There are things that I have missed about Rowen over the years—his smooth skin, the shine over his ear as it catches the light. The perfectly straight bridge of his nose. The way his arms feel over my back when he hugs me. I missed his girth, the presence he had when he was in the room. Everything seemed to stop and shift toward Rowen when he was nearby. It’s still that way today, thus his colossal standing as the big man on campus, emphasis on the big. And now here we are, days without speaking—totally my own stubborn doing—and yet I miss those things and so much more all over again.

The week drifts by, and both Vi and Ember have been losing their minds and their finances by way of purchasing copious amounts of ridiculous props and costumes for the wickedest Sunday of the year—Halloween. There is an entire array of sexy French maid costumes, cats’ ears and tails, a pirate sword in the event one of them decides to have a swashbuckling spree, and a plethora of Disney based costumes guaranteed to give anyone a magical good time. I pull a case of fake contacts forward labeled as dead eyes.

“Last chance”—Vi says while putting in her earring—“Em and I will ditch the movies and head to your dad’s birthday bash instead.”

“No, that’s okay.” As much as I wanted them to come, I asked them not to. It’s not fair to anyone to expose them to the disaster my family has become—at least Braden and me. I pull the dead eyes out and pick up the milky blue contact with my finger. It’s soft as wet paper. “It’s bad enough I have to endure an entire meal with Granny Panties. No use in ruining your Friday night as well.” I practically poke my left eye out as I pop in dead eye number one in. Impressive. The Marilyn Manson is actually a good look on me. “Not that spending the evening with my father qualifies as a ruined night, but there are so many other factors playing into this debacle, like the fact Braden and I haven’t spoken in days. Yes, he’s tried, but until he vomits out the truth, I won’t do much listening. And let’s not forget, Becca, too, will be at this family funfest. She texted me once again after watching the third episode in which Rowen and I went cliff diving. She called me a little shit for keeping this from the two of them. I hope I’m seated next to her. She is just so fucking lovely. So no, I can’t see dragging my friends into this nightmare.”

“Wow.” Violent does a clean sweep over her lips with black cherry lipstick before she blows herself a kiss. “I guess Ember and I should pen you a thank you.”

“I take gift cards and blank checks, too.”

“Do you take free advice?” Vi lands in front of me and adjusts the sweater I’m wearing because it has a propensity to twist around as an accomplice to my right boob that keeps trying to escape. I suppose wearing a low-cut sweater to your father’s fiftieth birthday party is a bit impractical. I mean, what does it really say? Hey, Daddy—Happy birthday! And by the way, I have boobs! Damn right nipple keeps trying to cop a look at the world outside its borders. Probably looking for Rowen.

“Yes, I take free advice. I love free advice. It’s right up there with unsolicited breath mints and backseat drivers.”

“You’re a riot.” She dusts her face with highlighter until she gets that alien glow she’s after. “My advice to you is”—she spins into me and shakes her head ever so slightly—“don’t be so stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn. Stubborn is harboring a secret and being unwilling to unleash it when your sister-slash-girlfriend demands to have it.”

“Did it ever occur to you that neither party was ready to share this so-called secret? It was raining. They had just kidney punched the hell out of one another. One of them probably ruptured a spleen. They were shaken. It just wasn’t the right time.”

“Nonsense. It’s always the right time to drop clandestine information in my world.” I do my best to remove the dead eye, but the damn contact turns into a giant plastic floater. Hey, this can’t roll back into my brain, can it?

Vi shakes her head and offers an impromptu hug. “And we’re not all living in your world. Give that boy a second chance. He simply wants to talk to you. I really don’t think he wants to be your ex.”

I fold my arms over my chest and spear her with a look. “Same can be said about your ex.”

Her mouth goes slack. “You have no clue what you just said or I would be really pissed.” She collects her things and takes off with a wave. “You’re too stubborn to admit you’re stubborn!” she shouts as she makes her way down the hall. “Give people the room they need to breathe!”

Breathing room. Rowen and Braden have had three long years to breathe. How much more time could they possibly need? I spend the next twenty minutes trying to extract the plastic disc from my eyeball only to come this close to having a genuine makeup malfunction on my hands. Watery eyes and the smoldering look will garner me the Goth princess crown for the evening. I don’t have time for this crap in my life.

I pull on a jacket and head out to my father’s birthday party, dead eye and all.

I’m not going to have a good time anyway.

I’m way too stubborn for that.

* * *

Dad and Rita decided on the Olive Press, a quasi-mediocre Italian restaurant that serves a little food with their garlic. Braden texted and offered his chauffeuring services, but I promptly declined. There is no way I would ever want to be trapped in a moving vehicle with Braden and Becca. I might push one or more of them out the door before we ever arrive.

