Tristan is animated as the class wraps up. I let him know Kaya would be in town next week for Thanksgiving and that she’s dying to meet him. True as God. Wouldn’t that be weird if they turned out to be soul mates? I guess it would be amazing. Maybe then Kaya would transfer to Whitney. I know Marley would get along great with her as well.

We’ll double date. I sign just before I stuff my things back into my book bag. It’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to do things like double date with Kaya, and, now, Tristan, of all people, will make that possible. Who knows, maybe it’s destiny. Maybe he traveled all the way from France to meet his Mrs. Right, and that person just so happens to be my bestie. Maybe they’ll really hit it off, and Kaya will move back to North Carolina where we can reconstitute our shopping-fu as she called it. Kaya and I knew how to hit the sales rack like nobody’s business. I sure miss those gossip-filled shopping sprees. Those were exhilarating times. Blake is everything to me, but he can’t replace Kaya and her panache for late night trips to the sales rack. I doubt he’d want to. Speaking of Blake—I’d better hurry up. I bet he’s been accosted by six different girls by now.

Double dating sounds good. Tristan keeps his eyes on the door. Hey, do you know those guys? They keep looking in this direction.

Half the class has already cleared out, and it’s not until the bustle of bodies drain that I spot Bryson and Holt at the mouth of the room.

A horrible feeling grips me. Those are my brothers. I speed toward the exit with Tristan by my side.

What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Did something happen to Mom or Dad? I’m so panicked I can’t swallow past the fist sitting in my throat.

They’re fine. Bryson glances quickly to Tristan. Baya says you’re all through with classes for the day. Can we go somewhere private?

Sure. By the way, this is Tristan. He’s my interpreter and tutor. The university paired us through the students with disabilities program. He signs. A scowl takes over without meaning to. The only reason I threw that last part in was to ward them off from saying negative things about Blake. I already know Blake is the reason they’re here. They must have found out I didn’t go home last night and want to lecture me on STDs—either that or slap a chastity belt on me.

They share a quick hello with Tristan before whisking me off toward the parking lot. We hop in Holt’s truck and drive a few minutes to the Black Bear where I’m expecting the place to be in ruins or burnt to the ground. This secret rendezvous is increasingly morbid. I have no clue why they’re being so covert. They could hate on Blake at Whitney as easily as they could here.

We get inside to find Laney, Baya, and Izzy waiting at a table near the back. A thick feeling of dread lines me. I’m starting to wonder if this is shaping up to be some kind of intervention in hopes to preserve my virginity. Too late.

What’s this about? I’d like to imagine this might be happy news like another wedding or a baby, but my brothers have steam shooting from their ears and haven’t really bothered to hide it.

Is this about Blake? I cut to the chase, taking them in, each with their sorrowful expression.

“Yes, it is about Blake.” Bryson both signs and speaks for the benefit of those around. “There’s something you need to know about him.”

I can’t believe this is happening. Is this really happening? I want to bang my head against the wall just to orient myself to reality.

Holt tenderly bears into me with a horrific sadness in his eyes as if this entire show is killing him.

“He’s not who you think he is.” Holt closes his eyes. “There’s someone else in his life that you don’t know about.”

Blake’s crazy father comes to mind. Is that what this is about? Maybe he did something completely insane last night like stagger in here demanding to see me, and, now, my brothers think I have a stalker on my hands. But something in me says no, this isn’t going to have an easy solution that we can all laugh about later.

Just say it! I sign so hard my fingers strain from the effort.

Baya and Izzy hop to their feet and stand on either side of me like bookends.

What? I demand from my brothers.

“Annie”—Bryson swallows hard as if he’s about to cry—“has Blake told you about a girl named Olivia?”

Olivia? I blink back stunned. Yes. I answer back with just as hard a stance. I don’t soften in the event they think they’re off the hook for pigeonholing me like this. Today is the last day that Bryson and Holt Edwards treat their little sister like a porcelain doll. I’m through with their overprotective bullshit. I know everything there is to know about Olivia. Are you satisfied? Blake has a past—big fucking deal. I’m the one who’s with him now, and nothing is going to change that.

Holt’s lips move as he gives a quick interpretation to the girls.

He takes a breath. “Do you know that she’s having his baby?”

