Would he show up tonight?

It’d been the worst day. Cassidy’s best friend, Anthony Kincaid, had lost his mother to cancer and it was now only a matter of hours after the funeral.

She’d stood next to her father at the graveside service and watched Anthony crumble into sobs. They were only sixteen, but Anthony had always seemed more stoic than any sixteen-year-old she knew. He’d always been the one to calm her over her own family problems.

Nervously, she flicked on her flashlight and opened the book in front of her. It wouldn’t do to worry over Anthony. When she and her father left the Kincaid house after paying their respects to the family earlier that day, Anthony had taken her hand, squeezed it, his eyes glassy and said, "I’ll be there tonight."

All of her wanted nothing more than to hold him. Wanted to take his pain. Wanted to be there for him. They’d known each other for two years. She’d met Anthony when she’d accidentally crossed into Kincaid-land without knowing it and he’d suddenly shown up and threatened to boot her off his property.

She’d been thinking he was for real, until she’d seen the joke in his eyes. It was hard to explain it, once she’d first stared into those chocolate, amber eyes she’d known everything about him…or that’s how it’d felt.

The past two years they’d gotten closer and closer, riding together, then just hanging out. Often she would watch him play the piano. She loved him. Fiercely. The past year they’d been there a lot with his mother, someone who Cassidy could say she loved, too.

If Cassidy would have had a mother, she would have wanted her to be like Ellen Kincaid—pure kindness. They’d played board games and eaten snacks with her all year as she’d battled the cancer. Ellen had insisted on bringing a dance instructor in and Cassidy had been Anthony’s partner. Once again, Cassidy’s heart clutched and she wondered if Anthony would come tonight.

Of course, she wouldn’t be mad at him for not coming. It was just what they did on Friday nights—sat in the makeshift tree house that had been on the property when her father had bought the place. Usually, they would watch a show together on his phone or talk. Sometimes they would hold hands, but they’d never kissed before. Not because she hadn’t thought about it.

For a few months now she’d been obsessed with kissing him. What would it feel like? He had a baby face other than just a thin line of facial hair growing in. She’d wanted to touch his face, but never had. She told him all the stories rolling around inside her head that she wanted to write down. He’d been the first person she’d ever considered calling a best friend.

Her father had moved her…a lot. Cassidy had never been close to many people, just books. Anthony only seemed to have a couple of football friends and his brother, Kade.

Kade had been kind to her, but at times offish. Anthony told her that Kade was taking the fact their mother was dying hard, who wouldn’t? Kade felt more pressure from his father. Again, as the older brother, who wouldn’t? Still, there seemed to be something else that she couldn’t put her finger on.

A week ago her father had mentioned it was time to move again, and they’d gotten into a huge fight. She hated moving. He’d agreed they could stay until after the fall formal that Anthony had already asked her to. She was still mad about it enough that she’d slept in the tree house on the sleeping bag she kept out here. When she’d woken in the morning, Anthony had been there…staring at her. It would have been creepy, except the look on his face was like sunshine. "You didn’t answer your texts,” he’d said.

Immediately, she’d gotten up, smoothed her hair and climbed out of the tree house. "I left my phone in my room when I rushed out," she’d told him, halfway embarrassed she hadn’t brushed her teeth or anything. Not too embarrassed, though. Not with Anthony.

It was the first time he’d told her, "I’m glad you’re fighting to stay. I want you to stay.”

At that moment, she had fallen in love with him. Maybe it was stupid, silly, and right out of a book, but she didn’t care.

Now here she sat, outside of that very tree house, with her flashlight and her book, waiting. She would wait. So what if he was late? She would wait. If he didn’t come, he didn’t come, she told herself trying to focus on the story.

Cassidy loved stories that had a strong love triangle in them. Anthony unceasingly made fun of her over this, telling her it was evident she wanted two guys fighting over her. She wanted to tell him…I just want you.

How could she do that? They hadn’t even kissed yet.

Nervous butterflies thrummed into her gut. Guilt assaulted her. She shouldn’t be thinking of kissing him tonight. Not tonight. He’d been at his mother’s funeral.

Cassidy’s mother had died in childbirth, so she had no idea how hard it would be to have someone as wonderful as Ellen and then lose her. She could only imagine.

She stared at the pages of text she’d just read in her book, without really reading them. Her mind was still spinning and she checked her phone. Anthony was forty minutes late now.

Nothing.

Unease rippled through her. Should she text him? She didn’t want to wake him if he had fallen asleep exhausted. She imagined him doing a face dive into his bed after all the company and sleeping to oblivion. How many times had she done exactly that after moving to a new place?

That was the closest thing to dying she could imagine—knowing no one. Not having anyone.

She heard the sound of a horse and then…he was there. Still in black pants and a white shirt, but his tie and suit coat were gone. Still glassy eyed, she noted in the moonlight.

Before she knew it the book tumbled from her fingers as she stood. Then he was there, in front of her, looking raw and vulnerable and dangerous.

He hesitated, sucking in a breath.

Carefully, like she would approach one of her father’s new horses, she reached out, softly putting a hand on Anthony’s face. “Hey, Boss,” she said softly. It was the nickname she’d given him since he’d tried to kick her off the property.

His body tensed and he closed his eyes for a moment before flashing them open and taking her hand. “Hey, Poe.” She’d forced him to listen to Edgar Allan Poe poems and the name had stuck.

Anthony’s eyes moved to her lips, then back to her eyes. He leaned in, seeming to question if he could kiss her.

Not waiting, she leaned forward, meeting him in the middle.

Their lips touched and everything exploded inside of her, like tender butterfly wings, her heart raced and she knew she would never be the same.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her into him. "Cassidy,” he murmured through the kisses, soft and light.

Pulling back she said, “We shouldn’t…I shouldn’t kiss you tonight.”

Gently, he took her chin in his hand and traced her lips with his thumb. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you.” Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her again.

She let him, giving in to him.

He pulled back, his desperate eyes met hers, and a tear trickled down his cheek. “She’s gone, Cassidy, she’s really gone,” he sobbed. Pulling himself closer to her, his pain radiated out, penetrating her heart. At this moment she knew…she would never let him go.

She wanted to hold on to him forever.