Prologue
Janie
I can’t go a moment without thinking about him. The blueness of his eyes haunts me. The sadness reflected in his gaze every time he stared at me always made my heart stop. There’s something about witnessing unadulterated pain. There’s something heartbreaking about being let into someone’s haunted secret world knowing you can’t do anything to help them escape. When I close my eyes, I can still smell him. His deep scent, musky with a scent of salt, like the ocean. His hair, dark, wild, silky smooth, just like him. His name, always on the tip of my tongue. Always wanting to be said by my lips. To anyone that would listen. To anyone that doesn’t know our story. His touch, oh how I think about his touch. So gentle, so rough, so teasing, so absolutely perfect. The way his fingers would smooth my hair, would gently rub my cheek, would rest upon my stomach in sleep as he pulled me to him, unknowing, but needing. I loved him with everything that I was. Held onto him tight. I held onto him until my fingers could no longer grip him. I held even as he pulled away. I held even as he turned his back on me. I held even as my whispers faded into the night. I held even as he walked away. I held on, waiting, waiting, waiting. I held on, even as I fell, and went crashing into the treacherous rocks. I held on, even as my wings failed me. They all told me he was no good. They told me to move on. But I’d promised. I’d promised and he’d promised. We promised to never let go. But I should have known. I should have known that a hookup could never lead to happily ever after—could it?
Nate
Every single step that I take feels like it’s the wrong one. If I think something is up, it’s down. If I think something is black, it’s white. A part of me doesn’t know what thoughts in my brain I can trust. I never thought that men and women could be friends. Not really. Women are too emotional, too much work, too needy and just way too much drama. Though I suppose I was being unfair. Men were just as much work as women. I think there’s just something inherent in humankind that means that certain people are full of drama and I seem to attract them all. That’s why I don’t have time for romance. Friendships alone take it out of me. Though recently I’ve been thinking that it’s about time for me to find a mate. It just seems like it’s time. I’m not sure what sort of woman I want though. Half of them seem crazy and if they aren’t crazy yet, they’re halfway there. I wish I could just meet one sane woman. Just one. Is that too much to ask for? I refuse to think about the possibility that I have already met her.
Dylan
“Oh my God, that guy is so hot.” I could hear the whispers in the corner of the bar. I looked over to see the two women giggling and staring at me. One of them was a bit bolder than the other and her eyes immediately locked with mine. She was pretty. Had a good body. Was the sort of girl that I would have taken to bed quite easily in the past, but right now I wasn’t interested. I turned away from the women and smirked as I heard one of them saying, “I wish he would take his shirt off.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror as I walked toward the counter to order myself a shot of whiskey. Dark blond hair, light sky-blue eyes, light stubble from not shaving this morning, the dimple in my cheek, a muscular six foot two body. The same package I was accustomed to. I knew that I was considered to be a catch. Handsome and rich. It was what all the women wanted. It allowed me to get pretty much every woman I’d ever gone for. And that had been great. Up until now. Up until I’d screwed everything up. I felt a tightness in my throat that I’d never felt before. I’d never felt this way before and I wanted to bang my fist down on the bar. I wanted to break things. I wanted to hurt someone. Something. Or maybe I should just get laid. I looked back toward the corner of the bar. The girls were still standing there, staring, wanting me to make a move. Wanting me to take them home for the night. Wanting me to do things to them that would make them scream and squeal. My phone beeped then and my heart stopped as I saw her name pop up on the screen. She’d responded, finally. Delete my number. Never text me again. I’m done. My stomach churned at her message. She wasn’t going to forgive me. Ever. I knew it in my bones. I’d messed up one too many times. I’d lost the love of my life. It was over. As I stood there, I felt a tear falling from my eye. My heart stopped in that moment. The world stood still and all I could think was this was it. This was it. There was no coming back from this. And with that realization, my head fell down to the counter and the tears poured. I didn’t care who saw or what they thought. There was only one person I wanted in that moment. And I’d lost her.