Sucker punch. The ground jolts beneath my feet. The wind gets knocked out of me so fast I think I might pass out.

This is low. I give a wild look to everyone in the vicinity. Cole and Roxy step into our circle, and I see Baya filling them in. I would never think that you two would come up with such outrageous lies against the first boy—the first and only man that I’ll ever love. I try to get my bearings. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m in love! Their faces fill with pain. I wish you could understand how much I care for him, but you just can’t seem to get it through your stupid, thick skulls! I hone in on Bryson. And while you’re interpreting this, I want you to add the words—I am an ass for tormenting my sister this way!

Roxy comes up and rubs my shoulder. I take a few steps back just to pull myself together.

“Annie.” Bryson and Holt come over. “We promise, we are not making any of this up. This isn’t some manufactured bullshit. It’s real. I’m sorry.”

Holt touches his hand to his chest. “We know how much you care for this guy, that’s why we waited until we were certain. We spoke with this girl ourselves.”

Really? I’m almost amused. And where did you find her? How do I even know she exists? If you want me to believe that Blake is a liar then consider yourselves on an even playing field because I am not believing a word either of you say! My heart hurts because I can’t imagine why you would make something like this up. Don’t you know all I have to do is ask Blake myself? I’m sure he’ll take me straight to this girl and prove you’re both wrong. Can’t you see the only relationship you’re damaging is the one between the three of us?

Bryson steps in. “The last thing we want is to damage our relationship.”

“Too bad, it’s done!” I scream so hard my throat feels as if it’s on fire. I’ve never wanted to use my voice so much before in my life. I hope I’ve stung them in the most intimate way possible.

Bryson cups the side of my face with a pressing hurt in his eyes that I hope never goes away. “We knew you wouldn’t believe us, Annie. That’s why we brought Olivia here, so you can speak with her yourself.”

I stagger back. Do I even know these people anymore? Just how far are my brothers willing to take this charade? What did they do—hire some actress to play the part of Blake’s ex-girlfriend? I bet she’s wearing one of those maternity cushions over her stomach. I bet she’s some size two actress that’s strapped one on just for the role. My heart thumps unnaturally because, on some level, this is starting to feel real. My brothers have wrapped their words around my neck and are choking me with their lies.

“She’s in the back room.” Holt nods behind the bar. “We’ll go with you.”

A train could hit me. I wouldn’t feel a thing.

No. I glance around at the sea of concerned faces. I’ll take Roxy. She’s the least connected to the situation, and, in truth, I don’t want anything to do with my brothers or their significant others at the moment.

We head back with me leading the way. I’m feeling brave—perhaps foolishly so. God, what if they’re right? How could this be? It couldn’t be because it’s all bullshit.

The small staffroom reeks of whiskey because Holt and Izzy broke a bottle last week while they were getting frisky. Or at least that’s the story he fed us. God knows if either of my brothers know what it means to tell the truth anymore.

A girl sits in the dark corner, and it’s not until I come upon her do I notice her huge belly. It looks real. She looks real. She’s pretty in a throwback kind of way with her crimson washed hair dipped in a large curl in front, the rest pulled back in a low bun. There’s a pillbox hat planted square over her head with black netting that shades one side of her face. Her eyes are wildly overdrawn, and her bloated lips scream a bright fire engine red. She stands and holds out a cigarette to the side like she’s some actress in a 1950’s movie. A bad one, considering she’s smoking and looks as if she’s about to drop a newborn right out her ridiculous looking poodle skirt.

It looks like it was slim pickings at the costume department.

How much did my brothers pay you? I hold out my phone so close I nearly slap her in the face with it. Believe me, I want to.

“Hold it there, Sleeping Beauty.” She takes it from me. “Oh wait,” she sneers a sarcastic smile. “Sleeping Beauty wasn’t deaf, she was dead.” This is one person whose lips I wish I couldn’t read. She brings the unlit cigarette to her lips and takes a slow imaginary drag before typing into it. They didn’t pay me shit, much like that boyfriend of yours. BTW, he owes me some serious cash.

She starts to head out, and I pull her back. “Tell me this is fake. That the baby you’re having isn’t Blake’s.” I try to steady the words, to annunciate, but I probably ended up shouting in twelve different octaves.

