Prologue

_______________

Aubrey

Age 17

 

I PEEK THROUGH MY LASHES to look across the table. My stomach dips and my heart beats funny, like it always does when a pair of golden hazel eyes meet mine. Since I can remember, Denver Clayton has had the same effect on me. He makes me nervous, so nervous it feels like I might come out of my skin when I’m around him. And I’m around him a lot, because his family and mine are close and we go to school together.

“You don’t have to sit here with us, honey,” Shelby says, and I look across the table to her. “If you’re done, you can go hang with the boys.” Shelby is my dad’s wife, my stepmom, who’s actually more of a mom to me than my mom has ever been. I love her; we’re close—really close.

“I…” I start. I don’t really want to go hang with my brothers, meaning my twin brother Steven and my stepbrother Hunter. Don’t get me wrong, I like them most of the time, but they are still annoying.

“We can go hang outside,” Denver says, and my hands start to become damp as he pushes back from the table and stands to wait for me.

Oh, God. What do I do? I look around at everyone. My dad looks annoyed, Shelby and Joe—Denver’s mom—are both smiling, and Paul—Denver’s dad—is looking at the ceiling with his lips twitching like he finds something funny.

“Uh… okay.” I slide out of my seat then look at Joe. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She winks.

I bite my lip, nod once, and then tuck my hands into the front pocket of my overlarge hoodie. I keep my head ducked and follow Denver outside, and he leads us across the lawn to an old tire swing. I take a seat on the rubber tire, watching him lean back against the tree and cross his arms over his chest. I push off the ground with the tips of my toes and study his handsome face, remembering what Shelby said a year ago when he turned seventeen. “Aubrey, that boy seems to only get better looking with age.”

She was right. When I was thirteen and Denver fourteen, he was a cute boy. But Denver at eighteen is handsome. His jaw no longer has a softness to it. It’s now strong with sharp angles that give a glimpse of what he might look like in a few years when he fully settles into adulthood. His eyes haven’t changed, though the hazel color still reminds me of the aurora borealis you can sometimes catch a glimpse of on a clear night in Alaska where we live. The greens and yellows mix together perfectly and stand out spectacularly against his dark hair and lashes.

My eyes land on his full lips, I quickly look away when I feel my cheeks warm. I think I’ve imagined kissing him a million times, what his lips would feel like against mine, how he’d taste, how it would feel. A part of me knows that one touch would send me floating away. One kiss would change everything, my whole world.

“So what’s going on with you and Gabe?” he asks suddenly, and my head flies up meeting his intense gaze.

“Gabe?” I touch my toes to the ground to stop swinging.

“Yeah, you two are together all the time. Is he your boyfriend?”

My cheeks heat further and I drop my eyes to the ground. “He’s my friend,” I reply quietly. Gabe moved to town a few years ago, and since then we’ve become good friends. He’s sweet. I like being around him, because he makes it easy. I don’t feel any pressure to talk or fit in, and being around him, I can just be me.

“Just friends?” he questions, and I focus on him once more, wondering why he’s asking.

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” I push off and start swinging once more.

“Bre, we’re heading home,” Dad calls, and I turn to find him and Shel saying goodbye to Paul and Joe on the front porch.

“Coming!” I yell back, and then I look toward Denver’s shoulder, mumbling, “See you at school Monday.”

I don’t see him take a step toward me, but I feel his fingers wrap around mine to stop me before I can walk away. My breath catches as I look up into his eyes—way up, because he’s already at least a foot taller than me.

“Are you going to the party tonight?”

“What?” I ask in a daze, my focus on the feel of his warm, slightly rough fingers wrapped around mine.

“Party… at Lincoln’s house tonight. Are you going?”

Lincoln is Denver’s best friend; they’ve been best friends forever. I know Lincoln’s parents are cool with him throwing parties at their house, since everyone talks about it—including my dad, who’s the sheriff. Lincoln’s parents say they’d rather have their son under their roof drunk than wasted somewhere unknown. I can understand their logic, since a bunch of teenagers hanging out drunk out on the road where kids like to party or in the woods could end up in disaster. Has ended up in disaster in the past.

