RUNWITHME

FightForYou

BookOne

JessieEvansw/a

LiliValente

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RobinLeoneEditorial.

AbouttheBook

RunWithMe

Warning:Aredhot,gut-wrenching,rip-your-heartoutreadfeaturinganalphamale
whoknowswhatlovereallymeans.

Whenyou’regoingthroughhell…Run.

WhenImetSamanthaCollins,Iwasajuveniledelinquentontheroadtobeingaviolent
pieceofshitliketherestofthemeninmyfamily.ButfallingforSamchangedallthat.

LovingSamiswhatI’mgoodat,whatI’mmadefor.Nothingmattersthewayshematters.

Sowhenshewantstorunawaywithmeforthesummer,Idon’thesitate.Whowouldn’t
wanttospendthreemonthsonasexyadventurewithhisfavoriteperson?

Butsoonithitsme—Samisn’trunningawaywithme.She’srunningfromsomethingelse,
somethingdarkanduglythatwillripourworldapart.

CLIFFHANGERALERT:RunWithMeisafull-lengthnovelof54,000wordsthatends
inacliffhanger.FightforYou,BookTwo,theconclusiontoDannyandSam’sstory,is
availablenow.

ChapterOne

PresentDay

Samantha

“Andthustheheartwillbreak,

yetbrokenlyliveon.”

-LordByron

We’renotgoingtomakeit.

We’renotgoingtofuckingmakeit.

IpacebackandforthacrossthefloweredcarpetinfrontofGate11B,fightingtheurgeto

screamastheminutestickbyandtheCroatiabasedflightcrewtakestheirsweettime
gettingthedoorstotheJetwayopen.Dannyislessthanfiftyfeetaway,buthemightas
wellbeattenthousandfeet.Ican’tgettohim,hecan’tgetout,andwe’reaboutten
minutesfrommissingourlastchancetogetoutofMauibeforeit’stoolate.

TheplanetoAuckland,NewZealandleavesintwenty-fiveminutes.They’vealmost

finishedboarding.EverytimemypacingtakesmeclosertoGate7,Icanseethelineof
peopleshufflingpasttheflightattendantdwindling.

Twelvepeople…nine…seven…

Isqueezemyfingersintoafistandpressithardtomylips,afraidImightactually

screaminthemiddleoftheinternationalterminalifIdon’t.

PanicdumpsintomybloodstreamandforamomentallIcanhearisthebloodrushingin

myearsandthedesperatethudthudthudofmyheartthrashinginmychest.Myribs
contract,mylungsseizeup,andtheurgetorunbecomesalmostunbearable.

DadandPenelopethinkI’mjustpickingupDannyattheairport,butifAleccallswhile

I’mgonetheymightstarttosuspectsomething.Iftheytakeasecondtoglanceinmy
closet,they’llknowI’vepackedforanepicjourney,notaforty-minutedrivetoKahului.
Theycouldcomelookingforme,forcemetogohomewiththemtonight,andputmeona
planebacktoCaliforniatomorrow.

Mystepbrother’sfuturehangsinthebalance.Pennyneverbelievedhewasguiltyand

she’lldoanythingtoproveit,evenfeedmetothewolves.Pennylovesme,butnotas
muchasshelovesherson.Notevensevenyearsofbeingthebestandbrightestblended

familyontheislandcanchangethat.

Iglanceatmywatch.It’sthreethirtyinLosAngeles.Twohourspastmyone-thirty

appointmenttimewithDetectiveSpanuth.I’mbettingAlecknowsI’vemisseditbynow,
andIknowhewasn’tkiddingwhenhesaidhe’dtellourparentsthetruthifIdidn’tcome
cleanaboutthesubpoenaandeverythingelse.

