says, as he rests his forehead against mine. “Remember your promise, pretty girl. As soon as you wake, promise you’ll call and let me hear your voice.”

“I promise.”

If only I had the courage to get him to promise to never hurt me. Or better yet, to make myself the promise that when he does—as he inevitably will—I won’t let the heartbreak and disappointment break me.

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

In this chapter, we get to see Becca's feelings about Shane, evolve into something doesn't understand, but that she's helpless to fight.

Are you surprised by her reaction to everything Shane did for her today? Are you shocked that they shared their first kiss? Do you think Becca will wake up the next day with regrets?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 10

Becca

This is how I find myself sitting in Jocelyn’s car on Monday morning, unable to get out. After our first—and best kiss of my life, no offense to Lucas—Shane left that night with a promise he’d be by the next day to pick me up for the start of our shift. As promised, he showed up dressed and ready for work 20 minutes early, which was for the best, given we spent those 20 minutes on my hand-me-down couch, making out like the teenagers we are.

While I worked on my project, he waited on my tables. Though we kept the PDA to a minimum during our shift, there were lots of light touches, each one sending my heart fluttering to the rhythm of the butterflies swirling in my belly. No matter where he was, or where he went, I could feel his eyes like a constant caress against my skin. It was intoxicating. Then at the end of the night, he handed me the money, drove me back to my place, then kissed me senseless once again. This time, he left me with the promise he would see me at school today.

And that’s when reality—like the bitch that she is—reared her ugly head and slapped me straight in my stupid face.

School. The place where Shane and his friends are worshiped by teachers and the student body like they’re gods. They are allowed to do and act as they wish, for who are we, the lowly citizens of our small town, to stand up to Ruby Creek’s most elite? In our school, the fact they allow us to breathe the same air as them is looked upon by the student body with a sense of awe.

What would they say if they found out Shane Montgomery kissed me?

Me.

Becca Franks.

The daughter of the town pariah. The drug addict who attempted to extort and take down Charles Kline—the head of our town’s most elite families. My mother is known as the desperate, deceitful woman who tried to trick Charles Kline, first into a relationship, then later, when that didn’t work, out of his money. Will they think I’m doing the same to Shane?

“What is up with you? Are you sick or something?” Joss’s forehead crinkles like she’s worried I’ll barf all over the back seat of her car.

“Yes. I think I might be. Would you mind taking me home?” With the back of my hand, I wipe my brow, surprised by the amount of perspiration pooling there.

“You were fine before.” Felicia leans back from where she’s sitting in the front passenger seat and puts her hand on my forehead. “You’re clammy, but no fever. If you ask me, given how pale you look and how fast you’re breathing, I’d say you’re on the verge of a panic attack.”

Yes! That’s it. Given the circumstances, it makes perfect sense, and it’s why I can’t go to school today. I need to go home.

“Spill it. Now.” Joss demands, an eyebrow raised, like she already knows what I’m hiding. “Everyone knows you spent the weekend working with Shane, so what happened? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” I react in a high-pitched whine that, to my dismay, makes it seem like I’m lying. “He did nothing wrong. I swear it.”

“So what is it? What has you so freaked out you won’t get out of the car?”

Ugh. I want to hold it in, I really do, but with my heart nearly beating out of my chest, it feels like if I don’t let it out, my insides might literally explode.

“He kissed me,” I blurt out, then fold over onto my lap, with my face buried in my hands.

“Shane Montgomery kissed you?” Felicia’s incredulous squeal makes me groan in shame. She screamed it loud enough that I’m certain everyone within a two-mile radius of Ruby Creek probably heard her.

“Yes. Please stop repeating what I say, and for God’s sake, don’t mention his name.”

“What happened?” I hear the unmistakable sound of Jocelyn turning in her seat so she can face me. Unlike Felicia, who’s bouncing in her seat with unbridled excitement, the gentleness in Joss’s voice communicates genuine concern. She knows how I feel about letting people get too close.

When I sit up and look up at my friends, I can’t hide the emotion pooling in my eyes. “It happened Saturday night. After we closed. His friends had stopped in earlier in the day…”

“Wait, which friends?” Felicia interrupts, already sensing where I’m going with this.

“Amanda, Nick, and Conner. They were so damn rude and inconsiderate.”

“Oh, so they felt comfortable enough to be themselves. How nice,” Joss rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, well, Shane stuck up for me and then asked them to leave, but not before Conner and Amanda made it clear I don’t belong anywhere near their golden prince. When he was walking me home, he apologized on their behalf. That’s when he told me he didn’t care what they think. That he wants to be with me. That he believes we’re meant to be.” We’re inevitable , were the exact words he used, but I keep those to myself, hoarding and unwilling to share them like they’re some sort of priceless treasure.

“Aww,” Felicia coos. “And what did you say?”

“Nothing, I think. I just stood there dumbfounded, I guess.”

“And then he kissed you?” Something in Joss’s tone raises my hackles.

“No, not at first. It was consensual. He told me he wanted to kiss me and asked if I wanted it too. I said yes.” I groan, once again burying my face in my hands.

“If you wanted him to kiss you, then why are you acting like this? Wait, unless… Oh my God! Is Shane Montgomery a terrible kisser?”

“Why are you yelling?” I scoot forward, smacking a hand over Felicia’s mouth. “Stop being so loud, and for god’s sake, stop using his damn name.”

Shaking me off, her smile brightens. “I see, so it’s the opposite then. He’s an amazing kisser.” When I groan again, it only encourages her. “I knew it. It’s those lips. So full and soft, with that perfectly plump lower lip that makes you want to suck it off.”

“Oh my god, stop!” I smack my hand over her mouth again.

“So you kissed? What’s the big deal?”

“Joss.” How can she not understand? “The big deal is that I’m me and he’s him.” As she stares at me like I’m an idiot, I’m surprised I even have to explain. “I’m a nobody, worse than a nobody. I’m the illegitimate daughter of Maggie Franks, a drug addict and known femme fatale who tried and failed to ruin one of the kings of this town. What if everyone thinks I’m just like her? That I’m trying to do the same to Shane?”

“This again,” Joss rolls her eyes, then shoots me a glare. Felicia, on the other hand, takes pity on me and reaches for my hand. “I hate that I took you to see that woman. Worst mistake of my life and yours.”

“If you hadn’t, I would have been stuck living a lie. Always the butt of the town’s jokes, never understanding why everyone looks at me the way they do.”

“Yeah, maybe, except now every decision you make is based on your fear of ending up like your mom.”

“Josselyn,” with a pointed scowl, Felicia comes to my defense. “What our dear friend is trying to say is that you, dear Becca, are not your mother.” She squeezes my hand. “And Shane, he’s not Charles Kline. There’s little risk of history repeating itself, especially because you’ve got us. Joss and I would never allow Shane or anyone to get away with what Charles Kline did to your family.”

“I know all that, I do. But what about them?” I point at the students milling about, all going through their normal morning routine as they wait for the bell to ring. “If they find out Shane is interested in me, they’ll think I’m just like her. That I’m tricking him and taking advantage of him to get access to his money and the power and prestige that comes with his name.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but it’s far more likely they’ll assume he’s just using you.”

Felicia gasps as Jocelyn’s words snake their way around me, squeezing the air from my lungs.

Oh my god, she’s right.

They’ll think he’s using me.

That he’s the one tricking me into thinking he likes me, and the worst part is, how do I know that he’s not?

“Stop being such a bitch, Joss.” Felicia admonishes.

“I’m not a bitch, I’m a realist. Look, Becca, don’t you think you’re making too big a deal out of this? It was one kiss.” Reading the look on my face, she corrects, “Okay, it was one weekend with kissing involved, right? Is that better?” I nod, unable to look at either of my friends. “So who cares? You’re both consenting, mature 18-year-old adults. People our age kiss—a lot. It means nothing.”

Except it doesn’t feel like nothing. Instead, it feels like the start of something new, something I’d bet neither of us is ready for.

“You’re right,” I respond while attempting to breathe around the panic blocking my airway. “It means nothing. He probably won’t even mention it.”

“That’s right.” Felicia soothes, giving my hand a light squeeze. “Chances are no one will notice anything’s changed between you.”

Right , I think to myself while doing my best to forget that his friends not only saw us together, but also witnessed him coming to my defense against them.

“Great. Now that we’re all in agreement, could we please get out of the car and get on with our day? The bell’s about to ring”

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

In this chapter, Becca's in a panic over her evolving relationship with Shane. Given her mother's history, she's also worried about what others might think.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Are you surprised Becca is having second thoughts?

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 11

Becca

It’s not easy, but much to my relief, I manage to avoid running into Shane or any of his friends most of the morning. It’s not that I’m a coward—at least that’s what I’m telling myself. It’s more that I need to stop allowing external distractions—aka Shane Montgomery—from getting in the way of my goals. To escape this town, I need to focus on school and passing my six AP classes, so I can start my first year of college as a sophomore. That I’m struggling to keep my A average in two of those classes doesn’t bode well for me, especially since I’m expecting an answer from Columbia on my Early Decision Application in the coming month, and if I get in, they’ll be requesting a copy of my mid-year grades shortly after that.

“Ms. Franks, could you stop by my desk for a moment?” Mr. Collins calls for me as I walk into my third-period AP Statistics class.

“Yes?”

“You’re needed down at the main office.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I stare at him dumbfounded, wracking my brain for a reason I’d be called down to the main office.

“I’ve got an email here from Mrs. Wilson.” He squints at the laptop in front of him. “All it says is you’re to report to the main office as soon as possible.” I must stand there, mouth agape for a bit too long, for he adds. “Go on, now. Be on your way and you just might make it back in time to catch most of my lecture.”

Crap! Mr. Blair. It has to be him, but I don’t understand. Since he called us to his office last week, my test scores have improved, and all my assignments were submitted on time. So, if it’s not about my grades, what else could it be?

Suddenly not feeling so well, I make my way down to the first floor, and then towards the wing where the administrative offices are located. Just as I’m about to reach my destination, a door to my right opens, and I’m yanked into a small office that’s been set up to look like a lounge. And there, standing in the middle of the room with my hand still in his, is Shane Montgomery. The charming smile I used to hate is in full force, making my knees weak and my insides melt.

How does he do this to me?

“You avoiding me, pretty girl?” With two fingers under my chin, he forces my gaze up to his. The heat behind his eyes doesn’t help in the least and sends a wave of warmth flushing under my skin.

“Uh… no. I mean, yeah. Well, kind of?” My response is an incoherent jumbled mess, but try as I might, I can’t get my brain to engage. It makes him chuckle.

“Okay, let’s peel back some of those layers, see if we can make a little more sense of what’s going on. But first…” Without releasing my hand, he turns to the door and locks it. “You can leave at any time. I’m only locking it to give us some privacy. Now come, have a seat.”

He leads me to the small couch at the end of the space, then he sits on the coffee table directly in front of me. Leaning forward, he takes both of my hands and, with that smile I’m quickly growing addicted to, he stares into my eyes.

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable, pretty girl, so to make this easier, I’m going to ask you some questions. You ready to give me some answers?”

No! Not in the least, but there’s something so reassuring about the way he’s handling my awkwardness. It weirdly makes me want to open up to him. Terrified yet relieved he’s concerned enough to make this easier for me, I nod.

“Good. First question. Are you avoiding me, pretty girl? A simple yes or no will do for now.” Unable to hold his gaze, I look at our adjoined hands and nod. “Okay. Next question, do you remember the promise you made me? About giving us a chance, and letting me prove to you we’re meant to be?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you regret making me that promise?”

Surprised by the question, I look up at him and, without thinking, I decide to go with the truth. “No. It’s not that, it’s just…” As tears sting my eyes, I try to look away, but with his thumb and forefinger, he gently lifts my chin.

“Hey, now. None of that. You don’t have to hide from me, pretty girl. Whatever it is, you can say it.”

“Why me?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Why me, Shane? You could have anyone you want. Any girl in this school, including Amanda. Most of them are a far better choice for you than someone like me, so explain it to me. Why would you want me?”

“I don’t want just any girl, Becca. I want you. Not only because you’re beautiful and smart, but because you’re amazing and you don’t even know it. You’re shy, yet assertive when you need to be. Confident in all the ways that make a woman sexy. Why you? Because there’s no other woman in this school—hell, in this universe—that could ever hold a candle to you. Why you, pretty girl? Because from the moment I laid eyes on you that day in Mr. Blair’s office, as you talked your way into three additional AP classes, I knew you were the girl for me.”

“How are you so sure?” I shake my head incredulously. “We come from such opposite worlds. Considering our differences, how could you see any possibility with someone like me?”

“Because when I look into your eyes, what I see tells me all I need to know. That you are mine and I am yours. It doesn’t get much simpler than that. In terms of our differences, why should any of those things have any say over our happiness? The choice to be together is ours to make, Becca. Once we choose it, the rest doesn’t matter.”

“But what will people say? They’ll make assumptions, and given who my mother is…”

“None of that matters, pretty girl. Not if we don’t let it. You and I, this—” he points between us, “we know what we feel, what it is that exists between you and me. That’s the only thing I care about.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

With his thumb, he wipes away the lone tear that’s escaped from the corner of my eye. “Because it is that simple. I’ve already chosen you, pretty girl. Choose me too, and I swear, as long as we want to be together, nothing will come between us.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“That’s okay.” He gives me a warm smile and leans in to brush his lips against mine. “I’ll prove it to you. As time goes on, you’ll learn to trust I’ll take care of you—of us—and I’ll trust you to do the same. Eventually, you’ll come to understand what I already know: the outside world will only have a say if we let it. Now, the only question that remains is, do you want to be with me?”

“I don’t know, Shane.” Not wanting to see his reaction, I pull away. Rising from my seat, I pace to the front of the room. The last thing I want is to hurt his feelings, but there’s no way I can ignore the truth. “Before this weekend, I didn’t even know I liked you.”

“So, you do like me?” I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling from ear to ear. Why, oh why, won’t my mouth shut up? What is it about Shane Montgomery that turns off my internal filter, leaving me exposed to saying whatever I’m thinking?

With a frustrated sigh, I wrap my arms around myself. Staring out the window overlooking the student lot is far easier than getting caught in that infuriatingly charming smile of his I used to hate so much.

When did I stop hating it?

Or could it be I only hated it because I loved it?

“Come here, you,” his voice comes up behind me, and before I know it, I’m wrapped up in his arms, my forehead resting against his chest.

“Why do you have to smell so good?” I groan both at the observation and the fact I once again word-vomited what I’m thinking. Damn him for screwing with my brain.

He chuckles and kisses the crown of my head. “You smell pretty damn good yourself, pretty girl.” He holds me close for a few seconds more, and then, with his voice full of mirth, he asks. “So, you do like me?” When I smack his chest, and try to pull away, he laughs but doesn’t let me go.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I don’t want to like you.” I pout.

“I know, I know. Wish I could say I was sorry about it, but I can’t. Because I more than like you too, and now that we’ve established we both like each other, what do you say? Will you give us a chance?” Pulling back, he cups the sides of my face, and the intensity in his gaze takes my breath away. “Be with me, Becca. Say yes and let me prove to you that you and I are meant to be.” With him looking at me like I’m the center of his world, my insides melting into a puddle of feels, as my skin tingles at the rightness of his touch, how could I say no?

“Okay. Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes in defeat at the realization that not only can I not fight this, but that I don’t want to.

Lifting me into his arms, he pulls me tight against his chest. “I promise you won’t regret this, my sweet, strong Becca.” He kisses the side of my face, then down my neck, before meeting my lips in a spine-tingling kiss that makes my toes curl and my body sing. How does he do this? Why is it that when I’m with him, everything I never wanted suddenly feels so right?

“Shane, wait.” I pull back, coaxing him to lower me back to my feet. If he were a normal person, the fact I uttered those words and pulled away in the middle of such a tender moment would give them pause for concern, but not Shane. Instead, he stares at me with fervent excitement twinkling in his eyes and a radiant grin lighting up his face.

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“The only thing I cared about was you saying yes to us being together. Anything else? I’m okay with whatever you want.”

“Even if what I want is to hold off on telling anyone else? I’m okay with giving us a try, but I don’t think I’m ready for much more than that right now. This wasn’t part of my plan, you know? It’s just a lot. I think I need some time to get used to the idea.”

“You want to wait to tell the world?” he shrugs. “I’m good with that. As long as I get to hear your voice every morning. As long as I get to kiss you when we’re alone…” He kisses me, parting my lips with his tongue in a move that makes me whimper and him groan. “As long as while you’re getting used to the idea of us, we can be together like the couple we’re meant to be.”

“I promise it’s not forever. I just want to be sure this is right—for the both of us—before we add the complication of what the rest of the world will think.”

“I’ll follow your lead, pretty girl.” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear before leaning down to kiss me. “But I have two conditions.”

“Okay. What are they?”

“One, we’re together. Exclusively. You’re my girl, and I’m your boo.” He smiles.

I smack his chest, feigning annoyance, but I can’t help the smile that crosses my lips. “I never would have guessed you’re so darn corny, Montgomery.”

He throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “It’s alright, you’ll learn to love it. As I was saying, while to the outside world, we’ll look like flirty friends, in private, we’re together—like boyfriend and girlfriend. Now, the second condition, and this one is also non-negotiable. We keep our relationship separate from our peer advisory relationship. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, we’ll still get together to focus on your academics.” He lifts his brow like he’s expecting an argument, which is ridiculous.

“Okay. I agree to both of your conditions.”

“That was easy.” He lifts me off my feet again, and when he kisses me this time, I feel his smile against my lips. “Now, what about you? What are your conditions?” He pulls back, never putting me down as he looks into my eyes and waits me out.

“Other than not telling the world until we’re both ready, I only have one. Please don’t make me regret this.”

“Never. Do you hear me, Becca Franks? You will never, ever regret us. I’ll make sure of it.”

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

There's so much I love about this scene. Most of all, I love the effect Shane has on Becca.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Do you agree with Shane, that love is as simple as just choosing one another? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 12

Shane

Like the love-smitten fool I am, I take the steps up to her apartment two at a time, fully aware of the ridiculous smile I can’t keep off my face. I still can’t believe she said yes to giving us a chance! A girl like Becca falling for someone like me, especially when just a week ago I didn’t think I had a shot, it’s incredible. That she feels that same indomitable pull that’s had me tied up in knots since I saw her that first day of school is as much a relief as it is unbelievable. And that she thinks I’m the one who’s too good for her? Downright insane, considering she’s the paragon of all things beautiful.

Knocking on her door, I wait with bated breath, eager to see her again. To touch her. To run my fingers through that silky brown hair as I lean down to taste that sensuous mouth I can’t get enough of. Shaking my head, I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. As the only son of Edward Montgomery, I was trained since birth to be deliberate in my thoughts and actions. Taught to not make a move, a single decision, without weighing the consequences and ensuring the outcome benefited not only me but the family name.

“Think with your head, not with your heart. “ My father’s words run through my mind just as the door to her apartment opens and I’m greeted by the sight of those hazel eyes that convey her every emotion and those lips that can’t help but utter her every thought. For the first time in a long while, both my mind and heart are in agreement. Father may not see things my way at first, but I’m certain that over time I can convince him I’ll be a better man because of her.

“Shane? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my girlfriend. Word is she’s got this big presentation due tomorrow.” I step closer, leaning my arms against the door frame, and smile down at her. “Figured I’d show up tonight to feed her dinner and offer my services as a mock audience member. In short, I’m here for you.” When she drops her eyes, her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. “Will you let me in, pretty girl?”

Like she’s only now noticed she’s blocking my path, she takes a step back. Shutting the door behind me, I lock it. When I turn, I find her still standing there, arms wrapped around herself, looking as uncertain as ever.

“Come here,” I put my arms out, and like she can’t help it, she sinks into my embrace. God, I’ll never tire of this . Inhaling deeply, I take in her fresh, fruity scent. A mixture of cherries, berries, and vanilla. The need to taste her is so damn overwhelming, but I settle for a kiss on the top of her head.

“What is it? Are you upset I’m here?”

“It’s not that, I just… you’ve already done so much for me, Shane. I-I’m not used to this.”

“Not used to what? Having someone look out for you? Taking care of you?”

“Yes!” She pulls back and looks up at me with that fire and tenacity she so easily shows the rest of the world, yet somehow struggles to maintain around me. “I’ve set my life up, so I don’t need anyone, Shane. I can take care of myself. I’ve proven it time and time again since moving out of my aunt and uncle’s house four months ago.”

Cupping the sides of her face, I douse the flames of her frustration with a kiss that sets my heart ablaze. As always, she rewards me with that sexy little gasp that’s like a prelude to the passion that ignites between us the instant we touch. Tangling my fingers into the back of her hair, I tilt her head up, ready to deepen the kiss, but before I get the chance, her tongue curls around mine in a move that makes my knees go weak. Damn, she can kiss. While innocent on the outside, there’s a sexy siren lurking within her, and I’m the helpless fool, desperate and willing to sink under her spell if only to extend the seconds she allows us to come together like this.

With a pained groan, I bring the kiss to an end. As much as I want more—so much more—this is not why I’m here. “I know you can take care of yourself, pretty girl. You’re strong. Driven. Capable. A damn good kisser,” I smile wide when that blush I love so much travels up from her neck to her cheeks. “I’m not here because you need my help, but because I want to be there for you. Let me do this, Becca. Let me take care of you the only way I know how.”

She searches my eyes for a heartbeat, both of us seemingly unable to breathe as we wait for her to decide. Behind it all, I see her desire to trust me, battling with that part of her who’s so obviously been scarred by those too careless to see how fragile my strong, willful Becca is inside.

“Okay,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. For losing my temper.”

Chuckling, I lean down to brush my lips against hers. “You’re sexy as hell when you lose your temper, pretty girl, so don’t you dare apologize for it. Now,” I pull back, taking her by the hand and leading her to the couch, where the laptop I lent her is sitting open on the coffee table. To see my computer here, in her space, and knowing she’s been using it, soothes that part of me that’s eager and desperate to provide for her. To take care of her and attend to her every need. “Time to work. We have a presentation in need of perfecting.”

For the next couple of hours, we sit side by side, her diligently splitting her attention between the computer screen and the notecards she’s preparing for the presentation. It takes far more effort than I care to admit to focus on my own work. Like my senses are attuned to her, every sound, every breath, every movement she makes pulls my attention back to her.

These feelings and emotions that have rendered me incapable of staying away from her for the past four months are insane. We’ve been in the same schools our entire lives, so what is it about this year that I’m so suddenly and inexplicably drawn to her? It’s a mystery. One I spent months trying to work out until this weekend when I finally kissed her, and now that she’s agreed to give us a chance, I don’t dare question it anymore. The fact is, she’s agreed to be mine—hopefully forever—all I have to do now is make sure I don’t screw it up.

Around six, I order us a pizza and offer to pay extra for them to pick up a bottle of that orange soda she loves so much. By the time we’re done eating, she’s ready to show me what she’s got, and I’m so completely blown away by her presentation I’m left speechless.

“Well? What do you think?”

She stands before me, the embodiment of refined beauty. Her every movement is elegant and graceful without trying, as if she belongs to a world where charm and poise are second nature. But it’s her mind that truly captivates me. For the past four months, I’ve watched how her brilliance and intelligence shine through in every conversation, every thought she shares.

It’s not just her intellect, though–it’s the way she approaches the challenges in her life with unwavering determination, never backing down from obstacles that would make others falter. And as if that weren’t enough, it’s the soft kindness in her that leaves me utterly undone. Beneath that sharp mind is a heart so full of compassion and warmth, it softens the edges of my own guarded soul. She listens with genuine interest and cares for her friends with the kind of empathy that is rare in the world I come from. Every time she looks at me, I’m filled with a sense of lightness, a sense of belonging I hadn’t realized was missing until her.

I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women my entire life—from my mother to her friends, to the wives and daughters of the many dignitaries, shareholders, and business partners in my father’s circles. But never have I encountered someone who embodies all of Becca’s qualities with such effortless grace. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known, a perfect balance of strength and tenderness, intelligence and warmth. The more time I spend with her, the deeper I fall, because she’s not just one thing. She’s everything.

“You’re amazing,” I utter the words with all the reverence she deserves. “Beautiful, smart, driven… kind.” Sitting forward on the edge of the couch, I call her over. “Come here, pretty girl.”

Taking her hand, I guide her to sit next to me. Setting the cards she was holding on the coffee table in front of us, I then turn towards her and take both her hands in mine. “That was perfect. You’re so damn smart, Becca, it’s enthralling. I’ve sat in a lot of meetings during my time working with my father, and I’m telling you, I don’t know of any high school student who could have pulled that together better than you. Mark my words, you are not only going to ace this thing, you’re going to make Mr. Blair regret the day he ever doubted you.”

“So, it was okay?” Her eyes flit between mine like she’s working to determine if she should believe me.

“Yes, pretty girl.” I can’t help but chuckle as I bring her hand up to my lips. Though I usually hate seeing her uncertain and insecure, right now it’s endearing. “It was better than okay. You did great. It was informative, concise, and you broke down the complex concepts so anyone could understand them. You nailed it, seriously. You have a real talent for making this stuff interesting—and not everyone can do that.”

When she ducks her head to hide the emotion pooling in her eyes, it dawns on me how starved she is for approval. Being only 18 years old, and completely on her own, I guess there aren’t many people in her life currently rooting for her. Encouraging her and telling her they’re proud of her. I can’t imagine how hard that must be, for even my parents, with all their faults and eccentricities, still find ways to tell me they are proud of the man I’m working to become.

“I mean it, Becca. You’re going to go into that classroom tomorrow and blow everyone away.” I tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen over her eyes behind her ear.

“Thank you. For lending me your laptop and working my shifts. For being here tonight and helping me.” When she abruptly pulls away and stands, walking to the end of the room before turning back to face me, my gut twists with a sense of apprehension. “I appreciate it, I do, but you can’t keep doing this, Shane. It can’t happen again.”

“What can’t happen again?”

I attempt to walk towards her, but I pull to a stop when she demands, “No. Don’t.”

“Answer me, pretty girl.” I keep my voice calm, even as my insides twist at the thought she may have changed her mind about giving us a chance.

“I can’t have you sweeping into my life whenever you want. You can’t just show up and take over, helping me with things I should be able to handle on my own. I can’t get used to relying on anyone again because, as I’ve learned time and time again, I can’t count on anyone. And I know me. You keep doing this—showing up to take care of me, to help me—I’ll grow to depend on it. I’ll end up becoming dependent on you, and I swore to myself I’d never, ever fall for that again.”

“Oh, pretty girl…”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not you I feel sorry for.” I give her a sad smile. “It’s me. Because, for me, it’s too late. I’ve already fallen, Becca. I’m already hopelessly and irrevocably in love with you, and though it’s the first time you’re hearing it, I assure you the past four months, I’ve grown completely dependent and addicted to you. I’m a lost cause, pretty girl. I know what I’m asking of you, and based on what little I know of your past, I can see how difficult this is, but it can’t be helped. At the risk of scaring you off, of destroying the little progress we’ve made, I need to ask you to do this because it’s the only way to keep my promise to you. So, I’m asking, will you trust me, Becca? To love you and be there for you. Fall with me, pretty girl, and I promise to always be there to catch you.”

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Author's Note:

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Do you think it's too soon for Shane to declare his love for her? Given her fears, do you think Becca will take a chance and give him the trust he's asking for? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

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Chapter 13

Shane

“So, I’m asking, will you trust me, Becca? To love you and be there for you. Fall with me, pretty girl, and I promise to always be there to catch you.” My words hang in the air like the mushroom cloud of a nuclear bomb.

Shit! Why am I pushing her?

As skittish as she is, cornering her like this is a terrible idea. But when that mask of frustration that she wears like armor falls away, replaced instead by a hopeless sort of brokenness, I realize what I’m doing is necessary if I have any hope of getting through to her.

“I don’t know how. I don’t even know if I can.”

Taking a step forward, I watch her closely. When she doesn’t object, I take another step and then another, until I’m standing in front of her. I know I’m taking a huge risk here, but given this might be my last chance to get her to see what I see, I slowly reach for her face. To my relief, instead of pulling away, she leans into my touch, closing her eyes as that expectant little gasp I can’t get enough of breaks free from between her lips. Her reaction to that simple touch means everything, for it shows that though her mind is conflicted, her body and heart… those parts of her want this. Me. Us.

“I can show you how, pretty girl. That isn’t the problem. The real question is, do you want to try? Do you want to trust in me?”

“More than I should.” Her answer is pained. “But I can’t tell if this is real. If this is some game, a trick or a dare, maybe a bet you made with your friends to get close to the daughter of the town’s pariah. It’s the only explanation for why someone like you would want to get close to me. Anything else feels too close to fate. To a fairytale. And I learned long ago that those aren’t real. At least not for girls like me.”

“This,” I take her hand and place it on my chest, right over my heart. “What I feel for you in here is more real than anything I’ve ever felt in my whole life, Becca. I understand your doubt because for months now, I’ve mulled over those very same feelings, wondering why now. Why, after knowing you for most of my life, why is my attraction to you suddenly so strong? But here’s the thing, wondering doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. Head over heels. Stupidly. Desperately. Insanely in love with you. You’re all I’ve thought about every minute of every day since that morning I ran into you in Mr. Blair’s office. As far as my friends go, they don’t know how I feel about you. Nobody does, not because I’m ashamed, but because I wanted you to be the first to know. And also, because I know you’re scared.”

Taking her hand in both of mine, I brush my lips over her soft skin, then look deep into her eyes. “I can show you how to trust again. I’ll take my time. Take things as slow as you need, so falling with me won’t feel like a drop. I’ll do it so the entire way down, you’ll feel safe. Secure. Protected. All that’s left for you to do is decide. Will you take that leap with me, pretty girl?”

With a loud exhale, she closes her eyes, sending my heart plummeting in anticipation of the rejection that might be coming.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I ask, my mind slow to process that she’s agreed.

Nodding with tears in her eyes, she repeats, “Yes. Okay.”

After pulling her hands up and placing them around my neck, I lift her off her feet, then bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe her in. Her scent, the feel of her skin against my own, the weight of her body in my arms, feels like the spray of the ocean against your face on a hot summer day. “You won’t regret this. I swear it, Becca. I promise to always do right by you.”

Afraid to push my luck, I don’t stay much past that. Instead of kissing her mouth the way I want, I drop a tender kiss on her forehead before packing up my school stuff and heading out of her apartment, after getting her to promise that she’ll call and let me hear her voice before we both drift off to sleep. I’m almost skipping with joy as I make my way to my car, which is why I don’t notice the man leaning against the grill of my Mercedes G-Class.

“Montgomery. Fancy seeing you here.”

Pulling up short, I eye my best friend suspiciously. “Nick. What are you doing here?”

“Funny story.” He crosses his arms over his chest. The scowl that’s a normal part of his broody nature looks far more pronounced than usual. “There I am, sneaking past Charles’s study, eager to get the hell out of the house without the bastard seeing me, and what do I hear? Him spewing ultimatums and threats at my sister, vowing to leave her homeless and destitute, all because you’re out here gallivanting and embarrassing both our families.”

“What are you talking about? And get the hell off my car.” I go around to the driver’s side, fully intending to drive away and leave him here to stew in his anger alone.

“I’m talking about you not honoring your promises to me. To my sister. I’m talking about you messing around with some girl, a fucking nobody, out in the open for everyone to see.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I circle back. Grabbing him by the lapel of his leather jacket, I slam him hard against the side of my Mercedes. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that. What I do and who I do it with is none of your goddamn business.”

“It is when it’s my sister whose life is on the line.” He shoves me away.

With hands fisted at my sides, it takes all my self-control to keep from lunging at him. “The reason she’s in that position in the first place is because of you, Nick. Or did you forget? It’s because you refuse to fall in line that your father is holding our futures—hers and mine—hostage. You want to blame someone for your sister’s predicament? Look in the fucking mirror.”

I expect him to come back at me hard, but instead, his shoulders slump. “You’re right. It is my fault.” Turning his back on me with his hands on his hips, he takes a few steps before turning to face me. “But you know why I had to do it, why I can’t go through with the sham of a life he’s proposed for me. You said you understood—”

“I do understand, Nick, but—

“And I don’t remember anyone twisting your arm when you agreed to always take care of Amanda. You swore she’d be okay. Said you had no problem following through with the life Charles and your father have planned for you.”

“Because at the time I didn’t, Nick. But that was two years ago. We were 16 years old when I made that promise. Back then, I had no concept of the life sentence I was committing to.”

“So that’s all she is to you? A life sentence? After all the years you were together. I turned a blind eye to the fact you were fucking my sister—”

Slamming him back against the car, I growl in his face. “Keep your voice down. I loved your sister, dumbass. For years I loved her until the day I realized what I felt for her wasn’t much different from the love I feel for the rest of you assholes. Our parents pushed us together from the time we were little, easing the way, and encouraging us to be together until it felt like it was meant to be. Being with each other was the right thing, the easy thing. What our parents wanted most of all, and though I wish it wasn’t so, pleasing them has always been high on my list of priorities.”

Letting him go, I step back, running a hand through my hair as I try to figure out how the hell we ended up here. Of all my friends, Nick is the most like me. We’re both bound to legacies we never wanted, trapped by the expectations of men who’ve set the bar so high, there’s no way we could ever reach it. The difference is, I still have hope I can work with my parents to redefine my destiny and find a path that is my own. But Nick? He’s essentially given up. He’s determined to never become his father, and in his mind, that means renouncing everything connected with Charles Kline—his influence, the family business, even the money.

“I still love your sister, Nick. As a friend. Just like I love you and Con. But it’s not enough. Not for her or me. We were never in love. Not really.”

“That’s not how it is for her. She is in love with you.”

“Listen to me Nick, she’s not! She only thinks we belong together because it’s what your father wants. He’s convinced her that marrying me is the only way to secure her position in your family. It’s why I ended things between us. I wanted to give us both a chance to experience other things. Other people. I already had an inkling there was so much more waiting for me out in the real world, and I was right. With enough time, I know she’ll come to the same conclusion.”

“When you broke up, I understood your reasons, Shane. That’s why I backed your play 100%. Because I agree, these next few years are probably the last chance you both have to live for yourselves. But the problem is, you never officially closed that door and told her it’s really over. Then you left her to bear the responsibility of keeping up the illusion of your relationship for the sake of our parents. You broke things off with her, but like a coward, you never told them. And that’s what makes what you’re doing so much worse. Being seen at another girl’s house? Spending time with this girl out in the open, in front of the entire town? You’re crossing a line here. You’re flaunting your budding relationship not just in front of my sister but right in Charles Kline’s face. It’s one thing to have secret indiscretions—those he’d be okay with—but to do what you’re doing so publicly, without caring who you hurt or how it might look? Come on, Shane. Use your fucking head.”

“You’re thinking he’ll retaliate.”

“Shane, my father might not have much love for my sister, but he’ll view any slight against her as a personal affront to him. Don’t test it. You’ve seen what he did to me, his own son. Imagine the lengths he would go to make an example out of you.”

“He wouldn’t dare go up against a Montgomery,” I warn, my voice firm.

“Maybe not. But what about her?” Nick gestures toward Becca’s apartment. “He’s watching, Shane. Whether he’s keeping tabs on her or on you, one thing is certain. She’s now in his crosshairs. And that’s all thanks to you.”

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Author's Note:

In this scene, we learn a bit more about the Kline's and Montgomery's, as well as the expectations they've set for their children.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Are you surprised by all that Nick revealed?  What do you think of Nick's accusations against Shane? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 14

Shane

By the time I get home, Nick’s accusations are still echoing in my mind, keeping time with the frantic beat of my heart. Not that I have much time to dwell on them, given the second I walk through the door, Harold’s already standing there waiting for me.

“Welcome home, Mr. Montgomery. Your father wishes to speak with you now. He’s in his office.”

“Well, hello to you too, Harold.” I force a casual smile, relying on years of practice to mask how unsettled I really am. The fact I’m being summoned like this can only mean one thing—Nick was right. Charles Kline is watching, and he’s displeased enough he called my father. “I see he’s got you working late again.”

“You were my final task for the evening. You’ll find your own way?”

“Of course. Have a good night, Harold.” I open the door for him, standing aside to watch as he leaves, not closing it until he’s crossed the portico and entered the small apartment over the garage that’s been his home since he started working for my father nearly a decade ago.

I’m stalling, I realize. My mind racing through all plausible scenarios, trying to prepare for a conversation I’m not ready to have. When Nick called me a coward, I’m ashamed to admit he was right about that, too. That’s why I force myself to take one step, then another, until I’m standing outside my father’s office, determined to do what I should have done from the start.

“Shane. Have a seat.” It’s as friendly a greeting as any when it comes to my father.

“Hi, dad. How was your—”

“Care to tell me where you’ve been? I took the liberty of calling Coach Shine. He said you skipped the gym today.”

I relax my shoulders, settling comfortably against the back of the wingback chair as if I don’t have a care in the world. “Yeah, I did. I had a conflicting appointment, and after going over my training schedule, Coach Shine agreed I was due a rest day.”

“Hmm,” he hums under his breath, stilling his pen only briefly before continuing to sign the back page of what looks like a contract. Once done, he tucks the thick stack of papers into a file folder and adds it to the pile already stacked on the corner of his desk. “What kind of appointment?”

“A peer advisory meeting. That student I mentioned before—she’s got a big microeconomics presentation due tomorrow. I was helping her prepare.” Talking about Becca like she’s nothing more than a job makes me feel like a complete asshole, but I promised her I’d keep our relationship a secret, so for now, this is how it has to be.

“This student, it wouldn’t happen to be Becca Franks, would it?”

“Yes, that’s right.” I try my damnest to appear unphased, but I can tell he notices the slight twitch in my arms from my hands itching to dry my sweat-laden palms on the fabric of my jeans.

“Is there anything I should know about you and this girl?”

“No. Why do you ask?” I do my best to keep my expression neutral as his eyes scrutinize me, searching for my tells. It’s in moments like this I’m grateful for my parents’ relentless training, the constant reminders that helped me perfect the mask of indifference so crucial in our world.

“Amanda’s father reached out to me this evening. He’s concerned about your relationship with the Franks girl. Concerns that, after speaking with him, your mother and I now share.” He clasps his hands on his desk and lifts his brow, waiting to see how I’ll defend myself from their accusations. This too is part of the game. Every interaction with my parents is a test, another opportunity for them to shape and mold me in their image, because to them, how you present yourself, and how others perceive you are the only things that matter.

“You’ll have to be more specific. Given my role as her peer advisor, I’m not sure what exactly the concern is.”

“Is it true you covered her shifts at that diner this past weekend?”

“Yes. I waited her tables while she sat at the back and worked on her project. It’s part of the agreement we made with Mr. Blair. We’ve got until the end of the marking period to ensure she maintains an A in all her classes.”

As he considers my response, the room falls into a tense silence.

“And today? Your car was seen parked outside her place, where as I understand it, she lives alone. Were you inside her apartment?”

Unable to stop it, I swallow involuntarily and pray he doesn’t notice. “I was. We went over her talking points and practiced her presentation. I left as soon as we were done.”

“Hmm.” He leans back in his chair, his brow creasing with obvious disapproval. “So, it’s finished then? There’s no reason for you to go back over there, correct?”

Shit.

“Dad, what is this really about?” I press, needing him to cut to the chase so I can redirect the conversation toward what truly matters—the topic that will turn this entire discussion on its head, deeming it irrelevant.

“Charles and I are concerned. Your actions as of late, reflect poorly on your relationship with Amanda, which in turn reflects badly on both of our families. You’re a smart young man, Shane. I shouldn’t have to explain the importance of discretion, especially when it comes to women and fulfilling certain… male urges.”

What the fuck?

“Wait, hold on, Dad. I told you; tonight was about school. Nothing more. And about Amanda, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Oh?”

Crap!

Stay calm. Be direct. Stick to the facts. Focus on the logic behind your decision. Make him see that this is all part of your growth toward becoming the man and leader he wants you to be.

Sitting up, I clasp my hands together and clear my throat. “Amanda and I broke up about a year ago.” As is his way when someone says something that displeases him, his glare grows more pointed, casting a shadow over the room with his silence. “Initially, it was to be a break of sorts. We were to take some time apart, to gain new experiences, meet other people. To get a taste of life outside of each other, so when it came time to settle down after college, we would be ready.”

“A year ago, you say?”

“That’s right. Since then, not much has changed. We’re still friends and still hang out occasionally. We’re just no longer in a relationship.”

“And why am I only finding out about this now?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if she and I could follow through and stay apart. We’ve been together for so long, it just felt like something we should try on our own, without outside interference. It wasn’t our intent to hide it, though looking back, I realize I should have told you months ago.”

“So, this break up… am I to understand that it’s only temporary? Just until you’ve both graduated college and are ready to assume your respective roles?” Inwardly, I cringe at his assumption, but I keep my mask firmly in place.

“That was the original plan, yes. But now…” I choose my words carefully, even though I already know there’s no easy way to say it. “I don’t believe we have a future together. We’re not in love, and, at this point, we’re better off as friends.”

I’m not prepared for the uncontrollable burst of laughter that erupts from him. It’s so far from the response I was expecting I just sit there in stunned silence.

“Love? That’s what this is about?” He chuckles again, but there’s no warmth in it. “Marriage isn’t about love, kid. It’s about partnerships. Mutually beneficial arrangements entered into by two parties who are in it for what the union can do for them.” No longer looking amused, he stands abruptly. Given the escalating tension rolling off of him in waves, I’m not at all surprised when he heads to the bar and pours himself a drink.

“Look, you’re young, so I can understand why you might be confused. But here’s the reality: this is business. Your marriage to Amanda won’t just secure your future—it will expand our business, our power, and our influence. By the time you’re thirty, you’ll be the head of not one, but two business empires worth billions. The decision has already been made for you, Shane. If you need the next few years to get this nonsense out of your system, so be it. But know this: when Charles and I decide it’s time, you need to be ready. There is no other choice.”

He returns to his seat and takes a long sip of the dark brown liquid. Setting the glass down on the wooden desk, he reaches for another stack of file folders, flipping one open as if he’s ready to get back to work. “In the meantime, when it comes to your extracurricular activities, I’d advise you to be discreet. The women of our world know what men like us get up to, and they are far more tolerant of our indiscretions when we keep them hidden behind closed doors. Keep that in mind going forward.” Without sparing me another glance, he picks up his pen, signaling my dismissal without a single word.

Stunned, I do as he expects and make my way out of the room. While there’s much I want to say, experience has taught me now isn’t the time. Every decision my father makes is about expanding either the growth of our business or the power and prestige that come with our family name. Changing his mind will require finding another way to fulfill his agenda. A tall order, for sure, but I’m nothing if not stubborn and persistent. Taking the helm of The Montgomery Group has always been a part of my legacy but taking over Kline Global Technologies—aside from stepping up to help both Nick and Amanda—was never a part of my plan.