I head into the establishment and feel immediately transported to a cheesy Italian restaurant in the middle of Moon Ridge. The ambiance is about as breathtaking as the food with its florescent overhead lighting, the large hand-painted mural of an Italian countryside that looks as if it were colored in by third graders sugared up on cupcakes.

I spot Dad et al. in the middle of the establishment and head over. Braden and Becca are present and accounted for. As soon as Becca spots me, her nose points in the air. Honestly, it’s like she thinks she’s too good for me. Or correction, that Rowen is too good for me. That may be so, but we were great together. Both me and my vagina agree.

Dad leaps up to greet me with his heavy laugh and his familiar warm cologne. My father has always felt like a safe house. After my mother died, he was the immovable rock that Braden and I could lean on. He did his best to become both parents, and I’d say he did a damn good job. That duffel bag I had to sew for home ec would beg to differ, but I’ll defend his parenting skills to my dying breath.

“Happy birthday! You’re at the halfway mark, Daddy! How does it feel?”

“It felt great until just now.” He offers a sly wink before jumping backward and grabbing his chest. “Dear God, are you trying to kill me? What’s wrong with your eye?”

“Oh, that.” I flick the strip lash I spent fifteen minutes adhering to my eyelid. “I forgot about that. Just something I was testing out for Halloween. I couldn’t get it out, so I’m sort of stuck with it. Just ignore it.” I give a casual wave to Braden and Becca, and they both look equally horrified at the glaucoma-inspired look I’m sporting.

“Sophie, I’d like you to meet someone very, very special to me.” Dad steps aside to reveal Granny Panties herself—

Holy hell.

“You’re kidding, right?” I blink over at the pretty young thing sitting next to Becca, who I swear to God looks younger than the whore my brother is bedding. And I mean whore in a quasi-loving way. Becca sort of deserved the dig after calling me a little shit.

“Sugar Puss, this is Rita. Rita, this is my sweet little Sugar Puss.”

The stunning redhead with two matching bright blue eyes and dimples that dig into her cheeks like nobody’s business is far too adorable for words.

“It’s so nice that Rita’s daughter took the time to show up.” I couldn’t stop myself. So help me God, I had better be right. “Your mother is in the restroom, I presume?”

Braden and Becca groan at the same time, giving it a stereo effect.

But the redhead simply bubbles with delight as she gives me the limp fish of a handshake. “I’m Rita. But no worries, I get that all the time! Everyone is forever accusing this beautiful man of being my father!” Wow. First of all, that high-pitched Minnie Mouse voice. That can’t be real, right? I mean, nobody talks like that in real life. She’s probably been sucking helium all day in honor of the old man. And second? Everyone is accusing him of being her father because he is old enough to be her father—grandfather even.

We take our seats, and I can’t help but note there are two empty chairs next to me. I’m betting Rita invited a few of her sorority sisters to join us for the free glasses of vino her old man will undoubtedly be shelling the big bucks out for this evening.

“So, Rita”—I lean in, and Braden gives me that be nice look and a light kick from under the table—“what is it that you do for a living?”

“Oh, I just live.” She brays like a donkey that’s just been pinned to a boulder with a semi. “I do a little of this or that. But mostly I keep myself available for Daddy.”

Oh my shit.

I give a quick blink, trying to decipher what in the hell she’s talking about. “So, you’re not employed at the moment because you’re taking care of your father?” God, please let it be that.

“Oh, heavens no!” More shrill high-pitched laughter. “I can’t work. Daddy’s schedule keeps me up at all hours.” She tucks her finger under my father’s chin and has a giggle-fest right in his face.

Kill me.

It’s just become as clear as hell who Daddy is and why she’s unable to keep normal working hours like most able-bodied Americans. She’s my father’s service whore. He has her on call twenty-four seven, and in all of the horrible ironies, he has this PYT who is young enough to qualify as his spawn calling him Daddy.

I scowl over at my father a moment. Once the birthday boy here blows out his candles, I’ll have a few choice words to gift him.

Braden gets my attention with a wave of his hand and mouths the words he’s happy.

I bet he’s happy. And I bet my perverse brother is very, very happy for him. I bet he can’t wait to trade Becca in for a new floor model once he hits the big five-O.

Regardless, I’m ready to switch gears. There are far too many people seated around me to be irritated with, I need to spread the love a little bit.

“And how are you, Becca?” I blink a quiet smile, and that only seems to enrage her all the more.

“I’m fine, Sophie,” she says it stiff, so not fine if you ask me. “Seen any good shows lately? I hear that The Social Experiment is catching on like wildfire. Heard of it?”