Roxy claps her hand to her mouth as tears pool in her eyes for me.

The girl looks from Roxy to me. “I’m sorry, sweet cakes, but this baby is more his than it is mine.” She’s speaking slowly, probably shouting right back at me. “Look, I don’t know your crazy ass brothers from Adam, but they tracked me down and said he was breaking your heart. I’m not sure what that means, but they insisted a little time with me could set you straight.”

Tears blur my vision. I don’t want to see her lips anymore. I don’t want to see her anymore. My thoughts detonate in a pool of chaos like a fireworks display gone wrong.

That’s not Blake’s baby. Why are you doing this to me? I thrust the phone in her face.

Her shoulders sag as she takes the phone back. I’m not that good an actress, hon. Blake is my baby daddy. Deal with it. She scowls to Roxy. “Can I leave now?”

My fingers punch into my phone as fast as they can.

Do you love him?

“Hell, yes, I love that boy.” She bears into me with those wild, unreasonably cruel eyes before snatching away my phone. Do yourself a favor and forget about Blake. He’s mine, and he always will be. Personally, I’m shocked as hell that he’s been two-timing me with a waif like you. No offense, but you don’t look like his type.

Roxy leans in. “You’re still together?”

It never occurred to me to ask.

“Hell, yes, we’re still together.” Her hand curves over her enormous belly. “Blake and Livey till the end.” She spears me with black hatred before pulling out her own phone. You’d better back off, little girl. Blake has other things, other people who are going to be occupying his time in a very real way. Why do you think he quit school? He’s saving up for diaper duty. This is me doing you a favor. Find yourself a nice little boy to play with. Someone your speed. Perhaps a blind man. You’d make quite a pair.

My hand flies across her face without giving it a second thought.

“Oh my, God,” I whisper. What’s happening? I just hit a pregnant woman. I stagger to the door, and Roxy pulls me back.

“I’m proud of you.” She over annunciates and gives a thumbs up.

Olivia shoots out of the Black Bear before I have a chance to apologize.

“Let’s go.” I feel my voice box vibrate, and I don’t care at this point.

“You don’t want to go after that bitch. Let her be, Annie.”

I shake my head, still numb from the exchange. “I want to see Blake.”

---

Roxy speeds us over to the shop like a woman on a mission to sacrifice balls. Not that I mind the gyrating NASCAR worthy spin to downtown Jepson. I’m so hopped up on rage that I could have flown here all by my lonesome. But rage isn’t the only thing I’m feeling. A part of me still doesn’t want to believe it’s true. They must be lies. I close my eyes a moment because what I want the truth to be and what reality is might be two different pregnant animals.

We park dead in front of Joe’s Automotive. The corrugated aluminum doors are rolled wide open, and the shop is filled with busted up cars and motorcycles just waiting for Blake’s beautiful hands to fix them. I wish Blake could fix this. I wish there wasn’t anything to fix.

Roxy opens her door. I pull her back.

“I think I should do this alone.” My throat actually feels sore from the workout it’s getting.

Her chest expands as she weighs the idea. “Give him hell, girl.”

“I plan to,” I whisper as my chest bucks unexpectedly.

“I’ll wait.” She points to her seat.

The cool air hits me like an icy slap to the face as I barrel toward the garage. I spot Blake in the back with his jumpsuit half off. He has a T-shirt on and a thermal underneath that. I love it when he’s dressed that way. Something about him reminds me of the first night we met. I remember that sweet smile I thought made the sun rise, and now here we are with this horrible truth smelling up the distance between us like horseshit.

“Annie.” He steps over with a heartfelt sorrow in his eyes, just enough to make my stomach melt and ache all at the same time.

I throw myself at him—wrap my arms around him so tight I can feel his heart racing against mine. We need to leave. Blake and I need to go to the carriage house where I can show him how much I love him—how sorry I am to ever be related to either of my terrible brothers. I pull back and wipe the tears from my eyes.

It was horrible. I show him my phone before continuing. My brothers ambushed me. They said you’re cheating on me, and there was this mean person pretending to be your girlfriend. She says she’s having your baby and that I should stay out of your life. That I should find a blind man to date! What kind of a monster says that?

Blake stares at the phone an inordinate amount of time trying to digest the gibberish I’ve just flung in his face.