“Oh, and Shane…” His voice stops me just as I reach the door. “After today’s little incident, Charles requires some assurances. He’s proposed we meet for dinner. You, me, him, and Amanda, just to clear the air and make sure we’re all on the same page.” It takes all of my strength to keep my expression blank to not give away the sudden burst of defiance swelling within me.

“Understood. Just let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you F OLLOW ME on REAM !!! (Link in my profile)

Author's Note:

In this scene, we witness the moment Shane realizes that getting out of marrying Amanda will be more difficult than he thought. Up to now, he thought he could sway his parents' decision, by appealing to the fact he and Amanda weren't in love, and therefore not a good match.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Should Shane tell Becca his parents' plans for an arranged marriage, even though he doesn't plan to go through with it? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 15

Shane

“Took you long enough,” I growl under my breath, which I immediately regret. As stressed as I am about everything, I have to remind myself that none of this is Nick’s fault any more than it is mine.

“I told you; he’s not fucking here.”

“I know, man. I just have this thing, and now I’m going to be late.”

“Look, you’re the one who called me at an ungodly hour, demanding I get up so I could ride to school with you. A school I don’t even go to anymore, remember? College freshman here.” He points at himself, his annoyance clear.

“I’m giving you my car for the day, which beats sitting at home waiting for one of us to drive you around like you’re Miss Daisy. So quit complaining. Now, about Amanda…”

“I had Con pick her up like you asked. Any particular reason you don’t want her here for this conversation?”

“You know why,” I say matter-of-factly as I pull out of the long, winding driveway that surrounds the pretentious mansion. Though my family’s net worth is nearly double that of the Klines, Nick’s father’s tendency to flaunt his wealth is something that’s talked about with great contempt in our circles. Not that anyone would dare say it to his face. That’s the twisted quirk of the rich—they only associate with people who have as much money as they do, pretending to be friends while secretly despising one another. “I wanted to talk to you first. Make sure you and I are on the same page.”

“Look, Shane, all that matters to me is my sister. She’s the one with the most to lose.”

“You don’t think I know that?” I run a frustrated hand through my hair, looking both ways before pulling onto the main road. My tires spin out, screeching in complaint, as I push on the gas pedal harder than I intend. “I thought I made it clear that I care about your sister, too. Making sure she comes out of this okay is my top priority.”

“That’s not good enough, and you know it,” he snaps, frustration crackling through his voice. “Our parents control everything we do. Everything! Where we go to school, where we work, even our damn trust funds. Essentially, every single thing that happens to us.” He lets out a bitter sigh. “There’s no way in hell you can keep that promise if you go against what they want.”

He’s not wrong. I’m quite familiar with the reach our parents have and how tightly they hold the reins when it pertains to us. But…

“We have time, Nick. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, forcing a determined calm into my voice. “I talked to my dad last night. We’ve got another four years to figure this out. That’s plenty of time to come up with a plan, some way that will ensure our fathers’ ambitions are met without Amanda and I getting shackled to this bullshit arranged marriage.”

“Oh, well, woopty-fucking-do for you, then!” His voice drips with sarcasm. “Glad you’ve got it sorted.” He slaps my shoulder far harder than is necessary. “Now tell me, oh wise one, in the meantime, how in the hell do we protect my sister from the abusive asshole who calls himself our father?”

His words land just as he intended. I know exactly who Charles Kline is, and thanks to Nick, I’m intimately aware of what he’s capable of. But I can’t let my best friend see me flinch, any more than I’m willing to give in to the fear of his father’s retaliation.

“I don’t think we’ll have to. I told my dad about the breakup. He’s the one who confirmed we have time—until we graduate from college. When we meet for that stupid dinner, I’ll tell your father the same thing. That Amanda and I are taking a break. That we’ll be using the next few years to live our own lives, independent from one another, before we have to settle down.”

“God, you’re a selfish prick!” His tone is sharp and dripping with scorn. “You might have gotten the green light to do whatever the hell you please, but my sister? She isn’t afforded that same right. The minute my misogynistic father finds out about the breakup, he’ll make it his mission to ‘remind’ her of her duty. He’ll tear her down, torment, and humiliate her for not using every means at her disposal—meaning giving up her body, her dignity, and every ounce of her self-respect—to keep you interested.”

Like he’s at the end of his rope, he tangles his fingers into his hair, breathing hard as he pulls on the ends.

“Don’t you get it? Charles is new money, Shane. And you—you’re his fucking meal ticket. My sister’s marriage to you secures him the one thing he’s always wanted, the one thing he’s been clawing for that no amount of money could ever buy. Legitimacy. The respect of high society and all the rich snobs who, for decades, have snubbed him for not being one of them. If you mess that up, if you so much as hint that you’re not going along with their plan, my sister will be the one to pay the price.”

Fuck.

Is he right?

It’s a punch to the gut, the realization that maybe I’ve underestimated just how much this marriage means to Charles Kline. Sure, I knew what it would mean for both our families in terms of power and money, but I didn’t consider how badly Charles wants this—not just for his business, but for his standing in a world that’s always excluded him. And if I get in the way of that… Nick’s right. Amanda’s the one who will suffer for it.

But if I play this right, with the right leverage, I may be able to convince my father to back out of this deal. Then maybe—just maybe—I can protect her. With my dad’s backing, I could help Amanda break free from Charles’s control and set her up so she can live her own life away from his reach. It’s a gamble, but it might be our only chance.

“Between the two of us, we can help her.”

“How? You can’t possibly be that naïve—”

“We prepare her. Support her. Talk her through whatever garbage he’s going to throw at her.”

By the time we pull into the school lot, he’s no closer to being on board with my plan, but like me, he’s realized we have no other choice.

“So, when are you talking to her?” he asks, his voice low and tense.

Turning off the ignition, I scan the parking lot. I swear, ever since finding out Charles is watching, it feels like there are eyes on me everywhere I go. “This afternoon. After practice. I asked her to meet me at my house.”

“Should I be there?”

“No,” I say firmly, glancing at my smartwatch. “Shit. I’m so fucking late.” I reach into the backseat and grab my schoolbag. “Look, I promised you I’d take care of her, and I will. I’ll text you when we’re done so you know when she’s on her way home. Trust me on this, okay?”

“Whatever,” he mutters, his voice hard and full of doubt. “I hope like hell you know what you’re doing, Montgomery.”

The truth is, I don’t.

Not completely, anyway.

What I do know for sure is that this is the only way Amanda, Nick, Becca, and I at least stand a fighting chance. At the end of the day, it’s not just Amanda who needs help getting free from Charles Kline’s influence. Nick’s trapped, too. And now that he knows about Becca, there’s this gnawing feeling in my gut that I’ll need to protect her as well.

After what Charles did to Nick’s ex-girlfriend, Miranda, there’s no way in hell I’m taking any chances. I won’t let history repeat itself. Which is why the conversation I’m about to have with Becca might just be the most important one of my entire life.

After the confrontation with my father last night, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. We’d had a huge breakthrough, and after all the promises I’d made to always protect her, I needed some sort of plan for how I was going to handle the impossible situation I’m in. That’s why I sent her a text, letting her know that thanks to a family situation, I wouldn’t be around to talk until morning. Then I called her as soon as I woke up to ask if she would meet me at school first thing so we could talk.

I know that telling her the truth is an enormous risk, especially given how uncertain she is about the differences between us, but I just don’t see any other way. I refuse to start day two of our relationship with secrets. If forever is what fate has planned for us, I won’t ruin it by starting our relationship on a foundation that’s built on lies.

When I burst into the room where we were supposed to meet, my heart sinks.

“Fuck!” She isn’t here.

Without missing a beat, I spin back toward the hall, pushing through the throng of students making their way to their first-period classes, determined to find her. My feet move with certainty, instinctively tracing the path I’ve walked every morning since the day I got hold of her class schedule. Back then, I thought my newfound infatuation with her was nothing more than a challenge, a longing for something entirely unattainable. But it didn’t take long for me to realize the truth. It was love. Like some part of me inexplicably recognized her—even as I barely knew her—and remembered she was ours. I haven’t bothered to fight my attraction to her since.

To my relief, I spot her just outside her AP English Lit class. Without thinking, I gently grab her by the wrist—a move I instantly regret when I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes turning toward us. Being stared at is part of life when you come from a family like mine. It’s something I’m used to and normally don’t have a problem with, but I promised her we’d keep things quiet until she was ready for people to know about us. So, no matter how natural it feels to reach out and touch her, I need to remember to keep my hands to myself.

“Hey,” I greet her softly, letting go of her, though every part of me wants to hold on. “Sorry, I’m late. Can we still meet? It won’t take long, and I’ll stop by the main office after to get you a pass so you won’t get in trouble for being late to class.”

She hesitates, and it stirs a dull ache deep in my chest. Less than a day since she agreed to give us a chance, and I feel like I’m already screwing things up. “Please, Becca. We really need to talk.”

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Author's Note:

It looks like Shane has decided to tell Becca the truth. Do you think this is a mistake?

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Chapter 16

Becca

“Please, Becca. We really need to talk.”

When he left me last night, after completely shattering the walls I had so carefully built to protect myself, not for a second did I stop to question if I’d done the right thing. It just felt right. Because somehow, Shane knew exactly what to do and say to make me feel safe.

But then he didn’t call before bed like he promised. Sure, he texted to let me know he was dealing with a family situation. I understood it and, to be honest, didn’t think twice about it at the time. But when he called early this morning, his voice rushed as he told me we needed to talk, I knew for sure something was wrong.

That’s when the doubt crept in. Did I make a mistake? A concern that was further amplified when he didn’t show up when he said he would. For nearly thirty minutes, I sat in that room—the very same one where he confronted me about avoiding him and then convinced me to give us a chance. That was just yesterday.

Now, I can’t help but think that he must have changed his mind.

A thought that, just a few days ago, wouldn’t have bothered me in the least. But now, after feeling his touch, after tasting his lips, after being the subject of those soulful brown eyes and their adoring gaze, I don’t know how to go back to a world where Shane and I are nothing more than acquaintances.

But maybe this is for the best.

As much as I’m afraid of whatever he has to say, maybe this is my chance to set things right. To reset and re-erect those walls that kept him firmly outside the boundaries protecting my heart.

“Okay,” I answer softly, then without meeting his gaze, I turn away, walking back to the room where, just minutes ago, I swore I’d stop letting myself get distracted by him.

When we arrive, he shuts and locks the door behind us. I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I walk to the far window that faces the student lot. With the morning bell just minutes away, the remaining students rush from their cars, hurrying to make it to class before they’re marked late. I kind of wish I were them right now—instead of being stuck here, trapped in a room with a man who’s disrupted my carefully arranged life.

“Pretty girl. Please, look at me.”

At the feel of his touch at my elbow, I close my eyes in resignation. I can’t fight this. No matter how badly I want to.

“There you are.” Tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, he searches my eyes, and then, like he can’t help himself, he leans in, capturing my lips in a soft kiss that steals my breath.

“Shane…” my voice quivers in confusion. That kiss. The way he’s looking at me—it doesn’t align with how he’s acted since he left my house last night.

“I know,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to where his fingers are caressing the soft skin of my hands. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I hope won’t change anything between us.”

He takes a few steps back, guiding me to follow him to the small loveseat by the wall. Once we reach it, he urges me to sit next to him.

As he works up the courage to speak, I notice the dark circles under his eyes and the tension etched into the lines of his brow. For the first time this morning, it’s not my heart or my own fears that consume me—it’s him. He looks… lost. Stressed. Afraid. Emotions that are so out of place for someone who’s usually so sure of himself.

Without thinking, I lean in, pressing my lips against his in a silent show of support. It’s bold. So unlike me. Which must be why he moans in surprise. Letting go of my hands, he cups my face instead, deepening the kiss as I part my lips, allowing his tongue to sweep into my mouth in a move that makes my insides quiver and has goosebumps breaking out over every inch of my skin.

“God!” he gasps, his forehead falling against mine as we both struggle to catch our breath. “One touch from your lips… you unman me, pretty girl.”

His words send a rush of warmth through me, igniting a deep sense of pride. Knowing I can affect him the way he does me is empowering. It’s reassurance that maybe I’m not as helpless in this as I thought.

With a sigh, he pulls back, his gaze steady on mine. “I’ll start by saying I’ve meant every single word I’ve ever said to you. I want to be with you. Desperately. Completely. But before we go any further, there’s something you need to know about me.” His voice softens, and though he shifts nervously, his eyes never stray from mine.

“My parents… they have certain expectations. Expectations that often don’t align with mine, but which, up until now, I never questioned. You were right when you said we come from very different worlds, but I stand by my word, it changes nothing when it comes to us. I firmly believe that nothing can come between us unless we let it.”

He pauses, tilting his head as if to gather his thoughts, his eyes closing briefly as he inhales deeply. “Last night, my father informed me that after college, I’m to marry Amanda Kline.”

I’m shocked by the gasp that escapes my lips, but the sharp stab of pain slicing through my chest is even worse. I try to pull my hands away, instinctively retreating from the hurt, but he tightens his grip, holding on, his eyes wide and searching mine. His mouth opens and closes a few times like he’s struggling to find the words to make this right.

What? What kind of cruel joke is this?

“I don’t want to marry her, nor do I intend to,” he says with fierce conviction. His eyes burn with a fire that helps cut off the panic constricting my throat. “I said as much to my father last night, but to him, marriage is nothing more than a business transaction. I don’t agree with that. The good news is I have four years to figure a way out. Four years to assert my independence, to pursue my own path, separate from my family if that’s what it takes.” He pauses, and his voice softens as he adds, “A path I hope to undertake with you by my side.”

“An arranged marriage?” I whisper, my mind spinning, struggling to grasp how something like that can still exist in this day and age.

He cups the side of my face, his thumb gently brushing my cheek as he leans in closer, his eyes locking onto mine with unwavering intensity. “No one can force me into a marriage I don’t want. No one. Not Charles Kline. Not Edward Montgomery. The only person who gets to decide who I spend the rest of my life with is me.”

“How can they do this?” I murmur, still trying to wrap my head around it.

“That’s just it, pretty girl. They can’t. Not really. Though they want me to believe Amanda and I have no choice in the matter, at the end of the day, we do.” His voice is calm but resolute as he continues, “Now, that doesn’t mean they won’t try to coerce us, to force our hand in other ways, but I have four years to plan and prepare for that. Four years to come up with a solution. One that’s hopefully mutually beneficial to all parties, including my father.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. “The point is, I’ll figure something out between now and then. I just wanted you to know because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I want you, pretty girl. And I hope that even with this hanging over my head, you’ll still find it in your heart to give me a chance.”

I swallow hard. With my voice barely a whisper, I ask, “What about Amanda?”

“That’s a bit more complicated,” he admits, blowing out a tired sigh. “I’m planning to talk to her tonight. I ended things with Amanda over a year ago because I felt like our relationship had run its course, and I wanted us both to explore other things outside of each other. She knows this. I’ve made it clear we’re not together and that it’s for the best.”

He pauses, the weight of what he’s about to say heavy on his shoulders. “But she… she’s dealing with her own set of pressures. Her father, as you know, is a difficult man. He’s threatened to cut her out of the family unless she secures a marriage that benefits him. A marriage to me.” He cringes as though speaking the words out loud causes him physical pain.

“So, she wants to be with you.” The thought stings more than I care to admit.

“No, pretty girl.” His voice softens as he runs a finger down the side of my face before tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. “She’s just a scared girl. She’s trying to please her father and secure the only life she’s always known. She’s a victim in this too—a pawn on her father’s chessboard.”

If there was ever any doubt about the monster that is my biological father, this confirms it. But what kind of sick world is this, where the man I’m falling for—the man who has already fallen for me—has such a direct connection to the man who destroyed my life? My mother’s life? My family. Charles Kline is at the root of everything that’s gone wrong in my world, and now, without even knowing it, he’s doing it again. To me, this time. To Shane. To Amanda. While there’s no love lost between me and my wicked half-sister, I have to admit that in this, I do feel sorry for her.

“So, what now? What are you going to do?”

“Tonight, I’ll talk to Amanda,” he says, resolute. “I’ll reassure her that no matter how this plays out, Nick and I will be there for her. If Charles makes good on his threats, we’ll step up to make sure she’s taken care of. But I’m also going to make it crystal clear that she and I don’t have a future together. I don’t want there to be any doubt about that.”

Feeling like I’m about to crawl out of my skin, I pull away and stand up. Shane lets me go, though I can feel his eyes—full of trepidation—as he watches me pace the room. How is it that no matter what I do, I can’t escape the black cloud that is Charles Kline? This is exactly why I have to get out of this town, why I need to focus on my studies and get into college, so I never have to come back to this place.

“Pretty girl?” The uncertainty in his voice halts my steps, and suddenly, I’m not just angry for me—I’m angry for him. How dare they do this to him? How dare they do this to us? After everything Charles Kline has taken from me, I refuse to let him take this away from me, too.

“Okay,” I say, my voice firm.

“Okay?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes.” I move back to him, kneeling beside him as I take his hand in mine. His eyes widen for a moment, like I’ve caught him by surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Y-you’re welcome. But… what does this mean for us, pretty girl?”

“You said you want this, right? To be with me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then I think it’s up to you to define that for us.”

He pauses, considering my words carefully before responding. “As far as how I feel, it changes nothing. I want to be with you, and when you’re ready to tell everyone about us, I’ll be right there with you.” His voice is steady, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race. “I’ve already made it clear to my father that I’m not with Amanda, and when I meet with Charles, I’ll tell him the same thing. We have four years until this sham of a marriage becomes a reality, and I fully intend to use those four years to carve my own path. But it doesn’t come without risk, pretty girl.”

He scoots up to the edge of the couch and presses a soft kiss on the top of my hand, his lips lingering there like he’s trying to anchor himself in the moment.

“Charles Kline has a reputation for being callous. He’s a man with means who isn’t afraid to flex his power to get what he wants, no matter who he hurts. We’ll need to be careful. I’m supposed to meet with him and my father sometime in the next couple of weeks to discuss the marriage. I’ll feel him out then and see where he stands. After that, we can decide how to handle him.”

“I trust you.” The conviction in my voice surprises us both.

“Y-you do?” His voice falters slightly, and I nod, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Before I can hide, he gently tilts my chin back toward him with a finger, locking our gazes. The awe in his eyes, paired with that signature smile of his, makes my heart skip a beat and steals the breath from my lungs. No one has ever looked at me the way he does.

“I promise you won’t regret this, pretty girl. From this point forward, it’s you and me. Nothing else matters.”

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# Chapter 17

Becca

Of all the days to be off work, why did it have to be this one? With a sigh, I toss the knife into the sink, frustrated at myself for mutilating the garlic, like it's somehow responsible for all my problems.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It's only been four days since our first kiss, and I can't stop thinking about him. The obnoxious man who, just a week ago, annoyed me to no end now feels as essential to my life as Joss and Felicia. Except it's different with Shane. With him, I don't just want to be friends. I want more. So much more that it scares me.

What "
more"
 means exactly is yet to be determined, but what I do know is that the thought of him being with Amanda tonight stirs something primal in me. A fierce urge to track them down to make it clear to my secret half-sister that she has zero claim on Shane.

Because he's mine!

Wait. No.

I shake my head, trying to quiet the annoying voice inside my head. While there's a definite attraction—an undeniable chemistry—I'm not quite ready to go there just yet. I've got more important things to worry about: school, college, work, bills, and, of course, keeping a roof over my head.

"What's up with you?" Felicia interrupts, swiping yet another slice of my homemade ciabatta bread.

"Will you stop?" I try to smack her hand away, but I'm too late. With a mischievous grin, she takes a bite of the bread.

Exasperated, I ask, "Do you want garlic bread or not? Because if you don't, make my life easier and just let me know."

"Of course, we want garlic bread," Joss replies from her spot on the other side of the kitchen island. "It's just that your ciabatta is so darn delicious. I have no idea how you find the time to cook everything from scratch."

Felicia hands half of the slice she just stole to Joss, who takes a bite and closes her eyes with a moan of approval. The sound warms my insides. Cooking for the people I love has always been my love language. Sadly, something I don't get to do much anymore, now that I live alone. It's one of the main reasons I invite my friends over for dinner whenever I have a night off.

"So," Joss leans in, "are you going to tell us what's wrong, or should we start guessing?"

"Ooooh, yes! Let's guess!" Felicia chimes in, eyes gleaming. "I'm betting it has something to do with the wealthy brunette Adonis and that delectably plump lower lip she can't get enough of." She squeals in delight, and I have to fight the urge to groan.

Why does she always have to be so obnoxiously loud, especially when it comes to topics that require a certain level of subtlety?

Refusing to take the bait, I focus on slathering the garlic butter mixture over the bread.

"Oh yeah, I think you're right, Licia. I mean, just look at the color of her cheeks," Joss teases, chuckling as she takes another bite of bread.

Feeling the heat creeping up my skin, I turn my back to them with the baking tray in hand. At the oven, I slide the bread under the broiler and set the timer.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Since it sounds like the two of you need something to do, Joss, you get the drinks. Felicia, you set the table. I'm going to the bathroom." My voice comes out sharper than I intend, and as I close myself into the tiny bathroom, I curse the lack of privacy that comes with living in a one-room apartment. The next place I move to, I'm making sure the bathroom isn't the only room with a door.

Even from behind the door, I can still hear their muffled laughter.

Why am I being like this? They're my best friends. Why does it matter that I might like Shane? And why in the world am I making things more difficult on myself by trying to hide my feelings from them?

Oh yeah, that's right! Because you've been adamantly denying what apparently they both knew was true. That there's something definitely brewing between me and Shane.

"You're being ridiculous," I mutter to my reflection. "Just go out there and tell them the truth. If anyone can talk you through this, it's them." Though I say it with conviction, the girl staring back at me looks more uncertain than ever. But who can blame her? This wasn't a part of our plan. If someone had told me a week ago I'd be in this situation, I would have laughed and looked at them like they were insane.

With a sigh, I pull out my hair tie and comb through the flyaway strands that came loose while I was cooking, and then I tie my hair back up into a neater ponytail. As I glance at my reflection one last time, my eyes are drawn to my lips. They're still tingling from our last kiss goodbye this morning. How is it possible that hours later, I can still feel the warmth of his lips on mine? It defies all reason, yet here I am. My fingers brush against my lips, savoring the feel, but my stomach turns as the image of him kissing Amanda with the same tender passion he does me flashes in my mind.

I hate that she's with him right now, even though I already know what he's going to tell her. As much as I want to deny it, I can't stand the thought of her being in his orbit—taking the place where I should be.

Ugh... what the hell is wrong with me?

I shake the thoughts away, annoyed at myself for feeling jealous. She may not know we're related, but I do. And given what I know about the conversation Shane plans to have with her tonight, shouldn't I feel bad for her?

Geez, Becca. Get it together.

I step out of the bathroom just as the oven timer dings. Thankfully, Felicia and Joss have moved on from making fun of me to gossiping about the latest drama at Ruby Creek High. As their conversation hums in the background, I pull the baked ziti and garlic bread from the oven, the savory aroma filling the room. After setting them down, I head to the fridge for the salad and dressing.

"Joss, can you take the ziti to the table? Licia, can you get the bread onto the serving dish for me? I'll be right there—just need to toss in the dressing."

The girls do as I ask while I mix the dressing into the salad. In reality, I'm just stalling. I know I need to talk to someone about my situation, but knowing it doesn't make it any easier. What's happening between Shane and me is so far outside my usual behavior that I don't know... maybe I'm scared they'll judge me. That they'll tell me I'm crazy for even considering a relationship with someone like him. But deep down, I know I'm being ridiculous. If anything, Joss and Felicia will probably be relieved, given how worried they've been since my breakup with Lucas and the horrible confrontation that severed the ties I had with my family.

"Uh... I think that's done, Becks," Joss teases from where she sits at the table, and I swear I can hear a knowing smirk in her voice. "Get over here and get whatever it is off your chest. Promise you'll feel better."

With a sigh of resignation, I accept that there's no avoiding this. Taking my seat, I don't wait, figuring this will go better if I just come right out with it. As the girls start serving themselves, I blurt, "Shane and I are dating."

The silence that follows my confession is thick and unnerving, only broken by the loud clatter of the serving spoon Jocelyn drops amid her shock.

"You... you're dating?" Felicia squeals, her voice reaching that familiar high pitch reserved for moments of pure excitement. She's practically bouncing in her seat, eyes wide with anticipation.

Staring down at my plate, I just nod. With the amount of heat radiating through my body, including my cheeks, I can only imagine how flustered I must look.

"Oh, my god!" Joss chimes in, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "You like him. Like really, really like him."

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2 Chapters are available FREE
 if you F
OLLOW ME on REAM
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Author’s Note:

In the previous chapters, Becca asked Shane to keep their relationship a secret. Are you surprised she’s now decided to tell her friends? 

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

# Chapter 18

Becca

Felicia's giggles grow louder, her hands clapping together as if my news is cause for a full-blown celebration. "This is great! Tell us everything."

And I do. For the next few minutes, I spill it all—from the way Shane had me called out of one of my classes just to talk to me after he realized I was avoiding him, to how he came over later that night to help me polish my presentation. And, of course, the amazing kiss that night. The one that came right after he admitted he was in love with me and begged me to take a chance on us.

"Oh my gosh, he's such a romantic!" Felicia gushes, practically swooning. "No wonder. He'd have to be to melt through all those icy walls you've built."

Her comment earns an eye roll as I slump down in my chair, absently forking through my food, trying to summon the appetite that seems to have abandoned me. "There's more," I mutter, dropping my fork with a sigh before wrapping my arms around myself.

"More?" Joss asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

Felicia, on the other hand, is already halfway to a conclusion, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh my god, you had sex with him, didn't you?" she whisper-shrieks, buzzing with glee. "You naughty girl! You lost your virginity to Shane Montgomery, didn't you?"

"What? No! I didn't. We did not have sex. Good lord, Felicia, what is wrong with you?" I groan, shaking my head at her, but it's hard to stay mad when she looks so utterly unapologetic, just shrugging like it was a valid assumption.

"If not that, then what?" she presses, her expression unchanged.

"Ugh," I groan, running a hand over my face out of frustration over the situation. Now that I'm trying to explain it aloud, I realize just how complicated and messy it all is. Complicated is something I don't do. I pride myself on living a life of simplicity. Of order. Of structure and certainty. So why am I even considering this when it's the complete opposite of everything I stand for?

Standing, I carry my plate to the trash, dumping my uneaten food before placing it in the sink. Guilt twists in my stomach as I gather the courage to reveal something so deeply personal to Shane. But this is uncharted territory, and I need their advice. Turning to my friends, I lean back against the sink and brace myself.

"Shane told me today that his parents have arranged for him to marry Amanda Kline after he graduates from college."

Felicia gasps, but it's Jocelyn's reaction that surprises me—her brow furrows, and she looks furious. "That little cheat. I'll kill him. I swear to God, I'll kill him for hurting you."

"No, Joss, stop! It's not like that." I hurry to explain. "He doesn't want to marry her. He's being forced to. They haven't even been together in more than a year."

"An arranged marriage?" Felicia's voice is filled with disbelief. "Is that even legal? Entering a marriage under duress?"

"No, it's not," I reply. "And he doesn't intend to go through with it. But he wanted me to know because he doesn't want any secrets between us."

"So, he told his parents no, right?" Joss's eyes narrow with suspicion. "That he's not going through with the marriage?"

"Yes, he did. Or at least, he tried to, but his dad wouldn't hear it. His father made it seem like he and Amanda don't have a choice in the matter."

"Oh, my god..." Felicia gets up from the table and wraps me in one of her signature warm hugs. "I'm so sorry. So, what are you guys going to do?"

"Nothing for now," I answer, pulling away a little, uncomfortable as always with her touchy-feely nature. "The way he sees it, he has four years to figure a way out of it. In the meantime, he wants us to continue getting to know one another."

"In secret?" Joss scoffs, always quick to jump to the worst-case scenario.

"No. I mean, yeah, for now. But only because I'm not ready to tell anyone about us yet. You two are the only ones who know. When I'm ready, though, Shane's fine with us going public. He's making sure both sets of parents understand that until after college, he and Amanda will lead separate lives and date other people."

"And you're okay with that? Really, Becks?" Joss gives me a skeptical look, her protective instincts in full force.

"No, I'm not okay with it. But what other choice do I have if I want to see where things go with me and Shane? For all I know, in six months, we might decide we don't work, and the whole arranged marriage thing won't even matter."

"And what if, instead, you fall in love with him? What if, after investing four years into the relationship, he turns around and marries her anyway? He's rich as hell, Becca. He comes from a world where decisions are driven by personal gain. What if, in four years, he realizes he stands to gain more by marrying the Kline heiress than by marrying you—for something as insignificant as love?"

Ouch.
 

Joss's words land harder than I expected, and I rub my chest, trying to soothe the sudden ache. The blunt truth behind what she's said stings, sending a wave of doubt and uncertainty crashing over me. It's a reality I hadn't considered until now, and the weight of it feels suffocating.

"Or he'll choose love," Felicia counters softly, her voice full of hope as her eyes search mine. "And besides, though it's not public knowledge, you're also potentially a Klein heiress. Charles Kline is your father, Amanda your half-sister. That makes you just as worthy of a marriage to Shane. It makes you—"

"Now I get it." Joss cuts her off sharply, her glare burning into me. "This is about Charles Kline, isn't it? About getting back at him for everything he's done to your family."

She's hit a nerve, and though I'd normally not take the bait, I'm too raw to tap into my usual self-control. "This isn't about getting back at him! It has nothing to do with revenge—it's about refusing to let that man take one more thing away from me!" The second the words leave my mouth, her satisfied smirk tells me I've already said too much. I instantly regret it because I know exactly what's coming. It's the same thing my conscience has been whispering, the very same thing I've stubbornly refused to acknowledge. 

"You're making a mistake," she says, her voice sharp with warning. "Not only are you putting your heart on the line, but you're doing the same to Shane. Worst of all, you're painting a target on your back. You're taunting Charles Kline, daring him to put you in your place, just like he did with your mom and anyone else who's ever crossed him. You're risking not just your life but the lives of everyone you love and care about. For what? A losing battle you already know you can't win." Her gaze hardens with disappointment while shame floods through me. "Have you even told him?"

"Told him what?"

"About your connection to Charles, to Amanda. Have you told him the real reason you're on board with this convoluted mess?"

Joss's tone is accusatory, which grates on me. But deep down, I know that she's right. Because I haven't told Shane. I'm holding back crucial details that could completely change how he sees this whole situation. Details that might make him reconsider everything between us. Details that might make him walk away. 

"You need to tell him." Joss points at me, her eyes burning with the kind of intensity that comes from genuine concern. "He deserves to know who you are and what this could mean for him—for you. You need to tell him before it's too late. Before Charles finds out the two of you are together because once that happens, life as you know it—for both of you—will never be the same. Charles Kline 
will
 come after you. He 
will
 hurt you. And when it's all said and done, 
none
 of this will have been worth it."

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Author’s Note:

Love how Becca’s friend Joss confronts her with some hard truths.

Do you think Jocelyn is right? Should Becca tell Shane about her relation to both Charles and Amanda Kline? If so, do you think knowing the truth would change how Shane feels about her?

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# Chapter 19

Becca

By the time he knocks on the door, I'm certain I've worn a groove into the floor from all my nervous pacing. My mind is a whirlwind—with Joss's harsh words replaying in my head, plus the burning curiosity about what happened between him and Amanda last night. And then there's the nerves.

So. Damn. Nervous.

I can't stop thinking about the last time we kissed, and the truth is, I'm scared of where this hopeless infatuation is leading me. I don't regret my decision to keep our new relationship a secret, but the one downside to that is we haven't had a moment alone since yesterday morning. No chance to touch. To kiss. To truly talk. Sure, we spoke briefly last night and again this morning, but with the nerves coursing through me, I didn't have the courage to push for the answers I desperately need.

"Hi," I utter breathlessly, my heart stumbling over itself at the sight of his smile and those lips I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

"Hey, pretty girl." He wastes no time entering my apartment and literally sweeping me off my feet. His lips are instantly fused to mine, and he must kick the door shut behind him, for I think I hear it slam closed somewhere off in the distance.

A soft moan escapes my lips, and before I know it, my legs are wrapped tightly around his body, clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping me from floating away.

"Fuck," he exhales as he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine. His eyes are shut, and I can feel the tension in the air between us as he takes a shuddering breath. The pained expression on his face eases that part of me that spent all night wondering if I'm the only one struggling with the depth of my feelings for him.

"I want this," he admits, his voice thick with longing. "God, do I want this. But I promised you that Peer Advisory time is sacred." When he kisses my forehead, I feel the smile curving his lips. "I'm onto you, pretty girl, and I'm not about to let you distract me from doing my job."

When he sets me down, I can feel the heat flooding my cheeks. How does he do this? He unravels me with such ease, sending my mind spinning and leaving me completely off-kilter. His very presence, let alone his touch, disorients me in ways that should be concerning, especially for someone like me—someone who craves certainty and stability. And it will be. After he leaves, it's a foregone conclusion that's what will keep me awake, tossing and turning all night.

I'm relieved when he brushes off my awkwardness, instead taking my hand in his. "Come on. I have something fun planned for us tonight, but first, we work."

"I made dinner," I mutter, feeling shy as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ears.

"You did?" He stops abruptly, his voice soft and full of awe. Gently lifting my chin so I'm forced to look at him, he says, "Pretty girl, you didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to." My voice is barely a whisper, and I close my eyes just as his lips press against mine in a kiss that's sweet but far too brief. It leaves me breathless, and a soft sigh escapes me before I even realize it. How does he do this to me? "How?"

"How what?" He's close enough that I feel his breath feathering over my lips. The sensation makes me shiver as my insides pulse with an unexplained need.

"What?" I ask, confused, and then it hits me—my mouth has once again betrayed me, spilling out yet another private thought I didn't mean to voice. "How... how hungry are you?"

His lips curl into a knowing grin, and my cheeks burn even hotter. As it always seems to be the case when I'm near him, I find myself wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"I'm starving, pretty girl. And I don't just mean for food," he mutters, his voice dropping to a gravelly tone that makes my insides quiver.

Oh. My. God! Is he trying to kill me?

Terrified that he'll see right through me, down to the dirty thoughts spinning out of control in my head, I make a quick escape. Dashing away from him and toward the kitchen, where I uncover the skillet and busy myself with moving the finished meal onto the serving dish. When I glance over and see he's taken a seat at the kitchen island instead of following me, I exhale a quiet sigh of relief.

It's strange how I can feel him watching me, his gaze a slow, deliberate sweep over my body like he's memorizing every curve. I hadn't wanted to look like I was trying too hard, but I still changed into something I hoped might catch his eye. Nothing fancy—just a pair of black leggings and an oversized, cropped gray sweater. But from the intensity of his stare when I turn around to set the food on the table, it's clear he's particularly interested in the small strip of exposed skin at my waist.

If I were a "real girl," I'd know how to play it up, maybe even make myself look a little sexier. Instead, I trip over my own feet on my way back to the cabinet to grab the drinking glasses, my cheeks so hot I'm sure they could set off the fire alarm. 

God! Why am I like this?

By the time I make it back to the table and sit next to him, I'm a sweaty, nervous wreck. Something he must notice, for he turns in his chair to face me. Without a word, he reaches for my hands, taking them both in his steady grip, calming me instantly.

"Pretty girl. I need you to look at me." He waits me out, leaving me no choice but to lift my gaze to meet his. "Everything's perfect. Better than perfect. And while I appreciate everything you've done, you didn't have to. I'm already head over heels, crazy in love with you, woman." His smile grows as he squeezes my hands. "Just being here with you is more than enough for me."

Hearing him say he loves me again sends my stomach into freefall as tingles spread through every inch of me. That my body reacts so strongly to him makes it impossible to hide what I'm feeling. I break eye contact first, thinking maybe I can pretend he doesn't see how much he affects me. But the soft, knowing smile on his face says otherwise—he knows exactly what he's doing to me, and the worst part is... I don't mind that he knows.

"Chicken?" I offer, grabbing his plate while wishing I could use it to hide my face.

"Sure, pretty girl. I'll take whatever you're willing to give me." My breath hitches at the innuendo—or at least what sounds like one—and I pray he doesn't notice. "So what did you make this time?"

"Lemon garlic butter chicken with fresh green beans. I knew you'd be coming from your workout, so I figured you'd want something healthy with lots of protein." The words leave my mouth, and I cringe—I sound like such a mom.

"Looks delicious." He waits until I set his plate in front of him before picking up his fork. "To save time, why don't we work while we eat? Remember, I have a date planned for us tonight." His smirk is playful, and he gives me a quick wink before taking his first bite.

"A d-d-date?" I stammer, my nerves once again getting the better of me.

"Yep. Private date for two," he says, probably meaning to reassure me, but it does the exact opposite. "I promised no one would know about us until you're ready, and I meant it. Though, for tonight's date, I did get a little help from some unlikely allies."

"Allies?"

"Yep," he pops the "p" with a wide grin. "One of them is scary as hell, the other's more of a romantic than me. The mean one? She's rooting for me to fail. Little does she know how determined I am to keep you. The other one, though? In her head, I'm pretty sure she's already planning our wedding."

"Oh God," I groan with regret, which makes him chuckle.

Why did I have to tell them? I should have known they'd take matters into their own hands and go straight to confront him.

Amused, he takes another bite of his food, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he studies me like he's cataloging my every expression.

"I'm so sorry, Shane," I murmur shamefully. "I didn't know they'd go and bother you. I know I said I wanted to keep things a secret. I just needed someone to talk things over with. Our situation is... unique, and I..."

"It's okay, Becca." He covers my hand with his. "I don't mind that you told your friends about us. If anything, it made me happy."

"It did? Why?"

"Because it means that this—what we're doing—matters to you enough that you went to your friends for advice."

"Even after I made you promise you wouldn't tell anyone?"

"Yes. I told you, pretty girl, I'm fine taking this at your pace. As long as I still have a fighting chance at being with you, I'm more than okay letting you set the terms." He flashes me a playful smile. "Now, at the risk of putting myself in the doghouse after such a heartfelt declaration... stop distracting me, pretty girl. For the next hour, your Peer Advisor is shoving your boyfriend back behind the sidelines. Time to get to work!"

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Author’s Note:

I love how playful Shane is with her.

Are you surprised Shane was okay with her telling her friends about their relationship? 

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# Chapter 20

Becca

"Are you sure you're warm enough?" he asks, a mischievous smirk on his face as he zips up my coat.

He knows darn well I'm warm, thanks to the layers of clothes he insisted I pile on after our grueling study session. Shane was relentless in his focus during dinner tonight, pushing me through my updates on classes and assignments before launching into a rapid-fire review for my statistics test tomorrow. I can't deny there was a part of me that missed his usual flirty side, but I'm grateful he's prioritizing my studies in the same way I would if I wasn't so caught up in all these weird feelings I have for him.

Shane's hand is warm around mine as he guides me outside, down the steps, and toward the narrow trail behind Joss's house. It's only when we cross the driveway that I notice his car isn't parked there.

"Shane, where's your car?"

"A few blocks back—over near the school."

"Why?" I ask, a mix of surprise and concern. It must have taken him at least twenty minutes to walk all the way here.

"My dad... and Charles Kline. Given the situation, I thought it best they don't know I'm here. And... well, people at school, too. Seeing my car outside your apartment would be a pretty clear sign something's going on between us."

He's right, and knowing he's thought of these things—protecting me and honoring my wishes—fills me with a warm, giddy feeling that I'm trying hard to ignore.

"You know," I offer, glancing up at him, "you could've parked in the garage under my apartment. It's empty."

"That's all right. I don't mind the walk."

But I do. The thought of him making the trek through the cold just for me doesn't sit well with me at all, so I make a mental note to give him the garage door opener when we're back from our impromptu date.

Shane walks with a quiet confidence, even in the dark, and I can't help but feel safe with him leading the way. I don't know where he's taking me, but the glint in his eyes when he murmurs, "Almost there," is enough to keep me following without question. The path winds through the tall trees, the forest floor crunching under our feet. I shiver slightly, not sure if it's from the cold or the anticipation curling its way through me. I'm relieved he doesn't notice.

It's so quiet out here. The only sounds are the rustling of the forest and the soft lap of the lake somewhere nearby. The air is crisp, carrying that winter chill that makes every breath feel sharper and fresher. Shane squeezes my hand and glances back, his soft smile lighting up the night around us. And in this moment, I realize this is the happiest I've been in... well, longer than I can remember. It should worry me, for no one knows better than me that good things never last. But right now, with his hand wrapped around mine, I can't bring myself to care.

Finally, the trail opens into a secluded clearing by the lake. A thick blanket is spread out by the water's edge, layered with soft throws and pillows, creating a cozy little nest. There's a thermos waiting, steam curling up into the chilly night air, and a small portable heater sits off to the side, humming gently and casting a warm glow over the whole setup.

I blink, feeling my breath catch as I take it all in. He did this for me—for us? "Shane... did you do all this?"

He shrugs, but there's a hint of shyness in his smile—so unlike him and so endearing. It makes my heart skip a beat. "I had help, remember? I told Joss and Felicia I wanted to do something special for you. They swung by my place during lunch, picked up everything, and then offered to get it all set up. Honestly, I couldn't have done it without them."

He tugs me down on the blanket, wrapping one of the thicker throws around our shoulders, pulling me close. "I wanted to take you somewhere we could just... be. No one around to judge or whisper. Just us, under the stars."

I settle beside him, feeling his arm come around me as he pours us both hot cocoa from the thermos.

"Shane, this is... I don't even know what to say." Warmth blooms in my chest, spreading through me, and I realize I can't remember the last time someone went out of their way to make me feel this cherished, this cared for.

He hands me a mug, watching me with a tenderness in his eyes that melts right through me. "You don't need to say anything, pretty girl. Just... let me take care of you tonight. That's all I want."

I look up at him, unable to stop myself from leaning in closer, letting the weight of his words wrap around me like a cozy blanket. 
Let me take care of you.
 It's such a simple promise, but coming from him, it means everything.

After a few quiet moments, Shane reaches over to take both our mugs, setting them to the side. With the small heater beside us and the cocoa's warmth still lingering, we've both shed the blanket he wrapped around us earlier.

"Here," Shane adjusts the pillows and blankets, creating a comfortable nest for us. "Let's lie back so we can enjoy the show."

I do as he asks, lying next to him on the blanket, both of us gazing up at the stars.

"You know," he murmurs softly, breaking the silence, "there's something magical about looking up at the night sky. The way people used to make sense of the stars—creating stories about gods, heroes, lovers... It's like they needed to believe that love was powerful enough to be written into the universe itself."

His fingers brush lightly against mine, a small, gentle touch that sends my pulse racing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod toward the star-strewn sky. "So many of those stories are about love—people fighting for it against impossible odds. Maybe because they wanted to believe, just like we do, that love is worth the risk, even when the whole world's trying to pull you apart."