“Are you coming?” he repeats, giving my fingers he’s still holding a gentle squeeze.

“I… I don’t know.” Parties aren’t really my thing. Even growing up with the kids I go to school with, I still feel out of place whenever I’m around them.

“You should come,” he says, and my stomach fills with butterflies and dances with excitement, because he sounds like he really wants me to go.

“I’ll ask my dad,” I finally get out, and his lips tip up into a small smile.

“If he says yes, let me know if you need a ride.”

A ride. Holy cow, my knees shake at the idea of riding in his truck with him.

“Sure.” I grin, trying to keep myself from jumping up and down like a total loon and making a fool out of myself.

“Hopefully you’ll come.” His hold on me tightens ever so slightly before he lets me go.

I don’t say anything else, because I’m not sure I can talk. Instead, I turn and rush to say goodbye to his parents before getting in my dad’s truck, where Shel and I spend the drive home convincing my dad to let me go to the party.

_______________

Looking around the crowded living room, I wonder why I came and why I can’t seem to be like the rest of the people here. My classmates all seem relaxed, and judging by the laughing and joking, they’re having a good time. Then there’s me, hanging in the darkest corner of the room in an attempt to be invisible. I lean back against the wall behind me and hold the beer I was given when I made it here closer to my stomach. It’s still full. I tried to drink it when it was handed to me, but the second the taste hit my tongue, I wanted to spit it out on the floor. I never had a drink until tonight, not even a sip of my dad’s beer or Shelby’s wine. I now know that beer is gross—actually, really gross. Maybe if it wasn’t warm it wouldn’t be so bad, but that’s doubtful.

“Are you okay?” Gabe, who I asked to come with me, questions, coming up to my side.

I turn my head and look at him. “Yeah.”

“Liar.” He knocks his shoulder into mine and I press my lips together to keep from smiling. I roll my eyes at him when he grins. Gabe is taller than me, but not by much, and lean from swimming everyday at the local indoor swimming pool. He’s cute with blond hair that has a hint of red in it, and blue eyes that are always smiling. Unlike me, Gabe doesn’t have an issue with talking to people and making friends. Still, he never pressures me to hang out with anyone else, because he knows it makes me feel awkward. When he leans back against the wall next to me, I scan the room, wondering if I should just call Shelby to come pick me up, since I haven’t seen Denver since I got here.

I turn to tell Gabe that I’m going to leave, but stop when my stomach starts to dance. I turn my head in the opposite direction, and when I do, my heart starts to speed up. “Hey,” Denver greets me with a small smile.

“Hi.” I smile back, and his eyes soften, making the butterflies in my stomach dance and flip.

He looks over at Gabe and lifts his chin in that cool way guys do before his eyes come back to me. “I’m glad you came.”

I swear I feel his fingers brush mine against my stomach and my heart thumps even harder.

“Denver, get your ass over here!” someone shouts, and he looks in the direction of the kitchen, his jaw going hard.

“Christ, they’re already wasted.” He looks back at me and shakes his head, seeming annoyed. “Will you be here for a while?” he asks as the group of people in the kitchen start chanting for him to join them.

“Probably.” I shift from foot to foot. I really don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stick around, not with how out of place I feel.

“Don’t leave before we can talk.”

“I—”

“Please,” he adds, and hearing the softness in his tone, I nod. “Good.”

This time I know I feel his fingers skim gently across mine before he gives Gabe another chin lift and turns to walk across the room toward the kitchen. My stomach feels funny as I watch his friends greet him with hoots and body jolting pounds on the back. Unlike me, he fits in; he always has.

Why am I here? Why did he want me to come, and what does he want to talk to me about?

“Do you want to go hang outside?” Gabe asks, and I pull my eyes from Denver to look at him.

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” He takes my hand in his and leads me through the crowded house to the back door. “Better?” he questions once we’re standing outside on the back wooden deck under the star-filled night.

“I wish I wasn’t so awkward,” I admit, setting my beer on the railing so I can tuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

“It’s cute,” he smiles, tugging the end of my hair.