My hand flies into his shoulder, and I push him a little too hard. “It’s ridiculous right?” I whisper so hard my throat burns from the effort.

Blake takes a breath and closes his eyes, and then I know.

“Oh, God.” I stumble backwards. “It’s true?” I hardly mouth the words.

Blake keeps his head down while looking at me. He gives a simple nod and nothing more.

“No.” I shake my head. “You would never do that to me,” I whisper as the tears shoot out like a fountain. “You couldn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He must have roared the words because I can feel them reverberating over my skin. “They took the truth and they molded it into something ugly. I’m sorry, Annie. I should have told you about Olivia right from the beginning, but I was fresh off Ben’s death and—”

“This is real?” I whisper through the razors lodged in my throat. “Stop using your brother as an excuse! You have a girlfriend that you conveniently forgot to tell me about?” My voice box engages on and off, but he winced when I said girlfriend, so I think he got the gist.

“No, I swear, Olivia isn’t my girlfriend. She used to be but—”

I put my hands to my temple and grip my hair because I want nothing but to pull every last strand out.

I squeeze my eyes shut and scream at the top of my lungs, “I hate you!” My voice shrills through my body, rattling my bones as welcome as an earthquake. There. Blake longed to hear me speak, and now he heard definitively how I feel. I look over at him with his mask of pain. He’s speaking, but I turn away and run straight to Roxy’s car.

There’s not a thing Blake Daniels has to say that I want to know.

---

The entire next day I spend hugging my pillow and crying my eyes out. I don’t look at his text messages. Marley lets me know when he comes to the door, and I just lock myself in the bathroom until he’s gone. I don’t want any part of his so-called truths or apologies. My heart is raw, broken. I wish the whole universe would collapse in on itself like a dying star and disappear.

The next few days drift by in a blur.

Marley has officially broken up with that idiot who was stringing her along. He came down last night, and I walked out of the bathroom just in time to see her slap him right across the face.

“Aren’t we a pair,” she says, handing me a hot latte from Hallowed Grounds. She actually had it in her to get dressed and go to class today. I couldn’t care less about my classes. I could fail them all, and none of it would matter. Tristan came by this morning to see if everything was okay, and I told him I had a sore throat. I’m not sure why, but I was sensing an I-told-you-so if I let the truth spill out. It looks like I’m a liar just like Blake.

My phone buzzes for the umpteenth time only now it’s my mother.

Be there in twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes? Why would she be here in twenty minutes? Oh my, God she knows! I shake my head at the phone. The last thing I want to deal with is my mother and her there-are-other-fish-in-the-sea brand of wisdom.

You don’t have to. I’m fine, really. I bet my brothers couldn’t wait to tell her what a louse I’d hooked myself to. When did they turn into such tattletales? Not that I mind that they “tattled” on Blake. They did me a favor, and, ironically, I’m still too mad to thank them.

What are you talking about? You have an appointment in an hour at the Gentry Clinic. If all goes well, we can schedule the implants to be inserted before Christmas!

Oh that. I can practically feel her smiling. I make a face at the word “inserted.” My mother knows I cringe at the word surgery. She cares for me enough to cater to my fragile emotional needs unlike Blake. He barreled right over those when he decided to sleep with me behind his pregnant girlfriend’s back.

I go to tell her to cancel, but my fingers take a U-turn. I’ll be ready and waiting.

In a whirlwind, I shower and dress. I ask Marley to come with me for moral support but mostly because I hate the thought of leaving my broken hearted roomie alone while I’m gone. I know the destitute bleakness she’s up against. It’s as if we’ve been simultaneously thrust into a living hell. A world without sound doesn’t compare to the pain, the bone-crushing anguish that Blake Daniels has managed to cause.

Mom meets us downstairs and chats up a storm with Marley as she drives us to the clinic. It’s clear she’s blissfully unaware of the fact I just had my beating heart knifed from my chest.

I’ve been seen at the Gentry Clinic before. Its walls are plastered with visuals that explain the inner workings of the human ear. They have a six-foot model of the ear canal you can crawl through if you wanted. They specialize in all ages and stages of life but seem to favor pediatrics.

We pull up and head in. Mom buries her nose in her Kindle while Marley and I stare vacantly at the paltry selection of old magazines, glossy Verandas, bloated back-issues of People.