His voice lowers, and when he turns his head to look at me, there's an intensity in his eyes that makes me forget how to breathe. "In those stories, it's like the stars are telling us that real love, true love, is something you fight for. That love has always been part of the universe—written in the stars, just waiting for us to find it."

A soft warmth blooms inside me, a mix of wonder and awe, as I look back up at the stars, seeing them in a whole new light. The idea that there are lessons about love hidden within the constellations, ancient stories waiting to be uncovered, fills me with a quiet thrill I can't put into words. It feels like the universe itself is watching over us, like everything we feel is part of something bigger than ourselves.

"You seem to know a lot about these stories," I say with a shy smile as I look back at him. "Were you always into mythology?"

Shane chuckles, his hand still resting close enough to mine that they brush in the slightest, most thrilling way. "Let's just say I've spent a lot of quiet nights watching the night sky. As a kid, the constellations intrigued me. I'd spend hours researching the stories behind them, learning about the gods they represented and the legends that had been passed down through the centuries. Then, as I got older and life got... heavier, stargazing became my escape. It's where I go when I need to clear my head, to just... breathe."

I bite my lip, my curiosity piqued, though I hesitate. The way he talks about these stories—it feels so personal, like a glimpse into a part of him he rarely shares. I don't want him to think I'm prying, but... I want to know.

"So... those love stories. Can you tell me one?"

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Chapter 21

Becca

He tilts his head slightly, eyes thoughtful, as he scans the night sky. “See that one right there?” he says, pointing toward a cluster of stars that seem to shimmer with a faint, hazy glow. “The Pleiades constellation, also known as the Seven Sisters.”

I squint, trying to make out the faint shapes hidden in the vastness. “I don’t know what I’m looking at,” I admit, feeling a little sheepish.

He smiles, a soft, patient look in his eyes as he shifts a little closer, our shoulders touching as he helps guide my gaze. “Look there,” he says, his voice gentle and warm. “The cluster of stars, close together but distinct. Each one represents a sister, each with her own story. But my favorite is about Alcyone—a goddess, daughter of Aeolus, ruler of the winds—and her husband, Ceyx, a mortal king.”

I sink into his warmth, captivated by the way his voice wraps around each word like he’s inviting me to experience the ancient tale firsthand. “What happened to them?”

He takes a deep breath, his voice lowering and drawing me in. “Alcyone and Ceyx were madly in love. But one day, Ceyx had to embark on a journey across the sea. Alcyone begged him not to go, terrified of what might happen, but he wouldn’t be swayed. She waited every night by the shore, looking out over the water, praying he’d come back to her.”

His eyes flick from the stars to meet mine, a vulnerable tenderness in his gaze. In my mind, I picture Alcyone standing on a lonely shoreline, her heart breaking as she waits for the man she loves. A shiver runs through me, and I ask, almost afraid to know, “Did he… come back?”

Shane shakes his head, his gaze shifting back to the constellation. “A storm took his ship down. Ceyx drowned at sea. But Alcyone didn’t know. She kept waiting for him, night after night, believing he’d return. Until one day—thanks to the gods who took pity on her—his body washed up on shore.” He pauses the heaviness of the story, filling the quiet around us. “In her grief, unable to imagine life without him, she walked into the waves and let them take her, too. The gods, moved by their love and devotion, transformed them into halcyon birds—Kingfishers—so they could be together, flying free in the afterlife.”

My heart aches at the story, feeling every bit of Alcyone’s despair. “She couldn’t live without him,” I whisper, the echo of her pain settling over me.

Shane’s fingers trace a gentle line along the back of my hand, grounding me in the warmth of his touch. “Yeah. Even though their love cost them their lives, it was worth it in the end. Because now, they’re up there, together, forever. Their love written in the stars.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before intertwining his fingers with mine. When he turns his head to look at me, his gaze is deep and unwavering. It’s like he’s communicating so much more than just the story.

The sky now feels larger somehow, filled with legends of love and loss that defy time and even death itself. And suddenly, Shane’s words feel like a promise—a silent vow whispered under the stars.

I lean my head against his shoulder as our bodies have inexplicably drawn closer to one another. “Tell me another,” I whisper, my voice barely breaking through the surrounding quiet.

Shane lets out a soft, nervous laugh, his thumb tracing little circles over the back of my hand. “You’re going to think I’m some kind of hopeless romantic.”

I tilt my head, catching his eye, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “Well, aren’t you?”

His smile widens, a hint of shyness softening his gaze. “Yeah, maybe I am. Guess I can’t help it. I’ve always liked the idea of love. Especially the kind of love that’s fated, the kind of love that’s big enough to be written in the stars.”

A warmth spreads through me, drawn by his openness and the sincerity in his words. On impulse, I lean in, brushing my lips over his in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Then tell me another. Just one more.”

His eyes soften, and with a lazy smile, he looks up, scanning the sky. “Alright,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to point out another small cluster of stars. “See those stars right there? They’re kind of faint, shaped like a stretched-out ‘V.’ That’s Andromeda.”

I follow his fingers, squinting as I trace the stars he’s pointing to. “Andromeda. I’ve heard of her. What’s her story?”

He draws a breath. “Andromeda was a princess known for her beauty and kindness. But her mother, Cassiopeia, couldn’t resist boasting—claiming Andromeda was more beautiful than even the sea nymphs. Poseidon—god of the sea, was furious at the arrogance and decided to make them pay. As punishment, he sent a monstrous sea creature to destroy their kingdom. To save their people, Andromeda’s parents made the choice to chain her to a rock at the edge of the sea as a sacrifice—hoping to appease the angry god.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat at the image of poor Andromeda, chained and frightened, waiting for her death. “They just… left her there?”

Shane nods, his voice soft. “Yes. She was alone and terrified, waves crashing against the rocks around her, with nothing to hold on to but hope. Then, along came Perseus—the son of Zeus, a warrior returning from slaying Medusa. He spotted her from above, helpless and vulnerable. And when he saw her, he didn’t hesitate. Perseus flew down to her parents and offered to rescue her in exchange for her hand in marriage. With their promise in place, he faced the sea monster, risking everything to save her.”

My chest clenches, moved by the thought of Perseus fighting so fiercely for Andromeda’s life, for a love he’d barely glimpsed but felt was worth every risk. “He saved her?”

Shane nods, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart beat faster. “He did. Perseus broke her chains, fought the monster, and freed her. After that, he took her hand, and they left together, ready to face whatever else the world had in store for them. Some say they loved each other from the moment they met—two strangers brought together by fate, willing to risk everything for each other.”

He rolls onto his side, propping his head on one hand, his eyes never leaving mine as his other hand brushes over my cheek. His fingers trail softly along my skin, sending a warm shiver through me. “That’s Andromeda’s constellation,” he whispers, his voice a caress in the quiet night. “Up there, just like Orion, Alcyone, and all the others… reminding us that some loves are worth the risk. Worth fighting for, no matter the cost, no matter what it takes.”

His gaze is filled with deep and dangerous unspoken promises, ones I’m afraid to believe yet desperate to cling to. As he leans in, his lips meeting mine, I know I’m already lost—bound to a man I can’t seem to let go of, even with the odds stacked against us.

I know I should tell him my secret, reveal the truth about my connection to the Klines. I should also ask him about last night with Amanda, confronting the uncertainty that lies between us head-on.

But instead, I surrender to this magical moment, barely daring to breathe for fear that any movement might shatter the fragile bubble around us, ending the fleeting fairy tale that is being with Shane Montgomery.

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# Chapter 22

Becca

"What do you mean you didn't discuss it?" Felicia demands, her voice pitched higher than usual. The disapproval in her tone is a sharp contrast to her earlier squeals of delight over the details of my star-gazing date with Shane last night.

"Will you 
please
 keep your voice down?" I glance around, relieved to see the cafeteria is still mostly empty. "Exactly what I said. It didn't come up."

Joss shakes her head, her expression dripping with the kind of disappointment usually reserved for a scolding parent. "How could you let an entire night go by without asking him what happened with his ex the night before?"

"It wasn't like I set out to avoid it," I protest, not liking how they're ganging up on me. "At first, we had school stuff to get through. And then, with everything he planned for us, the timing, I just..."

"You just 
what
?" Joss presses, barely masking her annoyance.

"She didn't want to ruin the moment," Felicia cuts in before I can answer, her tone softer now, like she's finally pieced it together.

I nod, shame creeping over me like an icy wave. I can practically feel Joss's judgment burning into me through her eyes, just like I can sense the reprimand on the tip of her tongue.

"Becca!" Joss exclaims, exasperated. "What is going on with you? You've gone from wanting absolutely nothing to do with this guy to diving headfirst into this weird, convoluted relationship. And you're ignoring every red flag staring you in the face. All in what? A week?"

"Joss, stop..."

"No, Felicia. She needs to hear this." She leans over, her elbows on the table, hands clasped together like she's about to deliver a closing argument. "Becca, you need to deal with this. 
Today
. Before the two of you get in any deeper. He needs to know of your connection to the Klines, and you need to make sure that whatever was going on between him and Amanda is truly over. Because if you don't, there's only one way this ends—with you getting hurt. Again. And this time, it won't just be the heartbreak of some schoolgirl crush. If you thought what you went through with Lucas was hard, take a good, long look at how fast you're falling for Shane. Then imagine how it will feel when things inevitably fall apart."

Standing, Joss gathers her uneaten breakfast, her movements sharp but deliberate. Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she locks her gaze onto mine, her voice soft but filled with unwavering resolve. "I'm your friend, Becca. And as your friend, I don't want to see you hurt. Not by Shane. Not by Amanda. And definitely not by Charles Kline. He should be your biggest concern right now. Look at the lengths he went to, to get rid of your mother. Don't think for a second he wouldn't do the same to you."

Her parting words hit like thunder in the night, reverberating through me as she turns and walks away, leaving behind a silence that feels impossibly loud. Blinking back the sudden sting behind my eyes, I fidget with the corner of my napkin.

Joss's words hurt—not because she's wrong, but because she's right. Yes, I owe it to Shane to tell him the truth about Charles being my father, but the bigger concern is what Charles will do when he discovers I'm the reason Shane won't go through with the marriage. While Shane is confident we have four years to find a way out of the arrangement, I can't shake the icy fear that my involvement might be the catalyst Charles needs to act. If he discovers the truth, what's stopping him from forcing the marriage to happen sooner? Or from doing whatever it takes to ensure I'm no longer in the way?

"I 
am
 going to tell him," I say the words out loud, more to reassure myself than Felicia, whose worry radiates off her in waves. "I was waiting for the right time, but Joss is right—that moment has come and gone. I should have told him the second he mentioned his parents' plans for him and Amanda."

"When are you planning on seeing him again?" She asks, her words hesitant.

"I don't know." I shrug, the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders as I push the eggs around my plate. "I work every night the rest of this week, so I'm not sure."

"Please don't let what Joss said get to you. I don't think she meant for it to sound so harsh."

"I know." I force a smile, not wanting her to see how much Joss's words hurt. "I'm not upset with her. I just wish she understood. I've..." My voice falters as the realization washes over me like a sudden, unrelenting tide. I'm not ready for this—for any of it—but that doesn't change the fact that I'm already in too deep.

"I've never felt this way before. It's like I'm on a ski lift, right at the peak, teetering on the edge of my seat. I don't know if I'm ready to make the jump, but there's this pull—this undeniable, magnetic yearning—urging me forward. I can't shake the feeling that this is my one chance to experience something extraordinary. A ride that's equally exhilarating and terrifying but promises to leave me changed in ways that will make every second worth it. And the thing is... it feels so right, you know? Like maybe Shane's right, and what's happening between us is meant to be."

Felicia places her hand over mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Then I say go for it. Take that leap. Because if you don't, you might spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been."

******

The rest of the day goes by painfully slow. My every free moment is consumed by thoughts of him—the hope of catching even the briefest glimpse of his face, or the thrill of walking into the two classes we share. But when those moments finally come, they're laced with regret, thanks to my decision to keep our relationship a secret.

What I wouldn't give to sit beside him in class, close enough to let our shoulders brush, to steal fleeting touches and longing glances that speak louder than words ever could. At this point, I'd settle for something as simple as hearing him say hello, his eyes lit with that playful glint that sends my heart racing.

But because of my stupid request, none of that happens. Instead, I'm left enduring a quiet torment, feeling the weight of his gaze from where he sits somewhere behind me in the back of the classroom. It's agonizing in its sweetness. Though I can't see him, every glance he casts my way feels like a whisper against my skin. My body responds to him even from across the room—the sliver of bare skin at my waist tingles as if it's his hand, not his eyes, brushing against it. It's a silent, aching pull, and I can't tell if it's more thrilling or maddening.

I don't have much of a wardrobe to choose from, but I made an effort this morning, slipping into my favorite skinny jeans and a cropped hoodie that always makes me feel just a little more confident. I wish I could turn around, catch his gaze, and see if that same hungry look is still there—the one that darkened his eyes last night under the stars. Just thinking about it sends a flush of heat to my cheeks, and I shift in my seat, acutely aware of the tingling sensation that stirs in my core.

As far as dates go, last night was amazing. Romantic, sweet, almost surreal. Making out under the stars felt like a dream, one that lingered even as he walked me home. The way he kissed me goodnight—slow, deliberate, and utterly spine-tingling—left me floating on air. His smile matched mine as we said goodbye, both of us still caught up in the magic of the night.

 I can't help but wish he'd asked me out again, or at least hinted at when we might see each other next. The fact he didn't—not even when we briefly spoke this morning—plants a tiny seed of doubt in my mind. What if, for him, last night didn't mean as much as it did for me?

Thankfully, before I can sink too far into that downward spiral, the bell rings. I hesitate, packing my belongings, trying to savor these last few moments in his presence. With my shift starting right after school, this might be the only time we have together today. And even if it's fleeting, I can't let the opportunity slip away.

Most of the class filters out, the room around us growing increasingly quiet. That's when I feel him. He's behind me, his presence unmistakable. I'm standing at my desk, pretending to gather my things, when his fingertips graze the strip of skin exposed at my waist.

My breath catches at the contact, the warmth of his touch lingering like a brand on my skin. It's brief, yet it's all-consuming, a reminder of how deeply he affects me.

"Hey, pretty girl." He whispers, his voice low and intimate as his breath brushes my ear. "You look beautiful today."

I glance up, meeting his eyes for a brief, scorching moment before my cheeks blaze with heat, forcing me to look away out of embarrassment.

Why am I always so awkward around him?

"I'll text you after practice, pretty girl. Have a good shift." His voice is soft, teasing, but before I can respond, he's gone—leaving behind a swirl of emotions and a heavy cloud of disappointment. Since that first kiss five days ago, this will be the first time I go an entire day without feeling the touch of his lips or the fire of his kiss.

Oh god... Joss is right
. It's been less than a week, and I'm already so lost in him. This can't be good. But what can I do? He's gotten so far under my skin, into every vulnerable part of me, and the way he makes me feel... there's nothing else like it. He's quickly becoming an addiction—one I can't quit... even if I wanted to.

As I walk toward my last class of the day, my thoughts are consumed by him, an endless loop of his voice, his touch, the way his lips felt against mine. I'm so lost in the haze that I don't notice the hand gripping my arm until it yanks me sideways. A startled gasp escapes me as I'm dragged into the nearest bathroom.

The suddenness leaves me reeling, but when I turn, my shock deepens. Amanda stands before me, her glare icy and full of contempt. Her perfectly manicured nails dig into my arm like claws, and before I can utter a word, she shoves me back against the cold tile wall. The impact knocks the air out of me, leaving me gasping as I press a hand to my chest.

"What the hell, Amanda?" I manage, my voice shaky as I try to catch my breath.

Her grip tightens, her nails biting deeper into my skin. "Shut up," she snaps. "You don't get to play innocent with me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The words tumble out, trembling despite the defiance I'm trying so hard to project.

Her lips curl into a sneer. "Oh, spare me. I overheard my father and Shane's dad talking about you." She leans in, her voice lowering to a venomous whisper. "Apparently, Shane has a little 
secret
. Turns out he's been sneaking around with some pathetic nobody behind everyone's backs. Guess who they think it is?"

My stomach drops. My breath catches as panic sets in, cold and sharp. My heart races, each beat a drum of terror. Amanda's father 
knows. Charles Kline knows.

No. No, no, no.

Amanda's grin stretches wider, feeding off my silence like a predator scenting blood. "That's right," she sneers. "My father—the man who already despises you and your train wreck of a mother—knows all about you sniffing around Shane." She tilts her head, mock sympathy dripping from her tone as her words stab deeper. "What do you think he'll do when he confirms it's true? You know how far he'll go, don't you? Or did Mommy dearest not tell you all the sordid details of how he crushed her under his Ferragamos?"

Her words send a shiver down my spine. My mother's trembling voice echoes in my mind, recounting the nightmare Charles Kline inflicted on her—the abduction, the drugs, the lies. Everything he did to break her and take me away so she couldn't raise me.

My hands tremble, but I force my voice into something resembling steadiness. "You know nothing about my mother or me."

Amanda steps back, crossing her arms as she levels me with a look of pure disgust like I'm something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "Oh, but I do. Like mother, like daughter, right? Both of you desperate, trashy, gold-digging whores who would do anything to trap themselves a rich man."

"It's nothing like that..." My voice wavers, weak and uncertain, which makes Amanda laugh.

"Oh, I see. It's 
love
 then, is it? He loves you, does he?" Her mocking tone drips with derision. "Newsflash, Becca. Men in my world don't marry women like you—or your mother. Sure, they're not particularly picky about where they stick their cocks, but marriage? A future?" she snorts, her lip curling in disdain. "They don't saddle themselves with women who can't match their reputation and prestige."

Her words land like blows, but I swallow hard, refusing to let her see the cracks forming. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She laughs again, louder this time, the cruel gleam in her eyes shining brighter.

 "Oh, wow. You actually think Shane is 
different
?" Her laughter crescendos, each note dripping with malice. "You poor, 
poor
 girl. Let me save you the embarrassment... he's not. You. Are. 
Nothing
 to him. Just a stupid little fling he'll toss aside the second he's done slumming it."

Fury surges, mixing with the fear gripping my chest. I push off the wall, standing tall despite my shaky limbs. "Shane and I... what we have is real," I say firmly as I lock eyes with her. "You can lie to yourself all you want, Amanda, but he doesn't love you. He never did. And he never will."

Her face twists with anger, but there's a flicker of something else beneath it—doubt. She masks it quickly, stepping closer again. "This isn't over," she hisses. "My father will fix this. And when he does, you'll wish you'd never set foot anywhere near Shane."

With that, she spins on her heel and storms out, the bathroom door swinging shut behind her. The echo of her words lingers like smoke, suffocating and heavy. My pulse hammers in my chest, and when my legs threaten to give out, I lean back against the wall.

He knows.

Which means I need to find Shane so I can tell him the truth. All of it. About Amanda. About Charles. About me.

But what if this changes everything?

What if he looks at me the way the rest of the town does?

As I blink back the tears, I shake the thought away and force myself to move. I need to confront this head-on. If I can help it, I won't let Charles Kline take yet another thing away from me.

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Chapter 23

Shane

By the time I pull up to the diner, my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest. When I checked my phone after practice and saw a message from Becca, I was thrilled—until I hit play.

The second I heard her voice, I knew something was wrong. Even as she tried to mask it, there was something off in her tone… a quivering type of uncertainty that sent my stomach into freefall.

“ Sh-Shane. It’s me. I… I need to talk to you. I know you’re at practice, and I have work until ten, but it’s pretty important. If you could wait up for me? I can call you after, when I get home. Fill you in…“ She sighed, and the sound of it—so heavy, so defeated—made my chest ache. “Okay. I uh… hope you have a good practice. I’ll call you later.” I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling her words left behind.

She wants to break up with me.

The thought slammed into me like thunder, loud and echoing and impossible to ignore. I barely remember the rush of what came next—jumping in the shower, throwing on clothes, speeding over here like my life depended on it.

Now I’m parked outside her work, staring at the neon glow slicing through the darkness. My chest is tight with dread, my imagination having spun itself into a full-blown panic.

What the hell was I thinking?

She’s made it clear she wants to keep us a secret, and the last place I should be is here, where anyone could see me frantically searching for her. But what else can I do? I have to see her. A few minutes alone is all I need to figure out what’s going on so I can find a way to fix it.

Maybe it’s the way I couldn’t stop staring at her today, no matter how hard I tried. It’s so damn hard to keep my distance, especially during the classes we have together. God, the way she looked… I couldn’t help myself. I went up to her and let my fingers brush against the bare sliver of skin at her waist. It was only a second, but Christ. She was so soft. So warm and perfect. It took everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her.

Could that be what’s bothering her?

Did I cross the line and push too far?

See, this is exactly why I have to go in there. To tell her I’m sorry. To beg, plead, promise—do whatever it takes to get her to give me another chance. Because losing her isn’t an option.

Unfortunately for me, the bell over the door signals my arrival, and as all eyes turn to me, the room falls silent. It’s a familiar phenomenon I’ve come to expect no matter where I go in this town. I should have anticipated my arrival wouldn’t go unnoticed. The fact I didn’t only confirms what I already know—this is a terrible idea. And yet, when my gaze finds hers across the room, all my doubts disappear.

She needs me. I see it as clearly as the flicker of light in her downcast eyes. The subtle glance she sends toward the back of the diner is all the confirmation I need. Without hesitation, she turns away from the busy dining room, heading toward the employee area where the lockers and office are located.

Not wanting to make things too obvious, I go to the front counter, where I’m greeted by a smiling Aunt Rosie.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. How are you, Shane?”

“Doing great, Aunt Rosie.” With my nonchalant grin firmly back in place, I look around the crowded room. “Looks like business is booming.”

“It is.” She winks. “Why? You thinking of coming back to work?”

The teasing lilt in her voice makes me pause. Has Becca told her about us? My cheeks flush at the possibility, but I recover quickly. “Uh… sure. Anytime you need the help, give me a call.”

Aunt Rosie laughs, her expression turning sly. “I’ll keep that in mind. So… business or pleasure?”

“What?”

Her grin deepens, and she leans in slightly, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “The reason you’re here to see our girl. Business or pleasure?”

“I, uh… I don’t—” My brain stumbles, caught off guard. I glance away, trying to mask my unease, but Aunt Rosie’s knowing look only grows sharper.

“It’s on the house,” Aunt Rosie says, cutting off my rambling attempt to explain myself. Unsure of what she means, I blink at her, completely lost.

“Your pie,” she clarifies. “It’s on the house. It’ll take me a bit to box it up for you, so why don’t you go on back and use the restroom while you wait? I’ll have it ready for you when you’re done.” She winks again, and the realization clicks. Either Becca has told her about us, or Aunt Rosie is more perceptive than I gave her credit for.

“Thank you. Really,” I manage, the words filled with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” she replies warmly, already turning her attention to boxing another takeout order. “Now go. You’ve got about 15 minutes. I’ll watch her tables.”

I waste no time. Without another word, I make my way down the narrow hall, the muffled hum of the diner fading with each step. When I find her standing by the lockers, my heart stutters.

The moment she looks up and sees me, two things happen. First, her face crumples, sadness bleeding through her expression like a storm cloud overtaking the sky. The second, she moves, crossing the space between us in two shaky steps, before collapsing into my arms, as if her body can no longer hold the weight of whatever’s making her feel so crushed.

“Pretty girl,” I gasp, my voice breaking as I absorb the shock of seeing her like this and the relief that it’s me she’s turning to for comfort. My arms tighten around her, anchoring her as if I can hold her together through sheer will. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her trembling form presses against me, and all I can do is hold her, willing her to know she’s safe. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. For her, I’ll fix anything.

“Shane…” It’s all she manages, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m here. I’m right here, pretty girl.” I murmur, my hand stroking her back. “Whatever it is, talk to me. We’ll handle it together.”

She shakes her head against my chest. “I can’t. Not now, not here.”

When she pulls back, her watery eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the look of worry that comes over her face. “Why are you here? Did something happen?” Her voice rises, panic threading through her words, which makes my brows pinch with concern.

What is she so afraid of?

“I’m here because you sounded upset in your message,” I say gently, trying to soothe her. “I had to see you, Becca. Came to make sure you were okay.”

She studies me, her gaze searching. After a long moment, she nods, and I swear I see some of the weight she’s carrying ease, even if just a little.

“Talk to me, Becca.” I urge, cupping her face. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t.” She must see the disappointment flicker across my face because she cups my cheek, her touch soft yet desperate. “Not here,” she continues in a rushed whisper, her words tumbling over one another. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to stop. And I… I have to finish my shift. The electric bill is due on Monday, and I’m still a little short, and I just…” Her voice trails off, and I hate she sounds so defeated.

“Hey.” I cover her hand with mine. “It’s okay. Just tell me what you need. How can I help?”

She hesitates, the pause thick with unspoken fears, and I hold my breath, silently pleading for her to let me in. I never realized how badly I needed this—her leaning on me, trusting me to be her rock. It’s all I want. To be her person and safe place. The one person in the world she can always count on.

“I know I’m asking for a lot,” she finally says, her voice timid and uncertain, “but could you go to my apartment? Wait for me there? You can park in the garage, take the steps up, and let yourself inside. No one will know you’re there. I just…” She swallows hard. “I just need to know you’re safe and waiting for me there?”

“Safe?” The word lodges in my chest like a boulder, and a ripple of unease prickles over my skin. Her shoulders slump, and she drops her gaze like she’s afraid of what I might see. That’s all it takes for the pieces to start falling into place. “What happened? Talk to me, Becca. Did someone threaten you?”

“It’s…” she falters, chewing on her bottom lip like the words are too difficult for her to say. “There’s something I need to tell you first.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Shane. Just go to my place, wait for me there, and I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” I say, the edge in my voice sounding sharper than I meant it to be. “Not now, not when something’s got you this scared, and you won’t tell me what it is.”

“I won’t be alone. Aunt Rosie is giving me a ride home. Will you be there waiting for me?”

“Always, pretty girl. Whatever you need.” The words are a vow, springing forth with no hesitation. Leaning in, I capture her lips for no other reason than to reassure myself she’s still mine and that she’s okay. “Come home to me,” I whisper against her mouth, lingering for just a moment longer. “I’ll be waiting. Whatever it is, pretty girl, I’m here. I will always be here.”

With one last brush of our lips, I turn to walk down the hallway, every instinct screaming at me not to leave her behind. But if I want her to trust in me, don’t I owe her the same?

When Aunt Rosie spots me entering the dining room, what she sees written on my face causes her brow to furrow with concern. Without a word, she grabs a bag from under the counter and slips the boxed pie inside. I reach for my wallet, pulling out my card, but she waves it away with a firm shake of her head.

“It’s on the house, remember?” Her voice softens. “Are you… is she okay?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit, my voice low, the words feeling heavier than expected. “She said you’ll be giving her a ride home?”

“Yes. I promise you; she’ll be safe.”

Relief courses through me as a look of understanding passes between us. I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself as I prepare to walk out. Whatever is wrong, I can’t fix it right now. Not here. So I’ll do what Becca asked. I’ll go to her place, wait for her, and hope she confides in me.

“Okay. Thanks,” I tell her, my gratitude genuine.

After one last glance in the direction I left her, I force myself to walk away, my stomach tied up in knots as I pray whatever’s happened, has nothing to do with Charles Kline.

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# Chapter 24

Shane

At the sound of the doorknob turning, relief surges through me, and I rush to meet her. The moment she steps inside, I pull her into my arms, shutting and locking the door behind us like I'm sealing us off from the rest of the world. Finally, I can breathe again. Her scent—a soft, fruity sweetness lingering even beneath the heavy layers of diner food—settles the restless energy simmering inside me.

"You okay?" I whisper, my lips brushing a slow, lingering kiss on her hairline. She nods against me, but I pull back, needing to see her. Taking her hands in mine, I give them a reassuring squeeze. "It's late, and we've got school tomorrow. Go hop in the shower, get ready for bed. We'll talk after, once you're done."

Her eyes dart to mine, uncertain. "Are you... are you sure? I don't want to hold you up, Shane. You have school tomorrow, too."

"I'm sure." I offer her a soft smile, though it's weighed down by everything that's still unsaid between us. "When it's time for me to leave, I'll feel better knowing you're safe and tucked into bed for the night."

When she hesitates, I cup her cheek, my thumb skimming the side of her face as I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Becca, please. Let me take care of you."

To my relief, she nods and does as I ask, grabbing clothes from her dresser before disappearing into the small bathroom. The sound of the door closing behind her feels like the first crack of a dam, and I let out a long, shaky breath.

God, I'm so damn nervous.

Even though I've managed to push away the fear that she's planning to end things between us, something is still deeply wrong. She's not just worried, she's terrified. And the intensity of her fear is like an invisible vice wrapped around my throat.

Charles Kline.

The name alone sharpens the edges of my thoughts, turning them cold and dangerous. The man has already shown just how ruthless he can be. He's proven the lengths he's willing to go to control his children and destroy anyone who threatens his plans for them. After what he did to Nick and Miranda, I know he's capable of anything. And if he's turned his sights on Becca?

The thought sends a chill crawling down my spine.

I can't just sit here. I have to do something.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my contacts and press the name of the only adult in my life I truly trust.

"Young Montgomery!" Cedric's voice booms through the phone, warm and rich, and I instantly know I'm doing the right thing. "Long time no speak! How have you been?"

His jovial tone pulls a smile from me despite everything weighing on my mind. The sound of his voice brings back a flood of memories. As our family chauffeur, Cedric wasn't just the man behind the wheel; he was the one constant in a life that often felt untethered. Long before I got my license at sixteen, he was the one who made sure I got where I needed to go. He dropped me off for every first day of school, waited patiently to pick me up at the end of long, grueling days, and somehow, he always knew the right things to say to make the world feel a little less daunting and lonely.

While there were times in my youth when I questioned my parents' love—when their priorities seemed to be everywhere but with me—I never once doubted Cedric's. He showed up for me time and time again with a warm, unwavering care that spoke louder than words ever could. And even now, years later, I know he'd still do anything for me.

"Hi, Cedric. I'm good. I, uh... I need your help."

There's a brief pause, then his voice softens. "Alright. I'm listening."

I don't waste time. Becca is in the shower, and I need to finish this conversation before she comes out. I quickly lay it all out for Cedric—what's happening between Becca and me, the pressure from my father regarding the marriage to Amanda, the gut-wrenching fear gnawing at me because of Charles Kline. Cedric already knows the kind of man Charles is, especially after what he put Nick through. It was Cedric's network of "special friends" that secretly helped us expose the truth and stop him before he could completely destroy Miranda's life.

"I need eyes and ears on him," I say, my voice low but resolute. "Somehow, I have to make sure he's not targeting Becca."

"It won't be easy," he replies, his deep voice a rumble of contemplation. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "But I'll make some calls. Do you need surveillance on her as well? For security purposes, I mean?"

"No," I answer with a sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "Not yet. Not without her consent. Plus, I'm not even sure he's a threat to her. Not yet, anyway. But if anything changes, I'll let you know."

I sink onto the edge of Becca's loveseat, my eyes locked on the bathroom door. The faint sound of water running, along with her movements inside, is reassuring, but it's not enough. As much as I want to, I can't always be here to protect her.

 "Cedric..." Dragged down by a sudden rush of frustration, my voice falters. I may be eighteen, but that doesn't change the fact my parents monitor everything I do—my finances, my future, my current circumstances. They control everything.

"Don't worry about it, Shane." He says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll take care of it. Your father doesn't need to know."

"I have money," I insist, my fist clenching at the helplessness overwhelming me. "I just don't know how to get it to you without... you know."

Without my father finding out.

"I do. Honestly, though, don't worry about it. Someday when you're grown and successful in your own right, you can hire me to cart your little rugrats around. That would be all the payment I need." I can practically hear the wistful smile on his face as he speaks. "So this girl? Is it serious?"

"For me? Yeah." I admit, my gaze drifting to the framed photo tucked at the back of Becca's end table. "For her? I'm still working on it." I reach for the picture, holding it carefully. It's a snapshot of Becca with her aunt and uncle, taken on the front porch of their house. Knowing how complicated her feelings are toward them, I'm surprised she's kept it at all, let alone displayed it.

The sound of the water shutting off snaps me back to reality. Clearing my throat, I set the frame down and tighten my grip on the phone. "I, uh... I've gotta go. Thanks for everything, Cedric. I appreciate it."

"Always, young Montgomery," he says warmly. "Call me if you need anything else."

A moment later, the bathroom door creaks open, and Becca steps out. Her cheeks are pink from the shower, and her hair is twisted into a messy bun on top of her head. She's dressed in a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a cropped top that reveals just a hint of skin above her waistband. My eyes catch on that sliver of bare skin, and my thoughts derail completely. The urge to reach out, to feel her warmth, to kiss her until I can feel her shiver under my touch—it's almost too much.

My lungs start to burn, and I realize I've forgotten to breathe. When I finally do, her fresh, fruity scent hits me, mingling with the lingering warmth of the shower, and it sends a shiver down my spine. God, I want her. She's so beautiful it hurts to look at her, but more than that, I just want to be close to her. To take care of her. To be the man she needs.

But then her gaze meets mine—nervous, tentative, worried—and it's like someone doused me with ice water.

I push to my feet, closing the distance between us, and gently take her hand. "Ready to talk?"

"Yeah," she whispers, her eyes darting away in that nervous habit of hers I'd usually find adorable. But today... it sends my heart racing for an entirely different reason.

I lead her to the couch, sitting close enough that her hand stays in mine as I turn to face her. "Talk to me, pretty girl. What's going on?"

"I—I messed up," she says, her voice trembling as her green eyes glisten with unshed tears. Everything in me wants to reach out, to wrap her in my arms and make her feel safe, but I force myself to hold back. I need her to tell me the rest.

"Okay?" I murmur, keeping my tone steady and reassuring. "Tell me. What happened?"

She takes a shaky breath. "Remember the day you told me about Amanda? About your parents' expectations? How they're planning for you to get married?"

"Yeah." I nod slowly, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"There's... there's something I should have told you then. Something that might change how you feel about me. But it wasn't my story to tell, Shane. I didn't know if I could trust you yet, and I was scared."

"Pretty girl," I say softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Just say it. Whatever it is, I can take it."

 "Charles Kline... is my father."

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Chapter 25

Becca

“Charles Kline is my father,” my voice shakes as the words fall from my lips.

Shane’s reaction is instant. The color drains from his face, his wide eyes fixed on me, unblinking. It’s like my confession has rendered him immobile, as he struggles to process what I’ve just said. The silence between us stretches, and panic surges inside me. I can’t lose him—not now, not before I tell him everything—so I push myself to continue, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a desperate rush.

“My mom was young, just a little over eighteen. She was impressionable, naïve… She thought it was love. They met at a party at the Kline estate, and from the moment Charles saw her, he was glued to her side. My mother knew who he was, of course—how could she not? She knew he was married, that he and his wife already had a son and were expecting another baby. But he… he essentially love-bombed her.”

I swallow hard, my hands twisting in my lap. Shane doesn’t move, his gaze locked on mine, unreadable. So I press on.

“He showered her with attention, with gifts, with trips that seemed lavish to someone like her—someone who’d never been out of our small town. To her, it felt like he was giving her the world.” My voice hitches, and I take a shaky breath. For the first time since she told me the story, I can relate to what my mother must have felt back then. To be with someone who makes you feel special, seen, cared for… wanted. It’s a heady thing. A dangerous thing.

My gaze flickers to Shane. But no . The thought hits me with a ferocity that makes my chest ache. Shane is nothing like the monster who fathered me. He can’t be . If he was, I’d have seen it by now. I’d have felt it in the way he touches me, in the way he holds me.

“It was on one of those trips, just two weeks after they started spending time together, that he took her to Washington D.C. for some political dinner. That’s where…” My throat tightens, but I force the words out. “That’s where he raped her the first time. She was a virgin. He knew that, and it didn’t matter to him. He was drunk and… and in the mood, I guess. So, right there in a restaurant bathroom, he took what he wanted from her.”

Shane’s jaw clenches, his expression darkening, but he stays silent, letting me speak.

“When they flew home that night, she went straight to my aunt and uncle to tell them what happened. She thought they’d help her, but instead, they blamed her. For going with him. For letting herself get close to a married man. They didn’t see an eighteen-year-old girl who’d been manipulated and assaulted by a 36-year-old married man. They just saw someone they thought deserved it.”

The knot in my chest tightens, the pain of her story hitting me all over again. “She didn’t report it. She couldn’t. They were all she had, and when they didn’t believe her, she had no one else to turn to. So she did her best to go on with her life, avoiding him as best she could. But it didn’t matter. He always found her. And every time, he took what he wanted.”

My voice drops to a whisper, trembling with the horror of it all. “He terrorized her, Shane.” The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the faint sound of my unsteady breathing. “And then… she found out she was pregnant.” I chance a glance at him, searching for any sign that this is too much. His jaw is tight, his eyes shadowed, but he doesn’t look away, so I press on.

“When she told him, he was furious. He beat her bloody and then threw money at her and demanded she better take care of it . That night, my mother used that money to run away. She went to Philadelphia, where some of her friends were attending college. She was hoping for a fresh start and a place where she could feel safe again. Most of all, she wanted to protect me.”

He takes my hand, his firm reassurance giving me the confidence to push through.

“Her friends did everything they could to help her. She got a job, and eventually, they all pitched in to rent a small apartment together. She even enrolled in some college classes, figuring she could continue to work toward getting her degree after I was born. For the first time, she thought maybe things could be okay.” I pause, taking a shaky breath, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“But then she got sick, and the hospital had to deliver me early. At only eighteen, with a baby in NICU, she was terrified and completely alone. So she called my aunt and uncle. She thought… maybe this time they’d help her. And at first, they did. When I was finally discharged from the hospital, they insisted she bring me back home to Ruby Creek. That’s when Charles found her again. When he found us , that’s when he discovered she hadn’t aborted the baby.” My voice catches. “That she hadn’t aborted me .”

“Christ.” Shane’s voice is rough, his breathing unsteady as he drags both hands down his face. The movement is sharp, almost frantic, like he’s trying to shake off the weight of it all. “What did he do?”

The harshness in his tone makes me flinch, but then he reaches for my hand again, grasping it like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. His fingers intertwine with mine, and his gaze locks on me, unyielding.

“What did he do?” he repeats, softer this time but with just as much urgency.

“He took us,” I say, my voice tight with barely contained anger. “He forced my mother and me to move into a small cabin out in the middle of nowhere—somewhere in Virginia. As you can imagine, my mother was terrified. She was barely more than a kid herself, and suddenly, she was the only thing standing between this tiny, sickly baby and a man like Charles Kline. A man so unpredictable… so dangerous. He used her fear, Shane. He used me —his baby daughter—to break her, to manipulate her into doing whatever he wanted.”

Shane’s grip tightens around mine, the pressure almost painful.

“I’ll spare you the worst of it, but by the end of the first month, my mother was unrecognizable. Charles had broken her in every way possible. He got her addicted to drugs. She’d been raped and brutalized not just by him, but by his wealthy, powerful friends. He offered her up to them like she was nothing.” My breath hitches, and I have to pause to steady myself. “It was all part of his plan. He wanted to destroy her, humiliate her, ruin her credibility so completely that if she ever tried to come forward, she would be the one cast as a liar, a junkie, an unfit mother.” My voice falters as I add, “And that’s when he took me away from her. For two months, she had no idea where I was, whether I was alive or dead.”

Shane’s expression twists in anguish, but he doesn’t interrupt. His thumb rubs soothing circles over my hand.

“And then one day, one of the men Charles had offered her to took pity on her and helped her escape. Desperate to find me, she went back to my aunt and uncle, hoping they would finally help her. But that’s when she found out the truth. Charles had given me to them. He’d handed me over to my aunt and uncle in exchange for their silence.”

Shane’s sharp intake of breath is deafening in the quiet room, his free hand curling into a fist. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his voice thick with rage and heartbreak.

“Unbeknownst to my mother, my aunt and uncle had been trying for a baby for years. They didn’t have the money for infertility treatments, and adoption wasn’t an option they could afford. So when Charles offered them the opportunity to adopt me as their own, they jumped at the chance and agreed to his terms. They betrayed my mother so they could have me .”

Shane flinches, but he stays silent, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of devastation and fury.

“When Mom realized what they’d done, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed me, and we ran. For almost seven years, we lived in hiding. It wasn’t much, but we had each other, and for a long time, that was enough. Until it wasn’t.”

I pause, taking a steadying breath as I prepare to tell him about the worst day of my life. “She overdosed,” I finally say, my voice breaking. “She almost died. I was the one who dialed 9-1-1, but in saving her, I also sealed our fates apart. CPS got involved, and they gave me back to my aunt and uncle. I was only seven years old.”

As the memories overwhelm me, I fight back a sob. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. “I cried so much that day. And in the weeks after. At that age, Maggie wasn’t just my mom—she was my everything. My playmate, my best friend, my whole world. Losing her felt like losing this massive piece of myself, like someone had ripped out my heart and left me hollow. There were days it felt like I couldn’t breathe without her.”

My voice drops to a whisper as the worst memory of all crashes over me. “The last time I saw her, she was pale—so sickly pale. She was lying on a stretcher with a man on top of her, compressing her chest as another squeezed a bag over her face, both working in tandem to breathe life back into her. They were trying so hard to save her, but I was so young I didn’t understand what was happening. All I knew was that my mom wasn’t okay, and that while she lay there unconscious, they were trying to take me away from her.” My breath hitches, and I pause to compose myself.

Shane’s hand squeezes mine tightly, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. His reaction is just what I need to help me continue.

“That was the last time I saw her. Until this past summer when we reconnected. I went to see her, and it was during that visit that I finally learned the truth of who I am—how I came to be.”

His expression shifts, heartbreak etched into every line of his face. “That’s why you moved out of your aunt and uncle’s house,” he says quietly. “And why you don’t call them Mom and Dad anymore.”

I nod, unable to speak, as a sob claws its way up my throat, threatening to break free. His hand brushes against mine before he pulls me into his arms, and for a fleeting moment, I almost give in to the pain. But I can’t. Not yet. Not until we talk about what this means for us.

“So,” he says hesitantly as he pulls away, holding my hand in both of his. “I guess she never got clean? When you were little?”

I shake my head. “She tried. But she was always afraid that Charles would find us. Afraid my aunt and uncle would track us down and take me away. She couldn’t get a real job—she didn’t dare. The only way she could earn money was by cleaning houses under the table or… turning tricks as a prostitute. It was easier for her to stay clean when she had legitimate work. But when she had to sell her body… it’s like the only way she could get through it was with the drugs.”

Shane wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, his steady warmth seeping into me. As I rest my head against him, he presses a tender kiss on the crown of my head.

