Familiar faces filled the downstairs great room in the Montgomerys’ home. Just like they had nearly every other weekend before Tristan went off to college. It was like a reunion of sorts. The past year’s senior football team, now mixed with new faces. Some from Samantha’s class, and some the year ahead, all laughing, and flirting, and messing around.

Samantha sat at the bar with Renee and a boy from their biology class. But all she could think about was how Tristan had stared at her all throughout dinner. Not really stared, but she caught him looking a time or two. When she was buttering her roll, she caught him. And again, when she’d glanced up to look for the saltshaker. Honestly, it sent tiny butterflies loose all throughout her belly. But at the same time, it made her think about their kiss. The kiss she still hadn’t told Renee about.

The kiss that had the potential to ruin their friendship.

She tried to push the thoughts away, but the more time she spent, the more it became impossible. In fact, she found herself watching him now. Witnessing the cocky grin as he passed one of his teammates and headed for the garage.

Her heart began to thud in her chest. Because now was her chance. To talk to him. To make sure everything was cool, so he would never say anything to Renee. As she swiveled in her chair, her heart felt like it was about to explode, but she stood up and pushed through the crowd of people as quickly as she could. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, heading for the hall with sweaty hands. She wiped them over her jeans, then reached for the garage door. It came swinging toward her, nearly knocking her flat. She stumbled backward, almost knocking against the wall behind her, but Tristan caught her by the wrist. He yanked her forward, his other hand catching her at the waist to hold her steady—and his bright blue eyes bore into hers.

Her heart stopped beating.

Not because of the fear of a fall, or because they were alone for the first time since their kiss. It was because of the way he held her. His hand touching the sliver of skin between her shirt and jeans. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, so large in comparison to her own. It was almost as if they were dancing.

She licked her lips, knowing she should pull away, but she couldn’t. By now, she was more experienced than she had been last summer. Having been kissed and touched more times than she could count…but it was different with Tristan. She couldn’t help but notice that. Like a sort of electric current pulsing under her skin and making her all senses wake up. She didn’t want it to end. She craved it. Like a drug so addictive it scared the crap out of her.

She opened her mouth to speak, to say what she came to say, but all the words were stuck at the back of her throat. It was as though her body was holding them captive, knowing that if it let them out, this moment would end. So she stood there, the silence almost like a bandage, clouding the memory of him pressing that girl against the table. Healing all the hurts she’d denied for so long.

Someone called her name from afar, and she looked up in time to see Steven round the corner from the living room.

“Oh hey,” he said. But his expression instantly changed. From happy to surprised, then confused.

Samantha stepped away, tucking her hair behind her ear with nervous fingers. “I um—was just going to get a drink,” she gestured a hand to Tristan, knocking into one of Mrs. Montgomery’s vases on the table. She paused to take a breath, straightening the vase before it fell, thankful for the excuse to look at anything beside the two men in front of her.

“You remember Renee’s brother?” Samantha asked, after too much silence. “He’s visiting from college.”

Steven held out his hand to Tristan, completely oblivious and composed—as though he hadn’t been witness to their compromising position a moment earlier. “Steven Mathers,” he said. “Samantha’s boyfriend.” They shook hands, then Steven looked down to Tristan’s walking boot and frowned. “I think I remember you from West Valley. Quarterback, right?”

Tristan glanced over at Samantha, but only for a second. “Yeah, I think I remember you.”

Steven nodded, backing away, and grabbed hold of Samantha’s hand. Not hard, but in a way that showed possession. “You’re visiting?” he asked, drawing out the last word with a note of suspicion.

“Yep. Just for the weekend.”

Samantha searched for something to say, anything at all that would make things any less awkward, but she couldn’t think of anything. Because all she could think about was how a brief touch from Tristan had sent heat through her whole body, but now, holding Steven’s hand, all she felt was the slight perspiration that glued their hands together.

Steven carried on about his grandparents, and how everyone had fallen asleep while watching Downton Abbey. Tristan listened to every word. Laughing at the appropriate times, even nodding and commenting when appropriate, but he never looked at Samantha again.

She grew increasingly nervous, because she had found herself standing beside the only two men she’d ever kissed. But only one knew about the other, and she was determined to keep it that way. Finally, she glanced up and realized too late that she’d been blocking Tristan’s exit.

She moved out of the way, stumbling over a lame apology as Tristan hobbled his way down the hall to join his friends. But before he left, he flashed Steven one of his genuine smiles. The one he gave to everyone, that made girls fall in love with him, and guys want to be his best friend.

That’s when she realized she was just another victim. Another girl caught under the spell of Tristan Montgomery…and she was kidding herself for thinking anything they’d done together meant anything to him. Kidding herself to think whatever they’d done meant enough to tell Renee about.

Samantha went out to the garage, needing air. Steven followed closely behind her, where she found a grape flavored Fanta on the top shelf of the fridge and cracked it open. She took a long sip, contemplating how remarkably unaffected Tristan could be, when she was practically shaking.

She closed her eyes again as Steven wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You okay?”

She focused on the bubbles rushing down her throat from her soda and nodded her head. Because she didn’t trust her voice to speak. Because after all these months of worry, she finally realized she didn’t need to think about Tristan anymore. As far as she could tell, everything she felt that night in the woods was completely one sided. And he wasn’t going to tell a soul.

* * *

Tristan came into the building, bringing the wind and his large, dominating presence with him. He was impossible to ignore, and Samantha found herself looking up, seeing the same face from all those years ago. He began to walk toward her, and for some reason the tiny wild horses ran hard across her chest again. Maybe because of their past, or maybe because of all the things the server had said that Samantha couldn’t quite deny. But there was a part of her that knew it was more than that. More than words or glances. Because being around Tristan again had awakened something vulnerable inside her. Something she’d been repressing for a long time.