When it’s my turn to be seen, I choose to go alone. They sit me in a cushioned room. I know the drill. They play horrifically loud sounds in my ears, and I sit still while they marvel at how amazingly deaf I am.

When I’m through, the doctor calls my mother into his office and he both signs and speaks his findings.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure you are a great candidate for the Excel implant.” He pauses with a serious look that spells out dead end—and, in a way, I’m relieved.

He might as well have shouted you will never hear in your life, Annie! right in my face. Of course, I wouldn’t have heard it, but it would have killed my mother just as effectively. Her chest heaves with a quivering breath. Her features contort with great sadness, and I want to mimic them, only my heartbreak comes from a boy who’s not even in the room at the moment. She’s crestfallen that this isn’t going to happen for me.

“But”—a devilish grin widens across the doctor’s cheeks—“I am fairly certain you are a good candidate. I think you should go ahead with the procedure, Annie. You should be able to have most of your hearing. I can’t guarantee it will be perfect, but you will hear and be able to understand everything going on around you.”

My mother claps her hands together before throwing her arms to the ceiling with elation.

“You’re going to hear, Annie!” She lunges at me with a hug before pulling back. “You’re going to hear laughter, and music, and the voices of everyone you love.” I read her lips for perhaps one of the very last times.

I’m going to hear. I sit there stunned for a second time this week. I’m going to hear music. The thought makes my heart wrench. I’m going to hear the voices of the people I love—and perhaps even the ones that broke me.

The doctor leans back in his seat as he inspects my mother and me. “Of course, you’ll need plenty of speech therapy to follow. Shall we schedule the surgery?”

Surgery. There it is. That word, sharp as a scalpel.

Fear comes back to the party. Blake was going to help me get through the things in life that I feared most. A dull laugh pumps through me at the thought. Something far greater than any of the fears I could have ever conceived came to fruition. I lost Blake. In the grand scheme of things, that would have been my greatest fear.

My mother pats my back, trying to pump the answer out of me—at least the one she wants to hear.

I fill my lungs with a deep, cleansing breath. New hearing, new me.

“Yes. Schedule the surgery,” I say it out loud, and my mother presses her lips together as the tears start to fall.

It’s time I stop fearing everything so damn much.

---

Thanksgiving plods into our lives without permission with its thick-spiced scents and pine festooned decorations. I hate that everyone is so happy and jovial, feasting on pumpkin pie and sipping eggnog like it’s the best thing in the world.

Kaya is back. I’ve already filled her in on every last detail. At about seven-thirty tonight we’re meeting up with Tristan at the café on campus for coffee. I can hardly wait to be a third wheel on their first unofficial date. I frown into my phone. I haven’t been brave enough to read any of Blake’s text messages. I’ve been plenty tempted, but I promised myself that I would get through this weekend. It’s been a solid week since the “incident.” He’s come to the dorm twice and left flowers at the door. Marley told him to go to hell for me. I could never tell him myself. I’ve tried to think through a million reasons why he wouldn’t tell me about the baby, about this Olivia person, and the only real conclusion I can come up with is the fact that maybe he really does love her. Maybe he was two-timing me, her, whichever, the entire time.

“Okay, everyone!” Mom calls us all to the impeccably set table. I think my mother was Martha Stewart in another life. Correction, she thinks she’s Martha Stewart in this life. She plucked pinecones from the yard and sprayed them gold before gluing them to napkin rings. Her place cards are beautifully scrolled out. It’s nice to know the calligraphy kit I bought her last Christmas is being put to good use.

She waves to get my attention before proceeding. “Why don’t we go around the table and each say something we’re thankful for?”

Is she serious? I spent the last week weeping like some love-struck fool, mostly because I am one, and she’s doing this to me? Holt let me know he finally filled her in on all the gory details. She offered to have a chat with me, but I told her I wasn’t ready. The word “chat” is code for a long drawn out conversation on my mother’s part, and, right now, I want nothing to do with it.

The table breaks out in laughter. I see Izzy swatting Holt then pulling him in for a kiss. Looks like I missed whatever it is everyone found so funny. That’s the thing about being deaf, you need to be on heightened awareness at all times if you want to know what’s going on. That’s one good thing about the procedure I’ve scheduled next month—I’ll get the pleasure of both drowning in my misery and listening to other people at the same time. It’ll be strange, like living in two worlds at once.