“But she was always a good mom…” I say fiercely, surprised that the little girl inside me is still so protective of her. “Even in the awful, degrading conditions we were forced to live in, she protected me. She kept me safe. I always had clean clothes, food, toys—everything a little kid could want or need. She always put me first. Always. But Charles… he sealed her fate. After what he did, there was no coming back for her. Or for me.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” Shane murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He takes both my hands in his, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles as his gaze falls to where our hands are joined. It’s as if he’s trying to steady himself while hiding the raw emotion I can hear so clearly in his tone. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears blur my vision as I struggle to apologize. “I should have told you he was my father. I know I should have, but I didn’t know how. And now…” My voice breaks, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Now I’m scared it’s too late. That, by keeping this from you, means I’m about to lose you.”

“Why would you lose me, Becca?” He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is strong enough to burn all my fears away. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. You’re not going to lose me. Not over this. Not ever.”

I shake my head. “I’m your fiance’s secret half-sister, Shane.”

“She’s not my fiance,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And she never will be. It’s you I want, Becca. Always. Nothing will ever change that.”

He exhales deeply, and the tension in his shoulder eases as a familiar glint returns to his eyes. “Plus,” he adds, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. “Maybe we can use this to our advantage. Charles wants me to marry Amanda to solidify his legitimacy in our circles. Being with you would accomplish the same.”

I freeze, horrified, as I realize where he’s going with this. Shaking my head, I blurt the objection before I can stop it. “I’m the illegitimate daughter he doesn’t want the world to know about, Shane. Look at what he did to my mother. To me. He destroyed her life and mine to keep his secrets hidden. There’s no way he’d want my connection to him made public.”

“Pretty girl…” Shane’s voice softens as he cups my cheek. “Let me worry about that, okay? I promise I won’t do anything without talking to you first. But at least let me think it through. This might be the way to get me out of the marriage to Amanda, thereby securing a future where you and I can be together if we want.”

“She won’t allow it…” I whisper, my throat burning with unshed tears. “She told me as much. Amanda wants to marry you, Shane. She made that very clear. She plans to go to her father, so he’ll stop us from seeing one another.”

His expression darkens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Wait… Amanda said what?” His voice is a low growl, taut with confusion and fury. “When did she tell you that, Becca? Is that what has you so upset?”

I nod, my shoulders sagging under the weight of the memory. “Yes. She overheard Charles talking to your dad. They know about us. That we’re secretly in a relationship.”

“Fuck!” Shane shoots to his feet and begins pacing the room, anger radiating off him in powerful waves. His movements are sharp and restless. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before, and it stirs up a deep sense of dread in my belly.

Charles is dangerous. The thought of Shane going up against him sends chills through me. I can’t let that happen. Not to save me.

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# Chapter 26

Shane

"Shane, you can't. Whatever you're thinking, you can't go against him. He's dangerous." Becca's voice trembles with desperation, and the look of sheer fear in her eyes only strengthens my resolve to do exactly that—end this, whatever it takes. She's mine to love and protect, and I refuse to let Amanda or her father anywhere near her. 

Suddenly realizing my reaction might be making things worse, I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine. "I have a friend who can help us. Someone discreet, someone I trust completely. About a year ago, Charles Kline set a plan into motion that hurt someone close to Nick and Cedric—he stepped in to help us. He and his friends shut it down and neutralized Charles. He can help us do it again."

"How?' she whispers, her voice quivering. "He's capable of anything."

"I know." I tuck a loose strand of her damp hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her warm skin as I take in the softness of her flesh. It sparks an ache inside me, a longing for a world where none of this chaos exists so we can focus solely on ourselves and the relationship we're building. 

"I promise you, pretty girl, Cedric has his ways. Plus, I'm a Montgomery. Charles might have money, but he lacks the power and influence my family name carries. That's why he wants me to marry Amanda. The Kline name lacks legitimacy in our circles. He's hoping that joining our two families will gain him the respect he's so desperate for."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," she admits, voice fraught with worry. "Look at what he did to my mother. That man has proven he'll do anything to get what he wants."

"You're right," I concede, gently squeezing her hand. "But you have something your mother didn't—you have me. I'm heir to the Montgomery legacy. Outside of the Matthews, we're the one family Charles is truly afraid of, or at least feels forced to respect." 

Her beautiful hazel eyes brim with a sad resignation that punches straight through me. She truly believes there's no hope, and the weight of that knowledge tears at my heart. But it also ignites a fire of determination in my gut. When it comes to us—Becca, me, what we share—Charles Kline will not win.

"It might take a bit of time, but I promise I will protect you. 
Us
. Once I have what I need, I'll take the information to my father and broker a deal—an agreement ensuring your safety and giving us the freedom to be together without conditions. I don't know exactly how yet, but I'll find the right leverage to make my father agree and force Charles Kline to back off. All I need is a bit of time and for you to trust me."

She nods. "I do trust you. It's 
him
 I don't trust, Shane. That man is pure evil."

"I know exactly who he is," I assure her. "Which is why I'll never underestimate him. When I tell you I have people who I trust, people who've been watching him for years and are eager to help us, I mean it. I've already reached out to my contact and got the ball rolling."

Her eyes snap to mine, wide with surprise. "You knew?" 

Knowing she's misreading the situation, I shake my head. "No. But the minute I heard your voicemail tonight, I had a feeling. While I was over here earlier in the week..." I let out a sigh, still inwardly kicking myself for not protecting her better. "Charles saw my car parked out front and called my father. That's why, before you gave me access to the garage, I stopped driving over here."

"So Amanda was right. He knows," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He suspects." I clarify, giving her hand a gentle squeeze to reassure her. "When I got home that night, Dad confronted me, and I told him I was here for a peer advisory study session." I pause, looking at her sheepishly and hating that I lied. "You said you wanted to keep our relationship a secret, and I was trying to respect that. Otherwise, I swear I would have told him the truth."

"I believe you."

"I love you, Becca. I really do. And I'm not about to let any of this come between us. I'll figure it out and find a way to fix this. I promise you that." Her half-smile does little to hide the worry in her eyes, but I press on. "I mean it, pretty girl. As for Amanda, don't worry. I'll talk to her and make sure she understands she's to stay away from you."

"I'm not afraid of her." She answers, her tone firm, and it sends a thrill of pride through me.  

"That's my girl," I say softly, pressing her hand to my smiling lips in a quick, affectionate gesture. "Still, I'll handle her. Remember, under all that angry vitriol, she's just a scared girl. You know better than anyone what Charles Kline is capable of. He's threatened that unless she marries me, he'll withhold her trust fund, her inheritance... basically, he'll cut off all financial support. If the marriage doesn't happen, he intends to leave her destitute. Nick and I have assured her we'll never let that happen, but given the circumstances, she doesn't have much faith in our ability to help. Not with the way things are."

"Can't say I blame her," Becca murmurs sadly, her gaze dropping to her lap as if even she's surprised by her own empathy toward Amanda.

"I'll talk to Nick in the morning. Between the two of us, we'll make sure Amanda backs off. As for the rest... until I figure out how to handle Charles, I'd like your permission to have someone watch over you. For your safety." 

She opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off before she can. "You won't see them. You won't even know they're there, nor will anyone else. It's just a precaution so we can both sleep better at night. We know how dangerous Charles is, and we're too young to do this alone. We could use the adult backup."

"And you trust these people?" she asks, her eyes clouded with doubt.

"I do," I confirm. "His name is Cedric, and I've known him my entire life. I trust him more than anyone else in my world. As I mentioned, he and his people helped us neutralize Charles before. He's on standby now, waiting for me to give him the green light... which I won't do unless you agree."

I give her a moment to mull it over. When she nods, relief and gratitude flood my chest. That she's willing to trust me—really trust me—means more than I can say. Cupping her face in my hands, I pull her close and press my lips to hers, hoping this kiss communicates how utterly thankful I am for her faith in me.  

"I won't let you down, pretty girl. I swear it." Our foreheads rest together as I struggle to catch my breath from the spine-tingling rush that always comes when I kiss her. "You're the most important thing in my world, and this is how I plan to prove it to you."

"Shane." She pulls back to meet my gaze, fear and worry etched into every line of her beautiful face. "That's not necessary. You've already proved it to me with everything you've done for me. Please, promise me you won't take any risks, that you won't take on more than you need to. Not for me."

"Please don't ask that of me, Becca." My voice dips lower, tight with emotion. "I intend to fight for us...."

"No," she insists, shaking her head adamantly. "Remember those stories of love you told me about, the ones written in the stars? You said they were fated, but that many ended in tragedy. I don't want that for us, Shane. I don't want to be like Alcyone, stuck waiting by the shore, looking out over the water while hoping you'll come back to me safe and whole. At the end of all this, I want us to be together and happy in 
this
 life."

Her plea pierces my heart—both from the thought of her enduring the same grief Alcyone did, and the realization that what she's asking requires me 
not
 to throw myself into the line of fire for her. It's a promise I'm not sure I can keep because there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do to protect her. Letting out a heavy sigh, I close my eyes, breathing deeply to steady my racing heart. I can do this. I can lie. Because I'm starting to see that part of loving her is making sure she feels safe and secure, even if I alone see how tenuous that safety might be.

"Okay," I whisper at last. "I promise I won't take any risks." I seal my half-hearted vow with a lingering kiss, then rise to my feet without letting go of her hand. "Now come—it's nearly midnight and we've got school tomorrow. Let me tuck you in, and then I'll go."

She follows without hesitation, letting me guide her toward the bed. But before she climbs in, she pauses. 

"Shane?"

"What is it, pretty girl?" 

"Can you stay... just until I fall asleep?"

A small, genuine smile lifts the corners of my mouth—the first I've managed since hearing her panicked voicemail earlier this evening. "Of course. I can stay all night if you want." The second the words leave my lips, I realize how they might sound, and heat rushes to my cheeks. I scratch the back of my neck and quickly scramble to clarify. "I mean, fully clothed. On my side of the bed. I swear I didn't mean that to sound so creepy."

She smiles, and I can see the tension in her eyes ease for just a moment. Normally, I'd tease her for enjoying my obvious discomfort, but the relief and joy in her expression are too precious to interrupt. 

"You can stay all night? Won't you get in trouble?"

I shake my head. "No. Like I told you, my parents don't care what I do or where I go, as long as my actions don't embarrass them."

Her gaze drifts away, sadness flickering across her face. "Given everything that's happened, I'd say being here with me and spending the night might fall under things that would embarrass them."

Tilting her chin so she's forced to look at me, I lean in to kiss those lips that call to me. The moment we connect, the cool mint of toothpaste mingles with that sweet flavor that is purely her, and it sends a low moan rumbling in my chest. 
God,
 I want her. Under me, on top of me, her soft, bare skin against mine. More than anything, I want to lose myself inside her. Completely.

Not tonight, Shane... Put on the damn brakes and pull yourself together. 

With a groan, I force myself to break the kiss, that smile I know drives her crazy on full display as I tell her, "You are the love of my life, Becca. My soulmate. I couldn't care less what anyone thinks about us being together. That's how I know you're the one."

"That doesn't make any sense," she says with a small laugh, and the sound of it lights up the room. 

"It does to me," I reply, lifting her hand and pressing it to my chest. "You—us—for the first time in my life, I don't care what my parents say or what they think. That's never happened before. And it means everything. You are 
the
 one. My only. My fate."

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OLLOW ME on REAM
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Chapter 27

Becca

“That’s it, pretty girl. You did it! Another peer advisory session successfully completed” Shane mock-cheers, that smile I secretly love taking over his entire face. The sight alone stirs up flutters low in my belly, making my cheeks burn. He chuckles as he lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Aww, did I embarrass you?”

Embarrass me? No—at least not for the reason he thinks. The truth is, I’m mortified by how badly I crave his touch. A kiss, a caress, even that gentle way he tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear… I can’t get enough. And the worst part, with every smile, every glance he tosses my way, I want him to touch me that much more. To the point that my mind won’t stop conjuring images of the two of us, bare and vulnerable, exploring and loving each other in every intimate way possible. That’s what has my face blazing like an inferno.

Terrified he’ll read my dirty thoughts right from my face, I scramble to gather my books and close the laptop he loaned me, stuffing everything back into my bag. Another Wednesday study session is out of the way and I’ve never been more relieved. Sitting next to him when he’s in full advisor mode is pure torture.

He wasn’t kidding when he said we’d keep those sides of our relationship separate. The way he can compartmentalize, effectively putting me firmly in the peer zone , is downright torture. He doesn’t touch me. The flirty smiles disappear, as does the suggestive banter. Which only makes me burn for him more. And from the way he’s watching me now, I can’t help but wonder if he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m not embarrassed.” I protest quietly. “I’m just a little warm under all these layers you made me put on.” Tugging at the collar of my v-neck sweater, I try to fan away the heat gathering under my skin, but the hungry look he casts towards my chest does nothing to fix my lingering predicament. With a breathy sigh, I get to my feet and cross the room to grab my coat. I still can’t bring myself to meet his gaze as I slip it on. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going?”

He must have followed right behind me, because when I turn around, he’s already there. Those deft hands I crave so much working the zipper and buttons of my coat. If it were anyone else, I’d feel like I was being treated like a child, but because it’s him, it makes me feel… treasured. Loved. The strangest thing is how easily I let him, especially considering that not two weeks ago I would have rebelled at the mere idea of someone fussing over me like this. Now, though, I revel shamelessly in the feeling of being taken care of.

“You’re right,” he concedes, looking down at me with a mischievous grin. “Because it’s a surprise.”

I groan, though it’s more playful than genuine. “You know I hate surprises,” I grumble, attempting a pout, but I’m so excited by the prospect of where we’re going, I’m sure he can tell my complaint is half-hearted.

“I know you do, Ms. Control Freak,” he teases. “But you need to learn to loosen up and live a little. Besides, isn’t it kind of nice to sit back while someone else takes the reins for a change?”

His comment strikes a painful chord as I realize that must be how he sees me. A pang of vulnerability makes my voice catch. “I—I swear I wasn’t always like this.”

“Hey.” His voice softens as he crouches slightly, making sure our eyes meet. “I meant nothing by it. I love you exactly the way you are, Becca Franks. There is nothing about you I’d ever want to change. As for tonight… I just want to do something special for you— for us . I’ve been your boyfriend for nine days now, but between school, practice, and your job, I’ve only taken you on one date. That’s a terrible stat, by the way—especially for a guy who prides himself on going above and beyond in everything he does.”

Nine days?

Has it only been that long?

He must mistake my moment of quiet contemplation as uncertainty, for he quickly adds, “It’s okay if you don’t say it back yet, pretty girl. I promise you’ll catch up and fall in love with me before you know it.” The playful yet determined glint in his eyes tells me he’s not giving up until he gets me to do just that.

After he wraps a scarf around me and tucks my gloves into his coat pockets for safekeeping, he takes my hand and leads us down to the garage, where his car is hidden away so nobody knows he’s here. The sight of it sours my stomach, and even though I know I probably shouldn’t bring it up, I can’t help myself.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Shane?” I ask quietly. “With Charles and everything going on, shouldn’t we be more careful?” It’s a fair question—one that runs through my mind on a nonstop loop. Ever since I told him about my connection to the Klines and saw that determined look in his eyes, I’ve been worried. For him. For me. For us—and this still fragile relationship we’re trying to build. I’m terrified of what Charles will do when he finally makes his move, and the only thing worse than imagining it is waiting for it to actually happen.

“Hey.” Shane stops short as we reach the car and turns to face me, rubbing his hands up and down my arms in a gesture that’s meant to reassure me. “I told you it’s safe. Cedric got that tracker on both our phones and my car. Plus, where we’re going is secure. He scouted everything out for me while I was making the plans.”

I nod, not entirely convinced.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chastises, his voice warm but firm. “Pretty girl, this only works if you tell me what you’re thinking.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, realizing he won’t let us move on until I talk about it. “I’m scared,” I admit softly. “And worried. I’m sorry if I’m ruining everything.”

“You’re not ruining anything.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You have every right to feel how you feel. I’m worried too. But I promise, I ran everything I had planned for tonight by Cedric first. We’ll be safe. And even though we can’t see him or his friends, they’re out there, watching out for us.”

I search his face, looking for any trace of uncertainty, but all I see is sincerity. Relief loosens the knot in my chest.

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Wait what?” he asks, chuckling. “Could you say that again? I’m not sure I heard you right,” he teases.

“I said, I trust you,” I shoot back with mock annoyance, giving his chest a gentle smack.

His laughter rumbles through me as he leans in, brushing kisses along the side of my face and down my neck in a way that tickles, making me giggle despite myself. Then, pressing his lips to my forehead, he murmurs, “God, I fucking love you.”

Once we’re in the car, I can’t stop thinking about those three little words he wields so easily. He first told me he loved me the day I agreed to give us a chance, and he hasn’t let a day pass without saying them since—even though I haven’t said them back.

His words from earlier echo in my head: “ It’s okay if you don’t say it back yet, pretty girl. I promise you’ll catch up and fall in love with me before you know it.“

Nine days ago, the idea of telling him I loved him—or even imagining I might fall for him—felt ridiculous. But now… those three simple words hover on the tip of my tongue, my heart nearly bursting with the need to say them. Yet I don’t. I won’t. Because is it even possible to fall in love so quickly, to be so completely swept up by someone I barely know?

“It’s how it happened with Perseus and Andromeda,” the little voice inside my head reminds me, unhelpfully. Memories of our star-gazing date flood my thoughts. I remember how he looked at me as he told their story—how Perseus fell for Andromeda the moment he laid eyes on her. If love at first sight can exist, then why not love that’s cemented in less than two weeks?

“Shane, what is this?” I ask, suddenly noticing the modest black-and-white sign that reads Grady’s Tree Farm . I was so lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized how far we’d driven—or that it had taken us nearly thirty minutes to get here.

“It’s a date.” He glances over at me, feigning confusion, like he has no idea what I mean.

“But…”

“Just hold on, pretty girl,” he groans playfully, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “A few more minutes and you’ll see exactly where we’re going.” He intertwines our fingers as he navigates the slow, bumpy ride down the dark dirt road. When he finally parks the car beside a row of trees, my heart leaps into my throat with anticipation. If our first date is any indication, I have a feeling that by the end of the night, my heart might be irrevocably his—something I’m not entirely sure I want, considering life’s nasty habit of tearing apart the things I love.

Within moments, we’re both out of the car. Shane stands before me, readjusting the scarf around my neck and then he helps me put on my gloves.

“You ready for this?” he asks softly, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and how dragging out the suspense is driving me crazy.

“I’m not sure I am,” I admit, casting a weary glance at the dark woods around us.

“You’re gonna love it. Just wait.” He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead, then he takes me by the hand and leads me off the main path, ducking through a small gap in the fence that in the darkness I hadn’t noticed. Anticipation flutters in my belly, followed swiftly by the fear we’re about to get in trouble.

“Shane, this is trespassing,” I whisper, shooting a nervous look over my shoulder. “We’re gonna get arrested.”

The crisp December air nips at my cheeks, and the trees around us loom taller than I expected. The distant glow from the main entrance now feels a world away, swallowed by the dark expanse of the tree farm.

He flashes that playful, confident grin I can’t get enough of, his eyes sparkling in the low moonlight. “Relax, pretty girl. You’re safe with me.”

But I can’t relax. Every step feels like we’re pushing our luck, like we’re just one wrong move away from being caught by Mr. Grady, the notoriously grumpy owner who’s said to patrol his property after hours with a shotgun flung over his shoulder. My nerves have my pulse running wild, and every little sound—every snap of a twig beneath my feet—pushes me that much closer to the edge.

We move quietly between rows of tall, shadowy evergreens, a light dusting of snow clinging to their branches. The cold air feels sharp and refreshing, but it only amplifies the warmth in my chest from being so close to Shane. There’s something about this nighttime adventure—something thrilling and intimate. Like we’re the only two people in the world.

A sudden, loud snap behind us punches the air from my lungs. “Shane,” I hiss, my voice trembling with anxiety. “Seriously, we’re going to get into so much trouble.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost playful as it breaks through the quiet of the night. But then he places a hand on my back, guiding me forward—firm yet gentle—in a way that sends an electric current tingling up my spine. When he leans in, his voice is a warm, intimate murmur. “Trust me, pretty girl.”

I do trust him. I’m certain he has no intention of dragging me into any real trouble, but the thrill of it all, this looming sense of danger, makes my head spin. It’s a dizzying mix of excitement and anxiety that sets my pulse racing for all the wrong reasons—and all the right ones. The risk, the mystery of what’s coming next… something about it has me ready to dive in headfirst, into us, into him .

He leads me around another bend, his hand warm against mine, while my mind wrestles with the dirty thoughts that heat my cheeks. Thank God it’s too dark for him to notice.

“Just a little further,” he whispers, his eyes scanning the shadows ahead. “You’re going to love this. I promise.”

I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of my lips. For the first time tonight, I’m no longer afraid. Whatever’s coming next, it’s just us—Shane and me—and I have to admit, that feels a little magical. 

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# Chapter 28

Becca

We round a corner, and suddenly there's a clearing. I stop short, taking in the scene before me: a small fire pit crackles softly in the center of a secluded area, twinkling fairy lights strung around several pine trees casting a warm glow across the snow-covered ground. A rustic bench sits near the fire, inviting and intimate, and the scent of pine hangs thick in the air, mixing with the gentle scent of woodsmoke. A small basket sits nearby, two insulated travel mugs nestled inside, steam curling from the tops. Shane reaches over, grabbing one and handing it to me. His fingers brush mine as he passes it over. 

"Hot cocoa," he says quietly, a tender smile lighting his face. "As you can probably tell it's kind of my thing. Just like I know orange-flavored anything is yours."

Smiling, I wrap my hands around the travel mug, grateful for the comfort. The warmth of it in my palms, helping to steady my nerves. Glancing over at Shane, I see the shy smile I remember from our star-gazing date, and it warms my heart. He's usually so self-assured, so confident, yet every time he does something like this—something romantic and just for me—he seems to wait with bated breath, unsure if I'll like it. It's endearing. 

I'm just a simple girl from a family of meager means. I've been let down and disappointed by just about every person in my life, so the bar for impressing me isn't set very high. Yet here he is, shifting from foot to foot, watching, waiting—nervous about my reaction.  

"What do you think?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant. My heart twists at the vulnerability I see in him, and tears prick my eyes. 

"This... this is incredible," I breathe, a soft laugh escaping me as my earlier nerves finally slip away. The fire flickers, its light dancing over his features, and for a moment, everything falls away. It's just him and me, surrounded by the beauty of the world he's created for us. 

As I look into his eyes, I realize this is it—the moment I fall, endlessly, hopelessly, completely. There's no longer any doubt: I'm in love with Shane Montgomery, and as terrifying as that is, nothing has ever felt more right. I want to tell him—God, do I want to. But the last time I spoke those words to someone, they weren't reciprocated, and saying them shattered whatever enchantment I thought we had. 

It's a ridiculous fear, especially since Shane's already told me he loves me, but I can't shake this feeling that once I say it, this will all somehow disappear. That after falling for him, after trusting him and letting go of all my fears about ending up like my mother, something will happen to prove he's not the man I've made him out to be. I'm terrified he'll hurt me, 
break
 me. He may not be Charles Kline, but losing him has the potential to render me just as messed up as my mother was after Charles was done with her. 

A fate I can't let myself think about. 

A fate I cannot bear.

Which is why instead of telling him how I feel, I step in front of him. Rising onto my toes, I lean in and kiss him. 

It starts slow and sweet—a tender moment where I pour those three little words I cannot say, into a sensual kiss that curls my toes and makes him moan. Within seconds, he takes over, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slides around my waist, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss. He devours my mouth like a man starved, as if I'm the only thing keeping him alive. And like it's my fate to give him everything he needs, I yield my body, my heart, my soul—everything I am—over to him. I'm 
his
. Irrevocably so. Like Andromeda, my destiny was sealed the moment he decided he wanted me.

With a groan, he breaks the kiss, eyes closed, both of us breathing hard as he rests his forehead against mine. "Christ, pretty girl," he mutters, pausing just long enough for us to catch our breaths. "You sure know how to bring a guy to his knees." 

The desperate frustration in his voice draws a soft smile from me. 

"You're enjoying this? Look at you—laughing at the man you're falling in love with as he struggles to control himself, because he can't get enough of you? Harsh..." He exhales in a playful huff, which pulls another breathy laugh from me. "Becca Franks! Are you seriously getting off on this? On torturing me? Are you... some kind of sadist?" Groaning again, he drops his forehead to my shoulder. "Fuck, why does that thought turn me on even more?" 

Oh God. Hearing those sounds, knowing he's just as desperate for me as I am for him, sobers me instantly. Heat and longing flare through my body, and I glance over at the small fire pit, desperately trying to pull myself together.  

"So, how did you do all this?" I ask, needing to steer us back to safer ground.

"I have my ways." He slides his hand into mine and tugs me gently. "Come on, let's sit so we can warm up a bit."

We settle on the bench, our sides touching as he loops an arm around my shoulders and draws me close. As the warmth of the fire spreads over us, we fall into a comfortable silence. I can't help wondering if he feels it too—the magic of this moment and how perfect everything seems. 

"So," he murmurs eventually. "You like your surprise?"

"I do." I turn my face toward him, silently inviting another kiss, and he obliges. It's just a gentle press of his lips, a lingering peck, but it feels like everything. Out of all his kisses, these might be my favorite. "I love it. I never could have imagined anything better."

His shoulders relax in relief, and that boyish smile I adore slowly returns. "So... have you decided yet?"

I glance up at him, confused. "Decided what?"

"If you're ready to fall in love with me." He tries to sound playful, but there's a seriousness in his eyes that sends a flutter through my stomach. I can't help the smile tugging at my lips as I look down at our intertwined fingers in his lap, the warmth of his touch grounding me.

"I don't know if I'm ready," I admit, my voice soft but steady. "But I guess it might already be too late."

He exhales sharply, his eyes going wide as he searches my face. "Becca?" His voice is hushed, uncertain. "Are you saying that you love me?"

"Shane, I..." I want to say it. I swear I do. But there's this lingering fear in the back of my mind that warns that saying it out loud might jinx this. That once Charles decides he's had enough of our relationship rumors, everything will come crashing down. The words stick in my throat, even as a voice inside my head screams at me to just say it. To make this real by telling him how I feel.

Unable to speak the words, but desperate to show him, I stand. Still holding his hand, I pause for a heartbeat, gathering my courage. Then I slip onto his lap, straddling him in a way that makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

It's a bold move, and so unlike me, but any lingering doubt vanishes when I see the unfiltered awe in his expression—like he can't believe I'm here with him. He's looking at me like I'm his everything. Like I'm the sun and the moon and every star in the sky combined. Like I matter—like I'm special, more than just Becca Franks, the simple girl from a small town with little to her name except a tragic past.

"I feel it." It's all I can manage, my eyes welling with the pent-up emotions threatening to burst from me. "I swear, I do." Leaning forward, I brush my lips over his, my fingers winding into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. "But I'm afraid. Afraid to 
say
 it. Because once I do..." My chin trembles as the thought of everything that could go wrong—everything I stand to lose—rushes in at once. It reawakens that phantom ache that has never healed, the one that began the day my mom was taken from me when I was just seven years old. 

"Then don't." His eyes glisten with emotion as he gently presses a finger to my lips, and a lone tear slips from the corner of my eye. "You don't have to say it because I already know. I see it in the way you look at me. In the way you kiss me. In how you let me take care of you, without question. Without fighting me. I 
know
 you love me, pretty girl. Just like I know you'll tell me, with your words, the moment you feel safe."

He knows.

How does he know?

A sob breaks free, and I cover his lips with mine, allowing all the love I have inside me to spill out with the passion, longing, and fear battling for space within me.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you so much, Shane Montgomery.

My words are a chant in my mind. Repeating over and over again, as I boldly press the tip of my tongue to his lips, seeking entrance he readily gives. Goosebumps break out over my skin the instant he opens up to me, and I lose myself in the only way we can right now—kissing him like I can pour all of what I feel into him. My body shifts over his, and I don't realize how I'm moving until pleasure sparks behind my eyes when my center grinds against his hardness. It feels incredible. Addictive. So I do it again and again, until finally... he groans.

"Pretty girl..." he breathes, breaking the kiss. "We need to stop. We 
can't
. Not here." He's panting as hard as I am, both of us teetering on that thin edge. Pain clouds his gaze, and heat floods my skin as I suddenly realize what I've done—what I was 
doing
.

"Don't." He cups my face between his palms, pulling me in for a tender, lingering kiss. "I know that look. Whatever you're thinking, stop. There's 
nothing
 about what we just did that I didn't want." He falls silent, but by the way he's looking at me, I know he's waiting for me to respond. 

"Okay," I manage softly.

"Good." he murmurs, his lips curving into a smile. "How about we table this discussion for later—when we can 
properly 
revisit it?"

The way he phrases it like we're talking about some business deal makes me grin. "Sounds good." 

"Glad you agree." With a smile, he tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ears, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin. "Now, are you ready to get back to our date? There's still something 
very
 important we need to do."

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Chapter 29

Becca

“Now, are you ready to get back to our date? There’s still something very important we need to do.”

I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes is back as he helps me to my feet. “Follow me.”

With that, he tugs me along, leading us back into the line of trees. The fire pit and the cozy clearing quickly disappear from view, swallowed up by the darkened night once more. As we walk, I feel the snow crunching beneath my boots, the cold air sharp against my skin. The quiet of the night wraps around us, broken only by the soft rustling of the wind and our footsteps. It’s as if we’ve stepped into a winter wonderland, and the feeling is… surreal.

“Shane,” I whisper, snapping out of my love-smitten haze when I realize we’re walking farther away from his car and deeper into Mr. Grady’s property.

“Shhh.” He glances back at me, feigning annoyance, though his lips curve into a half grin he can’t quite hide. “You’ll break my concentration. I need to find the right one.”

“The right one?” My stomach flutters with anticipation, as it suddenly becomes clear why he’s brought us out here.

“Yep. It’s our first Christmas. Our first tree. It has to be perfect.”

After a few moments, Shane stops. He shines the beam of his small flashlight onto a small, scraggly pine tree standing apart from the others. It’s far from the biggest tree in the field, but its compact, symmetrical shape makes it the most beautiful, perfect tree I’ve ever seen. The small branches are dusted with snow, and the low-hanging boughs sway slightly in the breeze.

“This is the one,” he murmurs, scanning the tree from top to bottom, his body vibrating with excitement in an almost child-like way. “What do you think?”

“Shane…” My voice trembles with overwhelming emotion, tears welling up in my eyes.

What do I think? What I’m thinking is, what did I ever do to deserve this? To deserve him?

Since discovering the truth of my existence and moving out of my aunt and uncle’s house to live on my own, I’ve felt so lost, so alone. To cope with the grief of my new reality, I pushed all thoughts of family—including traditions and gatherings—out of my mind, choosing instead to pretend those things didn’t exist. You can’t miss what you don’t have, right? So, I convinced myself I was okay with that. I told myself I’d always be okay with having no one to share life’s little moments with—birthdays, Christmases, milestones that only matter to those who love you.

But now, as I look up at the man I’ve fallen in love with, the man who’s become as essential to me as the sun in the sky, and who’s offering me a glimpse of life where I’m no longer alone, I realize I have so much more to lose.

I let him in. Let him alter the shape of my reality, the outlook I had on my present and my future, and now… I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to such an empty life. How will I ever survive losing him? Losing this?

“Hey…” He pulls me into his arms, a quiet reassurance in the movement that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I’m sorry, pretty girl. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.” I take a deep breath, letting the cool mountain air settle into my chest, before summoning a half smile and pulling away from him. He did all of this for me, and the least I can do is stop wallowing in my self-pity and show him how much this means to me. “Believe it or not, these are happy tears,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh.

“You sure?” He looks over me with the careful scrutiny of someone who doesn’t quite believe what they’re hearing.

“I am. And you’re right,” I admit, realizing there’s no point in hiding it from him. “There’s a little more than happiness behind these tears. It’s just… this is my first Christmas alone since I left my family, and I genuinely believed I was okay with that. With not having people to celebrate with. With not partaking in the holiday at all. But now, being here with you, getting a tree…” I have to pause as emotion catches in my throat. “I’m relieved to not be alone.”

“Fuck, Becca.” He pulls me tight against his chest, his powerful arms wrapping me in an embrace that melts away every ounce of my pain from the past year. He’s like the rays of the sun after a storm, like the first sign of life after a harsh winter. “If I have anything to say about it, you’ll never be alone again.”

“Thank you for this.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, leaning up onto my toes to brush my lips over his. “There are no words to explain how much this means to me.”

“You mean that?” My uncertain Shane is back. It’s sweet, endearing, and it makes me smile for real this time.

“Yes. I do.”

He exhales a deep sigh of relief before pulling me close and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Never letting go of my hand, he gently turns me around to face the perfect little tree, my back resting against his chest.

“So?”

Biting my lip, I absorb the feel of his hard body against mine. “It’s perfect,” I admit, still in awe of how everything about tonight feels so right. But then, reality creeps in. “But Shane, this isn’t right. I mean… what if Mr. Grady—”

“It’ll be fine. I promise.” He kisses the side of my face before flashing me a grin. “You like it, don’t you?”

I look at the tree again. It’s so beautiful and perfect. Plus, I don’t miss the way my heart leaps at the thought of having something Shane and I picked out together in my little apartment. But none of that takes away from the fact that we’re cutting down a tree that doesn’t belong to us.

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, I meet his eyes. “I do. But this still feels wrong. What if—”

Shane cuts me off, chuckling lightly as he kneels beside the tree, pulling a small saw from a pack I didn’t realize he was carrying over his shoulder. “You hold the flashlight, pretty girl, and be our lookout. I’ll do the work, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

I blink, not at all reassured by his nonchalant tone. “Shane…” The objection dies on my tongue as he starts sawing through the bark. “Are you… are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I whisper, looking around as an icy shiver of fear runs down my spine. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before we get caught.

“I’ve done this before.” He flashes me a wink. “Trust me.”

I do my best to control the tremors in my hand as I hold the flashlight so he can see. The sound of the blade grinding against the rough bark cuts through the silence, doing nothing to calm the nerves that are buzzing through me. What does help is watching him. The precision with which he works the saw—forward then backward—confident and steady. It’s clear not only has he done this before, but that he’s a man used to working with his hands. Yet another surprise, another way I’ve underestimated and judged him because of his wealth.

I have to admit, there’s something thrilling about the way he’s going about this. So carefree, as though sneaking around in the dark, trespassing onto a stranger’s property, to cut down a tree for his girlfriend—a Christmas tree for me—was the most normal thing in the world. The thought makes my heart flutter, and tears prick my eyes at the sweetness of it.

But as the saw begins to slice through the final layers of the trunk, I hear a noise. Footsteps crunching through the snow. Slow and deliberate, like someone is walking toward us.

I freeze, the flashlight trembling slightly in my hands. My heart leaps into my throat, and a sharp gasp escapes my lips. “Shane…” I whisper frantically. “Oh God, Shane. Someone’s coming. Someone’s coming.”

With adrenaline surging through my veins, I switch off the flashlight and drop to my knees beside him, as if I can shield us both so whoever is coming won’t see us. A ridiculous idea, given how much bigger he is than me, which is probably why he chuckles as he pulls me into his arms, almost onto his lap.

Suddenly, a beam of light shines directly at us. My breath catches in my chest, and I clutch Shanes’s shirt, but when I look up at him, his boyish grin is on full display. Before I can ask what’s going on, the unmistakable shadow of a man falls over us. When he lowers his flashlight so it’s no longer blinding us, my eyes adjust, and I recognize the man as Mr. Grady, the owner of the farm.

“Shane…” I whimper his name, shaking as I realize what this means. We’re caught. Oh my God, we’re caught!

But then the weirdest thing happens. Mr. Grady stops a few feet away, giving us a curt nod. “Evening,” he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.

“Evening,” Shane replies casually, still holding me in his arms. “Hope you’re doing well, Mr. Grady.”

Mr. Grady grunts, his flashlight beam sweeping over the area like he’s making sure it’s only the two of us out here in the dark. When the light hits the tree we’re cutting down, my heart sinks. “Kinda small, don’t cha think?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Shane glances at the tree, tilting his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “But it’s perfect for her space. Perfect for her.”

“There’s a tarp in there.” He nods toward the bag next to us—the one where Shane got the saw from. “Roll it up. Should be simple enough to drag it out of here.”

“Yep, thanks, Mr. Grady. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“Just don’t make a habit of it.” He eyes us both for a long moment before turning and walking away, disappearing into the night without another word.

My heart is still pounding in my chest as I sit there with Shane, trying to process what just happened. “Oh my God,” I murmur, barely able to breathe. “What… what was that?”

Shane looks at me with a smirk, raising a hand to caress the side of my face. “You can relax now, pretty girl. We’re not in trouble. Far from it.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, still feeling a little shaky. “He didn’t look pleased to see us, Shane.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I paid him well to let us on the property after hours. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea at first, but money talks.”

I blink, stunned. “You what?”

“I paid him a pretty penny to let us cut down a tree and light the fire for us. He’s fine with it, pretty girl. I promise.” Shane looks at me with a playful gleam in his eyes as he leans in closer. “But I figured it’d be more fun if you thought we were breaking the rules.”

My mouth falls open in disbelief, and before I can stop myself, I give him a playful smack on his chest. “You jerk!” I shove him away when he tries to kiss me, which earns me a chuckle. “You let me think we were trespassing. That we could get in trouble at any moment.”

I can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of it all finally hitting me. A mix of relief and amusement bubbles up inside me, along with an undeniable fondness for this man who would go to such lengths to make this night unforgettable.

He laughs too, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close as he brushes his lips over mine. “I had to see how long I could keep it going. Honestly, didn’t know you were so darn paranoid.”

I give him another playful smack, unsuccessfully fighting back a smile. “I still can’t believe you put me through that,” I admit, my chest still tight with the thrill of the moment. “But honestly, Shane, tonight… what you did, it was perfect. You’re perfect.” I lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this.”

Shane presses a sweet kiss to the tip of my nose. “Glad you liked it, pretty girl. Now, what do you say we get our perfect tree back home so we can decorate it?”

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# Chapter 30

Becca

After we dragged the freshly cut tree into my apartment, Shane insisted our date was far from over. He surprised me with several bags full of newly purchased ornaments, lights, and a tree stand, then proceeded to help me set it up.

It's surreal how easily he fits into my life. Even this—us moving around the tree together, decorating in tandem, like we've done it a thousand times before. I find myself stealing glances at him as we work, mesmerized by his hands—magical in their precision and purpose. Each light he places, each ornament he arranges is done with such care, like the little tree we're decorating matters just as much to him as it does to me. 

The way he arranges everything so carefully, the intensity in his eyes, and—most touching of all—the way he keeps looking at me, like he's making sure I'm enjoying this as much as he is, touches me in a way I can't put into words. It's a feeling so deep, it tightens my chest and brings tears to my eyes. 

There's something about sharing this with him that feels like more than just decorating a tree. It feels like we're building something beautiful. A life. A future together. Piece by piece, just like our little Christmas tree.

When all the lights are finally twinkling, and the ornaments are perfectly in place, we both step back to take it all in. It's beautiful. The tree, the way the room feels—filled with the quiet warmth of our shared effort. Shane takes my hand, intertwining our fingers together, and we gaze at the tree in silence.

"It's perfect," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent like he's savoring the significance of the moment.

I nod, unable to pull my eyes away from the tree—or from him. "It really is." A soft smile tugs at my lips as I look up at him, my heart full.

"Becca... I have something for you."

My heart skips a beat. "Another surprise? Shane... You've already done so much."

His gaze is steady, yet there's a quiet vulnerability in his eyes as he shakes his head. "It will never be enough, pretty girl. Wait here." 

He lets go of my hand to walk over and grab a small bag tucked behind one of the throw pillows on my loveseat. When he returns, he presents me with a small box, perfectly wrapped in festive Christmas paper, the shiny red bow on top gleaming in the light. The way he holds it—like it's something precious—makes my heart flutter with anticipation. 

"This is for you," he breathes, his voice filled with an emotion that catches me off guard. When I look into his eyes, I swear I see a shimmer there, mirroring the one in mine.

I take the package, carefully unwrapping it, my fingers trembling ever so slightly. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, is a delicate glass ornament, faintly glistening in the glow of the Christmas lights. My breath catches when I see what's etched onto it: the night sky from our stargazing date, complete with snowcapped mountains and tall trees along the bottom. Front and center in the sky is the Andromeda constellation, glowing softly in white. At the bottom, in elegant script, are the words: 
The Night Our Story Began
, followed by the date. Beneath it, in smaller letters: 
Our Love Written In The Stars.

My throat tightens, and tears burn behind my eyes. I look up at him, overwhelmed by emotions I can't quite contain. I don't know what to say. As if he knows exactly what I'm feeling, he smiles softly, gently taking the ornament from my trembling hands to hold it between us. 

"I, uh..." He clears his throat. "I know the Perseus and Andromeda story meant a lot to you," he begins, his words slow and measured. "And I remember how I felt that night under the stars—how, for the first time in my life, I could relate to Perseus. Because there is nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe, to protect our love and this connection we share. Just like Perseus fought the monster to save Andromeda."

I can't help the wave of emotion welling up inside me. The ornament captures our first date so perfectly, and his words... I'm not used to anyone caring for me like this, and I find myself reaching out, resting my hand on his. 

"Shane," I whisper, blinking back tears. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

He gives me a lopsided smile, and in it, I see the warmth and devotion he's brought into my life. 

"I promise, I'll always fight for you. Charles Kline. Our families. This town, hell the entire universe... I'll fight them all if I have to, to protect you. To protect us. Never again will you have to face the world alone. Not this Christmas... not ever."

My heart swells, threatening to burst from how much he's done for me tonight—sneaking us onto the tree farm, making me believe we were trespassing, only to reveal he'd arranged it all, including cutting down the perfect Christmas tree—all because he wanted to create a memorable experience for us. And now this... I've never felt more cherished. More loved.

When he places the ornament gently in my hand, I step closer to the tree, sliding the red ribbon over the tip of a branch near the top, where the lights catch just right. The glass shimmers, the constellation glowing even brighter against the pine needles. Together we stand there in silence, soaking in the moment. 

Finally, Shane slips an arm around my waist, pulling me close so that my back presses against his chest as we admire our perfect tree. My living room may still be modest, the decorations sparse, but right now, it feels like the warmest, coziest place in the world. 

"I love it," I murmur, pressing the back of my head against his shoulder. "And I love... what it means. What it stands for. Us."

He turns his face towards mine, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "Me too. Merry almost Christmas, pretty girl."

"Merry almost Christmas," I echo, a single tear slipping from the corner of my eye.

We stay like that for a bit, wrapped in the quiet of the room, until his phone dings with a notification. With one arm still around me, he reaches into his pocket to pull it out. 

"It's my dad." He releases me so he can use both of his hands to type out a message. 

I turn to face him, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. "He wants you to come home?" I hate how the words come out, the ache in my chest barely hidden. In the six days since I told him the truth about my father, Shane and I haven't spent a night apart. 

"Nah. He just wanted to make sure I was still a Con's tonight. I told him yes." He smiles at me, the gleam in his eyes telling me he knows what I'm thinking—that I don't want him to leave. 