Idon’tthinkhe’scalledhismomyet,butit’sonlyamatteroftime.Heneededmeto

keepthatmeeting,andproveheisn’tresponsibleforwhathappenedtoDeidreJones.If
thepolicebelievemyversionofevents,Alec’sbuddiesmightstillgotojail,butAlec
believesunveilingmysecretisgoingtomakeeverythingallright.Hethinks,oncethe
beansarespilled,thelawyerswillbeabletoprovethiswasallsomebig
misunderstanding,andtheboysareblameless.

I’mtheonewhostartedtherumor,afterall.I’mtheonewhohurtthatgirl.

Innocentgirl,whoseonlysinwaslookingtoomuchlikeme.

Iclosemyeyes,swallowhardagainstthenauseamakingmystomachheave,andforce

Deidre’sfacefrommymind.IfIcouldgobackintimeandtakeitback,I’dliketobelieve
Iwould.I’dliketobelieveI’ddotherightthing,butifIlookdeepintomyheart…

Myheart….

I’mnotsureIhaveaheartanymore.Itfeelslikethere’snothingatthecoreofmeexcept

fear,pain,andhate.IhateAlecandhisfriendsandIhatemyself.Andwhenapersonis
thisfullofhate,maybethere’snoroomforanythingelse.

WhenIbookedthistriplatelastnight—hidingunderthecoversinmyroomlikeIwasa

tenyearoldreadingafterlightsout—IwascertainallIneededwasdistancetomake
everythingallright.JustdistanceandDanny,andIcouldbethepersonIusedtobe.I
couldputthepastfivemonthsbehindmeandmoveon.

Iamrottingfromtheinside,hangingontomysanitybyafrayingthread,andsosadit

feelslikeI’llneversmilearealsmileagain,butDannyalwaysknowswhattosaytotalk
mebackfromtheedge.Inhisarms,withhislovewrappedaroundme,mufflingthechaos
oftheworld,IwassureI’dbeabletofeelgoodagain.Oratleastokay.

ButmaybeIwaswrong.MaybethistimeI’mtoobrokenforanyonetoputthepieces

backtogetheragain.

NosooneristhethoughtthroughmyheadthanthedoortotheJetwayopens.Two

businessmeninrumpledsuitsarethefirstout,thenafamilywithalittlegirlasleepinher
father’sarms.Dannyisrightbehindthem,hisfamiliaroverstuffedNorthFacebackpack
danglingfromonehand.

Hislong,darkblondhairispulledbackinatangledponytail,hisgreeneyeslookbruised

fromlackofsleep,andhehashispatchy,goldenversionoffiveo’clockshadow,butI’ve
neverseenanyonemorebeautifulthanheistomeatthismoment.Thesecondoureyes
meetandhesmilesthatcrookedgrin,Iknowit’snottoolate.It’snottoolateforme,and
it’snottoolateforDannyandmetohavethefreshstartI’vebeenprayingforsinceIwoke
upNewYear’sDay.

Istilllovehim.Ilovehimsomuchthat,bythetimehecrossesthecarpetinthreelong

stepsandscoopsmeupinonestrongarm,tearsofreliefarestreamingdownmyface.

“ThankGod,”Imumbleagainsthisneck.Hesmellssogood.Sosafe.

“Damn,I’mgladyou’rehere.I’vemissedyousomuch,”hewhispersintomyhair,

huggingmesotightmyfeetleavethefloorandmybreastsflattenagainsthisthickly
muscledchest.

Bythetimewewereseventeen,Dannyhadfiveinchesonme,butit’sonlyinthepast

twoyearsthathe’sbecomethekindofmanwhosechestturnsheadswhenwewalkdown
thebeach.IfsomeonehadtoldmewhenIwasthirteenandstillcapableofpinningDanny
tothesandwhenwewrestledthatonedayhewouldhavefiftypoundsofpuremuscleon
me,Iwouldhavelaughed.