I growl over at her while my father and his personal nitwit get lost in their shared menu. “Word to the wise, Becca—you are with my brother. It shouldn’t burden you to know that I have my sights on someone myself. You can’t have all the boys to yourself, so don’t waste my time by informing me you think I’m a little shit.”

Braden inches away to get a better look at her, but Becca is undeterred by his silent reprimand. “I am like your sister, Sophie. You don’t get to have my sloppy seconds.”

“Sloppy seconds?” a deep, utterly sexy baritone of a voice strums from behind, and we all look up to find a cuttingly handsome Rowen Garret and his equally stunning, determined to commit a homicide sister of his.

“Rowen!” Dad jumps to his feet and hugs both Mindy and him. “For a second there, I didn’t think you kids would show.”

He didn’t think they would show? As in they got the invite?

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Rowen takes a seat next to me, and Mindy lands opposite my father. Holy hell, first Rita, now this?

“Hey, Soph.” Rowen leans in and bucks back just as quickly at the sight of me.

Mindy lets out a muffled cry at the sight of me. “What the hell! Did I do that?” She looks terrified that her psychotic neck strangling antics could have starved all the blood vessels in my eye and turned me into a partial zombie.

“That’s right. You got the ball rolling.” I offer a brief smile of satisfaction. “And when your brother squeezed the life from my beating heart, he finished me off.”

Rowen chuckles at the thought, and I can’t help but twitch a tiny smile his way. Rowen didn’t squeeze anything from me, and he knows it. He’s just being stubborn with a few little secrets. Stubborn is a trait we seem to have in common.

“You think that’s funny?” I glance over to my father and Rita arguing over the lasagna and the eggplant. “You should meet my father’s new main squeeze. She’s a riot.”

Rowen’s eyes bug out, and so do his sister’s. I bet they forgot how colorful and charming the Meyer clan could be. Dead eyes, playmates, embittered exes, and brothers who harbor secrets at any cost—not that Rowen isn’t harboring one of his own. A thought comes to me. Maybe I should use my womanly wiles to drag it out of him? A vision of Rowen pressing my naked hips down over him hard as he penetrates me deeply comes to mind, and I blush severely for the next half hour.

Once dinner arrives, I lean over and whisper, “What in the hell are you two doing here?”

“Your father is a generous man.” He shakes his head in approval as he lands a buttery looking piece of glistening bovine into his mouth and moans. My father is also an oblivious man. He wasn’t as present as my mother. So, after Rowen and Braden had a falling out, my father never really questioned his absence or Mindy’s.

“Yes, Sophie”—Mindy hisses, her face rearranged with anger—“he still appreciates good company.”

“I appreciated good company and nearly had an eye knocked out of my head for it.” I sneer at her.

“My brother doesn’t count as good company, Soph.” Her lips twitch with a scowl. “You used to say so yourself.”

“That’s because I was a liar more interested in saving what I had with you rather than pursuing what I really wanted with him!”

Mindy and I exchange a few loose barbs back and forth, but it’s Becca’s outright staring at her ex, her disconcerting caring that has stolen the show on this crazy birthday train express. If she offers him a spare napkin, or her water, or to cut his food one more time, I’m going to flip a table. She is with my brother for God’s sake. I suggest she learn to keep her boyfriends straight.

“Oh, Rowen, you really can do better when it comes to the ladies.” She covers her mouth as if she just belched—and believe me, it would have been more pleasant if she did. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“I’m doing great with the ladies, thank you for asking.” He gives my knee a light tap when he says it.

“I bet you do!” Dad barks out a laugh. “Rumor has it, you rule that school both before and after dark.”

Braden huffs at the thought. “It’s what he’s doing after dark that I have a problem with.”

“Cool it, son.” Dad holds up a forkful of greasy eggplant. It looks like Rita is winning on the nutrition front. I think we all know who’s winning in the bedroom. I’d like to think my mother is somewhere in heaven severely rolling her eyes at what’s unfolding at the table tonight. “You’re practically engaged to be married. You can’t hold back the stallion just because you’ve been corralled.”

Mindy leans into Braden with a look of horror. “You’re going to marry that thing?”

“Mindy,” Rowen is quick to reprimand. It’s clear that Mindy has gone completely feral in the time we’ve drifted apart. Trying to take me down like a spine-snapping ninja? Calling out Becca for what she really is? Honestly, I think I like Mindy more now. Life has hardened her in all the right ways. I offer her a little wink of approval, and she rubs her cheek with her middle finger just to let me know how she feels.

“We’re not getting married,” Braden says it like a fact—and in front of Rowen of all people. Rowen must feel vindicated by the slight my brother just afforded his non-fiancée.