"And Conner? He'll cover for you again?" I ask, my lower lip caught between my teeth. I hate that Shane is lying to his parents, but not as much as I hate the thought of spending a night without him. 

Though we haven't done much more than kissing and cuddling, there's something so comforting about not being alone in a house when you sleep. It's something you take for granted when you live with the people you love—that quiet security, knowing someone is there, close enough to help should you need them. Since moving out on my own, I've realized just how much I miss that feeling of safety.  

"Come here." He takes my hand, leading me toward my dresser as he slips his phone back into his pocket. "And yep. Contrary to what he shows the rest of the world, Con's a decent guy when he wants to be. Though, eventually, he'll demand I tell him where I've been spending all my time while pretending to stay with him." 

"What will you tell him?" 

"Same thing I always tell him—that it's none of his business." Shane kisses my forehead, his playful smile forming against my skin. "Trust me, there are plenty of secrets I've allowed him to keep over the years while I covered for him. It's only fair he returns the favor."

Without missing a beat, he opens my drawers, pulling out one of my sleep shirts, a pair of sleep shorts, and my panties, stacking them neatly before handing them to me. I should be mortified... and I am, as evidenced by the bright red blush burning under my skin. Despite that, I don't stop him. This has become part of our routine now, I guess. Every night, he gathers my night clothes before I head off to shower. I tried fighting him at first, but I'm starting to understand that this is how Shane shows his love—by going out of his way to take care of me. And I can't deny I don't mind it nearly as much as I probably should.

Taking my clothes, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, averting my gaze as he gives me a knowing grin. "What about his parents? What if they talk to your dad?"

"They won't. Conner's dad is a senator, remember? They have a home in the capital and live there most of the year. All Conner has to do is tell them I've been staying the night, and they're none the wiser." 

He spins me around, hands gently resting on my shoulders, guiding me toward the bathroom. "Now, shower, pretty girl. I'll get in after, and with any luck, we'll clock in a solid seven hours of sleep before we have to get up for school tomorrow."

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Chapter 31

Shane

With Becca safely in the shower, I sit on the edge of her bed, dropping my head into my hands, exhaustion crashing over me. Tonight was incredible. The second-best night of my entire life—with the girl of my dreams, no less—and yet instead of basking in the memories, my stomach is tied up in knots, and my head throbs with the weight of stress.

“It had to be done,” I whisper to myself for what feels like the hundredth time since I decided to have Cedric wire her apartment with security upgrades. Discrete entry cameras, door and window sensors, in addition to the locks I replaced earlier in the week. The locks she knows about, but the cameras and sensors… Those I kept to myself, along with the fact that while we were out on our date, I had people in her home secretly installing the equipment. All because I was too damn scared to tell her the truth. Not because I thought she’d object to the invasion of her privacy, but because I know how sensitive and stubborn she is when it comes to my family’s money. Just the idea of me spending anything on her, especially something like this, makes her clam up and shut down.

She only accepts things from me when they feel like simple surprises—like tonight. Small, seemingly inexpensive gestures that don’t carry the weight of excess. And with this… I just couldn’t risk her digging her heels in, insisting she didn’t want me spending the money—especially when it’s her safety on the line. But even so, I feel like utter shit for keeping it from her. And now, telling her would only cheapen what we shared tonight. She might see what I did as manipulation. A tactic she’s openly accused families like mine of using against others to get what they want. Something her father does regularly, and the thought that she might see my actions in the same light sends a sick feeling churning in my stomach.

Breathing through the sudden wave of nausea, I pull the phone from my pocket, pressing his name before bringing it to my ear.

“Young Montgomery.”

“Cedric. Just checking in.”

“It’s done. Everything’s set up, just as we discussed,” his deep voice booms through the line, and for the first time in days, a small sense of relief washes over me.

“Thanks, Cedric. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” From coordinating with Mr. Grady to make our date memorable, to ensuring a security detail shadowed us unseen, and overseeing the installation of the security system in Becca’s apartment—he took care of it all.

“Don’t mention it. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, kid. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” I murmur, the weight of his words hitting me hard. “Anything new since the last time we talked?” I ask, wincing as I recall the audio recording Cedric’s team obtained the day after Becca told me Charles was her father.

---

Charles:

The little shit thinks he can defy me and I won’t know.

Marcus:

Looks that way. What would you like me to do?

Charles:

Start with a warning. Subtle for now, but something that gets his attention and makes him think twice going forward.

Marcus:

And the girl?

Charles:

She’s alone. Vulnerable. Easily expendable. Remind him of that. Make it so he understands that her safety is contingent on his loyalty to me. To his father. To his marriage to my daughter.

Marcus:

And if he doesn’t listen?

Charles:

Then I’ll step in. Deal with her myself. Shouldn’t take much to put her down, just like I did her bitch of a mother.

---

The recording between Charles and his head of security shook me to my core, instant fear slicing through my veins like ice. It sent me spiraling into a deep, suffocating panic that’s made it damn near impossible to leave Becca’s side. But I know it’s only a matter of time before I have no choice but to go back home. That’s why I had to do this—take these steps for her safety, for my peace of mind. I just hope it’s enough, and that she forgives me when she finds out what I’ve done.

“Nothing like those first communications. He did ask his assistant to set up a meeting with your father, I suspect, to discuss the situation. He’s still waiting to hear back, but I’ll let you know when the meeting’s set up. My guess is your father will reach out to you shortly after, depending on what threats Charles lobs his way.”

“He won’t threaten my father. He needs him. Instead, he’ll try to manipulate him, outsmart him. Something he seems quite adept at doing.”

“Your father’s not a stupid man, Shane. It’s more likely that Charles is holding something over him. Something your father doesn’t want getting out.”

I rub my hand over my brow, trying to ease the pressure that never seems to let up. “That’s just great. More secrets.”

“Chin up, young Montgomery. We’ve got the two of you covered. In the meantime, my guys will keep digging. We won’t stop until we find a way to get the both of you out from under this mess.”

I nod, breathing out a long, exhausted sigh before reminding him, “Amanda and Nick, too. They’re just as much a victim of that man as the rest of us.”

“I get that. We’ll see what we can do.” Not one to make promises he can’t keep, Cedric’s answer is expected. “So, did you decide? Are you going to tell her about the threat?”

My shoulders droop as the weight of yet another secret presses down on my conscience. “No. I’m not telling her. She’s fully aware of what he’s capable of. Thanks to you, we’ve taken proper precautions, and she knows what to do if she ever feels unsafe. At this point, his threat was against me, not her. Telling her would only scare her more.” What I leave out, though, is my biggest fear: that if she knew Charles had threatened me because of her, she’d decide to end things between us.

“I’ll stay close to her. I’ll call her again tomorrow to check in. The more I can get her to trust me, the higher the likelihood she’ll reach out if she needs help. She’s a sweet girl, Shane.”

“Yeah, she is.” The words leave my mouth heavier than I intended, so I clear my throat to cover it up. “Anyway, I better go. She’s almost done with her shower, and then it’s my turn.”

“Yep. Sounds good.”

When I don’t immediately hang up, he sighs.

“Shane, as a man, you’ll soon learn that there are times when hard decisions need to be made. Sometimes those decisions aren’t simple or clear-cut, but choosing a path is half the battle. What you’re doing, how you’re handling this… you’re doing the right thing. Moving forward as best you can. That’s all any of us can do. And as someone who’s watched you grow up into the man you’ve become, I can say honestly, you should be very proud of yourself. Stay the course, kid. Don’t doubt yourself. You got us at your back, and one way or the other, we will bring that bastard down.”

---

With Cedric’s words still echoing in my mind, I shower as quickly as I can. The water feels almost cleansing, like it’s helping wash away some of the doubt that’s been clouding my thoughts. By the time I dry off, I feel a bit better. While I hate lying to Becca, my number one priority is protecting her. And telling her what Charles said about us in an audio recording we obtained illegally would only serve to make her worry more. Someday, when the time is right, I’ll tell her the truth. But for now, this is just the way it has to be.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath, realizing in my haste I left my clean T-shirt in my overnight bag.

I take a second to hang up my towel, grab the rest of my things, and open the bathroom door. The cool air from the room hits my damp skin, but the shock of it is nothing compared to the electric jolt that seizes me when my eyes land on Becca. She’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, waiting for me, looking so sweet, yet so impossibly alluring. But it’s not just the sight of her that stops me cold. No. What holds me in place, my eyes wide and mouth hanging open, is the sexy silk camisole and matching barely there shorts she’s wearing. The fabric clings to her, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her curves—the peaks and valleys of her body—and those parts of her creamy skin, I’ve only ever dreamed of seeing. And now, it’s all there, exposed, just for me.

She’s fucking stunning.

Like a piece of art.

Her innocence is intoxicating. The softness of her face, the way her lips part slightly, the way her eyes catch mine with that mix of uncertainty and longing—it sets my body on fire. My muscles go taut, my thoughts spiraling with the dirtiest fantasies of me finally claiming her, of finally making her completely mine.

Paralyzed, I stand there, my mind reeling as I fight to bring my body back under control. My dick is painfully hard, my senses screaming to reach out and touch, to finally take what I’ve been craving for so long. But I can’t. I won’t. Not yet—not like this. I can’t let her see the hunger in my eyes, or the raging desire that’s sending tremors through me. Don’t ask me how, but somehow I still have the mental fortitude to hide my erection behind the pile of dirty clothes in my hands.

“Shane,” she says, her voice trembling just slightly, her hazel eyes filled with uncertainty but also with something that mirrors the heat building inside me. Her gaze remains locked on mine as if she’s waiting for me to make a move, to close the distance between us.

Fuck, I can’t just stand here.

Move, Shane.

Go to her.

Do something… you’re making her uncomfortable.

When she starts to reach for the sheet beside her like she wants to cover herself, I drop everything I’m holding and rush to her side. Gently, I grab her hands, stopping her as I sink beside her on the bed, close enough that I can feel her warmth seeping into me.

“Pretty girl… Christ.” My voice is thick, ragged as I drop my head, shaking it slowly.

The waves of longing hit me hard, crashing against my arousal, making it impossible to think straight. Even without touching her, I feel like I’m already on the verge of losing control. My mind spins with thoughts of her beneath me, of touching the creamy swell of her breasts, tasting every inch of her skin, feeling her shudder beneath my touch.

Clearing my throat, I finally manage to find my voice. “I’m sorry. You’re so damn beautiful. I’m just speechless.”

Looking straight into my eyes, the words slip past her lips like a promise. “Shane, I want this.”

My heart stops for a beat, my synapses firing rapidly as I try to understand, but with all the blood in my body currently rushing south, it’s like I can’t make sense of what she’s saying.

“What…” I swallow hard, trying to clear the fog of lust clouding my head. “What is it you want, pretty girl?”

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# Chapter 32

Shane

"You, Shane. I want to do this with you." Her words hit me like a gut punch, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Though my mind is still racing to catch up, my body reacts instantly. Heat surges through my veins, a wildfire of anticipation sweeping through me. But even as badly as I want this, even as she watches me with wide, expectant eyes, I don't move.

She has no idea how much I want this too—how long I've wanted her, from the moment I first laid eyes on her in Mr. Blair's office. Since then I've imagined this, dreamed about it, but hearing her say it out loud, knowing she's offering herself to me, sends a primal jolt through me. Possessiveness. Reverence. A fierce, aching need to protect her from the world, from everything, even from myself.

I tighten my grip on her hands, brushing my thumbs over her knuckles, searching her face for any trace of doubt. The soft, twinkling glow of the Christmas tree casts shifting patterns of light over her delicate features, illuminating the raw honesty in her hazel eyes. She's nervous, but the determination is unmistakable. She wants this.

Fuck... she wants me.

"Becca..." My voice comes out rough, uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answers without hesitation, her fingers tightening around mine as if she can sense my hesitation and is silently imploring me to let her prove it. 

I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe. "We've never talked about it." I look deep into her eyes, pausing to find the right words. "Have you... done this before?"

Her cheeks flush crimson, but she doesn't look away. "No," she whispers.

I swear to fucking Christ, my heart stops. A fresh wave of desperate need slams into me, and my chest tightens, my heart pounding in my ears. I stare at her, trying to process the enormity of what she's telling me.

"You're a virgin?" The words escape me, sounding more like a breath than a question, and for a moment, I don't know whether I'm terrified or electrified by the thought.  

She nods, her fingers twisting around mine like she's afraid the revelation will make me pull away. She couldn't be more wrong. If anything, it only makes me want to never let her go. "I want my first time to be with you."

Jesus Christ.

My heart stumbles in my chest, and my stomach tightens into a knot of pleasure so intense it makes my dick ache with need. She has no idea what she's doing to me, no fucking clue how much this means. That she would trust me with something this important, that she would choose me, when she could have given this gift to anyone else, makes me want to worship her. She could have kept this part of herself guarded a little longer, but she's offering it to me, and it feels like the most precious thing in the world.

"Becca," I rasp, shaking my head as my hands cup her face, my thumbs brushing along her soft cheekbones. "This isn't something we can take back. I don't ever want you to regret it."

"I won't," she whispers, her voice steady, unwavering. "I know what I want. You. I want to do this with you." She repeats it, and to my utter shock, she climbs onto my lap, her legs straddling me.

God, she's killing me
. 

This close, with her movements so confident, so sure, and the sincerity in her eyes—it's like my body is no longer under my control. I'm done. Helpless. How could I deny her? 

But what she doesn't understand—what she can't possibly understand—is how deeply this changes everything for me. How it makes me want to protect her that much more. As badly as I want this, as badly as I want her, I'm determined to make damn sure she never looks back on this moment with anything but certainty. 

"You don't have to do this. You have nothing to prove to me, pretty girl," I murmur, pressing my forehead against hers, struggling to steady myself. "I already know how you feel."

"I'm not doing this to prove anything." Her fingers trail over my jaw, moving down my neck, and then to the bare skin of my chest. Her touch is reverent, gentle, yet it ignites a burning inferno of desire that makes my limbs tremble. "I want 
you, 
Shane. I need 
you."

A ragged sound rumbles in my chest, my restraint slipping further as my hands grip her hips, pulling her closer. She gasps softly, her body arching into mine, and in that moment, I know with absolute certainty I've lost the battle for restraint. I don't even realize I'm moving until I feel her beneath me, my hands skimming her sides, my fingers catching the silk of her camisole. I kiss the curve of her jaw, trailing down to press my lips against the hollow of her throat, inhaling her jasmine vanilla scent like it's a lifeline. 

"Pretty girl," I rasp, my voice thick with lust, so heavy it barely sounds like my own. "You have no idea what you do to me."

I take my time, dragging my lips across her collarbone, savoring the way her breath hitches beneath me. My hands slip beneath the hem of her camisole, gliding over the smooth warmth of her skin. I feel her shiver as I push the fabric up, inch by inch, exposing more of her to me, and fuck, she's beautiful.

"Shane," she breathes, her fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer. She needs me, just as much as I need her. The taste of her lips, the feel of her skin... it's all I can think about. Unable to deny her anything, I give in to her demand. Taking her lips in a kiss that's not just a kiss, it's a claiming. A joining of two souls, fated to be one. 

With every sweep of my tongue into her mouth, she shudders. With every swipe of my tongue against hers, she whimpers. The noises she makes—though quiet—are the most erotic thing I've ever heard. Desperate for more, I pull back, my body aching with the need to touch her, to feel every inch of her. I look down at the creamy skin of her chest, and as I ease the camisole over her head, the silky fabric slides over her flesh, revealing what's underneath as if I'm witnessing a dream. When she's finally bare before me, my breath catches.  

Breathtaking.

She's so fucking perfect. 

My eyes roam over her, hungry and reverent, torn between the need to look and the desperate urge to touch, to claim every inch of her. 

Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. The sight of her—so vulnerable yet so willing—knocks the air from my lungs. 

"Beautiful," I whisper, my hands trembling as I run them along the swell of her bare breasts, memorizing the softness, the shape, the way her nipples bead to tight little points right before my eyes.  

She shivers beneath my touch, her body reacting to me in a way that sends another pulse of heat straight to my groin. I press my lips to her collarbone, dragging them lower, savoring every tremble, every soft intake of breath. When I take her nipple into my mouth, she lets out the sweetest sound I've ever heard, her fingers twisting into my hair as she arches into me.

I groan against her skin, my hands roaming, teasing, worshipping. "I want to take care of you," I murmur between kisses, my voice thick with desire. "Want to make you feel so damn good, pretty girl."

Her response is a whispered plea, her body saying everything her words don't. Still, I check in again, lifting my gaze to hers. "Are you sure about this, pretty girl? If you want to stop..."

"No," she cuts me off, breathless, shaking her head as she pleads, "I'm sure. Please. Don't stop."

I wouldn't dream of it.
 

As I kneel between her thighs, a shudder rolls through me. My hands smooth down her sides, mapping every inch of her as if I'll never get another chance to touch her like this. But I will. I know that deep in my bones because there is no going back—not after this, not after tonight. 

I lean forward, pressing my lips to the curve of her stomach, breathing her in, my hands sliding lower, fingertips tracing the waistband of her silky shorts. She tenses beneath me, but it's not hesitation—it's anticipation. I feel it in the way her breath stutters, in the way her fingers dig into the sheets as if grounding herself.

Slowly, reverently, I ease the fabric down, dragging it over the smooth curve of her hips, down the length of her thighs, until she's left in nothing but the delicate scrap of lace covering her most intimate place. My throat tightens at the sight of her—so soft, so vulnerable, yet so sure. Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths, her body reacting to my every touch, my every look. 

I pause, just for a moment, to take her in.

God, she's stunning. 

She shifts beneath my gaze, fighting the urge to press her thighs together, as if some part of her still clings to shyness. But she doesn't. Instead, she holds my eyes, unwavering, trusting. That trust, that absolute faith she has in me, steals whatever breath I have left.

"You are..." My voice is thick, wrecked. "So damn beautiful."

A flush blooms across her chest, creeping up her neck, but she doesn't look away. She doesn't hide from me. And fuck, does that turn me on. 

Hooking my fingers into the waistband of her panties, I meet her gaze once more, silently asking for permission. She gives it with a subtle nod, her lips parting, her breath shallow, waiting. 

Slowly, deliberately, I pull them down, exposing her completely.

And I forget how to breathe.

My hands tighten on her thighs, my gaze locking on the sight of her, bare and open before me. A visceral, almost primal need surges through me, so strong it leaves me feeling weak. I want to touch. I want to taste. I want to make her feel so good she forgets everything but us—here in this moment. Forgets every fear and all the forces working against us. 

She's trembling beneath me, but not with nerves. It's need. I can see it in the way her hips shift, in the way she fists the sheets beside her, in the way she watches me—waiting, aching.

I trail my hands up the insides of her thighs, my touch featherlight, making her shiver. My mouth waters at the sight of her, glistening, ready for me. 

I groan, low and deep. "You're so wet for me, Becca."

Her breath hitches, her hips shifting again, seeking friction, seeking my touch. 

Leaning in, I smirk against her thigh, pressing a kiss there, then trailing my lips closer to where she needs me, savoring the anticipation thrumming between us like a live wire. Just before I reach where she most wants me, I pause, hovering, breathing her in, taking in her sweet, delectable scent. I let the heat of my breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She lets out the softest whimper, her fingers twisting in the sheets, her hips arching ever so slightly toward me, wordlessly begging for more. 

"Patience, pretty girl," I murmur as I lean in to run my nose over her slit. 

Fuck, she smells so damn good. So goddamn good I inadvertently grind my dick against the bed, nearly making myself come. Closing my eyes, I breathe hard, fighting to hold back the pleasure threatening to erupt. When I finally get myself back under control, I open my eyes to find her looking at me, her expression a perfect mirror of the rapture and need I feel.

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Chapter 33

Shane

This isn’t just about need. It’s about her. About giving her something no one else ever has—showing her, with every touch, every kiss, just how much she means to me.

I’ve never worshiped anything before. But with my face between Becca’s thighs, drinking in the sight of her—laid bare, open, trusting—I realize there’s no other word for what this is. For what she is. A gift. One that, if she’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve.

My hands skim her thighs, sliding down to her hips, savoring the way she shivers beneath me. Every instinct inside me screams to claim her, to hurry up and make her mine, but I hold back. I’m determined to take my time. I won’t give in until she’s ready. Not until I’ve given her so much pleasure, she’s left shaking and utterly lost in me.

She gasps when I kiss the delicate skin above her slit, her hips jerking in search of more. My control is fraying, but I hold steady, spreading her open, exposing the firm, swollen bundle of flesh that’s begging to be touched.

“Shane,” she breathes, her voice barely more than a whimper.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” I murmur, letting my lips brush a light kiss over her clit just before I give her what she needs.

My tongue flicks out, teasing, testing, and fuck , she tastes so sweet I groan against her. I don’t rush, though. I take my time, mapping her with slow, deliberate strokes, learning what makes her breath hitch, her body tremble, her fingers clutch the sheets.

She’s lost in the sensation, in the pleasure, in my careful ministrations. With a sense of awe, I watch her hips move in a sensual dance, chasing, seeking as her breath catches at every swipe of my tongue. So, I do it again. Over and over. Her soft gasps turn to whimpers, then moans as I learn what she likes. She’s falling apart for me and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

Her thighs try to close around me, but I press them wider, keeping her open for me, keeping her right where I want her. The breathy sounds spilling from her lips fuel the fire raging inside me, but I focus on her. On the way her body arches when I wrap my lips around her clit, sucking gently at first, then more firmly as she cries out, her voice trembling with need.

Her fingers dive into my hair, boldly tugging, her body writhing beneath me, chasing more friction, more pleasure. And fuck… the way she’s moving to take what she needs, I could seriously come just from this.

“Please,” she gasps, her voice so desperate it shoots sparks of pleasure up my spine. I press my tongue against her and continue stroking, flicking, sucking, building her higher and higher until she’s right there—right on the edge, trembling, panting, whimpering.

“Let go for me, pretty girl,” I rasp against her, slipping a finger inside her. I groan when I feel how tight she is—how fucking soaked. Her walls clench around me as I add another finger, stretching her, preparing her.

Suddenly, she shatters.

Her body tenses, then releases, her back arching off the bed as she cries out my name, in pleasure-filled sobs that make me feel like a goddamn king. I don’t stop. I don’t let up. I work her through it, savoring every tremor, every aftershock, every clench of her pussy around my fingers until she’s boneless beneath me.

And that’s when I lose it.

The last of my restraint snaps, and suddenly, I’m crawling over her, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s nothing short of desperate. She tastes herself on my tongue, and the sound she makes—soft, dazed, utterly wrecked—sends another jolt of need through me. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I grind against her, my cock so painfully hard it’s almost unbearable, seeking relief, seeking her.

“Shane,” she gasps as I press against her soaked entrance, so damn close, just a single movement away from sinking into her.

I brace my forearm beside her head, my other hand gripping her hip, holding her steady. She’s still trembling, still catching her breath, but there’s no hesitation in her eyes. No doubt.

Only want.

I groan, letting my forehead drop to hers, my body poised at the edge of no return. Then clarity slams into me like a freight train.

Shit.

I rip myself away from her with a ragged curse, my body shaking with restraint.

“I… I need to get a condom,” I grit out, my voice hoarse, my body trembling as I press one last kiss to her lips before forcing myself to pull away.

She whimpers, a soft, desperate “No,” slipping past her lips, her body instinctively arching toward me, seeking me. The way she reaches for me, her breath stuttering in protest, nearly makes me forget why I’m pulling away.

I cup her cheek, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back,” I rasp, my voice thick with barely contained need. “I promise.”

Dragging myself away from her is torture. My legs are shaky as I fumble for my jeans, my hands clumsy and unsteady. The condom is there, tucked into my wallet, but my fingers are fucking useless, nearly tearing the leather apart in my rush to find it so I can get back to her.

When I turn back, my breath catches.

She’s still sprawled out on the bed, her golden skin bathed in the glow of the Christmas lights, her hair wild against the pillow. Her legs still parted, her beautiful naked body on full display, waiting for me.

And her eyes.

Fuck, those eyes.

They’re locked on me, dark and pleading, filled with so much trust, so much need, that it nearly knocks the wind out of me.

Without delay I climb back over her, the condom in my hand, but as I kneel between her thighs, tearing it open, my gaze drops to where my dick brushes against her damp folds—and that’s when it hits me.

She’s a virgin.

The thought slams into me, cutting through the haze of lust and desperation gripping my body.

What if I hurt her?

What if I can’t make it good for her?

What if I break her trust?

A knot tightens in my chest, sharp and sudden, as the weight of it all settles in. The sharp, aching desire to be inside her takes a staggering step back in the face of what’s at risk.

I swallow hard, dragging in a breath.

I’ve had sex before. Enough times that this should be easy, automatic. But it doesn’t feel like that. Because it’s never been like this. Before now, sex was physical. A way to feel good, to get off, to chase a high that never lasted. Even when I cared about the girl, even when I wanted her to feel good too, it was always about both of us. About mutual pleasure.

But this?

With Becca, it’s different. For the first time in my life, my own pleasure doesn’t matter. I don’t just want this to be good for her. I need it to be perfect .

I open my eyes and find her watching me, her expression soft, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. I brush my fingers over the skin of her thigh, grounding myself in the feel of her.

“Are you sure about this, pretty girl?” My voice is rough, barely a whisper, but I force myself to wait, to really wait for her answer.

Becca doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.” Her breath is soft, certain. She shifts beneath me, her hips rising in silent invitation. “I want you, Shane.”

That’s all it takes.

I take the condom from the wrapper, rolling it on with shaky hands, my pulse pounding in my ears, a roaring drumbeat I can’t ignore. I feel her watching me, the heat of her gaze on my skin. When I look back at her, she’s biting her lip, her hands trailing over her stomach, then lower, her body restless beneath me.

I groan, pressing my forehead against hers as I position myself at her entrance. She’s so warm, so wet, that my entire body shudders with restraint.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I murmur, voice tight as I brush a kiss to her temple.

She nods, her hands sliding up my arms, gripping onto me as I inch forward—slow, so goddamn slow I swear it’s killing me.

Then‑contact.

The first slick, velvety pull of her body around me sends a sharp, unbearable jolt of pleasure ripping through my spine. My cock throbs, every muscle in my body tightening as I fight against the primal instinct to drive deeper, to take what’s mine.

I force my breath out, my jaw clenching as I watch her, searching for any sign of discomfort. Becca’s staring up at me, eyes wide and dazed, her lips parted on a soft, breathless sound. Her chest rises and falls in uneven shudders, her nails biting into my biceps, her body trembling—but not with fear.

With anticipation.

A deep groan escapes me, my forehead pressing against hers as I move deeper, my control slipping, fraying, unraveling.

She’s tight—so warm, so wet, so fucking perfect that I have to grit my teeth against the raw pleasure threatening to consume me.

I stroke my thumb over her cheek, whispering, “You okay, pretty girl?”

She nods, but I feel the tension in her, the slight stiffness in her muscles as she adjusts to my intrusion. I press my lips to her forehead, then to her mouth, swallowing the soft little sounds she’s making, letting her know she’s safe. I sink in another inch, my body quaking with restraint.

Then—resistance.

I go still, my breath locking in my chest. Her final barrier. The part of her no one else has ever touched.

My stomach tightens, my heart stumbling over itself. I lift my head, searching her face, terrified of hurting her. But Becca—my strong, determined Becca—isn’t afraid. She meets my gaze, her fingers trailing up my jaw, her lips parting in silent encouragement. And then—she moves. Her legs tighten around me, bringing me closer as she lifts her hips, pressing me forward, guiding me through…

And just like that—

I’m inside her.

A sharp gasp leaves her lips, her nails biting into my skin, her body tensing beneath me. My heart stumbles.

Fuck.

And then I see it—the flicker of pain she tries to mask, the way her breath hitches, the way her lashes flutter as she fights to adjust to my size.

“Becca,” I groan, my hands clenching the pillows beside her head, my entire body shaking with restraint. “Are you alright?”

She nods quickly—too quickly—her lips pressing into something meant to be a smile, but her eyes tell me the truth. I’ve hurt her.

The realization guts me.

I should have prepared her more. Should have slowed down. Should have done something—anything—to make sure she didn’t feel any pain.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, even as a single tear slips from the corner of her eye.

I swallow hard, my chest tightening, guilt pressing down like a weight. I did that. I hurt her. And yet—she’s still looking at me like I hung the goddamn moon and stars. She’s still touching me, still holding on to me like she can’t bear to let me go.

My jaw clenches as I fight every instinct screaming at me to move, to claim, to finally let go of the restraint that’s tearing me apart. But that doesn’t matter. She matters. And I won’t move—not until I know she’s okay.

I stay right where I am, buried deep inside her, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing her in, grounding myself in her warmth, her scent, the way she feels wrapped so fucking tightly around me. She must see the war raging inside me, because her fingers trace over my jaw, tilting my chin so I’ll meet her gaze.

And then, she kisses me.

Soft. Sweet. So full of love it nearly breaks me. Her lips trail along my cheek, my jaw, whispering words of reassurance against my skin.

“I’m okay,” she breathes, voice barely more than a shaky whisper. “Better than okay. I want this, Shane. I want you.”

And that’s all it takes.

A ragged sound tears from my throat, half relief, half desperation as I kiss her back—deep, consuming, pouring every ounce of love I have for her into my touch. I stroke my hands down her sides, slow, soothing, murmuring every sweet thing I can think of, anything to distract her from any pain she might be feeling, to ease her, to make her feel cherished.

I feel it when she starts to relax beneath me, the tension in her limbs easing, her breath growing steadier. And then—she moves. Just the slightest shift of her hips, a tentative roll against me, but it’s enough.

I groan against her lips, my control shredding at the seams. I move slowly at first, my hands never still, caressing every inch of her, grounding her , grounding myself in her . My restraint is razor thin, my body raging with the instinct to take, to claim, but my heart—it’s telling me to give.

So I do.

I give her everything.

I lose myself in the way she moves beneath me, the way her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, needing me as much as I need her. Every quiet sound that spills from her lips, every soft gasp, every whispered “ Shane“ —it ruins me.

I bury my face in her neck, murmuring against her skin, “So perfect. My pretty girl. You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Her breath hitches, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, holding me closer . Like she never wants to let go. And I know she won’t. Because I won’t let go either.

This moment… it changes everything.

It’s not just sex. It’s not just love.

It’s forever.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, her body arching into mine, her hips meeting every slow, deep thrust, and fuck—she’s close. I can feel it.

I want it.

I want to watch her fall apart beneath me. Want to feel her shatter in my arms. Want to go with her, to lose myself in her completely, because there is no world—no universe—where I exist without her.

Her name rips from my throat as I push her higher, coaxing her toward the edge with every movement, every kiss, every whispered word of devotion.

“I love you,” I rasp against her lips, my chest tightening, because it’s not enough .

It will never be enough.

But she knows.

I see it in the way she looks at me, like I’m her entire world. I feel it in the way her body clenches around mine, her love wrapping around me like a promise.

And then—she breaks.

She gasps my name, her body trembling, and I follow—falling, breaking, surrendering—pleasure crashing over me, binding me to her in a way that nothing, no force in this world, could ever undo.

I collapse against her, breathing her in, drowning in her, worshipping her even now, my lips pressing over her damp skin in soft, reverent kisses.

I should move. I should say something. But there are no words for what just happened. For what she just gave me.

I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, tucking her against my chest, needing to keep her as close as possible. She melts into me, pressing her cheek to my skin, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my heart.

And as our breathing slows, as our bodies settle from the storm, I press one last kiss to her hair and whisper, “You’re mine, pretty girl. Now and forever.”

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# Chapter 34

Shane

The first thing I register is warmth. Soft, silky skin pressed against mine, the scent of cherries and something uniquely her wrapping around me like a second skin. My arm is heavy over her waist, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly into my palm. Beneath my fingertips, I feel her—smooth, delicate, mine.

For a long moment, I just breathe, enjoying the serenity of this new day. A day that marks the beginning of a life I never thought was possible. A life with a woman I love more than life itself, and who is with me because she loves me. Me, Shane. Not Shane Montgomery, heir to the famed Montgomery Empire. My relationship with Becca isn't a transaction. It isn't about familial obligations or legacy. It's just love. Genuine, passionate, earth-shattering love. 

It doesn't feel real, but somehow it is. She's here. Naked. Tucked against my body exactly where she belongs. I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet. Images from last night replay in flashes—her lips, her gasps, the way she gave herself to me without hesitation, without fear. The way she 
looked
 at me as I entered her, like I was the only thing in her universe. I wonder if this is how Perseus felt when he defeated the sea monster and finally made Andromeda his. 

My stomach sours at the thought. Unlike Perseus, who used Medusa's head to turn Andromeda's sea monster into stone, my pretty girl's monster is still out there. Charles Kline. Somehow, someway, I have to find a way out of this for all of us. If there's one thing I learned last night, it's that there is no going back. There is no other woman in this world for me. Only Becca. And there is no way in hell anyone is going to make me marry anyone other than her. 

My chest tightens, an ache settling deep in my ribs as reminders of what we're facing try to break through the bubble of bliss surrounding us. I should move. I should wake her up and get started with our day. The real world is waiting, not to mention school, which starts in just a little over two hours. But with her tucked safely in my arms, I don't want to leave this bed. I don't want to move even an inch away from her, because the second I do, reality will come crashing back in like a tsunami set on wiping away the beautiful possibilities we cemented for ourselves last night. Something I refuse to allow. 

Fuck reality. 

Fuck anyone who even tries to tear us apart.

She stirs, shifting in her sleep, her body stretching against mine, her thigh brushing my hip, her bare chest pressing into my side. A small, contented sigh leaves her lips, her fingers curling against my skin, and I nearly groan out loud.

Jesus Christ.

My cock throbs, my body responding to hers, even though last night should've drained every ounce of energy I had. But it's 
her
. There will never be enough when it comes to her.

She shifts again, her breath warm against my chest as she nuzzles closer, her fingers splaying over my ribs. And that's when it happens—she presses a sleepy kiss against my skin.

I go 
still
.

A slow, lingering drag of her lips.

Not purposeful. Not seductive. Just 
instinctive
. A half-asleep, "
mine"
 kind of kiss that wrecks me more than any deliberate touch ever could.

I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until she makes a small noise in the back of her throat and tucks herself even closer, her nose brushing my collarbone, her hand sliding up my chest.

I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers to how the hell I'm supposed to get up out of this bed and go on with my day like it's just a normal Thursday. When every instinct in me is screaming to 
stay.
 To take her again. To keep her here. To lose myself in her until the world outside this bed doesn't exist—until nothing, not reality, not our enemies, not even fate itself, can tear us apart.

"Shane?"

My cock twitches at the sound of her deep, sexy morning voice saying my name. Suddenly aware of the wetness from the pooling beads of precum, I try to shift so I can hide my erection, but I'm too late. 

Her hand moves down my chest, over my abs, bumping right into my aching hardness, and a groan rips from deep inside my chest. It wasn't something she did on purpose, as evidenced by the way she freezes, her fingers twitching before she pulls back like she's unsure if she should have touched me at all.

She hesitates, her breath catching, her palm hovering just above my skin. I can practically hear her thoughts—see the conflict flicker across her face. 

But then she takes a breath, decision made. 

To my shock, instead of retreating, she moves back, her fingers wrapping around me, closing hesitantly at first, then tightening, growing bolder. 

I gasp.

In my rush to touch her, to taste her, to make her feel good, I never gave her the chance to touch me. Being in her hands for the first time, feeling the warm softness of her fingers around me, it's like nothing I've ever felt.

"Pretty girl?" Unlike her sexy morning voice, mine is ragged, strained. I clear my throat, hoping it's enough to make me sound more composed. "We have school."

Just as I get the sentence out, her hand moves down my shaft, then back up. I close my eyes tight and hold my breath, willing my body to not embarrass me. I'm putty in her hands, which I'm more than okay with, but I'm still a man. The thought of coming all over her hand like a two-pump chump... I don't know how I'd ever recover from that.

"Does that... does that feel good?" she asks, her voice laced with curiosity, just as her thumb glides over the sensitive head of my cock, spreading the precum.

Jesus Christ.

She has no idea. No fucking clue what she's doing to me. If I could form words, I'd tell her yes—that it feels like heaven and hell colliding in the best possible way.

By the way she's touching me, exploring me, I never would have guessed she's inexperienced. But maybe this is just us. I'm meant to be hers, just like she's meant to be mine. That has to be why this feels so right—why our bodies are so attuned, so instinctively in sync. 

"Yeah. Too good." I manage the words between ragged breaths, my chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants as pleasure coils low in my belly.

"I want to make you feel good." 

She stops, her hand disappearing, and for a second my heart damn near stops too—until she pulls the sheet down, exposing both of us completely, unashamed. Her eyes flick down, watching as her fingers return to my cock, and fuck—watching her watch herself touching me? I damn near lose it.

"Pretty girl... I can't. I need to touch you, too."

She glances up at me, a playful glint in her eyes I've never seen before—a look that makes me want to weep with joy and love. Fuck, I love my brave, confident girl.

"That's quite a dilemma we're in, then." Christ, she knows exactly what she's doing to me, and fuck, is that a turn-on. 

"Climb up." With the hand underneath her, I attempt to encourage her, but when she hesitates, her confidence flickering into uncertainty, I soften my touch. I don't want to force her into doing anything she's uncomfortable with, so instead, I rub soothing circles on her back, waiting for her to decide. 

And then she moves. 

Climbing on top of me like a goddess, she straddles my waist and I barely swallow back a groan when the warm, wet heat of her glides over my cock. 

Breathe, Shane. Hold it together for god's sake.

But then she rolls her hips, sliding against my length, and we both gasp. How does it feel like this? I'm not even inside her and yet— 

I moan loudly when she does it again.

"Condom." I grit out, my teeth clenching as the realization slams into me. We used the only one I had last night. My stomach tightens. "I don't have another. We can't..."

"Can't we just do this?" She rolls her hips again, a whimper escaping her lips when the head of my cock glides over her clit. 

I swear to God, suddenly it's like I'm fourteen again—nodding fast, eager, desperate, praying she doesn't stop.

She's so wet, so warm. And the way she moves over me, her hips rolling, undulating as she grinds against me, her nipples tight and begging for attention... I reach up, cupping her breasts, rolling the soft peaks between my fingers. She gasps, then whimpers—a sound so sweet and needy it shoots through me like lighting. 

Her eyes flicker down, watching my hands on her body, her lips parting, breath catching. And Christ—watching her like this, undone, desperate, chasing her pleasure is the most addictive thing I've ever experienced.   

Desperate to push her over the edge, I don't stop. My fingers continue teasing her nipples while my other hand finds her clit, stroking, circling, coaxing her closer. She rocks against me, slick and hot, dragging her soaked heat over my cock, working the sensitive tip against the base of her swollen clit.

God, I wish I were inside her. Not because I can't come like this—I know damn well I can, given how tight my balls are already drawn up—but because I'd give anything to feel the fluttering of her internal muscles as her body prepares to shatter. 

I watch in awe as, with the next breath, she screams my name, her body shaking, shudders rolling through her, her face twisting with pure ecstasy—breaking the last remnants of my control. A sharp groan rips from my throat as my release slams into me, my cock pulsing as hot, sticky cum spurts across my stomach—and fuck—against her clit. The sight is almost too much for me to bear, and suddenly it feels like I'm coming all over again as another wave of unspeakable pleasure consumes me. 

"Jesus." I gasp as she collapses against my chest, right up against the mess we just made. Both of us, a tangled heap of trembling limbs. "You unman me, pretty girl." I kiss the top of her head, my hand sliding lazily over her bare back as we lay there, breathless, spent. 

The room is quiet, save for the sound of our uneven breaths, our hearts slowing in sync. Time feels suspended between us, the moment too perfect, too fragile to break. But I can feel it—that creeping weight of reality pressing in. I know she feels it, too. I can tell by the way her body tenses ever so slightly against mine with every second that passes.

We don't have much time. 

In just a few minutes, we'll have to get up, get dressed, and step back into a world that doesn't want us to be together. 

Which is why I have to do this now.

"Pretty girl?"

"Hmm?" She doesn't lift her head or move, which, for some reason, makes me smile.

I run a hand over the smooth skin of her back, grounding myself in the warmth of her body. "This changes everything. You get that, right?"

 "What do you mean?" She stills, like she's holding her breath—like she's bracing for something she doesn't want to hear. My brows pull together, confused as to why it's not obvious to her. Clearly, we need to have this conversation now. 

"There's no going back for us," I say firmly. "You're my Andromeda, Becca. And I'm your Perseus. I'm yours, for all eternity, just as you are mine. You will always be it for me."

She finally lifts her head, her chin resting on my chest, her eyes wide, shining with unshed tears. Then she smiles. Soft, sweet, breathtaking. 

"I'm yours, Shane. Forever," she whispers.

This is her, once again telling me she loves me—even as she's still too scared to say the words out loud.

This is 
her
.

My Andromeda.

My soulmate in this life, in every past life, in every future one.  

My everything.

I'm done for. Completely, utterly ruined because of this girl. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I don't want to hide anymore, Becca," I tell her, my voice thick with conviction. "More than anything, I want to world to know that I'm yours and that you're mine."

She watches me carefully, her brow furrowing, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. And I hate that I already know exactly what she's thinking.

"We'll deal with Charles Kline." I reach up, freeing her lip from her teeth, brushing my thumb over the soft, pink flesh. Reverent. Worshipful. "And the minute that's done—" I pause, my eyes locking onto hers. "The minute he's out of the way, we're telling everyone. Our families. Our friends." 

The need to make this promise tangible crashes into me like a tidal wave, overwhelming, unstoppable. I lift my head, taking her lips in a kiss that's deep, searing, consuming.  

"Tell me you understand, pretty girl," I murmur against her mouth. "Say you're ready to tell the world. Say you're ready to help me fight for us."

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Chapter 35

Shane

I swear I haven’t come down yet from the high of finally claiming my pretty girl. Even standing here, surrounded by the chaotic early morning mess of a high school hallway—the slamming lockers, the half-shouted conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, the murmuring of angry teens upset they’re here and not still back in their beds—nothing can pull me down from this high.

Even though I barely slept last night, I don’t feel tired. I feel invincible . Like I could take on the whole damn world with my bare hands and win . Because I already have.

I got the girl.

And not just in a fleeting, temporary way. No, last night changed everything . Becca is mine, and I’m hers. The world doesn’t know it yet, but they will. And when they do, God help anyone who tries to come between us.

A locker slams somewhere off in the distance, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Nick Kline leans casually against the row of metal doors, spinning a set of keys on his finger, a smirk playing on his face as he takes in the girls eyeing him up suggestively as they walk by. Conner Matthews stands next to him, stuffing books into his bag like he’s already over this school day, even before it’s begun.

“Jesus, Montgomery, what the hell are you smiling about?” Conner asks, his head tilted as he narrows his eyes in my direction. “You look like your dad just handed you the keys to the kingdom.”