Giggling, I shake my head. “It’s not.” I turn away from him and my eyes catch on the window that looks into the kitchen—a window I can see Denver kissing Pamela through. I pull my eyes off them, feeling my heart in my stomach.

Pamela’s a senior who’s so pretty she’s actually had modeling jobs for a couple of well-known designers. I’ve overheard her say that after graduation she’s moving to New York to work full time as a model. I have no doubt she’ll do well if she does go. Then again, maybe she won’t go; maybe she’ll stick around for Denver, or maybe he’ll go with her.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Gabe says, and I try to focus on him and not the way my heart feels like it’s being crushed inside my chest and my stomach is turning with nausea.

“Hmm?” I look over at him, noticing he looks tense. Actually studying him he looks nervous.

“I was wondering if you’d want to…” He pulls my hand out of my sweatshirt, grounding me with his touch. “I was wondering if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend,” I repeat on a quiet breath, dropping my eyes to his hand wrapped around mine.

“I know we’re friends, but I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

I stare into his eyes and my heart lodges itself in my throat as I think about my answer. With Gabe, things have always been easy. He doesn’t make me nervous or anxious. With one smile or touch, he doesn’t make me feel like I’m out at sea searching for an anchor to keep me tethered so I don’t float away. He makes me feel like I’m safe. I need safe.

“Yes,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his, and he smiles. I want to smile back, but I don’t, because in my heart I know I don’t actually want safe.

_______________

Denver

Age 21

 

I lift the bottle in my hand and drink deep, closing my eyes as alcohol burns down my throat and warms my stomach. I’ve been drinking for a month straight, since the day I came back into town. Since the day I found out Aubrey and Gabe are getting married. No one told me about the impending wedding. Even my parents kept the news from me.

“Drinking isn’t going to stop tomorrow from happening,” Lincoln says from my side, and I turn to glare at him. “Fuck, man.” He jerks his fingers through his dark hair. “I know—”

“You don’t know shit,” I growl, standing and taking the bottle with me as I walk across the room.

“Dude, this shit is fucking jacked.” He’s right; it is jacked. Being in love with a woman who is marrying someone else is completely fucking jacked. “I understand why you’re—”

“Don’t. Do not fucking go there.” I point at him with one finger, and he shakes his head. I lift the bottle and take another pull, willing myself to fucking black out already.

“You need to stop.” He gets in my face, pressing his chest against mine.

“Back the fuck up.” My hand balls into a fist and adrenalin rushes through me. I’m ready for a fight, been ready for a fight for days, months—no fucking years.

“If you want to stop the wedding, I’ll be there with you, cheering you the fuck on. But I won’t watch you slowly kill yourself using a bottle to do it.”

I close my eyes, my chest aching with every breath I take. “She was supposed to be mine,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “She was supposed to be mine!” I roar, letting the bottle fly and watching it shatter against the wall on impact, the gold liquid exploding everywhere.

“I know.” He grabs the back of my neck, pulling my forehead to his. “I know.”

“She was supposed to be mine,” I repeat once more, my voice hoarse.

_______________

Denver

Six years later

 

Feeling my cell vibrate in my back pocket, I drop the rope in my hand to the wood deck of my boat and wipe the sweat from my face with the underside of my tee. I have three hours before I need to leave port and it’s already dark, making it hard to get shit done—meaning I shouldn’t be taking a call right now. I should be getting my ass in gear. Pulling out my cell, I don’t look at the screen before putting it to my ear.

“Yeah,” I answer, walking to the edge of the deck near the dock, untying the rope there, tossing it behind me, and hearing it land with a loud thud.

“Denver, it’s Gabe.”

“Gabe?” My brows draw together tightly. I only know one Gabe, and I have no idea why he’d call me. We’re not friends; have never been friends. The only thing he and I have in common is Aubrey.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat.

“Is everything all right?” I ask as worry fills the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah... no.”

I listen to him take a deep breath, and my body coils tight like the universe is telling me that whatever he’s about to say is going to turn my world upside down.

“Is Bre okay?” I question when he doesn’t say more.