Dinner goes about as smoothly as a morning jog in a minefield. By the time dessert comes and we sing a wonky version of “Happy Birthday,” we’re all pretty much done with pretending that we can stand one another.

Dad excuses himself to the restroom a moment, and all hell breaks loose with Becca nearly slapping the sense right out of my brother’s head and Mindy slopping a scoop of her ice cream into my hair—but I’m far too interested in Rowen at the moment to care.

“Smooth move, calling my dad and scoring an invite to the party of the year. And bringing your backup bitch? That’s just charming.”

Rita gives an audible gasp.

Mindy leans in with a maniacal laugh. “At least I don’t wear my crazy for the entire world to see!”

Damn. I forgot all about my dead eye. So not sexy.

Rowen reaches over and picks up my hand. A daring move that might cost him his own eye with my brother around. “I didn’t come here for your dad, Sophie.” More gasps from Rita. Can’t the girl mind her own business? “I came here for you. I’d move the world just to be with you.”

“Watch it.” Braden glares at him a moment before his leg thumping gets out of control and the entire table lifts and falls with the anxious move of his foot. “Wait a minute. You two haven’t…”

“They had better not have,” Mindy says with just as much disdain and malice.

“And if we did, it would still be none of your business.” I turn fully to Rowen. “Please, just tell me everything so that things can happily resume between us.”

He glances to my brother as if asking permission, and what the hell is that about?

Dad comes back, and we collect our things in haste, walking out of the restaurant in one huge angry mob.

I don’t bother saying good night to Mindy or Rowen. I simply kiss my father on the cheek and make a run for my car.

Tonight had far too many pieces, too many jagged edges for me to navigate.

If I had stayed another second too long, I would have cut myself beyond recognition.

It’s bad enough I don’t recognize Braden, Rowen, or Mindy anymore.

* * *

Homecoming is a once-in-a-lifetime event that only takes place four or five times in a college student’s scholastic career according to Ember’s loose logic. Both Violet and she insisted that I get myself a cute Leland Cougars-inspired outfit together, followed by getting my cute Leland Cougar ass to the game. Vi’s words, not mine. And I do. The three of us sit in the student section, cheering for the home team, casting hexes on our Bixby rivals. But I’m not as hyped up as I have been at the preceding games. Tonight is a big night for Rowen—for all of Leland and I wish I were in a better, far less bitter and slightly sexually repressed state of mind for it.

The game goes off like a quarterback’s dream as we win thirty-five to nothing. A shutout, a blowout—but all I can think about is a blowjob. Every time they show Rowen up on that big screen with his face the size of a billboard, all I can focus on is those lips and the things they can do to me. I never knew you could crave kisses to the point of agony. Every last part of my body misses being kissed by those golden lips.

After the game, Vi and Ember head over to the Underground, but I’m far too stubborn—yes, Vi has called it—to go with them in the event Rowen is there looking fresh scrubbed and dapper for all to see. I know me. My body would fall to the floor and conduct some serious worship. And I’m just not ready to give in. Yes, Braden and Rowen are being as stubborn as hell regarding their secrets, but they have no clue who they’re pitted against.

But late in the night, just after midnight, when the Underground is drained of most of its patrons, I can’t help but think of Rowen. Vi and Ember still aren’t back, but I’m betting Rowen is. I pull on my green and white polka dot robe and head straight for Holt Tower. I’ll just knock on the door, and if Rowen is ready to have a clear-headed adult conversation, then fine. Okay—so what if it is a bona fide booty call that lands me at his door and not some clear-headed adult conversation? Who the hell cares. I’m trying to loosen up as Ember so indelicately suggested. I’m trying to push myself past my stubborn limits, and I can practically see Violet nod in approval.

I give a brisk knock and nothing happens, but I swear I hear voices coming from inside. I give another round of more aggressive fist pumps over his door, and this time it swings violently opened.

Standing before me is a half-dressed Rowen Garret, body of a devil, face of an angel. And just like that, behind him pops a demon—Becca Carmichael. Yes, she’s fully dressed, purse in hand, scowl on face, but she’s IN HIS ROOM AFTER MIDNIGHT!

“I just thought maybe we could talk,” I say without warrant. “I didn’t realize you were having a half-dressed conversation of your own already. I can see you’re busy.”

I run like hell all the way back to Canterbury.

Becca had seen the fissure in my relationship with Rowen, and she didn’t waste time wedging herself in the gap.

Maybe there’s a lesson here to learn.

Give your boyfriend the time he needs to get his confessional act together.

And for shit’s sake stop being so darn stubborn.

