Cecilia, six years before

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She was an idiot for coming. An absolute idiot.

Colin was . . . well, it was complicated. He was the man who’d broken her heart. And he was also the man who’d kept sending her friend requests on Facebook until she finally accepted, who’d then penned long letters of apology that she hadn’t replied to, then followed that up with funny gifs of pugs and memes about pumpkin spice, black leggings, and infinity scarves—her favorite dog breed, plus the “basic white girl” trends she couldn’t live without and didn’t care if the world knew.

He’d sent flowers to the hospital when she’d been injured, research papers on experimental shoulder rehabilitation procedures when her surgery had failed.

Eventually, he’d been the man who’d Skyped once a week, then every night. The voice she’d fallen asleep to. His calm confidence that everything would be all right what she’d held tightly on to.

Of course it wasn’t all right.

Her shoulder was fucked.

There would be no more swimming, no full ride, no future in the sport.

She was left with a mounting stack of hospital bills and . . . uncertainty.

So Colin’s suggestion that she come visit was a timely one. One she’d rejected of course. She couldn’t go traipsing halfway around the world when her life was in shambles.

But then the prepaid ticket had arrived.

And coaxing, no cajoling, had commenced.

She “needed a holiday,” he’d said. “A break before finding your fresh start.”

CeCe had hemmed and hawed, but ultimately the truth was that she didn’t have anything waiting for her in the States. No scholarship. Her parents wouldn’t let her in the front door—sad fact was that she’d tried to visit, wanting to see a familiar face or maybe get a comforting hug, and they had literally slammed the door in her face.

She should have known better.

Comfort wasn’t her parents.

She was alone and without prospects. Why not take the chance to spend some time with Colin? Rooms in hostels were cheap, and she knew how to stretch her meals. The breeze bouncing off the cliffs and the scent of the ocean called to her, even from her memories. The hills, the heather, the castles. She had one more shot to see them before her life had to move forward.

Bills. A dead-end job. Working her way through her degree. That was her future.

So why not enjoy the now?

And so she’d packed up her two suitcases of belongings, hugged her coach and thanked him for the use of his couch, then boarded a plane to Scotland.

She’d promised to keep in touch but knew that she probably wouldn’t.

It was too painful.

Too much like what could have been.

When she returned to the States, she would leave the Midwest behind and head somewhere with warm winters and no humidity. Arizona. Or maybe California.

At least she’d be near the ocean.

Sighing, she pulled her backpack from underneath her seat and tried to shove down her nerves.

Colin was somewhere out there and she hadn’t seen him, in person at least, since their night together. Since he’d stormed away, leaving her heart and body aching and her eyes overflowing with tears.

But so much had changed since then.

She’d changed.

He wasn’t some mysterious Scottish hero that she’d get wrapped up in, and she definitely wasn’t the fragile young high school graduate who was all but looking for her heart to be broken.

Cecilia had fought through the pain of surgery and rehab, and she was prepared to get on with her life.

She was just going to have a little fun before responsibility bogged her down.

Ignoring the voice that was snidely whispering this was all very familiar and very much like her first visit to her beloved Scotland, CeCe followed the rest of the cattle off the plane, headed through passport control, waited for her suitcases, and then finally proceeded through customs.

Once through the gates, she paused to look around.

Somehow this airport felt more like home than her actual home had.

It was the place to start new adventures and also the place to end them with a broken heart and a huge cup of steaming hot tea—prescribed by the waitress who’d seen CeCe’s tearstained face on her return trip.

But it was also a place that reminded her she was brave and courageous.

She could fly halfway around the world by herself. She could be safe and strong and smart. She could navigate public transportation, try strange foods, and devour an entire box of shortbread.

She could be herself.

And more than anything else in the world at that moment, she needed to be herself.

“Cecilia.”

The voice sent prickles down her nape, her spine, her arms.

Whipping around, she saw Colin. He was taller, more muscled, and though his jawline was more rectangular—he’d lost any trace of boyish baby fat—his eyes were the same. Piercing blue and unfathomable.

Until they warmed.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

She threw herself into his arms.