Whenwefirststarteddating,DannyandIwerebothfive-threeandIoutweighedhimby

tenpounds,nomatterhowvehementlyheinsistedheweighedinatoneforty.Hewasthe
runtofourjuniorhighschool,evenshorterandskinnierthanthetwogeniuskidswho’d
skippedagrade.

Butheisn’taruntanymore.Workingasanextreme-sportstourguidehasmadehim

strong,strongenoughtoholdmeinonearmandhisgiantbackpackintheother.
Hopefully,strongenoughtoslaythedemonsthathavekeptmeawakeforforty-eight
hoursasIranfromthenightmaremylifeinLosAngeleshasbecome.Ifwecanjustget
onthatplaneandonourwaytotheoppositehemisphere,everythingmightstillbeall
right.

“Comeon,”Isay,pressingaswiftkisstohisscruffycheekbeforepushingonhischest.

“We’vegottohurry,orwe’llmissourflight.”

Hiseyebrowsliftashesetsmedown.“Wherearewegoing?”

“NewZealand.”Itakehishandandpullhimtowardthegate,feelinglikemyheartis

goingtoexplodewithreliefwhenIseethedoortotheJetwaystillopen.“I’vebooked
roomsforourfirstfourdays,”Isayovermyshoulder.“Afterthat,we’llseewherethe
adventuretakesus.”

“Ithoughtwehadtowaituntilafteryougraduated,”Dannysays,evenashepicksuphis

pace,hurryingtowardGate7besideme.“Didyourdadchangehismind?”

“No,Ichangedmymind,”Isay.“IhavesomesavingsandIdecideditwaspasttimeto

useit.”

“Sam,wait.”Dannyslowsandhishandsquirmsfreeofmine.“Ican’tletyoudothis.

Theticketsmusthavecostthousandsofdollars,andItoldyou,I’mcashpooruntilthe
business—”

“Idon’tcare,”Isay,snatchinghishandandholdingontight.“Youcanpaymeback

later.Ornever,Idon’tcare.Ijustneedtodothis.Now.Withyou.”

“Why?”Histiredeyesnarrowashesearchesmyface.“What’sgoingonSam?Why

haven’tyoureturnedmycalls?Iswear,Iwasstartingtothink…”

“Thinkingisoverrated,”Isay,throattighteningaspanicthreatenstotakeoveragain.We

havetogetonthatplane.Onlywhenwe’restrappedintoourseatsinrowtwenty-twowill
Ifinallybeabletotakeabreathwithoutfeelinglikeitmightbemylast.

“Idon’tknow,”Dannysays,hurtclearinhisvoice.“Iknewyouwereokaybecauseyour

dadsaidhe’dtalkedtoyou,butI—”

“I’msosorry.”IcuthimoffbeforehecansaywhatIknowhe’sthinking.Ican’tstandto

hearhimsayhethoughtIwasgoingtoendit,orthinkabouthowcloseIcametotelling
himIneverwantedtoseehimagain.“Ishouldhaveansweredthephone,I’vejustbeen…
reallyupset.”

“IthoughtIwasthepersonyoutalkedtowhenyouwereupset,”hesays,thefurrow

betweenhisbrowsdeepening.“Orhassomethingchanged?”

“Nothing’schanged,”Ilie,forcingabrittlesmile.

Ireachup,smoothingawaythelinebetweenhisbrowsthewayIalwaysdo,eventhat

simpletouchremindingmethatweareus.WeareSamandDannyandtogetherwe’re
biggerandstrongerthananythingchasingme.

Wehavetobe,orI’veemptiedmysavingsandflushedmyfuturedownthetoiletfor

nothing.

“I’vebeendoingalotofhardthinking,”Icontinue,holdinghistroubledgaze.“About

collegeandmyfamilyandallthecompromisesI’vemadesothatotherpeoplecanbe
happy…”

Iswallowpastthelumprisinginmythroat.“I’mjustsotiredofit.I’mtiredofwaiting

formylifetostart.That’swhyIwanttogoonthistrip.Withyou,myfavoriteperson.”