* * *

Sunday—aka Halloween Day, arrives like a witch on a broom, ornery and full of venom and spite. It takes all I’ve got to get out of bed at the early hour of eleven thirty in the morning. By the time I shower and dress, Vi and Ember beg me to run down for a quick cup of joe before our day explodes in a vat of makeup and prosthetics.

We get our drinks and take a seat outside where girls and guys alike do a double take as they pass me by. I never envisioned myself having any level of fame, so the fact I feel constantly watched makes me want to crawl right out of my skin.

“How dare Dexter Houston ruin my life.” Those are the first words to leave my mouth as we take our ice-cold seats. It’s freezing out, but the skies are clear and we’d be remiss not to sit out here where we can people-watch freely what with all the witches and goblins but mostly Disney whores running amuck to amuse us. Halloween never was my favorite day, but that didn’t stop me from amusing myself at other people’s expense.

Ember clacks her orange sparkling nails over her cup and laughs. “You do realize you signed up for this madness.”

“Yes, no thanks to you. And you.” I let Violet in on the fun.

“So, what’s on the board for tonight?” Vi’s eyes grow wild with anticipation. They were both there last night when I ran into my room screaming that I would chop off Rowen’s giant hairy balls and that I might throw in Becca’s giant hairy boobs. Once they convinced me that genital mutilation of others wasn’t my best option, I went ahead and did the obligatory cry-yourself-to-sleep thing.

“Seth has highly encouraged me to take this opportunity to dress up as whatever I like,” I inform them. “At the moment, I’m leaning toward voodoo princess complete with miniaturized heads of both Braden and Rowen, but I wouldn’t mind having a replica of Becca on a spit. The devil is in the details. In Becca’s case, the devil is the details.”

“Sounds perfectly satanic.” Ember looks as if she’s about to hurl. “How about something a little more angelic? Like a sexy fairy or a sexy maid, or a sexy cat, or a sexy—”

“Me.” I straighten at the revelation. “I think I know exactly what I want to be. But I’ll leave the big reveal for later. What do you skanks have on the agenda this evening?” When you can call people a skank freely to their face, that’s when you know your friendship has gone to another level. And I feel that with Violet and Ember. These are not only the best skanks on campus, they’re my skanks and I love them.

Ember rolls her coffee cup between her hands like she were about to flatten it like clay. “We’re hitting all the Greek parties tonight. I’m hoping for a personal wolf man whose bark is just as dangerous as his bite.”

I consider my friend’s need to be bitten and yelled at for a moment. “Lovely. And you, Vi? What forms of abuse, pray tell, are you looking forward to?”

Vi takes a breath and stares off in a daze. “I’m just looking for someone who can make me forget about my troubles.” She shakes her head as if coming to. “You know what? Scratch that. I don’t need anyone to help me forget my troubles. I’m just looking to have a good time.”

“Can I ask if you’ve had any more Lame sightings?” I cringe at the thought of asking, but I know he’s on her mind, and I want to be there for her.

“Yes,” she groans and her eyes close for a moment, but I would swear it wasn’t with regret but relief. “He’s everywhere. He’s like an apparition. I just think of him and, boom, he appears. We haven’t said anything to one another, though.”

“Not even a hello?” Ember marvels at how far Vi is willing to go to make this boy suffer.

“Nope.” Vi takes a quick sip of her drink. Her eyes moisten with tears. “I don’t think we should ever say anything to one another again.”

It’s clear her heart is still freshly broken. And considering the fact she’s group B of Dexter’s guinea pigs, I sure hope she’ll find someone, anyone to take her mind off her heartache. I’m familiar with old wounds. They don’t heal quickly, if at all.

Ember bounces her cup to the center of the table. “To not needing a man in our lives to make us whole, happy, or complete.”

“I second that.” Vi is quick to knock lattes with her.

“Hear, hear,” I say, but I don’t really mean it. A very real part of me needs Rowen to make me whole, happy, and complete.

And surprisingly, I don’t hate that part of me.

* * *

At exactly six o’clock, I show up in full costume to the lower level of the psychology building to complete my fifth week of the social experiment. I’m pretty sure Rowen will show up, unless Ro’s ho—aka Becca, has him waylaid.

Seth greets me outside his office, and I watch as his eyes do that elevator thing up and down over my body. “I never expected you to go all out like this.”

“You like?” I do a little twirl, and just as I’m about to fill him in on what it took to put this extravagant look together, Petra and Rowen show up.

Rowen is resplendent in his official Leland jersey, his jeans, and sneakers. He’s charmingly casual, no blood, no guts, no gore.

His dimples break out as he takes me in. “I can see you dressed up as a princess.”