He grinned as he came closer, as though he’d missed her during their short separation. He unzipped his coat, letting it drop down his shoulders before draping it across the back of his seat and sliding into the booth.

“Anything sound good?” he asked, reaching out for a menu.

She cleared her throat, still slightly dazed as she nodded her head. “Well, it would be a shame not to try the soup.”

Her voice was barely audible, but he smiled nonetheless. “You’re probably right.”

The server came forward, and set two mugs on the table while eyeing Samantha warily. She didn’t say a word, but the way the girl watched her made Samantha nervous. As though she’d seen Samantha’s reaction to him entering the room. As though she knew everything Samantha was feeling without her saying so.

“Are ya’ll ready to order?” she asked, filling their mugs with piping hot coffee. “Or do you want me to give you another minute?”

Tristan shrugged, lowering his menu to look at Samantha. “I’m ready if you are.”

She took a breath, turning toward the server before nodding her head. She could feel the walls of doubt closing in around her. Doubts about this trip, her relationship, her sanity.

“Can I have half a grilled cheese, and a cup of soup, please? Split pea,” she confirmed, then she rose from her seat without saying another word and excused herself to the bathroom.

Alone in a stall, she fished her phone from the bottom of her bag and called Steven. She needed to hear his voice, to hear him say he missed her, he loved her, anything that would ground her back to the life that seemed to be slipping through her fingers by the second. Steven’s phone rang a half dozen times, then finally rolled to voice mail, making her heart drop.

“Hey babe,” she began, her throat constricting as she thought of words to say. “We’re in Chippewa Nebraska. It’s so cold I can see my breath.” She paused, resting her head on the toilet roll and feeling almost sick. She began to laugh, not hard, but in a way that could easily shift to crying given the opportunity. “I think it may rain before we stop; isn’t that crazy?” She pulled in a breath. “I already miss our sunshine. I miss you.” But as the words crossed her lips, they didn’t quite feel genuine. They didn’t quite feel hers. “Call me.”

She disconnected the call, lowering her head to set her ears between her knees. But all she could think about were the words Tristan used back at her apartment. “I don’t remember much about you, either.”

“Much.” What did that even mean? The more she thought about it, the more impossible it became to ignore. He had to remember something. Maybe not their time in the woods, but something.

When she finally made it back to her seat, their food was already set on the table, and her brow was set with determination to get some answers. She slid into the booth, finding him relaxed and eating his meal, yet looking so perfect, Samantha had to force herself to look away. Her mind was clouded with confusion. So much so, she could hardly see straight. Because two days with Tristan had sent doubts about everything scorching through her veins.

She poured some creamer into her coffee, fetched a spoon from the table and began to stir. “What do you remember about me?” she whispered. She meant for the words to sound confident, like one of the random questions asked around a bonfire. Like the ones they asked each other in the car. But it came out unsure. Almost frightened. Not strong and steady like she’d intended them to.

His brows furrowed and he put down his burger. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know?” She shrugged. “I mean, Renee and I have been best friends for ten years. You can’t possibly remember nothing…”

Her words trailed off, and he pushed himself back in his seat and tilted his head. “Hmm… I remember you always wore two braids.” He paused. “Split right down the middle on either side.” He took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I remember you played the flute.”

She nodded and began organizing the sugar packets, listening. “That was me,” she agreed. “Anything else?”

He only shrugged, narrowing his eyes slightly as he sat forward. “I remember…”

But the way he looked at her made her heart start beating faster. Made her grab her spoon and take her first bite of soup.

“That you and Renee were attached at the hip.”

She took a breath, her lips curving downward. “Yeah,” she agreed. “We sure were.”

But then he did something that surprised her. He leaned forward and asked a question of his own.

“What do you remember about me?” His voice was low, almost suspicious. Which caused her heart to squeeze and run on overdrive.

She glanced down at the table, grabbed a cloth napkin, and unfolded it in her lap before looking up again. “I remember a lot,” she said. “I remember you were popular. I remember you having friends by your side every second.” She looked up into his waiting eyes. “You were the quarterback for the West Valley Panthers.” She licked her lips, everything she wanted to say lingering at the tip of her tongue. “I remember…all the summers we spent up at your family’s cabin. Especially the last one.” She was proud of herself for saying it, but at the same time her chest filled with anxiety as she waited for him to speak.

He took another sip of coffee, his eyes intense as he watched her. As though trying to read her thoughts. She could feel it. The tension accumulating between them. So tight it was as though they were both caught in vice.

He nodded slowly, a slight confirmation causing her nerves to ignite like fireworks inside her.

“The cabin,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I did some stupid stuff there.”

Her heart pinched at his statement and she turned to look out the window again. “Yeah.” But what she really wanted to do was cry. “We all did.”

The server came then, breaking up their conversation to check on their meals. “Everything okay over here?” she asked, topping off their mugs with fresh coffee.

But when neither of them spoke, she left for the back room again, and Samantha turned to face him. It was as though all the anger and frustration she’d kept bottled inside came exploding out of her. “I remember a few more things,” she began, her chin held as high as she could manage. “You were a player. A cheater, and someone who cared about nothing but himself.”

He took a long sip of coffee, his expression hardening before her very eyes. It was like a Tristan she’d never seen before. A Tristan she never wanted to see again. He pulled out his wallet and placed a couple of twenties on the table before getting up to leave. “You’re right. That’s exactly who I am. Exactly.”

She cringed, her heart aching because she knew she’d hurt him. She’d meant to, even though he’d done nothing but tell her the truth… Though now she felt like a complete bitch. “Tristan, wait!”

But he didn’t listen. His large legs had already carried him halfway across the restaurant, far away from her and her tongue that had lashed out to hurt.