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PROLOGUE
ELLIOT, NOW
I’ve never experienced pain like this.
It hurts.
It’s unimaginable.
I’m no stranger to pain and the cruel reality of life—loss, neglect, violence, loneliness.
But this? This is different.
This is a crippling, emotional pain that came in swiftly, unforeseen and unwelcome, and it rendered me helpless. The future we envisioned, chased, fought for, and built: all gone in one moment. Gone.
As my mind desperately struggles to clear and comprehend, my eyes see her broken and frail body in front of me. I see the confusion and distress on her face. But I still see her. I see my best friend, my lover, my constant light in the seemingly unending darkness of my life.
But she doesn’t see me. Not anymore.
ONE
MADELINE, THEN (7 YEARS EARLIER)
Unbelievable.
“Is that who I think it is?” My best friend mutters to me. I do my best to control my face, which often betrays me by expressing emotions I don’t want displayed.
Yes. It sure is. I thought. My mouth opens before I close it again quickly. I feel my face pinch in annoyance. I can’t even form words to verbalize my thoughts, let alone form coherent thoughts!
I can’t catch a break. Looking at his face before turning away, I am instantly flooded with memories of anger, embarrassment, and annoyance. My skin prickles with heat as I think of the many times I left his presence feeling angry, defeated, and small.
Studying the wood grain on the floor, I make a point to keep my head down as the bane of my existence slowly saunters into the large and spacious hall. The only shapes I can find in the grain are scowls and menacing eyes. Fitting.
“I thought he was going to school out of state?” Ana whispers. Her dark sculpted brows pull in together as she scans my face, looking to see how I am going to react.
“Apparently not,” I spit out. I bring my hands to my face and try to scrub away my tense and irritated feelings about seeing this man again. Ana swats my hands down.
“Stop. It’s fine. You’re going to be okay.” Ana moves from my side to stand directly in front of me. I know that she does this to help provide a barrier between me and him. A physical reminder that I’m okay. My best friend, who knows me too well, is trying to get my mind and focus clear before the panic attack she must be sensing comes in full force. My attention is pulled away from my anxiety as I look around at everyone greeting each other with easy smiles, excitement evident in their postures and voices. They are all oblivious to my rising blood pressure. I came into this ‘freshmen welcome gathering’ in high spirits and with good expectations. I had already introduced myself to several other freshmen, and I was ready to finally begin this new chapter.
Until I saw him and his stupid handsome face. I hate that I find him handsome. Honestly, it is hard not to with his perfectly messy dark brown hair that had the perfect amount of curl and his smoldering dark eyes that always look at me with hatred. Stupid, perfectly symmetrical face and sharp jawline. Gross. He hasn’t changed in the three months since I’ve seen him. Not that I expected him to. If anything, those dark and angry eyes seem even darker and angrier.
Either he purposefully pays no attention to Ana and me, or he doesn’t realize that we are there yet. There are quite a few others here from our senior class back home. That isn’t too surprising since our hometown is only about 45 minutes from here.
Home is Penbrooke, New Jersey. Close enough to enjoy the action of New York City if you want to make the drive, but far away enough to live with hills and grass and trees. And silence. Ana and I are starting our freshman year at St. James University in the great state of New Jersey, along with several other Penbrooke High School graduates.
I’ve known Ana Reyes since the second grade. She moved to New Jersey with her family from Puerto Rico and I instantly made her my best friend. Not only was she the cool and beautiful new girl, but I had never heard a language other than English and I was so captivated by the magical words that came out of Ana's mouth. I instantly decided Spanish was so much cooler than English and I wanted her to teach me all the words she could. Having never been outside of the U.S., I wanted to learn more about her, her family, and her culture. I’ll never forget the first time I went over to her house and her mother was making pasteles, a traditional Puerto Rican meal made with plantains and banana leaves. I was so enthralled by the process that I made her mother promise to tell me when she was going to make them next time so I could go over and help.
Over the years of our friendship, she and her family taught me enough Spanish that I learned how to carry conversations with most of her family, as long as they spoke slowly enough.
I don’t think I gave Ana much of a choice in being my friend, but she never seemed to mind.
Ana squeezes my arm, bringing me back to reality. I decide to be brave and look up. We are both grown-ups and college students now. We don’t need to carry the petty high school drama into college, right? When I look up, I find myself meeting the most familiar but irritating brown eyes I've ever seen. I can see his jaw clench and eyes narrow as they focus on me from across the room. He doesn’t look surprised, but he does look pissed. Awesome.
I narrow my eyes and glare back before turning away, raising my chin and straightening my back. “Well, whatever. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still going to freakin’ crush it here!”
“Hell yes! That is the kind of attitude we are going for!” Ana squeezes my arm and steers us toward another group of girls talking by the refreshments table. We make pleasant small talk for the next 20 minutes before the university president begins speaking. I barely hear a word the older woman is saying because I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glance over in his direction and find him glaring at me. At least he’s consistent. I flash an overly saccharine smile in his direction before turning my head back to the front of the room.
He’s not going to take my joy. He’s not going to take my joy. I repeat these words in my head over and over until I believe them.