Petra slaps her hand over her forehead. “She didn’t dress up at all. Do you want me to find you a tiara or something? My roommate is a cheerleader. You’re about the same size. You can borrow her uniform. It’d be a cute couples’ costume, and the viewers would love it!”

I shake my head at the offer. “No thanks. I actually did dress up.” I hold my hands out to my seemingly non-costume consisting of a sweater and jeans. “I’m the Sophie Meyer from three years ago who was madly in love with a god named Rowen Garret.”

A pained smile crosses Rowen’s perfect face. “Then I’m Rowen Garret from three years ago.” He picks up my hand and kisses my knuckle. “The one who discovered he was madly in love with Sophie Meyer just a moment before his world disbanded.”

The world around me slows into a thick warble. What did he just say?

“I love this,” Seth says, navigating us toward the boisterous conference room where a full-blown Halloween party is underway. “We can title this scene, The Time Warp.”

“It’s perfect.” Petra straightens Rowen’s jersey. “Since production wants to wrap early, we’re throwing all of you together for dinner, drinks, and dancing. Twenty minutes of each, but do as you wish. You’re table number thirty-five.”

We’re miked up and sent into the extremely dim lit room. A roar of voices and costumes of every caliber abound as Rowen leads us to a table in the back where thankfully the chaos around us is slightly buffered.

A waitress comes by and plops down a tray of nachos in front of us and offers to bring us each the cocktail of the evening. “It looks as if tonight’s venue is being hosted by the Underground.”

“So here we are.” Rowen looks tired, hurt, and yet painfully happy.

“The Time Warp aside for a moment, are you getting back together with Becca?”

“No,” he says it so fast and sharp I can’t help but believe him.

“Good, because I’d hate to have to kick your ass in front of all these people. It would have been very humiliating for you. Speaking of humiliating, have you kicked Dexter’s ass yet?”

Rowen belts out a laugh, and just like that, all the tension, the hurt, and the pain that I’ve been carrying around melts to nothing.

“He’s done a disappearing act, but Petra says he’ll be back in town come Monday for our final week. But I don’t want to talk about him or Becca.” He winces. “Actually, there’s something I have to tell you, and it very much does involve Bec.”

My stomach sours, and suddenly my appetite for all things slathered in fake orange cheese does a Dexter.

“It’s true what I said back there. I was in love with you.” He shakes his head as if trying to refute it. “I wanted your brother to tell you what happened among the three of us—him, Becca, and me. I thought if I stepped in and told you first, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I always believe you.” My heart aches, a painful lump the size of a plum lands in my throat, and it hurts like hell to get the words out. “I would believe your word over Braden’s. I trust you with my life. You were my life. It’s true. Tanner Carmichael was code for Rowen Garret. Mindy would have hated me for admitting it back then, like I’m sure she does now.”

He closes his eyes a moment. “She told me once that she wished you were into me the way you were into Tanner. She said she wished you could really be her sister one day, and if you married me, you would be.”

My mouth goes slack. “I wish that skank said something. And trust me, the fact I’ve just called her that name means I’ve completely brought her back into the fold. I want to make things right with Mindy, too. So tell me this secret that’s been eating you up for the last three years. And don’t stop until every last detail is out.”

I brace myself against the table as if his words had the power to wash me right out of the room, and I’m convinced they do.

“Becca was cheating on me.”

My heart stops right there. Who the hell in their right mind would cheat on someone as perfect as Rowen? A crazy batshit witch like Becca, that’s who.

He growls. “I had suspected it for some time. We stopped pretty much acting like a couple. Becca was still making it seem like everything was fine to the rest of the world, but I was looking for a way to stop the madness and get out while I still had my sanity intact. In the meantime, Mindy told me about how she felt, how she wished I had someone better in my life, someone like you.” I swallow hard. I had no idea I owed so much to my former best friend. “I asked Tanner if he planned on taking you to the prom and he said no, so I ran the idea of me taking you by Mindy, and, of course, she was thrilled. I let Becca know I was going to ask you as a friend, and things pretty much unraveled quickly. She said she was fine with it, but I knew that was far from the truth.” His lips turn down into a solid frown as if he were fighting hard to hold back his emotions. “I knew the day before the accident that I was in love with you, Sophie. I didn’t know what to do with those feelings. You were—still are—Braden’s little sister. I wanted to talk to Braden about you—about the fact I was going to cut strings with Becca. It never made sense to me why she would sneak around my back. Why not just break things off with me? But she liked to save face. She values what her friends think about her more than she does anything that’s real.

“So the accident happened, and thankfully, we were all fine. I moved my plans to ask you for the next day. That accident made me realize that life could be taken away in a moment.”

“It was a fender bender.”