“I’m dying, man.” As his words register, my breath leaves on a silent whoosh and my stomach turns. “I’ve got a couple months at best. The doctors don’t have an exact time period, obviously, but it’s inevitable.”

“Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, looking into the dark water at the edge of my boat.

“Yeah,” he murmurs back, and I grab the back of my neck, holding tight. “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” I reply, instantly squeezing my eyes closed.

“When I’m gone, look after Aubrey for me.”

Fuck.

“She loves you, and I know you feel the same about her.” His statement feels like a knife to the chest.

Fuck.

“Gabe—”

“She and I have had a good run,” he says quietly, and I squeeze my neck tighter, trying to cut off the pain his words are causing, that knife in my chest twisting deeper. “I’ve always known she was meant to be yours.”

“Gabe,” I repeat, having not one goddamn clue what to say to him.

“Just promise you’ll look after her.”

Hearing the defeat in his tone and feeling my throat close up, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to push out two words. “I will.” As soon as my answer takes flight on the wind, the phone goes dead in my hand.

“Fuck.” I lean my head back and look up at the night sky just in time to catch a star shoot across the dark. I don’t even think as I close my eyes and make a wish.

I have no idea that hundreds of miles away, someone else is making a wish on that same exact star.

_______________

Aubrey

One month later

 

I lean against my kitchen counter and watch my dad tie up the garbage to take it out, trying to remember when the last time was I took out the trash myself. It’s been a long time, too long. I probably should have taken it out every now and then over the last few years. Then again, I probably should have done a lot of stuff I didn’t do over the last few years.

“Honey.” Shelby’s hand on my arm brings me out of my head and I focus on her worried face. “I was thinking I’d stay with you tonight. We can watch a movie or jus—”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I cut her off, and her hand on my arm spasms. “Sorry.” I blow out a long breath. “I’m just tired. All I want to do is take a shower and go to sleep.” Sleep forever, sleep until I wake up and don’t hurt anymore.

“I don’t think you should be alone, not after today.” She doesn’t say why. She doesn’t have to. Today, I spread my husband’s ashes out at sea, something his family asked me to do. Something I really didn’t want to do but did anyways, because they wanted me to.

“I need to be alone, since...” I swallow over what feels like shards of glass in my throat and push through the pain of the words I don’t want to say. “Since Gabe… since...” I try to say it, but I can’t. “Since then, I haven’t been alone. I really want some time alone. I really need some time alone.” I feel like I’m suffocating, there have been so many people in and out of my house the last few days, everyone constantly hovering over me, asking what I need, if I’m okay. I know everyone means well, but it’s too much.

“Okay, gorgeous,” she whispers, sliding my hair over my shoulder.

“Thank you.” I roll my lips together. “Thank you f-for—” Tears spring to my eyes and I try—I try with everything in me to fight them back, but it doesn’t work. “Just… thanks.”

“Shhh.” Her arms wrap around me and I tuck my face into the crook of her neck. I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t think I should be able to cry anymore. I have no idea how my body is still capable of producing tears after the buckets I’ve cried. “It will be okay. I promise it will get easier.” She rubs my back.

“Get rid of everyone, baby. I’ve got her,” Dad says as I’m transferred into his arms, and his familiar scent comforts me.

“Sure,” Shelby whispers.

“Thanks, baby,” Dad replies. I rest the side of my face against his chest and hold on to his waist, squeezing my eyes closed. “If I could take this pain from you, gorgeous, I would.”

“I’ll be okay,” I try to reassure him, because I know he’s worried about me. I know he thinks I’m going to break at any moment. His hand cups the back of my head, and his lips touch the top of my hair and stay there while I listen to Shelby in the living room tell everyone it’s time to go. “I should probably tell everyone thank you for coming over.” I try to pull away.

“Don’t worry about that,” Dad mutters, holding me tighter.

“Everyone’s gone,” Shelby says a minute—or what could be an hour—later, and I open my eyes and watch her walk toward my dad and me. “Your sister and brothers said they’d be over in the morning.”