Shit.

I hadn’t realized I was grinning like a complete fool. And worse—I can’t even say why.

I school my expression, forcing a smirk instead. “Oh, you know, the usual. Seeing how miserable you are each morning always puts an extra pep in my step.”

“Uh-huh,” Conner scoffs, slamming his locker shut. “Nah, I know that look. That’s the look of a man who finally got himself a good fuck.”

Nick snorts, shaking his head. “Real poetic, Con.”

But Conner’s too busy grinning at me, waggling his brows. “So? Who’s the girl? Tell me it was that chick from Wilson Academy—the redhead with the rack. Or was it that bartender from The Lodge?”

My stomach clenches. The thought of them reducing last night to something casual makes me want to punch a hole through the nearest wall. I hate this. That I can’t tell them. That I can’t say her name. That I have to let them think I spent the night with someone who meant nothing, when the truth is I spent it with the only girl who’s ever meant everything.

For pretense’s sake, I force out a low chuckle. “You don’t know shit.” I grab the rest of the books I need and then slam my locker shut.

Conner just laughs. “You don’t deny it, though.” He pauses, his eyes scanning my face for any hint of the truth. “Come on, Montgomery. You owe me. I’ve spent the past week covering for you, pretending you’re my fake roommate. The least you can do is tell me whose bed you’ve been actually warming.”

I roll my eyes, my tone sharp as I remind him, “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” Eager to change the subject, I turn to Nick, raising an eyebrow. “And you? What the hell are you even doing here? You graduated last year, remember?”

Nick shrugs, looking down at his keys like they hold the answers to all of life’s problems. “Winter break. Plus, he’s home today, and with that snake who calls himself my father harassing me every chance he gets, I’d rather be anywhere but there.” Nick rolls his shoulders, exhaling slowly, like he can force away the bitter thoughts that cloud his mind whenever he speaks of his father. But the weight of it, it lingers around the edges of his expression. It always does.

I don’t blame him.

If Charles Kline were my dad, I’d probably feel the same.

After everything he’s put him through, Nick hates him with the passion of a thousand suns. Not in the way most sons do when they clash with their old man. This isn’t about rules or expectations or some bullshit teenage rebellion. Nick hates him because Charles Kline didn’t just ruin his life—he destroyed someone else’s to do it.

Charles didn’t approve of the girl Nick loved. So, he destroyed her. Had her father arrested, tore apart her family’s reputation, and bankrupted them until they had no choice but to leave town. And when that wasn’t enough—when she still wouldn’t let Nick go—he humiliated her in a way no one comes back from.

Charles had cameras installed in Nick’s room. Private. Hidden. The kind of shit you’d expect from a predator, not a father. And when he decided Miranda needed to be taught a lesson, he used them.

It turns out he’d recorded them. Every kiss, every touch—everything Nick and Miranda thought belonged to them alone. And when Miranda wouldn’t break up with him, when she refused to bend to his will, Charles released the footage.

Not just to Nick. Not just to Miranda.

To the world.

Their classmates. Their teachers. Strangers on the internet. The tabloids. The videos spread like wildfire, a scandal that turned Miranda from the girl Nick loved into a public spectacle. A name whispered in hushed tones. A face people pointed at, ridiculed, and laughed at.

I remember the day it happened like it was yesterday. The way the school buzzed with gossip. The way Miranda’s name became a goddamn punchline overnight. The way Nick nearly killed a guy for talking about her in the locker room.

It was awful.

Nick did his best to fight back. He tried to save her, to fight for her. But Charles is the kind of man who doesn’t lose. And when Nick wouldn’t back down, Charles made one last promise.

If he didn’t stop, Miranda wouldn’t just lose everything—she’d lose her life.

Nick did what he had to. He let her go. And ever since, he’s been drowning in the knowledge that the man he shares a last name with is a monster—and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.

The memory of what happened is sobering. The similarities between what Nick went through and what Becca and I are facing are startling. But the difference is, Nick never saw it coming, and he didn’t have Cedric at his back before everything went down. With the aggressive steps we’ve taken to preempt whatever threats Charles Kline throws our way, I pray it’s enough to prevent history from repeating itself.

“Besides,” Nick continues, pushing off the lockers, “I need some cash, and since I have product to move, I figured I’d make a stop.”

I exhale sharply. “You’re selling here ? At the school?”

Nick shrugs again, all casual. “Where else?”

Conner lets out a low chuckle. “C’mon, Montgomery. Don’t get your panties all twisted up. Who the hell is gonna report him?” He gestures around the crowded hallway. “We’re untouchable, man. Always have been.”

Yeah.

That’s what they think.

The world may treat us like kings now, but the second we slip? The second we fall? They’ll eat us alive.

Before I can say anything, my phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out and glance at the screen.

Mom:

I’ll be home tomorrow. I expect you to be there. And through the holidays as well.

The high I’ve been riding all morning takes yet another nosedive.

Shit.

The words blur for a second, my stomach twisting as my grip tightens around my phone. I haven’t seen my mom in months. She’s been gone , wrapped up in the multitude of charity events she prioritizes over our family. And now, just when things are finally feeling real with Becca, she expects me to drop everything and play the loyal son.

It makes my blood boil. I should have expected this. With the Christmas holiday just around the corner, of course, she would be home. She wouldn’t miss that photo op, or the perfectly staged family moments she’s so obsessed with.

My chest tightens.

Because now I have to leave Becca’s side. And that? That fucking guts me. The thought of her spending Christmas alone twists something sharp in my gut—but it’s not just that. The worst part? I’ll be leaving her unprotected without me there to watch over her. That’s a risk I can’t afford to take. How the hell am I supposed to walk away from her, even for a day, when every instinct in me is screaming that if I do, Charles Kline might swoop in and take her from me?

“Damn,” Conner whistles. “You just went from smug bastard to ‘my puppy just died’ real fast. Who’s the text from?”

I exhale through my nose, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “No one.”

Nick gives me a sharp look. “Bullshit. What is it?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

But the light feeling I woke up with? The weightlessness of it?

It’s gone.

Because reality is creeping in. And with it, the cold, suffocating truth that the peace I felt when I woke this morning with Becca in my arms was never mine to keep. That kind of peace… I still have to earn.

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# Chapter 36

Shane

"Shane Montgomery, you lying bastard. Where the hell have you been spending your nights?" 

The words slam into me before I even see her. Amanda's voice is sharp enough to slice through the crowded hallway, drawing instant attention. A hundred heads snap in my direction at once.

Fuuuck.

I turn just in time to see her storming toward me, her blonde hair whipping over her shoulder, her designer coat hanging open as if she's just arrived at school. She looks furious—eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line—but underneath all that, she looks hurt.

And I hate that I don't care... because there was a time not too long ago when I did.

I straighten, keeping my expression neutral. "Amanda, this isn't the time—"

"The hell it isn't!" she snaps. "I went to Conner's house last night looking for you. That's after your father told me you've been staying at his place for the past week. Imagine my surprise when Con's housekeeper tells me that not only haven't you been staying there, but that she hasn't seen you over there in weeks. Weeks! So enlighten me, Shane—where exactly have you been?"

Students start to gather, slowing their steps, glancing at us with wide, eager eyes. They're here for the show. The queen of the school is making a scene, and there's nothing people love more than blood in the water.

"Finally. Some entertainment," Conner mumbles under his breath, a chuckle escaping him as he casually leans back against the lockers to watch the shitshow that's about to unfold. 

Nick, on the other hand, tenses beside me. I'm sure he can guess exactly where I've been, but he also understands how critically important it is that the truth remains a secret. 

"I don't owe you an explanation, Ames," I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. "We're not together. We haven't been for a long time. You have no right to demand any answers from me."

That only makes her angrier.

"No right?" she repeats, voice rising. "I'm your fiancée, Shane! Or at least I was supposed to be, before you decided to throw everything away for some pathetic, small-town whore."

A sharp, electric crack of silence falls over the crowd.

And then I see her.

Becca.

She stands twenty feet away, caught in the middle of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and something deeper—fear. Beside her, Felicia and Jocelyn are frozen, their gazes darting between Amanda and me like they're watching a car crash in slow motion.

Everything inside me screams to go to Becca. To reach for her. To tell her none of this matters, that she's all I care about. But I can't. Not here. Not now. Not with Amanda tearing into me like a woman scorned and the whole goddamn school watching. 

Amanda's gaze follows mine, her lips curling in disgust the second she spots Becca. And then, loud enough for the entire hallway to hear—loud enough to ensure the damage is done—she laughs. A cruel, cutting sound that sends a hush over the crowd.

"So it's true, then." She crosses her arms, her voice dripping with scorn. "You've been slumming it with her." Her sharp gaze swings back to me, eyes blazing. "Becca Franks? Seriously, Shane? Her?"

Becca flinches.

And that? That fucking kills me.

"That's enough," I say firmly, trying to keep the growl from tearing through my chest. Without hesitation, I grab Amanda's wrist—firm, but not rough—and start walking down the hall. I need to take control of this situation. Fast. Before Amanda does any more damage. Before my pretty girl gets caught up in any more of Amanda's vitriol.

"What the hell are you doing?" she snaps, struggling against my hold. 

"We're taking this conversation somewhere private," I grit out, pulling her toward an empty classroom. Nick follows, shutting the door behind him so no one disturbs us.

Amanda yanks her arm away. "You can't just drag me off like I'm some—"

"This marriage isn't happening," I cut her off, my voice ice cold. "I've already made that clear to you. And if I have to say it a thousand more times to get you to believe it, I will."

Her jaw tightens, her breath coming fast. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't know you've been trying to get out of this from the beginning?" Her hands curl into fists. "But you don't get it, Shane. I don't have a choice."

I exhale slowly, trying to remind myself she's just a scared girl. "Yes, you do. I know your father threatened you, but you don't have to play his game. Nick and I will make sure you're taken care of. You know this. You don't have to marry me to survive."

Her eyes flash with anger. "That's easy for you to say. You were born a Montgomery. A male heir, just like my brother. You have no idea what it's like to be me."

Nick steps forward. "Amanda—"

"Shut up, Nick," she snaps. "You always do this. You think just because you turned your back on our father, you get to judge me for not doing the same? Except it's not the same, Nick. Even with everything you've done, he'd still hand over everything to you. Because you're his son. His heir. But me..." Her voice falters, but only briefly. Then she hardens, her words turning colder, sharper. "I'm nothing. To him, I was born nothing. I will always be nothing!"

Nick's expression softens, the anger in his eyes replaced by something almost tender. "You're not nothing. And I'm not judging you. If anything, I'm trying to help you."

Amanda lets out a bitter laugh. "Help me? By what—telling me to just throw away everything I've spent my life believing was mine? All that power? My chance to finally take control of my life?"

"This isn't about power," I say. "It's about control. And if you let Charles force you into this, he's the one who wins."

She looks at me then, something dangerous and raw simmering just beneath her fury. "And that's how I know you don't get it." Her voice drops, the venom replaced by a quiet desperation. "Marrying you... that's how I take my control back. Your family name, that's how I secure my place in this world, how I can finally earn my father's respect. With your family's power and influence, with the Montgomery name to shield me... that's how I'll finally be free from him. That's how I'll finally beat
 him
!"

Christ. What the fuck could either Nick or I say to that? There's so much truth in what she just said, there's no way to argue it. And maybe if I wasn't with Becca, if I hadn't found that other half of my soul, I might have gone through with the marriage if only to save my friend from a life where she's been made to feel like she's nothing, simply because she was born a girl to a bastard like Charles Kline.

But the thing is, I have found my soul mate. 

My Andromeda.

The girl whom my heart beats for. 

Which means no matter how badly I wish I could give Amanda what she's asking for, there's no way I would do it at the expense of my life with Becca. Amanda must notice the shift in my expression, for she steps in front of me, her fingers tangling in my shirt, as she looks at me with sad desperation in her eyes.

"I love you, Shane," she whispers, her voice cracking. 

I don't react. I can't. Because we both know it's not true. 

She swallows hard, trying to steady herself before she speaks again. "Maybe it's not that blinding, all-consuming kind of love, but it is love. And if you think I'm going to stand quietly by and let you walk away from me... from everything we were supposed to be, you're wrong."

I set my jaw, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from my shirt. "Amanda—"

She steps closer, her chin tilting up defiantly, so close I can feel her breath against my jaw. Her voice drops to a whisper, soft, almost tender—except for the shards of glass hidden beneath the surface.

 "If I can't have you, Shane... then neither can she."

She lets it hang there, lets the weight of it settle deep in my bones. And then—just for a second—her lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smirk before she leans in just a little closer.

"My father may not appreciate my existence in our family, he may not see my worth, but that doesn't mean I'm weak. I'm still a Kline. I'm still my father's daughter. You'd do well to remember that."

She steps back slowly, deliberately, as if giving me time to absorb each word, her eyes scanning me to ensure they hit just as hard as she intended. Like she's satisfied they have, she smiles. Then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with the finality of a gunshot.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Nick exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Well, that was...."

I don't respond.

I can't.

Because for the first time since all of this started, I realize Becca and I are running out of time.

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Chapter 37

Shane

For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is my own breathing—too sharp, too uneven—as I stare at the space where Amanda just stood. Her final words still hang in the air, thick and suffocating.

“If I can’t have you, Shane… then neither can she.”

A cold, sinking feeling settles in my chest.

Becca.

Amanda wasn’t bluffing. That wasn’t some empty threat. She meant every word, and now, the girl I love is in more danger than ever.

My jaw tightens as the weight of her words presses down on me.

I have to find Becca.

Now.

I turn, ready to walk out and find her—ready to fix whatever damage Amanda just did. But before I can take a step, Nick moves in front of me, blocking my path.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice is low, sharp—filled with simmering frustration.

I grit my teeth. “Move, Nick.”

But he doesn’t. He stands firm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed with a quiet intensity.

“No. Not this time.”

I meet his glare head-on, my patience already threadbare.

“Nick, I swear to God—”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he snaps, his voice cracking with something dangerously close to desperation. “I fucking warned you.” His voice rises, raw with anger. “I told you to stay the hell away from her. And now? Now my father knows. Now Amanda knows. Now the whole goddamn school knows!”

My hands ball into fists at my sides.

“You think I don’t know that?” I bite out. “You think I don’t feel the weight of it? I do. But it changes nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Because there’s no way in hell I’m walking away from her. Ever.”

Nick growls under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he begins to pace. His movements are tense, frantic. “Jesus Christ, man. Do you even understand what you’ve done? What happens next? My father is going to come for her now, Shane. He will destroy her, just like he destroyed Miranda .”

The name slams into me like a punch to the chest.

Nick stops pacing, his breath sharp and ragged, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of everything he’s holding back.

“You should’ve listened to me,” he says, his voice lower now, heavy with something almost resigned. “You should have left her be.”

Something in me breaks.

I exhale hard, my vision blurring, my pulse hammering against my skull.

“You don’t fucking get it,” I grind out, my voice thick with emotion I can’t hold back. “She’s not just some girl to me, Nick.” The words tear from me, unchained, unstoppable. “She’s everything. She’s the air in my lungs, the fucking blood in my veins. She’s the only goddamn thing in this world that makes me believe I might still have something worth fighting for.” My chest tightens, but I don’t hold back. I can’t .

“I would burn this whole fucking town to the ground before I let anyone touch her. Before I let your father or anyone else take her away from me.”

Nick stares at me, his expression frozen and unreadable. The silence that follows is thick, almost unbearable. Then something in him shifts. The fire in his eyes doesn’t disappear, but something cracks beneath it. He seems to deflate before my eyes, and in that instant, I know he gets it. Because it’s exactly how he felt about Miranda.

A slow exhale leaves his chest, and when he finally speaks, his voice is softer. “You really do love her.”

I hold his gaze, letting him see every piece of me laid bare. “Yeah, Nick. I do. With every fiber of my being. With everything that I am.”

A beat of silence.

Then, finally, he nods. “Fine.”

I blink. “Fine?”

Nick drags a hand through his hair again. “Yes. Fine.” He lets out a sharp exhale, his arms crossing over his chest. “So what now?” His tone turns wry. “You just keep pretending like none of this is happening? Like my father isn’t about to do exactly what I warned you he would?”

I grit my teeth, doing my best to ignore the cheap shot in his words. “No. I’ve taken steps to protect her. I’m doing everything I can think of to make sure she stays safe.”

Nick scoffs, his expression darkening. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Shane? Because right now? I don’t see a way out of this where Becca doesn’t get crushed.”

His words cut deep because they’re too damn close to the truth.

“I’ve reached out to Cedric.”

Nick’s head snaps up, his mind clearly racing, running through everything Cedric did for Miranda and her family. Including making her disappear so no one—not even Nick—could find her.

“You have?”

I nod. “He’s put a team on both of us. For now, they’re just watching from a distance. We installed a security system at her place. He’s tapped into surveillance at her job, at school—anywhere we frequent.” I exhale, pushing forward. “There’s a tracker on my car, my watch, and a bracelet she wears. And they’re watching him. Listening.” I level my gaze at Nick. “I’m doing everything I can think of to stay ahead of him this time.”

Nick rears back like I just punched him. My words inadvertently serving as a reminder of all the ways we failed Miranda.

“Nick.” I take a step closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like—”

“I didn’t see it coming.” His voice is low, distant—like he’s not even talking to me anymore. His gaze is unfocused like he’s trapped in the past. “I failed her. I failed myself.”

“You did not fail anyone, Nick.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “You couldn’t have known the lengths he would go. But that’s the difference this time. Now we do.”

A long beat of silence. Then—

“I fought like hell for Miranda. And I lost. You really think we stand a chance at beating him this time?”

I don’t hesitate. “I do.”

Nick scoffs, shaking his head, but I’m not done.

“Because this time, it’s him underestimating us.” I point between the two of us. “He has no idea the lengths I’m willing to go to protect not just Becca, but you. Amanda. Me. This time, I plan to stop him.” My voice drops—hard and unyielding. “Hopefully for good.”

Nick’s gaze sharpens. “Stop him? For good? What the hell does that mean?”

“Cedric has friends in high places. I don’t know all the details, but since helping Miranda’s family, he’s been working with someone at the FBI to build a case against your father. They don’t have enough to charge him yet . But if he makes a move on Becca, on any of us—”

“I’m in.” His words slice through the air like a blade.

I blink. “Nick—”

“I said, I’m in.” His voice is firm. “If there’s even the slightest chance we can bring that bastard down, I’m fucking in.”

I stare at him, thrown by how quickly he jumped on board with our plan.

“Nick… he’s your father. I don’t expect—”

“He’s not my fucking father.” The words come out hard, almost violent. “A father doesn’t do to his child what that man did to me. Or what he’s threatening to do to my sister.” His eyes burn with hatred, but underneath that, I see the raw, deep pain fueling it. “So fuck him. I’ll help you take him down, and we’ll keep Becca and my sister safe. Whatever it takes, Shane. This time, losing isn’t an option.”

The conviction in his voice hits me hard. Nick is in. Fuck. He’s on our side. And just like that, the weight pressing on my chest eases just a little.

I pause, just for a second, then make a decision.

There’s no going back from this.

If I want Nick to stand by me in this—stand by Becca completely—then he needs to know the truth.

I drag in a slow breath. “There’s something you don’t know. Something you need to know about Becca. And your father.”

Nick stiffens. His entire body goes rigid, his expression hardening into something lethal.

“What about them?”

I hesitate. Saying this out loud feels too big. Too dangerous. But if there’s anyone who deserves to know… it’s him.

I force in a breath, my chest tight. Then I say the words that will change everything.

“She’s his daughter, Nick.”

Nick doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. His chest rises sharply, but he doesn’t speak.

I press forward. “Charles raped Becca’s mother. Repeatedly. Got her pregnant. And when he found out she didn’t get rid of the baby, he made it his mission to destroy her. He ruined her name, destroyed her reputation, her family, her entire goddamn life.” My throat tightens, but I don’t stop. “And Becca’s.”

My hands curl into fists. My voice turns sharp, bitter. “And when that wasn’t enough—when Becca’s mother finally managed to escape him—he spread his version of the story. Made sure the entire town believed she was a gold-digging whore who tried to trap him for his money.” My pulse pounds as the rage rises. “Your father destroyed that woman, Nick. And his own daughter in the process.”

Nick remains frozen. A long, stony silence stretches between us before he finally exhales. The sound is slow, measured—like he’s physically holding himself together. Then, with a tight, controlled inhale, he rips his hands through his hair, gripping the strands tight like he needs the pain to ground himself.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice hollow. “Of course. Of fucking course. “

I let the silence stretch between us, giving him the space to process.

And then, finally, he speaks.

“It explains so much.” His voice is eerily flat. “I grew up hearing him talk about her mom. About Becca.” His jaw clenches. “About how much he hated them.”

His fists tighten.

“He always said she was a lying, manipulative bitch who tried to trap him with some bastard kid.” His throat bobs. His voice is quieter now, almost distant, like he’s piecing it together in real-time. “It was Becca, wasn’t it? And all this time, I believed him. The entire town believed him.”

His hands clench at his side, his knuckles going white like he’s physically holding back the rage. And when he lifts his head to meet my eyes this time, something inside him has shifted.

“She’s my sister,” he whispers, so low I almost miss it. His chest rises and falls as he breathes it in. As he comes to accept the truth. And when he exhales again, the weight of it seems to settle deep within his soul. “I have another sister.”

I nod, letting him sit with it. Letting him feel it.

Nick lets out a slow, shuddering breath. As his jaw hardens, a look of determination replaces the look of disbelief.

“That’s it then.” His voice is stronger now. More certain. “That settles it. I have to protect her. I have to protect them both.”

There’s something final in his voice. Something unshakable. Nick Kline isn’t just backing me, he’s now in this fight with me. And he’s determined not to let his father win. Which is a good thing. Because there’s one more thing I need to ask him.

“Nick.” His head snaps up, his stormy gaze locking onto mine. “There’s something else.”

Nick exhales, shaking his head like he can’t believe there’s more. “Of course there is,” he mutters.

I ignore the sarcasm. “I need you to do something for me.” When he straightens, I waste no time. “I have to leave Becca alone for the holidays.” The words taste like acid , but I push through them. “My mother’s coming home for the holidays. And if I don’t show up—if I don’t play my part—it’ll make waves I can’t afford right now.”

Nick doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Because he knows exactly what that means.

Charles will be watching.

If I disappear over the holidays, it’ll make it painfully obvious something’s up, putting an even bigger target on me and Becca.

I exhale, forcing out the next words. “While I’m gone… I need you to stay with Becca.”

Nick blinks, caught off guard. “You mean—?”

“I mean stay with her in her apartment.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “I need you to protect her while I’m gone, Nick. Make sure she’s safe. Make sure no one—” I cut off, jaw tightening. “Just… keep her safe. Alright?”

Nick studies me for a long moment.

And then?

He nods.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just a silent agreement.

Because this isn’t just about me anymore. This is about her … his sister .

Nick leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. “Guess that means I won’t be going home for the holidays, then.” His lips curl into something sharp and humorless . “What a fucking shame.”

I huff out something that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah. You sound real torn up about it.”

Nick shrugs, gaze darkening. “Not like I was planning on celebrating with dear old Dad anyway.” He exhales, rolling his shoulders like he’s settling into this new role. “Besides, watching over Becca? Making sure she’s safe from that asshole?” His smirk fades, replaced by something fierce. Something unyielding. “That’s the best Christmas gift I could ask for.”

The vice around my chest loosens even more. Because this is real now. Nick isn’t just my backup. He’s her brother in this fight. And as much as I hate the thought of leaving Becca, as much as it guts me to walk away—knowing Nick will be there makes it bearable.

I nod once. “Thank you.”

Nick just shakes his head. “No need to thank me. This is personal now. She’s my family.” His voice turns gravelly . “I couldn’t protect Miranda,” he says quietly. “But I can protect Becca. Just like I’ll find a way to save Amanda.”

The weight of those words settles deep in my bones.

Nick isn’t just in this fight with me.

He’s claiming it.

Determined to fight for Becca. For Amanda.

And that?

That will make all the difference.

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# Chapter 38

Shane

She's not in her next class—she never even showed up. 

I push through the halls, my pulse hammering like a war drum, my grip tight around my phone. I've called. I've texted. Nothing. No response.

A flicker of panic grips my chest as I send a quick message to Cedric. Seconds later, the reply comes: 
She's still in the building.

That leaves only one place where she could be, and now I'm kicking myself for not checking there first. 

In a rush, I make my way to the first floor, heading straight for the wing where the administrative offices are located. The door to the small, tucked-away lounge is closed, but I don't hesitate. Without bothering to knock, I push it open.

And there she is.

She's curled up in the small loveseat, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around herself like she's trying to disappear. Her eyes are glazed, distant, lost in the wreckage of the mess Amanda left behind. And fuck, she looks... sad. Lost. So damn fragile it makes my chest ache.

The second she notices me, her gaze flickers like she's determined to hide her pain. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then, before she can shut me out—before she can throw up those walls—I cross the room, grab her hand, and pull her up into my arms.

She stiffens.

For half a second, I think she's going to resist. But then, she just... breaks. 

A shudder runs through her body, and I feel it—how her control slips, how all that pain she's been holding inside is finally too much. Her body goes slack, her breath coming in soft, shaky gasps as she buries her face in my chest.

God. The sound guts me. My arms tighten around her, one hand sliding into her hair, the other pressing against her back. 

"Shane..." Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I hear it—the battle raging inside her. The desperate push and pull of needing me while simultaneously wanting to push me away.

I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. I need her to see me. To see my love, my desperation—my unshakable determination to make this right. 

"I've been looking everywhere for you," I murmur, my voice rough.

She swallows hard, her breath catching slightly. Then, just as quickly, she takes a step back.

No.

I don't let her go far. My grip on her waist tightens, my thumbs brushing over her hip bones in slow, grounding circles.

"Becca."

She flinches, just slightly. Her lips part like she's going to say something, but then she shakes her head, blinking rapidly—like she can will herself to keep it together.

And then I see it. 

The shift.

A mask slides into place. A cold, detached expression falls over her beautiful face, sealing away the storm raging beneath. Then she shrugs, as if none of this matters. Like she's not slowly breaking my fucking heart into pieces.

"It's fine," she says. "I knew this was going to happen eventually." She lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "At least now I don't have to pretend anymore. In the end, I was only fooling myself anyway." 

Her words are casual. Light. 

But her voice? 

Her voice is breaking.

But it's nothing compared to how she's shattering my heart.

My grip tightens, fingers pressing into the curve of her waist. "Look at me."

She doesn't.

So I lift her chin again, forcing those stormy, shattered eyes to meet mine.

"Try again," I say quietly, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "Don't lie to me this time. Tell me how you really feel."

Her breath catches, her eyes glossing over with a flicker of something raw—the fear, the hurt, the weight of everything Amanda just threw at her.

Then she blinks it away.

"I said I'm fine."

I exhale sharply, the frustration and helplessness filling me with anxiety. "No, you're not."

Her jaw clenches, her gaze hardening. "Shane—"

I don't let her finish. I cup her face, my fingers splayed over her cheek, my thumb tracing the soft skin below her lower lip. Her breath is shallow, her pulse fluttering beneath my touch. She's barely holding it together, but I refuse to let her fall apart alone.

"You can lie to everyone else," I murmur, voice rough. "But not to me."

Her throat bobs.

I shift my grip, sliding one hand down the curve of her waist, pulling her closer, until there's no space between us. I need her to 
feel
 this. 
To feel me.

"Say it," I urge, my lips brushing just beneath her ear.

She shudders.

I press a soft, lingering kiss to her temple, then another, just below her jaw. "Tell me, pretty girl."

Her fingers curl into my hoodie, gripping the fabric like she needs something to hold on to. She squeezes her eyes shut, her breath shaking. "Shane..."

The pain in her voice cracks something deep inside me. If she can't say it, then I'll say it for her.

I tilt her chin again, bringing our foreheads together, breathing her in.

"I left with Amanda," I murmur. "I walked away. Left you behind in that hallway when you needed me, and I fucking hate myself for it."

Her breath stutters.

"I should have stayed. You have no idea how badly I wanted to stay with you." My grip tightens slightly. "But Amanda... I didn't know what else to do."

A single tear slips down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb, hating myself for putting it there. 

"I don't blame you for that, Shane," she whispers, her voice so soft, so broken.

I shake my head, the guilt swelling inside me like a tidal wave. "I know." My lips brush against her hair as I let out a slow, controlled breath. "But I need you to know... You're my heart, Becca. It's you I want, and that's never going to change."

Becca squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before reopening them, searching my face.

"You promise?" she asks, voice barely audible, yet cracking with unspeakable fear.

My chest aches. She shouldn't have to ask me that. She should already know. 

I exhale sharply. "I promise. With everything I am," I murmur.

Her lashes flutter as she fights back another round of tears. Then, like she's found whatever truth she was searching for, she lays her head against my chest. 

She's still trembling. I can feel it in the way her breath shudders against my throat. In the way her fingers clutch the fabric of my hoodie, like she's trying to ground herself.

And I hate it.

I hate that I let this happen. That I left her standing there—alone, humiliated, defenseless against Amanda's cruelty. That I let her believe, even for a second, that she wasn't the only thing in this world that mattered to me.

I cup her face, tilting her chin so she has no choice but to look at me. Her lashes are damp, her hazel eyes stormy with emotions she's trying so damn hard to suppress.

"Becca." My voice is low, raw. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She swallows hard, blinking rapidly like she can force the hurt away. "It's fine."

"It's not fine." I don't let her drop her gaze. "I should have been there with you. I should have stayed."

She shakes her head, trying to brush it off, but I won't let her. I tighten my grip—not to hold her in place, but to remind her. 
I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

"I left you to deal with the fallout alone." My voice dips, thick with guilt. "That's the last thing I ever wanted. I know how much you hate people looking at you. Judging you." My thumb traces her cheek, catching another tear that escapes despite her stubborn resolve. "And today, I gave them every reason to."

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, inhaling sharply. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't."

I can feel her pulling away—not physically, but emotionally, retreating behind those walls she's been building around herself for years. But I've already broken them down once, and I'll be damned if I let her lock me out now.

I drag my fingers down her arms, feeling the goosebumps rising under my touch. When I lace our fingers together, she stiffens—like she's trying to resist. 

But I won't let her. 

I squeeze gently, grounding her. 
Anchoring
 her to me.

"Talk to me, pretty girl."

Her lips press together, and I see the war waging inside her—the part of her that wants to lean into me, into the safety of us, and the part that wants to protect herself from heartbreak.

I don't give her the chance to run.

"Becca." I press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "Don't shut me out."

Her breath shudders, and for a second, I think she's going to cave. But then, in a voice so quiet I almost miss it, she says, "You don't understand."

"Then make me understand."

She tries to pull her hands free, but I don't let her. Instead, I shift my grip, sliding my fingers beneath the hem of her sleeves, brushing against the soft skin of her inner wrists.

That gets her attention.

She jerks her gaze up to mine, her pupils dilating slightly, and I seize the moment. I dip my head, ghosting my lips over hers—light enough to make her shiver, deep enough to make sure she feels it.

Her fingers tighten around mine, and I know I have her. She's still fighting herself, but I 
feel
 her giving in.

Still, I need her to 
say
 it.

"Talk to me, baby."

She exhales shakily, but finally—finally—she whispers, "It's not just Amanda."

I wait.

Her throat works as she swallows. "It's... everything. The school. The town. Charles. What happens next." A shadow crosses over her face. "What happens when everyone looks at me and sees my mother? When they say I'm just like her? When they call me a—"

"Don't." My voice is sharp, cutting through the air between us. It's a command, a plea, because I can't bear the thought of anyone speaking about her in that way. I shake my head, my hands tightening around her waist, pulling her closer. "Don't ever fucking say that."

Her breath hitches.

"Our situation? It's nothing like what your mother went through," I murmur, my voice a vow. "You're not your mother, and I'm not Charles. We're us. We're in love. And we're perfect for each other."

I pull back slightly, locking onto her gaze with every ounce of conviction, every ounce of fire burning inside me. "And anyone who dares to say otherwise? Anyone who so much as fucking 
whispers
 otherwise? Then they'll have to deal with my wrath. Because there's no way in hell, I'll ever let anyone disrespect you. Or our love."

Her lips part, stunned by the force of my words, but I mean every damn one of them. She starts to shake her head, but I pretend not to notice. Instead, I run my hands up her back, my fingers spreading over her ribs.

"Listen to me." My voice is softer now, but no less fierce. "This? Us? 
You
?" I shake my head. "Nothing else fucking matters. Not Amanda. Not Charles. Not the town. Not their bullshit opinions. None of it."

She exhales sharply, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But Shane—"

"No." I cut her off gently, brushing my thumb across her lips. "No more 'buts.'" I lean in, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me the truth."

Her brows furrow.

I tilt my head, holding her gaze captive. "Do you want this? Us?"

She trembles. "You know I do."

"Then nothing else matters."

A soft, broken exhale scapes her—a whisper of a sob. "It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is." I press my lips to hers, slow and deep, tasting her doubt, her fear—chasing them away. When I finally pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. "It is that simple, Becca. Because no matter what happens next—no matter what comes our way—one thing will never change."

She swallows, barely breathing. "What's that?"

I cup her face, forcing her to see me. "You are mine. And I am yours. And I don't give a fuck what anyone else has to say about it."

A tear slips down her cheek, but this time, she doesn't look away. And when I kiss her again, she doesn't fight it. Instead, she melts into me, letting me take away whatever hesitation or fear still lingers.

When I pull away, I brush my lips over her temple, slow, lingering. Reverent. "Whatever happens next, Becca... it's your call."

She tenses slightly, her eye searching mine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you want to keep this between us, we'll find a way." I run my fingers along her jaw. "We'll shut this down, let the rumors die, make sure Amanda and everyone else don't get the satisfaction of knowing they got to us." 

Her lips part slightly, hesitation flickering across her features. 

"But if you want to go public—if you want to stand in the middle of that hallway tomorrow morning and tell every single person exactly who I, Shane Montgomery, belong to—" I brush my thumb over her cheek, my voice turning gravelly and raw. "I'm in."

She sucks in a breath. Surprise flickers in her face, and I can't help but smile wide, because fuck, there is nothing I want more than to declare to the whole goddamn world that I'm hers and she is mine.

"But in the end, this is 
your
 choice, pretty girl. No one else's." My voice dips lower, thick with emotion. "Not Amanda's. Not Charles's. Not the town's. 
Yours.
"

She swallows, something unreadable flashing in her gaze. "What do 
you
 want?"

I exhale, shaking my head slightly because that answer is easy as hell.

"If it were up to me?" I slide my hands back around her waist, feeling the way she fits against me. "I would've told the world the second you said you were mine." My throat tightens at the memory of that moment. It happened right in this room. "I would've kissed you in front of everyone, made damn sure they knew exactly who owns every piece of my heart."

Her breath catches.

"I would've fought anyone who dared to look at you sideways." My jaw clenches with the thought. "Hell, I still might."

She lets out a soft, breathy laugh, but her eyes betray the conflict. The push and pull between wanting to be with me, and the fear of what happens next.

"Shane... this isn't just about us or Amanda. You don't know how ugly people can get. How relentless they'll be. "

I slide my fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her gaze back to mine. "Then let them."

She blinks, startled.

"Let them talk. Let them whisper, let them spread their bullshit." I shake my head, my grip tightening just enough to keep her from slipping away. "They don't fucking matter. None of them do. The only thing that matters is you and me. 
Us.
"

Her lips tremble. "You make it sound so easy."

"It 
is
 easy," I tell her, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "Because nothing is ever going to change the way I feel about you."

She exhales sharply, eyes dark with uncertainty. "But what about Charles Kline? There's no telling what he'll do when he finds out we went public." 

"Cedric is helping us with that, remember? If he so much as dares to lift a finger against us, they'll take him down." My jaw hardens. "We've got those bases covered, Becca. I don't want him to be the reason we keep our relationship a secret."

She draws in a shaky breath, her fingers absently toying with the hem of my shirt as she nods, considering my words.  

Then finally—

"I just... I think I need more time."

I still for just a second. It's not the answer I wanted, not after everything we've fought through, but I understand. Plus, I meant what I said. I want this to be her decision. 

I nod slowly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Take all the time you need." 

But as the words leave my lips, an icy knot of dread tightens in my chest. Because deep down, I know the truth—time isn't on our side. With Amanda on the warpath and Charles's shadow closing in... I'm afraid that soon we won't have a choice at all.

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Chapter 39

Shane

I take slow breaths, holding her close, trying to steady myself. Trying to soak her in, memorizing the way she feels against me. Because as of tomorrow morning, I won’t get to hold her like this for a while.

And I fucking hate it.

I hate that I have to leave her. Hate that the one place I need to be—by her side—is the one place I can’t stay.

A tight, suffocating pressure wraps around my chest.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I murmur, my fingers tracing the soft ridges of her back, memorizing every inch of her.

She stiffens slightly in my arms. “What is it?”

I hesitate for just a moment. Then—because there’s no way to soften this—I just say it.

“I have to go home tomorrow.” The words burn like acid as they leave my mouth. “My mom’s coming back into town, and I have to be there. At least for the holidays.”

Becca goes completely still.

For a long beat, she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even breathe. Then, so quietly, so brokenly, she exhales a small fractured sound—like something inside her just shattered.

Then she nods.

And steps back.

A slow deliberate retreat, like she’s already bracing herself for the distance. Like she’s already letting me go.

My stomach lurches.

I refuse to let her do this.

My hands slide down her arms, catching her wrists, holding her still. “Pretty girl—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts, forcing a small, brittle smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I mean, I knew this wasn’t forever, right? We both did.”

A stabbing pain cuts through my chest.

“Becca.” My voice is sharp, an obvious warning.

She shakes her head like she’s trying to shake me off, like she’s trying to convince herself of something that isn’t true. “It’s okay. Really. Maybe… maybe a little space will be good for us.”

No.

No, it fucking won’t.

The panic in her eyes betrays her, slicing through me like a blade. She’s bracing for impact. Already putting up walls. Trying to protect herself before I walk away and leave her alone and vulnerable.

But I’m not letting that happen.

“Stop,” I growl, grabbing her face gently but firmly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to twist this into something it’s not.”

She blinks, lips parting, her breath shallow.

“This changes nothing, Becca.” My voice drops—dark, raw, unshakable. “You are mine. And I am yours. Do you understand me?” My fingers tighten slightly against her jaw, anchoring her in place. “No amount of time or distance will ever change that.”

Her breath hitches, her body swaying toward me like she can’t help it. “Shane…”

I don’t let her finish.

I capture her lips, swallowing whatever excuse she was about to make, whatever doubt was about to spill from her pretty mouth. I kiss her like I can brand my truth into her soul. Like I can make her feel it as deeply as I do.

When I pull back, her lips are swollen, her breath uneven, and her eyes…

Fuck, her eyes.

Vulnerable. Exposed. Warring between fear and the undeniable pull between us.

I press my forehead to hers, keeping her close, needing her to stay right here with me . “Tell me you believe me.”

A shudder runs through her.

“I…” she exhales, voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t know how to be without you.”

Her confession guts me. A simple truth, spoken in the quietest, most devastatingly broken way.

I stroke my thumb over her cheek. “You won’t be. Just because we’re not under the same roof doesn’t mean I’m not still with you.” I tilt my head, locking our gaze. “I swear to you, Becca. You will never be without me.”

She swallows, her fingers creeping up to my neck like she’s afraid I might slip away. I can feel the tension in her. The subtle unease coiling in her body, like she instinctually knows there’s more.

And fuck, she’s right.

I steel myself. This next part is going to take some convincing. “Pretty girl, I’ve made arrangements so you won’t be alone while I’m gone.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Nick’s going to stay with you while I’m gone.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Then—“What?”

“He’s going to watch over you. Keep you safe.”

She recoils, not a hesitation, not a flinch—her entire body jerks back, breaking free of my hold like I just struck her.

The air shifts.

Her pulse beats erratically at the base of her throat, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“No.” Her voice is sharp, raw with panic. “Shane, no. He hates me. He—”

“Becca—”

“He’s Charles’s son!” She shakes her head violently, her hands fisting at her sides like she’s preparing for a fight. “I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him.”

I let her pull away this time, but only so I can catch her face, cradling her jaw with both hands, forcing her to focus on me.

“Nick hates Charles,” I tell her, my voice steady, unwavering. “You don’t know the whole story, but if there’s one person in this world who despises that man as much as we do, it’s him.”

She shakes her head, harder this time. “That doesn’t mean—”

“He knows, Becca.”

Her breath catches. “Knows what?”

I swallow, tightening my grip slightly. “That you’re his sister.”

Her entire body goes rigid.

For a long second, she just stares at me, unblinking, her lips parting like she’s trying to form words that won’t come.

I see it then—the raw, unfiltered fear. A tremor runs through her. Her breathing quickens.

“You told him?” she whispers, her voice barely audible, the words shaking like glass about to shatter.

“Yeah. I did.”

She jerks back, yanking herself free from my grip with more force than I expected.

“Shane—”

No.

I step forward immediately, matching her retreat, refusing to let her slip away. Determined to ground her before she spirals, I slide my hands down her arms, catching her wrists gently but firmly.

“Look at me.”

She refuses.

Jaw tight. Spine rigid. Eyes darting anywhere but on me.

“ Becca. “

Finally, she drags her gaze to mine. But it’s guarded. A fortress of walls, hastily rebuilt.

“He didn’t take it the way you think he did.” My voice is slow, firm, each word carefully chosen to peel back the layers of fear she’s wrapping around herself.

“His first reaction wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t anger. It was…” I shake my head, remembering the way Nick’s entire expression had changed, the way his walls had cracked under the weight of the truth. “His first instinct was to protect

you .“

Her breath stutters, the weight of what I’m saying settling over her. Her eyes search mine, struggling with the truth.

I lift one of her hands, pressing her palm against my chest, letting her feel the way my heart beats only for her. “You’re not alone in this, Becca. You have me. And now? Now you have Nick, too.”

She swallows hard, her fingers flexing instinctively over my heartbeat. But her guard is still up. I see it—the way her body and mind are torn between resisting and giving in.

“I know how much you hate feeling like you owe anyone anything. I know you’ve spent your entire life keeping people at arm’s length because that’s what it took to survive.” I brush my lips over her knuckles, my grip firm. “But Nick? He’s not asking for anything in return. He just wants to be your brother. He just wants to keep you safe.”

She trembles.

Her throat bobs.

I can see it happening—the slow, reluctant way her walls start to crack. The way my words, my touch, slowly seep through her armor, bringing down her defenses bit by bit.

But she’s still fighting it.

Her hands press against my chest, like she’s trying to push me away, but she doesn’t. Her breathing is uneven, her lashes fluttering as she stares at the space between us, desperately searching for an excuse to cling to the fear and doubt. To hold on to what she knows, because trusting someone else—especially a Kline—feels too big. Too dangerous.