Soon enough it’s my turn. All eyes are on me just the way I don’t like it.

I am thankful for— A part of me wants to sign anything, Nitro, my mother, my family, all of the things I’m genuinely thankful for, but, in truth, I want to say Blake. He opened my heart wider than I could have ever anticipated, and, for that, I’m forever grateful. I’m thankful for the love of each and every person in this room.

It’s true. If it weren’t for each and every person in this room I wouldn’t be who I am today. Cole has showed me that people can change. He was a notorious playboy before he met Roxy. And Roxy showed me that a girl can have balls and that it’s okay to use them. Izzy—for teaching me to be brave and dance even when the world says sit down and watch. Baya for showering me with the love and attention only a true sister can. Bryson and Holt helped cheer me on through every single milestone in my life. They saved me from a bully or two in my younger years, and, now, they’ve saved me from someone else who wanted to hurt me even more—Blake. And, of course, my mother for loving me through this adventure called life. I know hers will be the first face I see when I’m still groggy from the anesthesia. I get nauseated just thinking about what that day will be like for me.

Once dinner is through, Baya and Izzy offer to do the dishes. My mother wraps her arm around me as I head to the family room with my brothers to watch the game. More like ignore the game and drown in pie until it’s time to see Kaya.

You mind taking a walk? Her lips purse the way they do when she’s about to get serious. I know it’s coming. She’s my mother, so I should probably give her the opportunity to comfort me. I’m sure she’s been rehearsing what she wants to say ever since Holt broke the news.

We head outside into the brisk November air. The sun set a little while ago leaving sharp striations in the autumn sky of purple and bronze, a stunning combination that makes you wish you can share it with someone special. I wrap my arm around Mom because I am doing just that.

We pause at the end of the long wraparound porch, and she presses a kiss to the top of my head.

Do you want to talk about it? She edges in.

Not really. I shrug into the dark maroon night. He’s gone. You can all say I told you so. I deserve it.

Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. She pulls me into a long embrace. They say your first love hurts the most. You never truly get over the first person who breaks your heart.

A flood of relief washes over me when she says those words.

A part of me never wants to get over Blake.

I don’t think I will.

---

Seven-thirty can’t get here fast enough. Roxy and Cole drive me back to campus. I think they were happy to call it a night. All the way home she smiles and giggles at whatever he says, and Cole flirts with her madly as if they’ve just met. I want to stick my hand down my throat and puke all over the interior of his truck.

Instead, I thank them both by way of a hug. Roxy gives me two thumbs up.

“You’re a strong girl. You’re going to rock the rest of this semester.”

A part of me dies a little when she says the word rock. Anything associated with music makes me dive deeper into mourning.

“If you want, over Christmas break”—Roxy speaks extra slow and does strange things with her hands in an effort to help me understand—“you can work part time with me in the kitchen. I’ve got sales going through the roof.” She points up, and I try not to smile at the effort. I appreciate it. “I can really use an extra pair of hands.”

I nod as I type into my phone. I would love that. Thank you.

They take off for their apartment, and I make a beeline for Hallowed Grounds. Just the thought of being so close to Kaya makes me feel giddy far more than I thought possible these last few days.

There she is! Standing in front of the café is my beautiful, bouncy best friend, Kaya. Her blonde hair is tipped with pink, and she’s wearing black-laced boots that travel all the way up to her thighs. A short red coat completes the look that shouts look at me, world!

I’ve always admired Kaya’s moxie. I can hardly wait to introduce her to Marley. I know they’ll get along great.

Kaya spots me and gives a wild wave. We come at one another like two freight trains ready to collide, and we do. Kaya and I engage in one long, rocking hug that draws the laughter out of me whether I want it to or not.

I’ve missed you like crazy. I make a face because I’ve just smiled and laughed for the first time in a week. Thank you for coming out.

She frowns. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing a lot more of my ugly face. I’m coming home for spring semester.

Will you be at Whitney? I’m so excited I can’t breathe.

I’m applying, so we’ll see.

A group of girls walk by, and I recognize two of them as the horrible twits from Digital Studios, Courtney and her ridiculous leader, Johanna.