I nod, not surprised they’re only giving me till morning. The three of them have stuck close to me the last few days. Every time I turn around, one or all of them are right there.

“You sure you want to be alone tonight?” Dad questions.

I tip my head back and my eyes meet his. I hate how stressed he is because of me. “Yes.” I squeeze his waist. “If I need you guys, you’re just next door,” I remind him.

“Right.” He cups my cheek, looking torn, and then his eyes go over the top of my head and he communicates something with Shelby before he looks at me once more. “We love you.”

“I know. I love you guys too.” I swallow down a fresh wave of tears and he drops his forehead to mine, resting it there for a moment before letting me go.

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me,” Shelby says, giving me another hug.

When she releases me, I watch Dad take her hand and lead her away. I wait until I hear the front door open and close before I leave the kitchen. I don’t check to make sure the front door is locked, because I know my dad and know he locked it on his way out. I do turn off all the light as I head through the house, because Gabe would lose his mind if I didn’t. He was always going on about the cost of electricity, probably because it was something his mom and dad had drilled into his head from birth. I used to hate coming home to a dark house, but whenever I complained about it to Gabe, he would say something to make me laugh and I’d forget all about hating it. At least until the next time I came home and the house was dark.

As I make it to the hall just outside the master bedroom, I stop and stare into the dark room. I close my eyes and will my feet to move forward, but they refuse. Giving up, I turn and head upstairs to the top floor. I grew up in this house with my dad and brother. When my dad and Shelby got together, we all moved into her house right next door, and they kept this house for the extra income they earned from renting it out. Then when Gabe and I married, they sold it to us.

When I get upstairs, I go to the bathroom, strip out of my clothes, and climb into the shower, letting the hot water run over me until it starts to become cold. Stepping out, I wrap up in a towel then go to my old room, where I grab a pair of sweats I haven’t worn in years along with an old sweatshirt and a pair of thick socks. I settle into bed and lie there forever wide-awake while staring out the window before giving up on sleep.

Needing some air, I go back downstairs, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch on the way to the front door. As soon as I step outside, I move to sit in one of the chairs on the porch, put my feet up on the rail, and then toss the blanket over my lap. The night is clear, the stars so bright you can see every constellation without the help of a telescope. I know for certain the view I have right now isn’t something many people will ever experience. I lean my head back and close my eyes, breathing deep and letting the cool night air help fight back the pain that seems to engulf my chest every time I take a breath.

“Bre.”

My body jolts upward, my eyes spring open, and my hand covers my pounding heart as I stare at Denver’s shadowy figure at the bottom of the stairs. “You scared the crap out of me,” I breathe, taking in his dark hair and the beard covering the lower half of his face. Except for the last three days, I have rarely seen him since the night Gabe asked me to be his girlfriend, and when I did see him, he kept his distance. I kept mine too, but every now and then, I’d ask Joe about him. She never tells me much, just that he’s doing well. Still, I’m always happy to hear about him.

“Sorry. I saw you out here and decided to come over and check on you.” He takes the steps up onto the porch and sits down in the chair next to mine. “I would ask how you’re doing, but I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re probably right,” I mutter, putting my feet back up on the railing. “I… I saw you yesterday at the wake and earlier tonight. Thanks for coming. I… I probably should have… I just—”

“Stop.” He rests his hand over mine, and I jerk it away when his touch seems to burn me.

“Sorry.” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot for reacting to his touch like that.

“Don’t apologize.” He leans back in the chair and places his booted feet up on the rail next to mine. “Why are you out here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I rest my head against the back of the chair. “Why are you out so late?”

“It’s only ten. I was over at your parents’ with Mom and Dad. I came out to have a smoke and saw you out here. Wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, I thought it was later than that.” I look over at him. “You smoke?”

“On occasion.” He shrugs.

“You should quit,” I inform him, wanting to add that smoking kills, but I don’t, because nowadays it seems like everything has the potential to kill you. Pollution in the air, exposure to the sun, chemicals in the food you eat and in the water you drink, or an unexpected brain tumor could end your life suddenly. Really, it’s a miracle people are living past the age of twenty.