Hesighs,“Sam,youknowI’vebeendyingto—”

“PassengersSamanthaCollinsandDanielCooney.”Thefemalevoiceonthe

loudspeakerturnsthemiddleofDanny’slastnameintoan“ew”sound,makinghimraise
aneyebrow.“Pleasereporttogatesevenforimmediateboarding,thedoorsareaboutto
close.”

“Please!”IcaptureDanny’shandinbothofmineandsqueeze.“Please,justgetonthis

planewithme.Wecantalkaboutanythingyouwantoncewe’reonboard.We’llhaveten
hoursintheairtocatchuponeverythingwe’vemissedsinceChristmas.”

TheskinaroundDanny’seyesrelaxes,buttheuncertaintyinthemremains.“Idon’t

know,Sam.Doyoureallythinkthisistherighttime?”

“Yes!Absolutely,yes!”Ifighttokeepthetearsfrommyeyes.IfIstartcryingagain,

Danny’sgoingtoknowsomethingalotmoreseriousthanamissedflightistoblame.

Heknowsmetoowell,somethingIshouldhaveconsideredwhenIputthiscrazyplan

intomotion.Wecanrunhalfwayaroundtheworld,butifIcan’tleavethepastbehind,it
won’tmatterhowfarIamfromthesceneofthecrime.Dannywillknowsomething’s
wrong,andhe’llgettothetruth,soonerorlater.ThepastfewmonthshaveprovenIcan
holdupunderincredibleamountsofstress,butI’veneverbeenabletoholdupunderthe
gentleweightofhiseyes.

Dannyshakeshishead.“Afterthisweek,andthewayyou’vebeenonthephonethepast

fewmonths…”

Hebiteshislipforamomentbeforepushingon.“Thingsdon’tfeelthesame,andit’s

morethanthetimeordistance.Itfeelslikeyou’rehidingsomethingfromme.”

I’mhidingeverything.

I’mhidingasecretsouglyitcoulddestroyeverydreamwe’vehadsinceweweretoo

youngtorealizehowluckyweweretohavefoundeachother.

Orhowharditwouldbetokeeplovealiveinaworldlikethisone.

Aloud,Isay,“Wedon’thavetimefortheNoBullshitgame,butIpromiseyou,ifyou

getonthatplane,youwon’tbesorry.I’llmakeyourememberwhyyoufellinlovewith
me,Danny,Ipromise.”

“Youdon’thavetoremindme.”Hereachesoutwithbothhands,squeezingmyarms

belowthecappedsleevesofmygrayteeshirt.“Istillloveyousomuch.”Hepullsina
roughbreathandcontinuesinasoftervoice,“Ijustneedtoknowyoustillloveme.”

“Ido.”Ifightthetearspushingatthebacksofmyeyes.“AndIdon’twanttoloseyou,

okay?Ican’tloseyou.”

“You’renotgoingtoloseme,”hesays.“Comeon,Sam.Youknowme.I’mwithyou.

Forkeeps.”

“Thencomewithme.”Icuphisscruffycheeksandstandontiptoe,bringingourfaces

closertogether.“Let’shavethatadventurewe’vebeendreamingaboutforever.”

Beforehecanrespond,Ipressmylipstohis.

It’sourfirstkisssinceChristmas,andmyfirstkisssincemylifestartedfallingapart.I

don’texpecttofeelanything—I’msodesperatetogetontheplaneI’mcertainthere’sno
roomonmyneuralpathwaysforanythingbutpanic—butthemomenthiswarmlipsbrush
mine,somethingdeepinsidemeflutters.

Nearlyforgottenwingsbeat,sendingdustpuffingintotheair,remindingmethatthereis

stilllifeinthelockedroomsofmyheart.Partsofmehavebeencoveredwithblanketsand
secretedaway,buttheyhaven’tbeendestroyed.WithDanny’shelp,theremightbehope
formeyet,andeventhepossibilityofhopeisenoughtomakemegetdownonmyknees
andbeghimtorunawaywithmeifthat’stheonlywaytoconvincehim.