What’s going on? Kaya has always been perceptive when it comes to my emotions.

Not the nicest crowd, that’s all. We make our way toward the café, and a familiar kind-hearted face comes around the corner.

Kaya, I want you to meet your future husband, Tristan. He looks freshly showered and shaven. He’s really put in an effort for tonight, and it shows. My stomach pinches with a wave of jealousy. Tristan is honest and one of the nicest people on the planet. I thought I had found all those attributes and more in someone else, but I guess I was wrong.

Future husband? Kaya’s eyes enlarge as she quickly sizes him up. Annie is anything if she’s not subtle. Nice to meet you. I like my eggs sunny side up and served with two slices of bacon—make that four. I’m up for a destination wedding, but I’m open to locations.

Nice to meet you, and does France sound okay? Tristan raises his brows.

They share a laugh, and there’s already a tenderness between them that has me feeling like a third wheel. Tristan hasn’t once taken his eyes off her. Maybe there really is something brewing here?

Kaya laughs and signs back, but I don’t catch it because my eyes are fixed on a heart-stopping site straight ahead.

I’ll be right back. I tell them, but they’re so wrapped up in banter they hardly notice.

A familiar leather jacket stands with his back to me. Blake stares up at Prescott Hall, in the general direction of my dorm room as if he’s trying to speak to me telepathically. There he is. My body slaps with shock. Over the months we were together he had seen every part of me, my heart and soul included. I was exposed bare to Blake, far more than to anyone before and perhaps even myself. I trusted my heart to this person I had known for such a brief amount of time, and I gave him my body! The mournful hilarity of it all is too much to bear. But the truth is, Blake cannot be classified as something so simplistic as “this person.” He’s a part of me now, a part of my story of the fabric of my being. For so long he was the compass to every one of my heart beats—and as unfair as it may seem, still is. He had laid the deepest bruise over my existence, one which might never heal. In a strange way, I hope it won’t. I want to drink down the pain, the gutting grief, a little here and there, when I need it, so hopefully this entire tragedy will never play out again. Sometimes pain is the most respected teacher.

My heart drums into my throat. A part of me wants to do this—so I do.

The wind slices through me with its razor sharp teeth as I make my way over. I offer a quick tap to his shoulder. I’m sure Blake is used to girls tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, especially the pregnant ones. Wait, that’s not right. But I’m too hopped up on adrenaline to care.

“Annie?” He wraps his arms around me so fast it’s as if I’ve just come back from the dead. Blake feels intensely solid, intensely mine. I take in the strong scent of his cologne, the familiar scent of leather, the slight hint of musk from his hair, and feel the tears burn under my lids. I pull back and carefully remove his arms from my body.

“I just want to say thank you.” My chest flashes with heat. I haven’t spoken since that day I yelled at him—correction, screamed. I’ve only done that a handful of times before and usually that was directed at my brothers.

His eyes narrow with sorrow as his hand cups my cheek. “My God, you have a beautiful voice. But I’m sure there is nothing to thank me for.” His gaze falls to the ground.

“You made me brave.” I can feel my voice warbling in and out of a whisper. “I’m doing my oral report for Digital Studios next Friday.” I try to even out my tone the way the way the countless hours of speech therapy taught me. “Without you, I wouldn’t be doing it.” I don’t tell him about the surgery. “Good luck to you with everything.” I turn to go, and he wraps his arms around me from behind. Blake buries his face in my hair a moment.

I twist into him, careful not to touch my lips to his. It would be too easy to fall back into old habits. I’m not sure I could control myself if that were to happen. I might ravage him. Take him right here in the middle of campus for all of Whitney Briggs to see.

Blake pulls back slowly, his fingers the last to drip from mine. “Can we go someplace to talk? I’ll buy coffee.” He tilts his head, pleading. There’s a desperation I’ve never seen in his eyes.

“I have to go.” I’m right back to whispering.

He gives a simple nod. “Good luck on your speech, Annie. I know you’ll kill it. And in case I don’t get to say it”—his lips pinch—“I’m proud of you.” Blake steps in and bears into me. “I love you, Annie. I will always love you.”

I turn around and run back toward Kaya and Tristan.

If I didn’t get out of there quick, I might have said those words right back.