“I… I don’t know if I can trust him.” The words crack at the edges, like even admitting she might be willing to try costs her something.

I nod, my thumb gently brushing across her knuckles, letting her feel the sincerity in my touch. “I get that.” I press a kiss to her knuckles again, slower this time. “And I’m not asking you to trust him yet. I’m just asking you to let him be there. Let him try.”

She swallows again, still avoiding my gaze, her eyes staring past me like she can find a way out of this if she just looks hard enough.

But there is no way out of this. Not from me. Not from us.

Then, finally, she closes her eyes, exhaling sharply through her nose. Letting go. Giving in.

When she opens them again, her gaze locks onto mine, steady yet uncertain as something shifts in them. A small, reluctant nod follows, barely perceptible, but it’s there. A hesitant acceptance. But it’s a start.

A slow exhale leaves my chest, a wave of tension rolling off my shoulders. I press my forehead against hers, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “That means everything to me. If it helps, not only do I trust Nick with my life… I trust him with yours.”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just stares at me, wide-eyed and vulnerable, in a way that tells me she needs more reassurance. So, I gently tip her chin up, guiding her lips to mine. The kiss starts soft—barely a whisper of contact. But the second she exhales, the moment she melts against me, something inside me snaps.

I deepen the kiss, pouring everything I am into it. Every word I haven’t spoken. Every emotion clawing inside me. My grip tightens, my hands sliding into her hair, keeping her close. I need her to feel this. To feel me.

She gasps softly against my mouth, her fingers fisting my hoodie, pulling me closer.

I groan, my lips breaking from hers just long enough to whisper, “I hate leaving you.”

Her breath shudders.

“Then don’t,” she whispers back, her words featherlight but filled with aching desperation.

They destroy me. Because fuck, I wish I didn’t have to go. But we both know I do.

I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “We have one more night, pretty girl,” I remind her, my voice rough.

“One more night,” she echoes, her voice barely more than a breath. Sad. Longing.

I tilt her face up again, brushing my lips over hers. “But this won’t be forever.”

She closes her eyes.

“Our love is written in the stars, pretty girl,” I whisper. “Not even the gods themselves could ever keep us apart.”

A soft, shuddering breath leaves her lips.

I tighten my hold on her, pressing her against my chest, against my heart. “Promise me you won’t shut me out while I’m gone.”

Her hands come around my neck.

“Promise me,” I demand, my voice dropping to something raw, something desperate.

She swallows, then finally nods. “I promise.”

Relief crashes through me.

Her hands slide down to my chest, gripping my shirt, holding on. “Swear you’ll come back to me.”

I grip the back of her neck, tilting her head back so there’s no way for her to miss the words I’m about to say. “I’m your Perseus, Becca. You’re my Andromeda. And nothing—not Charles, not Amanda, not the whole goddamn universe, nor Zeus himself—could ever keep me from coming back to you.”

A tremor runs through her, and when she looks at me this time, her hazel eyes shine with something I can’t quite name.

Hope.

Faith.

Love.

Then—finally—she nods.

And just like that—

I know we’ll survive this.

Because this? What exists between us?

This is fate.

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# Chapter 40

Becca

The house smells like garlic and rosemary. The roasted chicken is golden and perfect. The side dishes are plated, warm, and ready. The table is set—plates, silverware, folded napkins, even a stupid candle in the center that I'm not sure I should have lit. 

A candle, Becca? Really?

It's overkill. Way, way past overkill.

But my hands had moved on their own—lighting the wick, watching the tiny flame flicker and take hold, like some small, fragile thing I was too weak to snuff out. And now it sits there, casting a soft glow over the table, over the room, over me
.
 Like a spotlight I never asked for.

I press my lips together, glaring at it. Maybe I should blow it out. Maybe I should shove the whole thing off the table, hear the ceramic shatter against the floor, just to have something—anything—break that isn't me.

But I don't.

Instead, I stand there, smoothing a napkin for the third time
.
 Then I move a fork slightly to the left, only to nudge it back into place.

It's fine. Everything is fine.

Except it's not. Because no matter how hard I try to steady my hands, no matter how many times I rearrange the darn table settings, my pulse keeps hammering in my ears. Because he's coming.

Nicholas Kline.

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing back the wave of nausea that rises in my throat. This dinner? It isn't for me. Somehow, I have to keep remembering that. I'm doing this for Shane. Because the second his mom reached out and called him home for the holidays, something in his beautiful, strong, unshakable eyes cracked.

He needed me to say yes.

I saw it in him. Felt it in the quiet desperation woven between the words he didn't say. And I knew, the same way I always do, that what I was seeing in him wasn't about Nick. 

It was about me. 

About leaving me behind. 

Alone.

Without him to protect me.

So I said yes.

I let Nick come here for Shane. Because I need him to be okay. Because I need him to leave me without looking back. Because the last thing I want—the last thing I can handle—is thinking of Shane spending the holidays worried about me.

But that doesn't change the truth.

Doesn't change the fact that Nicholas Kline is on his way here.

To 
my home.

To 
my sanctuary.

To 
my last remaining safe space.

And even though Nick has never done anything to me directly, he's still his father's son. He's still the offspring of my mother's rapist. 

And I can't forget that.

I won't.

It doesn't matter that Nick and I went to the same schools, sat in the same cafeteria, walked the same halls. That we lived in the same town, breathing the same air. Because Nicholas Kline and I have never been the same. 

While I spent my whole life learning how to disappear,
 
how to survive in the fringes of our world, Nick spent his living in his father's mansion. Surrounded by his father's money. Benefiting from the monstrosities that made Charles Kline untouchable.

And now?

Now he's coming into my home.

Into my space.

I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to breathe. I shouldn't have said yes. I shouldn't have agreed to let him come here. And yet I did.

I reach for the spoon and stir the potatoes—despite knowing they don't need it. The movement is mindless, compulsive. A cheap illusion of control in a situation where it feels like I have none.

Behind me, Shane leans against the counter. He's watching me. I can feel it. His concern. His love. His warmth—a steadying force against the chaos swirling inside me.

For a moment—just a moment—I let myself feel it. Let myself lean into the comfort of him without thinking about what's going to happen when he's gone.

Because that's the plan.

Get through this dinner. Get through tonight. Then tomorrow when he leaves, I'll let myself fall apart. I'll let myself cry until I can't breathe. And then—I'll rebuild. I'll steel myself. I'll refortify the walls that have kept me safe.

And when I do, I'll text Nick. Tell him his protection isn't necessary. Beg him not to tell Shane. 

Then, once that's done, I'll spend the time that we're apart figuring out how to be that girl again. The girl who didn't need anyone. The girl who didn't need him.

Because needing him?

Letting him in?

I'm starting to think that was my biggest mistake of all.

A warm gaze presses into my back. 

"Becca." Just my name. A low murmur, knowing, weighted.

I swallow hard, refusing to look at him. Instead, I fix my focus on the mashed potatoes, adjusting their smooth surface like that somehow matters. 

Like any of this matters.

Silence.

Then the soft sound of movement. A shift. A step. 

I don't hear Shane cross the kitchen, but suddenly, he's there behind me. His body solid, warm, his arms sliding around my waist, locking me against him. A slow, grounding touch.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should push him away, because if he holds me like this, I might fall apart. And I can't afford to fall apart. His touch is the biggest threat to my resolve. I know this, and yet... I lean in.

His lips brush the side of my neck, just beneath my ear, his voice a rough whisper.

"Pretty girl, you've checked that three times. He's just coming to talk. There's no need to impress him."

I let out a breath, shaky and uneven. "I'm not trying to impress him."

Shane makes a quiet sound—half disbelief, half knowing. "Then why are you trying to make everything look so perfect?"

His fingers find mine, gently prying them from the spoon I'm apparently holding onto for dear life.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "Shane, I just... I don't know if I can do this."

His hold tightens around me, not painfully, but just enough to tether me to him.

"Pretty girl," he says softly, his words brushing across my skin. "You are one of the strongest people I've ever met. It's how I know that you 
can
 do this." 

He presses a kiss to my temple. 

"I love you, Becca. I would never put you in a position where you're not safe. I swear it. All I'm asking is that you give him a chance. Let him show you he's nothing like his father."

I nod. 

Because what else can I do?

Because Shane believes in me. And I trust in him. Maybe, for tonight, that has to be enough.

But then—

A knock.

It reverberates through the apartment like a gunshot. Sharp. Final. The sound slices through the stillness, sending a shockwave down my spine. 

My breath catches. 

My stomach knots, twisting so tight I can barely stand it. 

I don't move, because I can't.

But Shane does.

His arms loosen from around me, but before he lets go, he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. Then his fingers trail down my arms—slow, deliberate. A touch meant to steady me. To remind me I'm not alone. 

Then he steps away.

Leaves me standing in the kitchen. Frozen.

I can't look. 

Can't breathe.

Instead, I just stare at the table, unblinking. 

My pulse hammers behind my ribs as I listen to Shane unlock the door, pulling it open.

A brief silence.

Then—

"Hey."

A single word. Rough. Low. Hesitant.

It's Nick.

I've known him my entire life. But this... this is the first time he's ever stood in my doorway. The first time I've ever looked at him and really seen him. 

And it's like a punch to the gut.

Because he looks like Charles Kline. 

Not identical. 

But close enough. 

Enough to make my stomach lurch, to send a sharp, piercing chill through my body. Same strong jaw. Same piercing, calculating eyes. Same goddamn blood running through his veins. The same tainted blood that runs through mine. 

And suddenly, it feels like I'm going to be sick.

The room tilts.

A high-pitched ringing fills my ears.

Charles's voice crashes through my mind, cold and cruel. "
You'll never be anything more than a mistake. Just like your mother."

I exhale sharply, but it's not enough. The air doesn't come. 

I know this isn't Charles. I know it's his son. But my body doesn't care. My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. My vision tunnels. My pulse pounds like war drums in my ears.

The room feels too small. 

The air too thick.

And suddenly, I'm six years old again—hiding in the closet listening to my mom's screams, as I wait for her to come in with my orange popsicle to tell me everything is safe now.

"Becca." 

It's Shane's voice. 

Firm. 

Commanding.

Then his touch. Hands on my waist, strong and unyielding, turning me toward him. I barely register the movement until I'm pressed against his chest. 

"Look at me." His tone cuts through the chaos—grit and tenderness, like steel and silk.

I don't. Because I can't. My eyes stay fixed on the ground, my body trapped by terror. 

So he doesn't wait. He cups my face—firm but careful—and tilts my head up, forcing my gaze to his. 

"Becca, breathe." His forehead presses against mine, his breath across my lips. Warm. Steady. Real. "I'm right here," he whispers. "You're safe, pretty girl. I swear to god, you're safe."

His hands slide down my arms, slow and anchoring as they wrap around my wrists. He pulls them up, gently laying my palms over the hard planes of his chest. 

"Feel that?" he murmurs. His heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Beating for me. "Match me, baby. Just breathe with me." 

I try. A stuttering inhale, a broken exhale. 

"That's it," he murmurs. "Come back to me."

His scent surrounds me—warm pine and soap and Shane. It seeps into my skin, into my ribs, into the hollow of my lungs where the fear lives.

He dips his head, his lips gently brushing mine in a soft, slow pass that's meant to reignite what the panic tried to smother.

"Come back to me, pretty girl"

Another kiss. Deeper. Steadier. Like he's trying to pour his strength into me, mouth to mouth, breath to breath. 

And it works. 

My lungs unlock.

The air rushes in. 

The floor beneath me stops tilting.

And my heart... it still races, but not with terror. But for him. My Shane.

My forehead drops to his shoulder, and I sag into him, the tension bleeding out of me like water down the drain.

"I've got you," he whispers, arms caging me tight. "I've always got you." I nod, grounding myself in his warmth. His strength. He doesn't rush me. He just waits, letting me breathe him in. Letting me find my way back. It's only when I finally lift my head and meet his eyes that he speaks again. 

"You okay, pretty girl?"

"Yeah..." I whisper, heat crawling up my neck as tears pool behind my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It hasn't been the easiest day." His thumb brushes the side of my face. "But I promise, it will get better."

I want to believe him. I do. So I nod.

"You can do this, my beautiful Andromeda. I know you can." He gives me a second. Long enough for the weight of his words and that nickname I love so much to settle, before gently asking, "You ready?"

"Yeah..." The word comes out tentative, uncertain. But for him, I'll try.

His hand slides along my lower back as he turns us around to face the door. 

Nick is still standing there, and for the first time, our eyes meet. He doesn't step forward. He doesn't speak. He just stands there—shoulders squared but unmoving, like he knows how close I am to bolting. Like he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

His hand lifts to the back of his neck, rubbing briefly before falling to his side again. His gaze flickers away—not avoiding me, but like he's trying to give me space.

Then, finally, he exhales.

"I know this can't be easy for you." His voice is soft. Careful. "For that, I'm sorry."

I wasn't expecting that.

I don't know what I was expecting, but kindness? Understanding? That certainly wasn't it. 

Arrogance, maybe. A smirk. A half-assed joke. A dismissive shrug like none of this matters to him.

But instead, he stands there in my doorway, hesitant. Not forcing his way in. He's not acting like he belongs here. And somehow... that unsettles me more than if he had.

My pulse hammers. My throat feels too tight.

I don't trust this. I don't trust him.

But the feel of Shane's hand, steady at my back, gives me the strength to stay. For the man I love, I force my fingers to uncurl from the fists they made against my palms. I force my lungs to drag in another breath. And I force myself to look at Nick again.

And then, before I can stop myself, the words slip past my lips. "You look like him."

A beat of silence.

Nick's jaw tightens. His fingers flex at his sides. But then—"I know." His voice is rougher now. Like the words taste as bitter as they feel. His gaze flickers to Shane, like he's debating saying more. But when he looks back at me, there's nothing guarded in his expression. Nothing masked. Nothing hidden. "I hate it too."

The honesty in his voice punches the air from my lungs.

And just like that—

For the first time since he walked through the door, I realize that maybe Nick and I aren't so different after all.

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Chapter 41

Becca

I’m sitting across from Nick, grateful for the table—a deliberate divide between us. My chair is angled ever-so-slightly away from him, an unspoken shield. Not enough to be rude, but enough to make it clear I’m not ready to engage.

Shane sits beside me, his steady presence granting me the space to do whatever makes me most comfortable, even as my proximity is damn near crowding him. Our sides press against one another, his hand holding mine tightly under the table—a quiet tether that fills me with his strength. Having him so close doesn’t erase the tension in my chest, but it keeps it from consuming me.

The fingers of my free hand twist the cloth napkin in my lap. It’s a mindless action, a desperate attempt to focus on something, anything, to keep the anxiety at bay. I don’t look at Nick. Not directly. Just quick glances. Gauging his intention, waiting while anticipating the worst.

Like me, he hasn’t touched his food either.

The air between us is heavy. Not with anger, not with hostility, but something more suffocating. Uncertainty. Fear. A quiet tension, like we’re all holding our breath, afraid that any wrong move might set off a chain reaction we can’t stop.

Shane clears his throat softly. “You were careful getting here?”

Nick nods. “Yeah. Parker drove me.” He leans back in his chair a little, casual but not flippant. He doesn’t sound like Charles, not exactly. But the cadence is there. The confidence of someone who’s used to being heard. It sends a shiver crawling across my skin. “He knows not to say anything to anyone.”

I don’t acknowledge what he’s said. But something inside me loosens just the tiniest fraction. Of course, Shane told him to be discreet. He thinks about things like that, things most people wouldn’t. It’s one of the things I love most about him, how careful he is with me. It’s why it was so easy to let myself trust him.

Still, I keep my focus on the table, pretending to adjust my fork as Shane nods once, sharp and satisfied. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, his touch a quiet comfort. His way of reminding me he’s here. That he’s got me.

“Good,” Shane says. “Last thing we need is your dad finding out you’re here. Or, god forbid, involved in any of this.”

Nick scoffs, a dark smirk pulling at his lips. “Who gives a shit what Charles thinks?” His voice is flat, dripping with disdain. “Plus, let’s be honest—these days, he doesn’t give a fuck what I do.”

“Of course, he cares. You’re a loose cannon. The only person to ever stand up to him—and worst of all, his only male heir. Trust me,” Shane says evenly. “He would definitely care if he knew you were here. With Becca and me, protecting her from him.”

Nick pauses, considering that. The smirk fades, replaced by something colder, sharper. “Fuck him. Let him try and come at me this time. He might not live to regret it.”

The words hit like a blade, cutting through the fragile peace between us.

My breath catches. Every muscle in my body tenses. My fingers freeze in my lap, the napkin clenched in my fist so tightly I can feel the fabric biting into my skin. A fine tremble rolls through me.

That voice. That tone.

It’s not exactly Charles’s, but it’s close enough. Too close. There’s no mistaking the ice in it. The promise of violence. That quiet, lethal certainty that the target of his ire isn’t safe.

My throat tightens, my chest hollows.

I knew this was a mistake. I knew it . Nicholas Kline is his father’s son. Maybe not in the same overt, twisted ways, but here, in private, behind closed doors, it’s clear he’s the same brand of dangerous.

My breath comes faster now, as panic rises within me in waves I’m struggling to contain.

Shane notices instantly. His hand tightens around mine beneath the table, firm and grounding. His thigh shifts closer, brushing mine again—a solid wall I can lean against. His thumb strokes slow, steady circles across my skin. Soothing, calming, reminding me that as long as he’s with me, I’m safe.

“We are not doing this, Nick,” Shane says, his tone sharp and commanding. “Not like that. We need to be smart. We can’t let anger or revenge dictate the plan. That’s not how we protect her. That’s not how we save them both.”

Save them both? My mind stutters on the words.

Who else are they trying to save?

Nick’s eyes snap to Shane’s. At first, they’re burning with something close to rage, but that fire dims slowly as Shane’s words settle over him.

“You’re right,” Nick mutters before repeating it. This time, firmer. “You’re right.” He glances over at me, and for a brief second, something shifts in his expression. It’s a flicker of something serious, maybe regret. Or guilt. He doesn’t speak, just nods. A silent agreement. A promise.

The silence stretches long enough that the clink of Shane’s fork against the ceramic plate feels loud. But no one’s eating. Not really.

Across from me, Nick shifts in his seat. His fingers brush the edge of his water glass, then fall away. His posture loosens, but only slightly. There’s still something bristling beneath his skin. A current I can feel but don’t understand.

Shane turns toward him. “Tell her.”

Nick’s head tilts, a cautious expression falling over his features. “Tell her what?”

Shane’s voice stays even, but there’s something beneath it. The kind of steel I recognize as coming from the part of him that’s willing to burn down the world for the people he cares about.

“Tell her why you hate him.”

The shift in the room is immediate. Nick’s jaw tics. His hand drops from the glass. And for a second, his eyes flick to mine.

I freeze. Because there’s something raw in his gaze. Not arrogance. Not rage. But… pain. Real, fractured pain.

He exhales through his nose and looks away. Like maybe he’s not ready to say it. Like maybe he’s not sure he can trust me with his truth.

“You know damn well it’s not something I like talking about.” There’s a threat in his tone, but it’s hollow. Like a smokescreen, it’s only meant to mask the raw pain that seems to bleed through his every word. It cuts through the quiet and lodges deep in my chest.

I flinch at the weight of them. At the grief buried in his voice. At the way his shoulders sag, like the memory is already dragging him under. And for a second, I wonder if maybe it’s better I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. Maybe some truths are better left buried.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to—”

“We do.” Shane cuts me off, gentle but firm. His gaze never leaves Nick. “If you truly want her to trust you, then she needs to know. Tell her the truth. All of it. It’s the only way this is going to work.”

The silence that follows is oppressive. Like the room is holding its breath—just like we are.

For the first time since Nick stepped into my apartment, I find myself wondering what kind of pain he might be holding. What kind of damage did Charles Kline inflict on his only son?

Because that look in Nick’s eyes just now?

That wasn’t the look of a boy who grew up having everything.

That was the look of someone who’s been gutted from the inside out. Someone drowning in trauma, barely keeping their head above water.

Nick scrubs a hand over his face, then drags it through his hair, like he’s trying to gather the words—or maybe just the strength to say them.

His eyes flick to Shane. Then to me.

He hesitates.

And then I see it—the war behind his eyes. The part of him that wants to guard them, to keep his secrets buried. Like he knows that once they’re out, there’s no going back. Like he knows I might still look at him and only see the monster who made him. The same monster who made me.

His mouth opens. Closes again.

Then his shoulders fall as he exhales, and when he finally speaks, his voice is so low I almost miss it.

“Her name was Miranda.”

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# Chapter 42

Becca

I blink. That's not at all what I was expecting him to say. But now that the name is out there, I remember the scandal that swept through our town like wildfire. The way her name, once synonymous with academic excellence, suddenly became a punchline. A warning. A shameful stain people couldn't stop talking about. She and her family were dragged through the mud, judged, humiliated, and run out of town. All because she got too close to Nicholas Kline.

I didn't know the details then. I still don't—partly because of my aversion to our town's rumor mill and the lies it loves to whisper. But I do remember how fast it all changed for her. One minute, she was one of the most promising students in her graduating class—bright, focused, bound for something bigger. The next, she was trash. A whore. A social climber who'd "played her cards wrong." The things people said about her were vile. Cruel. And worse, familiar. Because it wasn't all that different from what they say about my mother. 

It's why I never let myself get dragged into the gossip. Why I turned away when her name came up. Because I knew what it felt like to be the girl dragged through the mud for circumstances beyond her control. Or worse, for lies people were too eager to believe.

"She was... everything," Nick says, his voice rough. "Smart. Funny. Brave. The kind of brave that doesn't flaunt itself. It just shows up when it matters. Quiet. Steady. Fierce when it counts." His jaw tightens. "She made me want to be someone else. Someone better."

The reverence in his tone shifts the air in the room. The way he talks about her—not like a ghost, but like a light that still burns somewhere inside him—makes something ache in my chest.

He pauses, swallowing hard.

"She was the first person who ever saw 
me.
 Not the Kline name. Not the money. Not my father's shadow. 
Me.
" He exhales, his breath heavy. "And God help me, I clung to her like she was oxygen." His eyes flicker away for a moment. "I still hate myself for that. It was so goddamn selfish."

Beside me, Shane's grip tightens around my hand. I glance down. His thumb strokes slow, grounding circles over my knuckles. But his body is rigid. I can feel the restraint in him, the coiled tension.

"I thought I could protect her," his voice cracks. "I really fucking thought I could shield her from him. I knew how he operated. I knew what he was capable of. But I thought... I 
hoped
 she was far enough outside his world to be safe."

He shakes his head.

"I was wrong. So fucking wrong."

A muscle in Shane's jaw twitches. His eyes narrow, but he doesn't speak.

Nick drags a hand through his hair, then leans forward, elbows on the table. His shoulders hunch, his body folding inward like the weight of this story is too much for him to carry.

"He went after her dad first. Framed him for embezzlement. Tore their family's company apart. Wiped their savings, their reputation, their name. All of it gone in mere weeks."

He swallows again, the sound thick, like he's choking on the words.

"But Miranda stayed with me. Even as her family's financial security collapsed around her, she 
stayed.
 For 
me
." His voice cracks. "God, and I fucking 
let
 her."

Tears sting my eyes. I don't blink them away because I can't. Overcome by the intense sadness in his voice, I can't move. Can't hardly breathe.

"Then one night..." He exhales sharply, the sound bitter and full of pain. "We thought we were alone. We 
thought
 we were safe. We were in my house. In my bedroom, where we should have been 
safe
."

His eyes lift, but there's nothing in them but emptiness.

"But we weren't. Charles had installed cameras. Hidden ones. He recorded us." His voice drops. "While we were making love."

My breath hitches. Ice shoots down my spine.

Beside me, Shane shifts. His hand leaves mine only to slide around me, palm resting low between my shoulder blades, solid and arm. A wall against the storm building inside me.

"And when she still stayed with me, even after everything he'd done to her family... he sent her a snippet of the video. Just a few seconds. Enough to make her sick. To leave her horrified. A fucking 
ultimatum:
 leave me, or he'd make the whole thing public."
 

He looks up directly at me.

My throat tightens, and my lungs forget how to work.

Oh, God.
 

The horror of it hits me all at once—not just the invasion of privacy, but the humiliation. The intimacy that was stolen. Weaponized. Used to punish her... to punish him.

It's worse than anything I imagined. Especially as my mind drifts back to last night. How perfect it felt to give myself to Shane. To lose ourselves in each other in that intimate, beautiful moment—two hearts, two souls, perfectly intertwined. 

And the thought of someone else watching that, of tainting something so beautiful with their vile, disgusting commentary?

There aren't words for that level of devastation.

"She distanced herself. Tried so damn hard to end us, but I refused to let her go." His voice cracks. "I loved her. With everything I fucking had. I told her we could fight him together. That I wouldn't let him win."

Nick looks down, jaw clenched tight, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

As the seconds pass, I watch helplessly as Nicholas Kline, the boy I've feared my entire life, nearly breaks. The look on his face is pure heartbreak. Pure, unfiltered grief. 

And suddenly, I'm crying, too. Quiet tears roll down my cheeks, unbidden, because at this moment, I finally understand.

"And so he released it."

The words land like thunder, shaking me to the core. My breath catches in my throat. Beside me, Shane goes still. So still, I swear he stops breathing. 

"I still remember the moment it hit the tabloids... the internet," Nick says, voice raw. "The notifications. The texts. The headlines. Photos. The video. It was everywhere. The press camped out at my house, at school, everywhere I went. My sister called me upset. Shane called, begging me to stay offline. But Miranda..." His voice fractures. "By the time I could escape the media circus and get to her..." He swallows. "She was already gone."

Gone?

"She was hurt. So utterly humiliated, she'd stopped taking my calls. She never even told me goodbye," Nick whispers. "Her parents took her and her brother and left Ruby Creek. Just... vanished. Desperate to protect her. To get as far away from my father as they could. They thought distance would help. That maybe the media would leave them alone, but it didn't work." 

His eyes drop, his jaw clenched in a tight mask of what looks like self-loathing. "That's when Shane asked Cedric to help me. To help them. With his resources, her father was cleared of all charges. But by then, the damage was done."

He shakes his head slowly, like even now he can't quite believe any of it happened.

"Her dad asked Cedric to help them disappear. New names. A new life. Somewhere far enough that my father couldn't touch them. And I don't blame them." He lets out a broken laugh. "Not one fucking bit. How could I? After everything that was done to them... because of me."

He pauses, swallowing hard. The room is so still you could hear a pin drop.

"I loved her. More than I've ever loved anyone or anything." His voice trembles, just above a whisper now. "But it's because I loved her that I lost her forever. Because I refused to let her go, it's how he used her to destroy me. R
uined
 her life in the process." 

His voice breaks. "I was so goddamn selfish. She would've been better off if I'd just walked away. We both would have..."

The admission hits like a physical blow.

I can't hold back anymore. Tears come fast, quietly—hot trails sliding down my cheeks.

Shane shifts closer, his arm curving around me, solid and warm. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't try to soothe or stop my tears. He just holds me, like he knows there's nothing he could say to make any of this better—for Nick, or for me. His lips brush my temple. Once. Twice. Then they stay there, pressed against my skin while Nick's story continues.

"After... I confronted him," Nick says, his voice quieter now, but still dripping with bitterness. "I went to his office, screamed until my voice was gone. Called him every name I could think of. Even took a swing at him. He didn't even flinch."

Nick's eyes meet mine.

"As his security restrained me, he looked me straight in the eye... with a fucking smirk on his face and said, 'You'll think twice before defying me from now on. Won't you?'"

I let out a shaky breath, unable to push away the sting of those words.

"Then he warned—if I didn't back off, if I tried to fight him on it... If I didn't let her go, he'd finish what he started. Only this time?" Nick swallows hard, a painful sound. "She wouldn't just lose her future. She'd lose her 
life.
"

The room spins. 

My body goes cold as those final words settle over me. 

Shane's grip tightens protectively around my waist, his touch a barricade against the storm threatening to pull me under.

Nick's voice, when it comes again, is ragged. Empty."She's out there. Living under another name. Building a new life without me, and I have to somehow be okay with that."

A pause.

"Just like somehow I have to find a way to live with the knowledge that by allowing her to fall in love with me, I cost her everything."

His hands shake against the table.

"My father didn't just take her from me. He destroyed her, along with the only version of myself that ever made sense to me."

His eyes flick to Shane, and something wordless passes between them.

Pain.

Rage.

Understanding.

I realize, in that moment, that this isn't just Nick's story. 

It's Shane's too.

And now... mine.

Because Shane loves 
me.
 And Charles Kline—the same monster that destroyed Nick and Miranda—is now standing in the way of 
our 
love.

The thought makes my chest seize.

I reach up and swipe at the tears on my cheeks. Nick notices. His eyes track the motion, something like regret tightening his features. And when he looks at me this time, his eyes aren't hollow anymore. Instead, they're drowning.

In anger.

In pain.

In love that never got a chance to thrive... to grow. To end with even the slightest modicum of closure.

And I can't look away.

My throat closes up.

Nick is still watching me, those haunted eyes fixed on mine like he's waiting for something. Permission, maybe. Forgiveness. Some sign that I understand. And for the first time since this night began, I don't fear Nick. I don't see him in the same light as I do his father... I see him as a boy born to a monster. A boy who never stood a chance.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, following yet another tear that manages to escape from the corner of my eye. "For making you upset."

I shake my head slowly. "Don't be. You didn't do this, Nick. Charles did
.
"

He flinches like he wasn't expecting me to speak. Or maybe it's what I said that stuns him. The fact I don't blame him. 

Then, before I can stop myself, my own truth slips past my lips. "He did something similar to my mother."

The words hang in the air like glass—delicate and too fragile to touch.

Nick's lips part. A breath stutters in his throat, and his shoulders sag like he already knows.

"Shane told me," he whispers. "I'm so fucking sorry, Becca."

I nod once, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Why would you be sorry? None of this is on you."

He exhales at that, sharp and disbelieving. Like he doesn't agree. 

"Because I believed him," he says, voice hollow. "I believed everything he said about your mom. About 
you.
 And even when I started questioning who he really was... I didn't connect the dots. That you were my sister. That he hurt you—
your family
—the same way he's hurt everyone else in my life. I hate that I didn't see it."

His voice shakes.

"I should've known. God, I should've known."

Beside me, Shane shifts. His fingers trail a slow, steady path over my spine. He doesn't speak, but I can feel him watching over both of us—holding space. Letting us decide how far we're willing to go.

I sit with it. The weight of Nick's guilt. The ache behind his words.

And then, somehow, I find something within myself I hadn't expected. 

Compassion. 

Understanding. 

All for a man I feared moments ago. A man I resented. A man I assumed was nothing more than an extension of the monster who created us both.

"You couldn't have known," I say softly. "He's been fooling everyone for decades. You were just a kid. In a lot of ways... we still are."

Nick shakes his head like that's not enough. Like he can't let himself off the hook that easily.

So I push on.

"I didn't know either," I whisper. "My mom and I only reconnected recently... that's when she told me the truth. And even I didn't believe her at first. My aunt and uncle—the people who raised me–they lied to me. For years. And even growing up in this town, surrounded by the rumors and whispers..." I trail off for a beat. "I think it was easier to pretend it couldn't be true. Easier to believe the man who fathered me wasn't a monster. That I wasn't the result of rape. The by-product of the worst moment of my mother's life."

Nick swallows hard. 

If he's shocked by my truth, he doesn't show it. Maybe Shane already told him. Still, when he finally speaks, he sounds wrecked. 

"I still should've seen it," he murmurs. "I should have seen 
you. 
As your brother, I should have known. It's my job to protect you."

The words bring tears to my eyes. Other than Shane, no one's ever claimed that role. No one's ever wanted to protect me like that. Not really.

"I didn't want to be seen, Nick." I glance down at my hands resting on my lap. "I've spent my life trying to disappear. Living in the fringes. Hoping no one would notice me." 

My gaze lifts again, slowly. 

"And even if you had... I probably wouldn't have given you a chance." The words make me flinch as I say them, afraid they might hurt him.

But when our eyes meet again, what I see is understanding. Like he 
knows
 what it's like to want to stay in the shadows. To feel half-formed and half-drowning—and still somehow find a way to keep breathing.

Across from me, Nick blinks a few times—like he doesn't quite know what to say. 

Like he wasn't expecting any of what's happening.

In all honesty, neither was I.

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Chapter 43

Becca

Dinner is mostly cold now. My plate sits untouched, save a few bites I don’t even remember taking. Across the table, Nick is talking to Shane—something about the rush of life in New York, the madness of the subway, and how, despite what everyone else says, he still prefers bagels from Ruby Creek Bakery because they “don’t taste like sad cardboard.”

Shane chuckles—a soft laugh, the kind that only comes when he’s truly at ease.

I watch them in silence, not really following the conversation, as my mind remains tangled in tonight’s revelations. That is until I hear Nick’s next words.

“Still, I’m glad I went with Columbia. It’s everything I thought it would be. Hell, more.”

“Wait,” I interrupt, surprising them both. “You go to Columbia?”

Nick nods, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah. Freshman year. Political science major.”

“Wow.” The word escapes me on a breath, my mind racing to catch up. The shock tightens in my chest. Of all the schools in the world… he’s at the one I’ve spent years dreaming about. The one I never dared to say out loud—not even to Joss or Felicia—for fear of jinxing it.

Nick shrugs nonchalantly, though the slight twitch of his mouth tells me he’s reading my surprise as a compliment.

Shane however, recognizes for what it is. His gaze snaps to mine, his thumb brushing gently over my hand beneath the table. His eyes—always sharp—assess me with that quiet intensity that never misses a thing. “Why? Are you… interested in Columbia?”

My pulse flutters, and I hesitate as my thoughts jumble together. I take a breath, trying to calm myself, then nod. “I applied for early admission.”

Both of them pause. Shane’s brows lift, the surprise on his face unmistakable.

“You never told me that,” he says, his voice not accusatory, but quiet and curious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I drop my gaze, hating the way the words catch in my throat, hating that he might think I’ve kept this from him. “I didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure. And even now… I don’t know if I’m going to accept.”

The words hang in the air. Shane stays silent for a beat, lips parted, his head shaking slightly like he’s trying to process what I’ve just said.

“Wait… you got in?”

I feel the flush of heat creeping up my neck, and my throat tightens. I peek up, finding him watching me with a warm understanding look, as if he’s giving me time to answer. No pressure. Just his quiet show of support. But behind the excitement in his eyes, there’s also a flicker of hurt. A silent why didn’t you tell me?

And God, does it hurt to see it.

This is why, as hard as it is to admit it out loud, I decide to go with the truth.

“Yes. I didn’t say anything because I’m still deciding.”

What I don’t say is that, while I’ve been accepted, the financial aid package I was awarded might not be enough to cover my expenses. And sadly, I have no backup plan. No secret college fund. No parental safety net to fall back on. Just hope and prayer, both of which seem more out of reach the closer I get to graduation.

The thought of it only makes my embarrassment worse, deepening the awkwardness that follows.

From the corner of my eye, I see Nick shift in his chair. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing between us nervously like he’s concerned he might be intruding in a moment not meant for him.

Shane notices and something shifts in his expression. His thumb starts moving again—those slow, steady circles over my skin that never fail to ground me. It’s his way of saying It’s okay, pretty girl. We can talk about it later. I’ve got you.

And goodness, do I appreciate his patience with me. Especially after everything that’s happened today.

The silence stretches longer than it should, then Shane shifts in his seat like he’s made a decision. A small, knowing grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks over at Nick.

“Alright,” he says lightly, shifting the energy in the room. “I think now’s a good time.”

Nick blinks. “Now?”

Shane nods, not pushing—just a hint of forced encouragement in that charming way that lets him get away with it. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Nick hesitates, then reaches into the pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. His fingers fumble slightly—like he’s nervous.

“Uh… before I go,” he says, glancing between Shane and me, “I wanted to give you something.”

I stiffen, my shoulders locking, my body coiling tight and nearly trembling in reflex—not because I think he’ll hurt me, but because gifts in their world are never just gifts. They’re complicated, often layered with expectations and hidden meanings. Attached strings I know with certainty I don’t want any part of.

Shane doesn’t say a word, but by the subtle shift in him, I can tell he senses the change in my demeanor. He must know I’m teetering on the edge again, because his hand slides over mine, his fingers curling around my palm with gentle reassurance.

Nick reaches across the table and places a small box in front of me. A simple square. Black velvet. And with it, a sickening sense of dread.

He nudges it forward. “You don’t have to wear it. If you don’t like it or don’t want it, that’s okay too. I understand. I just… Please. Just open it.”

I hesitate. Not only because I’m afraid of what I’ll find, but also because the look on his face—so uncertain, so unsure —catches me by surprise. Like he’s offering more than just a gift. Like he’s offering a piece of himself, and he’s terrified I’ll turn it away.

After releasing a deep breath, I let go of Shane’s comforting touch. Slowly, I reach for the box and pull it toward me. My fingers tremble slightly as I lift the lid.

Inside sits a delicate silver necklace. Suspended in the center of black velvet is a small, elegant pendant, etched with tiny, intricate lines. I run my thumb over the pendant, unsure of what to think. That’s when I notice the pattern. The lines form the shape of a constellation I know by heart—Andromeda. The princess chained to the rock. The one saved from the monster by her fated love, Perseus.

My breath catches.

It’s not expensive. It’s not flashy. But it’s beautiful. It’s simple, thoughtful, and… perfect. Something I would actually wear.

But then I see it.

There’s a second constellation woven into the design, overlapping Andromeda with a mirrored grace. My eyes scan over it, unable to place it. It’s not Perseus. I know the Perseus constellation by heart. I’ve studied every inch of it, traced it in the night sky a hundred times since that first night he took me stargazing. This one is different. And it’s connected to Andromeda by what looks like a single shared star.

My lips part, the question forming on my tongue, but Nick beats me to it.

“Shane told me about the whole Perseus-Andromeda thing. About what it means to both of you.” His voice is softer now, quieter. “I know tonight doesn’t fix everything. I know we’re strangers, and that you don’t trust me. Which is okay—maybe you never will.”

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his palm against his jeans like he’s trying to wipe off nerves.

“I don’t know if I deserve to be your brother. But if you’ll let me… I’d like to try. And if that’s too much, maybe I can at least be your friend.”

My chest tightens, my breath caught somewhere between heartbreak and disbelief.

He glances down at the pendant, then back up at me. “I just… I wanted you to have something. Something to remind you that you’re not alone.”

The words settle between us, soft and unpolished, but rich with meaning.

I look down at his gift again, at the two constellations and their shared star. The beauty of it all makes my throat ache. And somehow, even though neither of us speaks, I feel what he means.

Not just in my head.

But in my heart.

I run my thumb over the delicate metal again, tracing the two overlapping constellations. My gaze lingers on the one I don’t recognize, my brow furrowing as I try to recall all the stories Shane has shared about the stars in the night sky.

“You remember the Andromeda and Perseus story, right?” Shane asks gently, his voice dipping in that quiet, intimate way he reserves just for me.

I nod slowly, eyes still fixed on the pendant. “Of course.”

His hand finds my leg beneath the table, his touch soft and reverent.

“Look closer,” he says, his voice warm. “See the second constellation?”

I glance up at him. “Yeah.”

He leans in a little, taking a closer look at the pendant in my hands. “That’s Pegasus.”

My head tilts slightly, curiosity deepening. “Pegasus?”

Shane’s lips curve faintly, a smile so tender it makes something inside me flutter. “In some of the newer retellings—less myth, more romantic legend—Perseus wasn’t alone when he saved Andromeda. He rode in on the back of Pegasus. The great winged horse. Together, they flew into battle to slay the sea monster. Andromeda wasn’t just saved by one single hero… she was saved by two.”

❤️

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# Chapter 44

Becca

My fingers still, the story washing over me in a way I hadn't anticipated.

Shane's voice softens even further. "Pegasus carried Perseus into the fight. Made sure he got there. Made sure Andromeda was saved and that all three made it out in one piece."

I blink slowly, my heart climbing into my throat.

He squeezes my knee. "That's why Nick is here. Because he wants to stand beside me. To protect you. To fight with us—for all of us."

Across the table, Nick shifts. His jaw clenches like he's not used to this kind of conversation. Like letting people see the rawness underneath is still foreign to him, maybe even terrifying.

But when he speaks, there's no hesitation. "I know I can't erase the past. And that I can't undo what he did to your mom. To you. To Miranda and me. But I can promise you this—I will give whatever is left of my life to keep that bastard from ever coming near you. From this point forward, everything I do will be to keep both my sisters safe."

His words pull me back to earlier in the evening, when Shane warned, "
We can't let anger or revenge dictate the plan. That's not how we protect her. That's not how we save them both."

Oh god
.

That's what Shane meant. This isn't just about me. I'm not the only one they're trying to save. They're doing this for Amanda too. And after the way she humiliated me and Shane today, after the horrible ways she's treated me in the past? I know it's an awful thing to say, but... I don't know how to feel about that.

"She hates me..." I whisper in a shaky breath, the weight of how she made me feel today threatening to drown me all over again. The phantom sting of her words, as she outed us in that hallway, fills my eyes with tears. I don't know why it disappoints me to hear they're protecting her too, but it does. Maybe because with Shane and Amanda's history, and Nick and Amanda being full siblings raised together under that monster's roof, I can't help but wonder: when push comes to shove, would either of them truly choose me over her?

No, Becca. Why would they? You're no one. You'll never be one of them.

The harshness of my inner voice shatters something inside me. But under the circumstances, I refuse to fall apart right now. I refuse to let that thought take root, not until tomorrow, when Shane is gone and I can cry and grieve in private. 

"She's scared," Nick says gently—like he can tell I'm hanging on by a very fragile thread. "Terrified of my father and his threats, but even I can admit there's no excuse for what she did today. I promise you, I'll handle her. I'll make it clear she's to stay away from you."

My eyes snap to his, then to Shane, as a wave of crushing desperation crashes over me. "You can't tell her about me. She can't know. If she does, she'll tell Charles, and then he'll know I opened my mouth and..."

"Hey, hey, hey," Shane coos softly, turning in his chair. His hands cup my face, gently guiding my gaze to his. "We're not telling her. I swear it. Nick too. Given everything that's happened, we both agree, she shouldn't know."

"But what happens when she finds out Nick spent the holidays here? She'll think it's suspicious. It will only incite her. Make things worse. Make her angrier."

"She won't know." Nick rushes in, his tone firm. "No one will. I'll pack my things tonight. Let them think I went back to school. They'll be none the wiser. I'll be here tomorrow. Shane gave me the code to get in, and with Cedric's help, I'll sneak in while you're at school"

"You would do this? Go against your own father? Your sister? All to protect me?"

"Against my father? Yes. No question. Against Amanda? In this case? Yes. Because by doing this, I'm protecting both of you. You're the one who needs me the most right now. Amanda's still safe. She's still okay. Once we handle your situation, Shane, Cedric and I will take the necessary steps to get her out from under the hell she's in—even if we have to do it with her kicking and screaming."