He makes a face, reminding me of the fact I promised not to interrupt.

“So I needed to find Becca, to break it off, to tell her how I felt about you—that it was far more than friends—and Mindy happened to mention she was already at your house. I didn’t call. I just showed up.” His jaw clenches as he loses his gaze at the table a moment. “You and Mindy were in the basement, so I went on the hunt for Becca and Braden.” My stomach tightens because I don’t like where this is headed. “I found them in his bedroom. They were naked. She was—”

“I don’t want to know.” A thousand pornographic visuals run through my mind of Becca and Braden in every sexual position known to man. Sometimes having an active imagination can really work against you.

“I’m sorry, but they were going at it, hot and heavy.” He shrugs because that’s just what it was. “I feel like you need to know that. The guy Becca was cheating on me for months with was my best friend, your brother.”

An ache so deep and wide infiltrates me, and it’s all I can do to drop my face in my hands and sob.

“I’m sorry, Soph.” Rowen pulls me over and lands me onto his lap. “I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to shield you from the truth.”

“Three years drifted by. Braden would never have copped to that. It’s not that Braden is bad. It’s just that—oh hell, I don’t know. It’s a crap thing that Braden did. He hurt you, and he hurt Mindy and me without realizing it. He could have told me the truth, and I wouldn’t have lost Mindy, and I wouldn’t have lost you.” I give his chest a gentle swat. “But if you loved me, why did you let me go?”

“Because I loved Braden, too. I didn’t want to cause a fissure between you two. You had already lost so much.” His voice cracks as he buries his face in my hair a moment. “Do you forgive me?”

“Rowen.” I pull back in disbelief. “There is nothing to forgive. If anything, Braden needs to beg your forgiveness—and so do I. Mindy stuck by your side and said you did nothing wrong, but I wouldn’t listen. I defended him.”

“Please, Soph—don’t let this affect your relationship with your brother.”

I think on this for a minute. “I’m not going to lie. I’m going to sock the shit out of him. But no matter how heartbreakingly low he falls, he’ll always be my brother. I can’t believe he did that to you. Why? Why would he do it?”

“I have my theories. I can’t say for sure, but once your mother died, he needed someone. I think Becca took advantage of him. I don’t think her heart has ever been in the right place. She’s made it clear she wants something with me. And I need to take that to Braden. I’m just not sure if he’ll hear me.”

“He’ll hear you because I’ll back you up. Not only did I see her with my own eyes, but she’s said something to me, too. I’ve always known Becca’s heart wasn’t in the right place. My brother deserves better. You both do.” I lean in and press a lingering kiss over his lips.

“I already have something far better.” He kisses through a smile. “I have you. I do have you, right?” He leans in and takes a nibbling bite over my lip.

“Always and forever. Wow, that sounded cheesy.” I give his ear a quick pinch. “But then, you’ve always brought out the cheesy in me.” My lips invert in an effort to keep from losing it. “I love you, Rowen. I love you ten times harder at this moment than I ever thought possible. The fact that you tried to protect me makes me fall in love with you a thousand times more.”

“Just a thousand?”

I look up Rowen’s chiseled features, that dark three-day stubble that makes me insane, and a fire bursts through me. “There is no number big enough to express how I feel about you. Are you ready to ditch this party? Because I want to express my love to you in far more creative ways.”

A dark laugh strums from him. “I was hoping you’d say that because I happened to be at Paradise Falls this afternoon setting up a tent for the hell of it.”

“A tent by a lake on Halloween night? You do realize that’s the stuff horror movies are made of.”

“Not anymore. Starting tonight, they’re the things that dreams are made of.” He plants a kiss square on my lips.

We exit the conference room as quick as possible, and Petra and Seth quickly disarm us of our mics.

“Why do we always forget that we’re wearing those damn things?” I marvel as Rowen and I leave the psychology building hand in hand.

“Because whenever I’m with you, everyone else ceases to exist.”

An audible sigh escapes me as I wrap my arms around this beautiful man. “You’re all I see, Rowen. You’re all I’ve ever seen.”

And just like that, Rowen and I share a kiss under a lavender evening sky, right there on campus in front of the entire student body.

Rowen and I are in love, together, forever. Nobody could stop us from happening. Not Becca or Braden, least of all our stubborn selves.

* * *

Paradise Falls gleams under the duress of a crescent-shaped moon.

The little blue tent glows like a fallen star with all the magic and wonder it held for us that very first night.

“I hope you came armed with an entire box of missile shields,” I say as I crawl over his lap, the sleeping bag slick beneath us. Rowen has doubled the blankets, and for that I’m thankful because turning into a Popsicle tonight is a very real possibility.