“I should.”

“Pardon?” I ask, confused by his statement.

“I should quit smoking.”

“Right, sorry.” I shake my head, looking at the night sky and the dark clouds rolling in.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asks gently, and I focus on him once more.

“Last night.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

“A month ago.” My throat starts to get tight and I close my eyes. One month is all I had. Gabe had always had migraines, but recently they became so bad he’d get sick and be unable to get out of bed. It took me forever to convince him to go to the doctor for help, but I finally did. The doctor in town didn’t like the symptoms Gabe described and decided to send him to Anchorage to run some test. That’s when we found out he had a tumor. Not just a tumor, one that was already at a Stage Four. The doctors and specialists in Anchorage wanted to do chemo and radiation and Gabe agreed, but he didn’t even make it to his first treatment; he had an aneurism and died suddenly while at his parents’ house.

“I thought we had more time,” I whisper as wet tears trek down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Bre. So fucking sorry.” He wraps his hand around mine.

“Me too.” I don’t pull away. I flip my hand over and lace my fingers with his, allowing his warmth and strength to comfort me.

“He called me.”

“What?” I open my eyes and meet his gaze.

“He called me.” He looks away, and my heart starts to beat funny inside my chest.

“What did he say?”

“He said he was dying.” I try to pull my hand free, but he doesn’t let go. “He asked me to be here for you.” He pauses. “I would have done that anyways.”

“Why would he ask you to do that?” I whisper my question, not expecting him to answer.

“He knew I cared about you.”

My head jerks to the side. “We haven’t even spoken in years.” I finally tug free from his grasp, his words rolling though my head, my mind trying to figure out why Gabe would ask Denver of all people to look after me.

“You’re right; we haven’t, but I had my reasons. I think you get that.”

“Do I?” I ask sarcastically, trying to cover the new pain I’m feeling.

“Yeah, you do,” he growls, holding my gaze.

“You’re wrong. I don’t get it.”

“You know, Bre. You fucking know why I had to cut you out of my life.” His words are harsh and filled with pain.

“I don’t,” I deny softly, even though part of me does know why he stopped talking to me after Gabe and I got together. The same reason I started to avoid him.

His eyes close slowly and he shakes his head. “This isn’t the time for this,” he says gently, keeping his eyes off me. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He rips an agitated hand through his hair. “Fuck. You don’t need this bullshit right now.”

I want to tell him it’s okay, but he’s right. I don’t need this right now. I don’t need a painful walk down memory lane to top off the misery I’m already feeling. I don’t know why Gabe called him, but I’m also not surprised. That was Gabe. He was always trying to take care of me. Always.

I lean my head back and close my eyes. I must fall asleep, because when I wake up, I’m in my bed with blankets tucked around me. Morning light is filtering through the blinds, and my conversation with Denver feels like a dream.

_______________

Aubrey

Five weeks later

 

“The tests you took aren’t wrong. You’re pregnant. And from the information you gave us about your last menstrual cycle, I’d say you’re just about twelve weeks along,” Dr. Haze says, studying me closely with a concerned look in his bright blue eyes.

I really didn’t think that five tests could be wrong, but I honestly didn’t think they could be right either. Gabe and I had tried unsuccessfully for three years to get pregnant while he was alive. Each month when I had my period on time, we were both devastated. We talked about seeing a specialist but knew we would have to save in order to do that, since the only specialist in Alaska is in Anchorage and we would have to fly out for any appointments. We were saving, but it was going to be another year or two before we were able to start treatments.

“Aubrey.” His hand wraps around my knee, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry.” I blink to clear his blurry image. “This is….”

“A shock, I’m sure,” he says gently.

I nod, thinking, That’s an understatement. Then I look down and rest my hand over my stomach. Gabe left me with a piece of him. “I’m going to cry,” I whisper.

“That’s understandable.” He hands me some tissue, and I press it to my eyes and cover my face.

I don’t know how long I sit there and cry, but it’s a while before I’m able to regain control of my emotions enough to leave the office. When I arrive home, I tell my family the news. And for the first time in months, I have something to look forward to.