"You can trust him." Shane squeezes my hand, his voice soft but unwavering. "He wouldn't be here if I didn't believe he would do everything in his power to keep you safe."

"It's true, Becca. This isn't just about my hatred for Charles, or my thirst to make him pay. Ultimately, this is about you. About Amanda. About being the honorable family man my father has never been. That's how I get him back. That's how I exact my revenge—by being a better man than he could ever dream to be."

I look at him then. Really look. And suddenly... I believe him. Not because of his words, but because of the way he says them. With conviction. With everything he is. He says them like someone who's fighting—every day—to outrun the shadows of his past. To become the man his father never was.

My eyes drop back to the pendant. My thumb brushes over the tiny star at the center—the point where the two constellations overlap.

Shane's hand reaches over to gently touch the pendant, his fingers grazing mine. "That's Alpheratz," he says softly. "It's a binary star."

My gaze flicks up to him, questioning.

He nods, his expression warm and unwavering. "It belongs to both the Pegasus and Andromeda constellations. It's the star that connects them. We thought it was the perfect symbol for you and Nick, the bond that connects you two."

The air shifts again. This time it's not heavy or full or tense. It's unexpectedly comforting. My throat tightens as the meaning settles deep into my chest. I've never belonged anywhere before. Hell, before Shane, I never really had anyone. No one who was in my life just to love and care for me, unselfishly.

And now—if I'm to believe what they're saying—maybe... just maybe. I have Nick, too.

"Turn it over," Nick says softly.

I glance up at him—at the way his fingers fidget at the edge of the table, at the way his voice carries a weight he hasn't dared let me feel until now.

Without thinking, I do as he says. Slowly, I turn the pendant over in my palm. There, etched in delicate script across the back, are the words: 
"Even the stars knew you weren't meant to stand alone."

The breath leaves my lungs in a quiet, staggered gasp. It hits me like a punch to the chest—hard and tender all at once. My vision blurs. The words swim in front of me as my heart swells with so many feelings I can't begin to sort through them.

Grief. Relief. Longing. Hope.

Shane doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. His hand comes around my back, pulling me close, and he presses a tender kiss to my temple. A quiet reminder that I'm not alone. Not anymore.

Even through the flood of emotion, I meet Nick's gaze. Who I see staring back at me is not the boy I've feared. Not the son of the man who's haunted every corner of my life. But my brother. A survivor. A boy who loved and lost, and like me, carries the wreckage of everything Charles tried to destroy—and is fighting to make something good out of what's left. 

And I... I want to help him. I want to stand beside him and Shane and fight to save us all. 

I close my fingers around the pendant. My hand trembles with the weight of it—not because it's heavy, but because of what it means to me.

It's a promise.

A connection.

A lifeline.

A quiet symbol that I'm not alone anymore. That I have people now... and maybe, the hope of a family.

"I... I don't know what to say," I whisper, my voice broken by the emotion choking me up.

Nick just shrugs, his voice thick. "You don't have to say anything."

Shane watches our exchange closely, his expression unreadable—but I don't need to decipher it to know what's in his heart. There is pride there. Hope. And a kind of quiet peace I know he's been craving for me—for us.

I glance back at Nick, fingers still curled around the pendant.

"Thank you," I say, barely more than a whisper. "This means everything."

❤️

 
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 on 
REAM
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Chapter 45

Shane

The dishes are already clean and put away. The counters wiped twice—maybe three times. Honestly, I stopped counting when I realized she’s not really cleaning. She’s just… moving. Her hands are busy, eyes unfocused. It’s like she’s afraid that if she stops, everything she’s been holding back might break free and pull her under.

I don’t say anything at first. I just watch.

The soft glow from the Christmas tree flickers across her face, casting golden light along the curve of her cheeks. Her mouth is tight. Her shoulders are set. Still, with all that turmoil rolling off her in waves, she’s so damn beautiful. She takes my breath away, even when she’s like this. Hell, especially when she’s like this—fighting to stay strong, even as she silently breaks.

It’s become a habit now—watching her, learning her tells. The way she clutches at tasks when her mind won’t stop spinning. The way she checks the stove once, twice, then again, like maybe the third time will finally silence the voice inside her that won’t let her rest.

And I get it. God, do I get it.

It’s been a hell of a day. From waking up wrapped around each other this morning—our first since making love—to the hallway disaster with Amanda, to dinner with Nick, and everything that came after… she’s been holding herself together through sheer force of will alone.

And maybe it’s selfish of me, but part of me wants to freeze time. To stretch these final hours just a little thinner, so I don’t have to think about leaving her tomorrow. The thought alone cuts me off at the knees—leaving me helpless and drowning, my lungs refusing to expand, unwilling to take a single breath without her by my side.

If only I were stronger… more like her.

It leaves me in awe—how strong she is. How much she carries on her shoulders without complaint. No matter how difficult things get, she faces it all head-on. There’s this fire inside of her, this quiet determination that burns bright behind her eyes, even when fear simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s everything I used to imagine Andromeda to be when I was a kid, staring up at her constellation—brave-faced, even as she stood chained to that cliff, waiting for the monster to rise from the deep. Willing to be the sacrifice that would save her people. Defiant. Beautiful. Tears streaking down her face, but her chin held high—never looking away.

And that same fragility beneath the fight… that’s what I see inside my Becca. And fuck, it only makes me love her that much more.

But even the strongest princesses need to rest their swords every once in a while. Just like even the mightiest queens need their knights to take up arms and fight by their side.

Knowing what she needs, I take a slow breath and then allow my feet to carry me toward her.

Her hand moves in slow circles over the counter, wiping it down again and again, like the rhythm might help put her thoughts back in order. She doesn’t flinch when my arms wrap around her waist, which tells me she’s more aware than I realized. She must have been watching me.

In an instant, she leans into me, her body melting against mine like the feel of my touch is all her mind and body were waiting for. It fills my chest with warmth, and I press a gentle kiss to the side of her head, just above her temple. Her signature cherry vanilla scent wraps around me, like a memory. Familiar. Soothing. Hers.

“Come on, pretty girl,” I murmur against her skin. “Let’s go get ready for bed.”

I guide her gently out of the kitchen, my hand resting on the small of her back as she silently allows me to lead her. Her silence doesn’t scare me. It tells me she trusts me enough to follow. And that’s something I’ll never take lightly.

At the dresser, I pull out one of her sleep shirts—an oversized, worn-soft thing I can tell must be one of her favorites. I grab a fresh pair of underwear too, folding both items carefully before placing them in her hands.

It used to catch her off guard—me doing this. Picking out her nightclothes. Folding them neatly, like they were something sacred, before handing them to her. I remember the way she used to shift nervously, eyes darting around, her body language making it clear she was uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. It was clear to me then that she wasn’t used to being cared for.

But now, it’s just part of our routine. A quiet rhythm of us . Something that grounds her, that soothes her harried thoughts—and God, that’s all I ever want. To be the person she can lean on, the one she can rely on to keep her steady when the rest of the world feels off-kilter.

I walk her to the bathroom door, expecting her to step inside like she always does, but instead, she stops. Her fingers curl tighter around the fabric in her hands, while in direct contrast, her shoulders slump.

Whatever is wrong, I want to fix it for her. But I’ve learned with Becca—the only way she’ll tell me what she’s really feeling is if I give her the space to sit in the discomfort. To wait her out while she gathers the courage to let me in.

Then, as expected—barely above a whisper—she says, “Can you… come with me?”

My heart stutters. Just for a second.

I don’t let it show, but the way she asks—soft, vulnerable, like it’s taking everything in her to admit she needs me—hits me straight in the chest. My body reacts immediately, heat rising under my skin. But I realize almost instantly, this… this isn’t about sex.

I look at her—really look—and I see it. The unspoken fear. The exhaustion. The weight of the day sitting heavy in her eyes. The dread of what’s yet to come. This is about not wanting to be alone with her thoughts. It’s about safety. About closeness. About needing me… needing to feel us . And hell, considering I’m desperate for the very same things, there’s no way I could ever deny her.

“Of course,” I say, my voice tender as I reach for her hand, intertwining our fingers together. “Whatever you need, pretty girl. I’m here for you. Always.”

The bathroom is quiet as we enter. Without letting her go, I turn on the water, checking the temperature before turning back to face her. She stands in front of me, small and quiet, fingers still curled around her clothes. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, uncertain at first, then slowly softening—trusting. It melts my goddamn heart, bringing a sting to my eyes.

Taking the clothes from her hands, I set them gently on the counter. Then my fingers find the hem of her top. I don’t move right away, giving her the space to decide if this is okay.

She gives me the smallest nod—enough to let me know I can proceed. When I start to lift it, she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t shy away or tense up. She just exhales softly. And that trust—giving her body over to me so freely—it’s everything. The kind of thing that cracks a man wide open.

I undress her slowly like I’m unwrapping something sacred—her body, her bravery, her bare vulnerability. All of it laid before me, and she lets me take it in without shame. Without hesitation.

When I’m done, I press a soft kiss on her forehead and murmur, “Come on. Let’s get warm.”

Steam curls into the air around us. The moment the water hits us, I shift slightly, shielding her from the brunt of the spray. She lets out a soft sigh as the warmth touches her skin, and I pull her closer—tucking her against me, my arms wrapping around her like shelter.

Her cheek rests against my chest, and for a moment, that’s how we stay. The only sound is the soft drum of the water around us. The world beyond these walls fades away, bringing us back into a reality where only she and I exist.

Fuck, I needed this.

Hell, we needed this .

Her fingers move, skimming along my ribs, before settling on the center of my chest like she finds comfort in the pulsing beat of my heart. The gesture is so small, so gentle, but it roots me in place.

Turning her so her back is to the water, I bring my hand up to her hair, slowly working my fingers through the strands, massaging her scalp as the water slides down her back. She melts into me like she’s been waiting for this—this quiet safety. And I realize, so have I.

It nearly kills me to step away from her, even for a second, but I know what she needs right now isn’t just closeness, it’s care. So I reach for the shampoo, working it into a lather, then slowly massaging it into her scalp. My fingers glide down the silky strands, then return to her scalp, working the tension out in slow, careful circles as she relaxes, melting deeper into me.

Then I rinse her hair carefully, sliding my hands down to the back of her neck, her shoulders, kneading the knots there with the same tenderness. She tilts her head slightly, giving me more access. Another silent sign of trust as a quiet sigh slips past her lips.

Unable to help it, I lean forward and press a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” I whisper against her skin. “Always.”

Her breath catches, just a little. And then I feel it. The tremble. The barely-there shake in her inhale.

It makes me pause, pulling back so I can look at her. Even with the droplets of water rolling down her face, I see the silent tears falling free from the corner of her eyes. There’s no sound. Just the soft quiver of her body, as she struggles to contain the sadness bleeding through, like a dam cracked enough to let the overflow spill.

I cup her cheek and gently guide her eyes to mine, needing to see her. She’s trying so hard to hold it all in. To be strong.

“Hey,” I say softly, my thumb brushing her cheek. “It’s okay, Becca. You don’t always have to be so strong. Not with me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles. Her voice breaks. “I just… I wish you didn’t have to go.”

God. Hearing that nearly brings me to my knees. It fucking breaks me.

Desperate to ease the sudden ache in my chest, I pull her in close, pressing my forehead to hers. Centering her against me as I try to be her pillar of strength… when the truth is, all of mine comes from her.

“I know, pretty girl,” I murmur, my voice thick. “I wish I didn’t have to go either. But we’ve got tonight. And I’m coming back the second I can. I won’t let a day pass without hearing your voice. I promise you that.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just presses her cheek against my chest like maybe, if she clings to me hard enough, time will slow. And hell, if I could find a way to stop the clock, I would.

Then she nods, pressing in tighter like she can’t bear a single breath of distance between us.

I run my hand slowly up and down her back beneath the spray, soaking in every second. Taking it all in so when tomorrow comes and I feel like I can’t breathe, I’ll at least have this.

Because I know what’s waiting for me when day breaks.

A cold house with cold expectations. A mother who only wants me around for holiday photos and public smiles. A family that treats image like gospel and love like a PR stunt. I’ll have to dress up, smile nice, and play the role of dutiful son—the Montgomery heir. Somehow pretending I’m still a part of that world.

But I’m not.

Not anymore.

Not after this.

Not after her .

After Becca, I know what real feels like. What a real home should feel like. And nothing waiting for me tomorrow—not the house, not the people—will ever come close to the real, beautiful world I’ve found with her.

❤️

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# Chapter 46

Shane

Her room is quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of our breaths.

The glow from the Christmas lights spills softly across the walls, catching the edges of her hair, the curve of her shoulder, the faint shimmer of moisture still clinging to her skin. We didn't bother with clothes. Just dried off enough to slip beneath the warm covers, bodies pressed together, clinging to whatever time we have left before morning comes and ruins everything.

She's curled against me, skin-to-skin, her cheek resting on my chest. My arm is around her back, fingers splayed wide like I'm afraid she might slip away if I'm not careful. She hasn't said much since our shower, but she doesn't have to. Her silence feels different now—less like she's fighting to hold herself together, more like she's letting it all go. 

I shift just enough to press a kiss to her temple. Her skin is warm beneath my lips, soft and familiar. And 
God
, she smells like home—cherry and vanilla, the faintest trace of my soap, and something that's uniquely 
her
.

I breathe her in, trying to memorize it, knowing I'll need it to carry me through the next several days.

Her fingers tighten slightly against my side, and I feel it—the flicker of sadness simmering inside her. A carbon copy of the one simmering inside me.

So I whisper the mantra that's been pounding like a war drum through my thoughts—but for her, I say it softly. "This day... this coming week apart—hell, whatever the universe throws our way—none of it gets to define us."

She doesn't move, but her breath catches just enough to let me know she's listening.

"You and me?" I murmur, brushing my thumb in slow strokes across the small of her back. "Our love is fated, pretty girl. Written in the stars, right into the night sky. Nothing can ever change that."

A beat of silence. Then another.

And then she exhales, long and slow, her body melting just a little deeper into mine. Like my words smoothed over the jagged edges of whatever was still weighing on her. 

I close my eyes and hold her tighter, anchoring her to me. Anchoring 
myself
 to her. Because this quiet between us... it isn't empty. It's full of everything we both need.

For a long while, we just lie there.

The only sound is the soft hum of the space heater in the corner and the occasional shift of the blankets when Becca moves just enough to press in closer. Her skin is warm against mine. Her hand finds its way to my chest again, fingers settling over my heart like she's trying to memorize the beat.

Then, in the tiniest whisper, she says, "Talk to me."

I tilt my head to look at her, lowering my voice to match hers. "About what?"

She pauses, then swallows thickly. "Tell me what you see... our future. Give me something to hold on to while you're gone."

God.

The way she says it—like she's handing me her most fragile hope and asking me not to break it—makes my throat constrict.

So I close my eyes and pull her in a little closer, brushing my lips to the top of her head as I push down my emotions so I can speak.

"Well," I murmur, "first, we go away to college together."

She shifts slightly, her chin tilting back just enough for me to catch the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Columbia, of course," I say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Her eyes widen. "Columbia?"

I smile, smoothing my hand down her back, resting my other hand over hers. "Of course. It's where you want to go, isn't it?"

She nods, slowly at first—then a grin spreads across her face, wide and bright and pure enough to make my chest ache in the best possible way. It's the kind of grin that could light up a whole damn city. Bright enough to outshine the stars themselves.

And just like that, I know I'd follow her anywhere.

"I'll be there with you," I continue, voice softer now. "Cheering you on. Bringing you coffee during finals week. Studying with you. Carrying all your textbooks like the overachieving academic boyfriend, I clearly am."

She lets out a quiet laugh, her hand tightening against my chest. I feel it in her whole body—how the warmth of the image settles into her bones.

"Then we graduate," I say, "and move into this tiny shoebox apartment with terrible heating and a leaky sink—probably smaller than this one."

She snorts. "Sounds magical."

"Oh, it is. You'll hate the paint color. I'll accidentally hang the spice rack upside down, but we'll make it work. And then I'm gonna propose right there in the kitchen, probably the night before graduation—because let's be real, I'm not the most patient guy."

Becca lets out a watery chuckle, her nose brushing my collarbone.

"I can see it," she mumbles. "In all your excitement, you'll drop the ring and it rolls under the stove?"

"
What? 
I'm the star receiver of the Ruby Creek Warriors. There's no way, in hell I'm dropping that ring."
 
I deadpan. "Instead, I'm moments away from nearly burning down the kitchen in my attempt to bake you some weird Pinterest 'Getting Engaged' souffle. That's when I panic. I'm afraid to lose the moment, so I drop to one knee and ask you to marry me. Thankfully you'll be so happy you won't notice the flour all over my face and smoke pouring out from the oven."

Her laughter bubbles out, bright and tearful and 
so damn real. 
It's everything I could have hoped for.

I press a kiss to the top of her head. "We elope after that. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. Maybe a private beach outside the little villa where we're staying. No cameras. No guest lists. Just us—and if we're lucky, a family of dolphins playing in the background."

She sighs against me, her fingers drawing soft shapes over my chest.

"And then," I say, voice gentling, "we build a home together. Not just a house, but a proper place. One filled with love. With safety. With everything you never got, but always deserved."

Her body trembles slightly, the kind that comes with tears—but this time, they're soft. Healing.

I pause, letting the emotion settle between us. Then I lean closer and whisper, "And one day, you'll tell me we're having a baby."

She lets out a little sound—half gasp, half laugh—and I feel her press tighter against me.

"My mind will go fucking blank," I continue with a grin. "I'll cry. Probably drop the coffee I'm holding. Later, when I'm alone, I'll call Nick in a panic... then hang up without telling him why I'm losing my fucking mind. I'll warn you now, I'll probably be that guy, the one who forgets the hospital bag or drops the keys in the storm drain the minute you go into labor. And our poor little girl—because our first will definitely be a girl..." 

I shake my head, a warm smile tugging at my lips. "I'll probably install the car seat backward, so she'll spend her first few moments in the real world, waiting in your arms on some random sidewalk outside the hospital, while the nurses grumble under their breath and show me how to fix it. I'll be a hot mess of a dad, but somehow you'll still love me, and because she'll be a daddy's girl she'll forgive me."

Becca giggles, snuggling into my chest.

"And that first night we bring her home," I say, "we'll be so scared and sleep-deprived we'll forget how to heat up a bottle. Our baby girl is crying, which means I'm crying, and you're so frustrated with me you throw a burp cloth right at my face—and then, somewhere in the chaos, we'll just look at each other and... laugh."

She lets out a choked sound, laughter laced with tears. "Sounds like a disaster."

"Oh, it 
will
 be. But it'll be 
our
 beautiful disaster. Our perfect mess."

I tilt my head, brushing my nose against hers.

"There'll be burned dinners and dance parties in the kitchen. You'll tell me to call a plumber to fix the leaky pipes, but I'll try to do it myself—and probably just make it worse. But you'll forgive me because—for reasons neither of us fully understands—you love me, so that's just what you do. And the couch will always have crumbs. The walls will be covered in crayon—my artwork too, of course, not just the kids'. But it'll be real. So fucking real. And it'll be 
ours
."

Becca sniffles again, but she's smiling. I can feel it. Somehow, I just 
know
.

And when she finally speaks, it's the softest I've ever heard her. "I want that."

I nod, kissing her again—her hair, her cheek, anywhere my lips can reach—as tears sting my eyes.

"So do I, pretty girl. More than anything."

She curls into me, tucking herself under my chin, her arm sliding around my waist.

And just like that, I know. Whatever I have to face tomorrow... whatever I have to fake, smile through, or endure—

It's worth it.

Because 
this
—what we have—this is the future I'm fighting for.

For a while, we just lie there.

Her breaths are slow and steady now, like maybe the world finally feels quiet enough for her to relax. I stroke my hand along her back in slow, soothing lines, memorizing the feel of her skin, the way she fits against me like my arms were always meant to hold her.

Then, without warning, she shifts. Her face tilts up toward mine, her eyes searching in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. And what I see there... it undoes me. It's longing. It's trust. It's love, laid bare.

Her voice is barely a whisper when she says it. "Make love to me."

I freeze, my heart tripping over the steady beat it's been holding for her.

She swallows. Her hand comes up to rest against my jaw, her thumb brushing across my cheek. "Help me forget that you're leaving. I need the memory... to hold on to. Until you're free to come back to me."

Jesus.

I feel it all in a rush. The weight of her words. The plea in her voice. The quiet kind of bravery it takes to ask for something that vulnerable, especially for someone who's still learning how to ask for what she needs.

I lean my forehead against hers as I whisper, "I'll always come back to you."

And then I kiss her.

Not with hunger. Not with heat.

With devotion.

With the kind of reverence reserved for sacred things. For once-in-a-lifetime love. For the girl who saved me in ways she'll never understand.

Her lips part, soft and sure beneath mine. Her fingers slide into my hair, holding me there—not pulling, not demanding—just anchoring. And I go willingly, letting the moment unfold like a prayer between us.

When I shift to hover over her, her legs part instinctively, welcoming me in without a word. There's no rush. No urgency. Just this soft, aching need to be close. To 
feel
. Every kiss, every touch says the things we don't say out loud.

You are safe.

You are loved.

You are mine.

We were always meant to be.

Her hands roam my back, fingertips tracing the path of muscle and bone like she's relearning the shape of me. My lips find her neck, her shoulder, the place just beneath her ear that makes her shiver. She lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. Like relief.

And when I finally sink into her—after she gently and torturously rolls a condom over me—she exhales my name like a promise.

The sound undoes me. Not just because it's her, not just because of the way she says it, but because in that moment, I feel everything.

Her heart.

Her love.

Her longing for the future we both want.

There's no space between us now. Just warmth and the quiet rhythm of love taking shape in the dark. Her eyes stay locked on mine the whole time. No walls. No hiding. Just pure, unguarded truth.

And when she whispers, "Promise me. Promise you'll come back to me."

I whisper back, "Always. I'd walk through hell to get back to you."

And then we move together—not with urgency, but with 
need
. A need to 
feel
, to 
prove
, to 
etch this into memory
 so deeply that no amount of distance, time, or doubt could ever steal it away.

Every breath becomes a vow. Every thrust, a promise.
 My name falls from her lips like a prayer, and God—
I worship her
 with my body, with my hands, with every broken piece of me she's made whole.

She wraps around me like she was made for this—for me—and I swear I see stars behind my eyes when she arches beneath me, soft moans tangled with gasps, like her soul is crying out in a language only I understand.

I lose myself in 
her
. In 
us
.

I kiss her through it—slow, deep, possessive—because she's 
mine
. She always has been. She always will be. And when she tightens around me, when she shatters beneath me with a sound that cuts straight through my ribs, I follow her over the edge.

It's not a crash.

It's a rebirth.

A claiming.

A sacred, burning, all-consuming kind of homecoming.

When it's over, neither of us moves.

I just stay where I am, holding her close, her heart racing beneath me, her legs still wrapped around me. Her fingers curl around my sides like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.

But I won't.

Not tonight. 

Not ever.

Later, we lie tangled together beneath the covers, her leg looped over mine, her hand resting lightly on my chest. My eyes are closed, the steady rhythm of her breathing lulling me closer to sleep.

I don't know how long we stay like that. Could be minutes. Could be hours. Because time doesn't exist here—not when she's curled up against me like this. Not when the only thing that matters is the feel of her in my arms, safe, soft, and still mine.

I drift somewhere between awake and asleep, that hazy place where thoughts float freely and everything feels like a dream.

And that's when I hear it.

So quiet I almost miss it.

"I love you..." 

My breath stills. 

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to tell you yet."

My heart gives a slow, aching beat. Some part of me wants to open my eyes, to pull her close, to tell her not to be sorry because I already know. That I've known for a long, long time, even before she knew.

But I don't move.

Because part of me wonders if I imagined it. If this is all part of a dream. A sweet, aching echo of something my heart's been waiting to hear.

But even if it was...

It doesn't matter.

Because deep down, I know with absolute certainty... she loves me.

She's always loved me.

And God help me, I'll spend the rest of my life proving her love will never be wasted on me.

❤️

 
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 on 
REAM
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Chapter 47

Shane

The back of the limo feels like a coffin dressed up in leather and glass.

I sit motionless, staring out at the blur of headlights bleeding across the darkened windows, the hum of the engine low and constant beneath my feet. I’m surrounded by the kind of luxury that’s supposed to impress—but all it does is make me feel trapped. Like I’ve been packaged up and sent off to be displayed. All of it sterile. Staged. Just like everything else in my life.

All except for her.

I glance at my phone again. No new messages.

Becca’s last text still glows on the screen, even though I’ve read it a dozen times.

Becca:

I miss you already.

Those four little words, sent minutes after I last kissed her goodbye, have been wrecking me all day.

She’s at work now—closing shift at the diner. Cedric’s men are shadowing her until she gets home, and Nick’s waiting there too, playing the role of loyal knight in my absence, while I’m stuck here, en route to Lakeview to play the role of perfect son. The infamous Montgomery heir.

I drop my head back against the seat, eyes slipping shut, but all I see is last night. Her skin against mine, fingers brushing my jaw, her breath warm against my neck, the whisper of my name on her lips right before she—

I drag in a breath. Not now. I can’t afford to think about it, not with her so far away and days to go before I can finally see her again.

But then I remember how morning came, and everything shifted. We stood in her apartment, both of us unraveling. She clung to me like she could physically keep me from leaving. And I held on just as tight, my mind racing with thoughts of blowing up my entire life just so I’d never have to leave her.

Thankfully, rational thought won out. As hard as this is, I know the only way to keep her and truly make myself worthy of her is to face my family and their expectations head-on. Running. Hiding. Pretending none of this is happening won’t make it go away. If anything, it might only make things worse, putting Becca and our future even more at risk.

Which is why I’m here. A decision I made as I pressed one last kiss to her lips.

“I love you, pretty girl,” I told her in an anguished whisper. The tears escaping from the corner of my eyes catching me by surprise. “Remember—you’re my heart. My soul. My life. Just… be safe, okay?”

I can’t remember the last time I cried. I think I was nine, maybe ten. But when Becca walked out of her apartment, leaving me alone in a state of desolation, I nearly drowned in tears that wouldn’t stop.

I shift in my seat, my chest too tight to breathe, blinking my eyes, trying to clear the new round of tears that threaten to spill. I look out the window again, attempting to distract myself from the throbbing ache pounding in my chest.

The lights of Lakeview glimmer ahead in the distance, like a city dipped in gold and jewels.

My stomach turns.

This dinner? It’s a show. An act. A public spectacle coordinated by my mother for publicity’s sake. A photo op. Just another curated glimpse at the gilded perfection of the Montgomery family.

It’s obnoxious.

Unnecessary.

But expected.

Just like the tailored suit that miraculously found its way to the top of my bed, along with the note that read: “For tonight! Love, Mom”. She left it for me like I’m some goddamn mannequin to be styled and dressed.

It’s fucking ridiculous—something I never would’ve questioned until recently. But now, after spending the past few weeks existing in the real world with my Becca, I see it for what it is. Pretense. An illusion.

Just like when I texted to ask if I could drive myself, and she replied:

Catherine:

Don’t be absurd, Shane. A Montgomery arrives in style. It’s what’s expected of us.

My jaw clenches as the limo turns onto the restaurant’s street. I can already see the flashes outside the front entrance, a swarm of paparazzi, cameras already flashing like they smell blood in the water.

Chances are good this is my mother’s doing. Leaking her whereabouts to the press, especially for occasions like this when she can showcase what an amazing wife and mother she is, is all part of the games she likes to play with the media.

I square my shoulders, slip my phone into my pocket, and inhale through my nose as I wait to be let out.

I didn’t want to come here tonight. But now that I’m here?

I’m going to try. I have to. I’m determined to make the best of this situation.

This week, I plan to tell them.

That I want Columbia, not Stanford. That I want my future to be mine—and no one else’s. That I won’t be marrying Amanda, no matter what deal my father struck behind closed doors. My future. My terms. I’ll speak up even if it means setting myself on fire just to be heard.

Because Becca is worth it. And right now, she’s the only thing that matters to me.

The restaurant valet opens my door with practiced flair, and I step out into the cold, glittering facade of Lakeview’s crown jewel.

Ciel Bleu.

Even the name sounds obnoxious. All white stone and sparkling glass, the building housing the restaurant rises above the city like a monument to excess. Cameras flash from the curbside as a line of paparazzi track my every move, but I don’t flinch. My mother trained me better than that, so I let the mask slip into place. Then I proceed through the doors, striding inside with the confident air of expected from someone of my station.

It sickens me how easily I slip into the role they want me to play, but given the circumstances, I have no choice but to follow through. At least for now.

Inside, the air is even more pretentious than I thought possible. Drenched in the scent of designer perfumes and the artificial aroma of money, stepping into the restaurant feels much like walking into the home where I grew up.

Cold.

Artificial.

Unnecessarily exorbitant.

Unable to help it, I shake my head in disgust as I continue past the concierge attempting to speak to me. I don’t mean to be rude, but my patience tonight is already running thin. And knowing my parents like I do, I don’t need any help finding where they’re perched on display, waiting for me.

Sure enough, I spot them instantly.

Edward and Catherine Montgomery—my parents—are seated at a table near the front, of course. Perfectly positioned by the floor-to-ceiling windows, just far enough away to pretend the press outside is an intrusion, and not an invitation to be gawked at.

The instant my mother sees me, she rises to her feet in a single fluid motion, arms outstretched, her expression strained, like she’s missed me so much it physically pains her.

“My darling!” she says loud enough to echo through the space. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

The cameras outside catch the moment in a storm of flashing lights.

I go to her, let her pull me into a hug that smells like rose oil and control. Her grip is tight. Practiced. Not warm. But I hug her back anyway because that’s what is expected.

Play the part.

Smile for the audience.

Be the golden son.

I pull back just in time to catch the disapproval in her eyes as they scan my outfit—a navy sports coat, light grey button-down, dark wash jeans. Her lips pinch, silent and sharp when she realizes I’ve chosen to forgo the tailored suit she’d laid out for me.

My father, on the other hand, rises from his seat methodically. No theatrics. His movements deliberate as he extends his hands to me in a firm handshake, like I’m just another acquisition to him.

“Shane,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Dad.”

The maître d’ arrives a moment later, all smiles and polished charm, ready to escort us like we’re royalty. We move through the opulent main dining room, past the crystal chandeliers dripping with light and tables that sparkle like a scene from a movie. Heads turn. Some offer polite nods. Others whisper behind raised menus, clearly delighted by the chance to witness Montgomery perfection in the wild.

My mother beams.

My father doesn’t, but he does stand a little taller, a little prouder as he walks.

I, on the other hand, I’m a blank page. No smile. No emotion whatsoever. Nothing to indicate either way, if I even want to be here. Just like I’ve been trained.

Because none of this is real.

Not the warmth in my mother’s voice. Not the look of pride in my father’s nod. Not the evening itself, because when you get right down to it, this isn’t a dinner. It’s a presentation.

And by my mother’s design, we’re the product on display.

Only when the doors close behind us—sealing us inside the private dining suite—do the smiles start to crack.

The masks begin to slip.

And beneath the polite silence, something festers. My mother’s eyes are too bright. My father’s too composed. There’s a weight in the air now—heavy and unspoken. Punctuated by the way they both keep glancing at me.

I don’t know what’s going on.

But I do know one thing—whatever’s coming next, it won’t end well for me.

And suddenly I’m kicking myself for leaving her… instead of staying and letting the life I no longer want burn to the fucking ground.

❤️

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# Chapter 48

Shane

The door clicks shut behind us with a soft finality that lands loudly—like steel locking into place.

I don't turn. Don't speak. I just stare at the room, which greets me like a taunt.

The dining suite is sickeningly flawless. Dimmed lighting. Crystal flutes pre-filled with champagne. Hors d'oeuvres arranged on gold-rimmed porcelain. The table gleams beneath a centerpiece of winter-white roses and soft candlelight, like this is just another celebration. Just another night for the Montgomerys to toast their success.

But it's a trick.

A clever disguise for the leash they're about to snap around my neck. The ominous feel of the air around us gives way to the nauseating pressure building in my gut.

My mother slides into her seat, movements graceful and rehearsed. She lifts her champagne flute to her lips, taking a sip like she's trying to hide that too-wide smile that signals she's had a hand in whatever the hell this is.

My father's expression gives nothing away. He adjusts his cuff, straightens his jacket, and steps toward the head of the table like he's arriving at a press conference, not a private dinner with his wife and only child.

I, on the other hand, just stand there. Because whatever this is—it's not dinner. 

It's an ambush. 

And the idea of sitting down before I know what the hell I'm walking into feels too much like surrender.

"You should have worn the suit." My mother breaks the silence, her voice slicing through the room like a scalpel—sharp, clinical. No warmth. No disappointment. Just judgment, cold and overflowing.

I glance at her, watching as her perfectly manicured fingers tighten on the stem of her glass. She's not upset that I disobeyed her instructions. She's upset because I ruined the aesthetic. The story she curated for tonight.

"I was led to believe this was a family dinner," I say flatly. "No one told me it was a publicity stunt. "

She scoffs. "Don't be so dramatic. You know better than that." She lifts her glass but doesn't drink—just holds it like a prop. "Everything we do is a statement. A visual reinforcement of unity. You walking in here dressed like some college sophomore on winter break isn't the message I intended to send."

I exhale through my nose, jaw tight. "Good thing I'm a person, not a statement, then. Hmm?"

That gets her. Her gaze sharpens, lips pressing together in a tight line. Across the table, my father's eyes flick to hers. Something passes between them—an unspoken exchange I'm not invited into, but I catch the shift. 

Whatever this is? It's choreographed. 

My father straightens, reaches for the back of the chair at the head of the table, then gestures to the one beside him.

"Shane, have a seat." 

It's not a request.

I move slowly. My muscles coiled tight, throat dry. Because whatever's coming... this is only just beginning. 

My mother opens her mouth again—probably to launch into another tirade about optics and appearances—but my father cuts her off.

"None of that matters, Catherine." His voice is firm, landing with the weight of a door slamming shut—harsh, final, and unbothered by the frost his tone leaves in its wake. "We're here to discuss the boy's future."

Boy?

His words hit me hard, and my stomach knots.

Here it comes. The real reason for this fucking charade of a dinner. I should've known there was an ulterior motive. With my parents, there always is. Nothing comes without strings. Not love. Not praise. Not even family meals. 

But fine. 

It just means that the time is now. 

Whatever they have to say, it's also my turn to speak. The conversation I've been rehearsing since the moment I walked away from Becca this morning. It's time I tell them how it's going to be.

I brace myself, steadying my breathing.

Do it now. Say it.

Tell them about Columbia. About Becca. Tell them you're not marrying Amanda just to keep up appearances or secure some corporate merger they haven't even bothered to explain.

But before I can open my mouth... 

My father reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a small, black velvet box.

Time slows.

The air compresses.

Then he sets it on the table with a soft, deliberate thud. Like a judge delivering a sentence. Like a guillotine dropping on my neck. 

And with one final push, he slides it toward me. 

"Open it." Two words. No emotion. No explanation. Not even a demand... but a command.

And somehow... this is worse than anything I could've imagined. Because even without looking, I already know what's inside.

And worst yet, I feel it—

Deep in the marrow of my bones. Lodged in the breath caught in my throat. Once I open that box, nothing in my life will ever be the same.

My fingers hover over the box for a second too long. Long enough to earn an impatient huff from my mother. Resigned to my fate, I release a long breath and flip it open. The hinges groan softly, but the sound feels deafening in the silence.

Not that I hear it over the rushing in my ears as my heart tries, and fails, to rip free from my chest. 

Because nestled elegantly inside... there's a ring.

Massive. 

Flashy. 

Designed to catch the light from every angle and blind anyone within a ten-foot radius.

The diamond is cut like it's meant to be paraded, not worn. Framed by an ornate platinum setting that looks more like a crown than a promise of forever. 

It's cold. Overdone. Obnoxious. 

Nothing like the ring I'll someday pick out for my pretty girl.

My stomach twists, bile rising fast and sharp in my throat because this ring doesn't symbolize love. It's a goddamn life sentence, in a lavish, velvet, handcrafted prison of my parent's making.

"It's stunning, isn't it?" my mother coos, mistaking my silence for awe. "It was Amanda's mother's ring."

Of course, it was. It makes so much damn sense now. Only someone like Charles Kline would see this gaudy display of opulence and call it a legacy. Status disguised as sentiment. 

There's nothing about this ring that says love. It screams leverage. And suddenly it all clicks. What they're offering me... this isn't a future. It's a contract. 

And I'm the fucking dowry.

The firmness in my father's gaze never wavers as he watches me like he's waiting to see if I'll fail his test. As he buttons his jacket, his spine straightens, then he looks me dead in the eye. 

"You have two options," he says, just like that. Flat. Unbothered. Like we're discussing college electives or dinner reservations—not my future being carved up on a fucking platter.

He gestures to the ring, still sitting between us like a loaded weapon.

"Option one," he continues. "You propose to Amanda tomorrow night. Christmas Eve dinner. In front of both families."

The words fall like stones. Heavy. Unforgiving. The noose cinching tighter around my neck, with every syllable he utters.

"The wedding will take place six weeks after college graduation. That gives you four and a half years to live as you see fit. Get your education. Sow your oats. Do whatever you need to do to get this... rebellion out of your system. But when the time comes—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to.

Because I already know.

When the time comes... I belong to Amanda. To them. And worst of all, to Charles Kline.

I stare at him, careful not to drop the mask of indifference—the only thing offering even the slightest protection from the jagged cuts his words keep inflicting. 

"Option two..." he says, "If you can't manage to follow through with the engagement tomorrow night—then you'll be married six weeks after graduation."

My chest goes tight.

"That's six months from now," I somehow manage, voice low but razored at the edges.

He doesn't blink. "Correct."

My mother reaches for her champagne again, like this is all going beautifully. "A June wedding. That does sound lovely."

"And Amanda?" I ask, ignoring my mother, sickened by her inability to see what this ultimatum might be costing me. 

"She's being told tonight. Probably as we speak," my father says smoothly. "The agreement is already in place. Everything is done. The ring is merely a formality. The only decision left to make is the timeline."

My pulse roars in my ears as my mind scrambles to process this insanity.

"What is this, Dad? You can't possibly be serious?"

"This isn't a negotiation, Shane." He adjusts his cufflinks, the first flickers of frustration bleeding through his mask of cold detachment. "It's a done deal. And by the end of this dinner..." 

He pauses—just long enough to let the silence press against my lungs like a weight made of broken hope and crushed dreams.

"I'll need your answer."

Another pause.

"An answer, which by the way, will be considered final."

My gaze drifts back to the ring. The monstrosity blurs into nothing as the first sting of defeat burns behind my eyes.

My pulse thunders. 

My skin feels too tight. 

My throat is constricted—blocked by rage, desperation, and utter despair.

Across the table, my mother keeps talking. Something about familial duty. About how perfect Amanda is for me. How she'll make a beautiful bride. How the world will swoon at the sight of us. The joining of two dynasties.

But her voice is nothing more than static now.

Because all I can think about is Becca.

Becca in my arms last night.

Becca whispering my name like it meant something sacred.

Becca, with tears in her eyes and her fingers tangled in my hair, begging me to come back to her.

"Promise me. Promise you'll come back to me."

My brave, beautiful Andromeda.

Done with this whole thing, I close the box. Slowly. Controlled. Like I haven't just experienced the devastation of my entire world catching fire from the inside out.

No one says a word. Not my father. Not my mother. Not me. Because there's nothing left to say. 

All that's left is the screaming silence inside my head.

The weight of a future I never wanted.

The responsibility of a family obligation I never asked for.

And worst of all, the echo of a promise I made to Becca that I now don't know how to keep. "
I'd walk through hell to get back to you." 

But the one resounding truth—the one fact that nullifies their claims on me, and anything they try to force—is this...

I, Shane Montgomery, no longer belong to them. Hell, I don't even belong to myself. Because from the moment she agreed to give us a chance—to give 
me
 a chance—I've only belonged to her. 

I am her Perseus.

She is my Andromeda. 

Our love is written in the stars. Fated. Sealed into the fabric of the universe. 

No ring. No staged proposal. No sham of a marriage will ever stand in the way of that. 

Of her.

Of us.

I just hope she has the strength to believe in that. In our love. In me.

I hope she understands—whatever choice I make, I'm making it for her. And I pray to God she still wants me when it's over.

❤️

 
Can't wait for more? I've got you... 
👇🏼

REAM followers are already two chapters ahead!

And the best part? Following me there is totally 
FREE
.

Just hit 
"Follow"
 on 
REAM
 to get early access without needing to subscribe. 
You'll find the link at the top of my Wattpad profile!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

Note From The Author

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

"

Whatever is meant to be yours will never be held back from you.

"

- Unknown

Don't worry, my friends. The next installment of Shane and Becca's story is just around the corner!
 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking this journey with me. Shane and Becca's story is one of true love and unshakable resilience in the face of impossible odds.

Their path won't be easy—because the best love stories never are. But through every stolen moment, whispered vow, and heart-wrenching choice, one truth remains: some souls are simply meant to find their way back to each other.

I've poured my heart into every word of 
Twisted Fate
, and your support means everything to me. Knowing you've stood beside Shane and Becca through every twist and turn is the greatest gift a writer could ask for.

So hang tight, because 

Twisted Promises

 (Book 2) is out now. And believe me... the best is yet to come.

With all my love,
 
Ariana Clark

 💕 Fighting for love against all odds 💕

P.S. For a glimpse of what's to come, check out the blurb in the next section.

NEW CHAPTERS will post at 3:00 PM EST on Fridays!!!

Next Book In The Series

Twisted Promises (Twisted Path Book 2)

When love is all you have left to lose… how do you let it go?

I should’ve known better than to fall for Shane Montgomery.

He’s rich, revered, and bound to a legacy that was never meant to include a girl like me. A girl born of shadows, shaped by secrets, and marked by a past I’ll never escape. But Shane didn’t care. With that cocky smile and relentless charm, he slipped past every wall I built and made promises I was desperate to believe.

We said we’d hold on. That no matter how far apart life—or our families—pulled us, we’d always find our way back to each other.

But forever is a fragile thing in a world ruled by power. A world built on lies and secrets, by people who would rather see us shattered than happy together.

Now everything we had is teetering on the edge of ruin—our love, our dreams, and something even more precious… something we never imagined we’d lose.

They warned us we wouldn’t last. And maybe they were right.

Because the deeper the betrayal, the harder the truth cuts.

Not all promises are meant to be kept. And love, no matter how true, isn’t always enough.

In this gripping second installment of the Twisted Path Series, loyalty is tested, love is torn at the seams, and two broken souls must decide if holding on is worth the pain.

READY FOR MORE?

Twisted Promises

(Book 2 in the Twisted Path Series) is out now! Head to my profile to keep reading—Becca and Shane’s story is just getting started. 💔🔥