A deep laugh brews in his chest. “I’ve got us covered. Our future children will have to live in our imagination for another day.”

An instant bite of lust spreads throughout my body. Face it. There is nothing hotter than the love of your life informing you in no uncertain terms that you will one day bear his children.

“Our future children are going to be awesome.”

“Our future children are also going to be beautiful.” He kisses me on the tip of the nose, another sure-fire way to turn me into one giant exploding ovary. He lifts my chin gently until my eyes meet with his. “They’re going to be beautiful both inside and out because they’re going to have you as their mother.”

Dying.

“Maybe we should practice creating those children? You know, just to make sure we get the moves down so that when the time is right we can get straight to it.”

“You’re full of great ideas, you know that?”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Our lips meet with an open-mouthed kiss, our laughter tumbling together to create its own special rhythm. My hands get straight to work tugging and pulling at his clothes. I’m fascinated by the way his jersey feels beneath my hands, slippery with a plastic sheen, and those numbers—they make my hands stick over them as a reminder how important they are. Rowen removes my sweater. He works off my bra before pulling me over him as he lies back onto the ground. It feels heady like this, partially airborne with Rowen raking hot kisses across my chest, owning my nipples, flicking, licking, biting down just enough to make me want it. We strip ourselves clean, and I lie back on my side, just observing his sculpted body. His erection salutes me as he rests on his elbows, his dimples digging in as his grin widens. My finger creates a giant letter S over his chest, over the rocky crags of muscle with their severe crevices, dips and valleys. Rowen Garret has an eight-pack. He has always had a body on him, but, my dear God, these last three years have been generous to him.

My finger bounces down past that hard V that points the way to that colossal flesh-covered promise he holds just for me.

“I think we should rename it—something just for the two of us. You know, a private reserve.”

“A private reserve.” He offers up that cocky grin that makes me wet, each and every time. Rowen has always had the power to seduce me with nothing more than a smile. “What are you thinking? The King? Sophie’s Cave Hunter?”

I swat him over the arm. “That’s crude.”

“How about the Dicktator?”

“I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought.” A laugh gets caught in my throat. “I was thinking something far more noble like Excalibur or the Womb Broom.”

“Womb Broom?” he mouths, shaking his head at my distaste in this penile name game.

“Rowen’s Earthworm?”

“Honey”—he tips his head, his expression suddenly dead serious—“that ain’t no worm you’re dealing with.”

“Touché. I may not have much to juxtapose you with, but even I know that. Okay, I’ve got it. The Sperminator.” I tip my head right back at him, and Rowen closes his eyes. “Just kidding. The official—totally secretive and private new moniker of the beast formerly known as the Colossus is—Weapon of Ass Destruction.”

“Sophie.” He winces as he rubs his face down with his palm.

“Okay, okay, I was just teasing. Thank God you’ve got a sense of humor. Ready?” I bite down on a juicy grin, and he nods, clearly eager to get on with the show. “Mr. President.” A sigh expels from me as I say it.

“Mr. President.” Rowen straightens as he says it.

“I can see that title is already going to your head.” I glance down as we share a dark laugh.

“I like it. And that makes you my first lady.” Rowen pulls me under him. “The President will see you now—I’ll be using that phrase a lot.”

“You are the head of state—commander-in-briefs.” I can’t help but giggle.

Rowen’s brows furrow as if he were pretending to frown and is failing miserably. “Are you laughing at your fearless leader?” He lands a kiss over my mouth and unleashes his wild roving tongue as if teaching me a lesson. He pulls back and licks a line straight down my torso. “I think it’s time I use my executive powers and issue a decree that mandates a ladies come first rule.”

“I think I like this ruling.” I hike back up on my elbows. “It sounds as if our first executive agreement in foreign relations has been achieved.”

Rowen’s dark head bows to my abdomen as he presses in a gentle kiss. He glances up with that all too familiar drugged look in his eyes, his lips full and ruddy with color.

His chest rises and falls with great drama. “I can guarantee you, the law will be faithfully executed.”

Rowen dives in deep, loving me frenetically until that little tent we’re locked away in spins right into the stratosphere. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I keep sneaking glances at that dark head of hair working hard to please me, moving slowly, then quickly with a rhythm all his own. This is Rowen loving me, drinking me down, moaning as if I were his favorite meal.

Rowen and I make love—yes, the cheesy old-fashioned way, we fuck—something just this side of crude, and everything beautiful in between. Rowen is my forever. I knew it then, and I know it now.

When we’re through, Rowen and I lie wrapped in one another’s arms, content with the sound of our own breathing.

Morning comes too soon, but it doesn’t matter. He’s still with me.

And I know for certain, he always will be.