Butthankfully,itseemsakiss—andhearingournamescalledovertheloudspeaker

again,thistimeaccompaniedbythewarningthatthiswouldbeour“finalcall”—isallit
takestowinDannyover.

“Okay,”hesays,threadinghisfingersthroughmine.“ButI’llprobablyhavetheworld’s

worstcaseofjetlagbythetimewegetthere.”

“It’sokay.”Myheartliftsaswehurrytowardthegate.“Ibookedaroomneartheairport

forourfirstnight.Wecancrashassoonaswegetthere.Justdrawthecurtainsandsleep
fortwenty-fourhoursstraightifweneedto.”

Hegroans.“Thatsoundslikeheaven.Ididn’tsleepatallonthelastflight.Theguynext

tomewassnoringloudenoughtoshaketheentirerowofseats.”

“Youcansleepinmylapifyouwant.”Ihandourticketstotheagentatthegate,asour-

facedwomanwholooksoutofplaceinthecheeryHawaiianAirlinesuniform.“I’mtoo
wiredtosleep.”

“Idon’twanttosleepyet,”Dannysays.“Weshouldtalkfirst.”

“Alltheoverheadbinsarefull,”theagentsays,castingapointedlookatDanny’sgiant

weatheredbackpack,distractingfromtheanxiouslookI’msurejustflickeredacrossmy
face.“You’regoingtohavetocheckthatattheendoftheJetway.”

WhileDannyfillsoutthebrightorangeluggagetagandgetsitstrappedtohispack,I

givemyselfamentalpeptalkworthyofmytoughestvolleyballcoachbackinhighschool.
It’stimetoleavealltheshitinthelockerroomandgetoutontothecourt.

IfIcarrymymiseryandpainontotheplane,I’mgoingtoruinmynewlifebeforeitgets

started.There’snoroomforthatjunkinmyheadanymore.I’mgoingtoleaveitright
here,atthedoortotheJetway,apileofpsychicwasteI’mbetteroffwithout.Regretisn’t
goingtochangethepast,andIcan’tsurviveformuchlongercarryingtheweightoftwo
ruinedlivesonmyshoulders.

Itmaymakemeabadpersonorasociopathorsomethingworse,butI’mofficially

erasingthepastfivemonths—andanyoneoranythingthatremindsmeofthem—frommy
timeline.Fromhereonout,it’sDannyandmeagainsttheworldandIwilldowhateverI
havetodotoprotectoursecondchance.

Ourlastchance,becauseifthisfails,Iknowtherewon’tbeenoughofmelefttotry

again.

“Ready?”Dannyshouldershispackandturnstomewithasmile.

“Ready.”ItakehishandandfollowhimdowntheJetwaywithoutasinglelookback

overmyshoulder.

I’mleavingthepastbehindandIswearoneverythinggoodintheworldthatIwill

never,everlookback.

ChapterTwo

Danny

“Yougavemethekeytoyourheart,mylove,

thenwhydidyoumakemeknock?”

-LordByron

I’mdeterminedtostayawakeandkeeptalkingtoSamuntilIcangettothebottomof

whatever’sbeengoingon,butbythetimetheplanereachescruisingaltitude,myeyelids
feellikethey’remadeofgraniteslabs.TheweekbeforeIleftCroatia,Iledthreemountain
biketoursandfourovernightrock-climbingexpeditions,wedginginasmuchworkasI
couldbeforeIheadedtoMauitotakeamonthoffbeforeopeninganotherbranchof
ExtremeAdventuresontheisland.

Now,I’mfeelingeveryadrenaline-packedhour.

IcanbarelystayawakelongenoughtowolfdowntheteriyakichickenandHawaiian

shortbreadcookiesonmydinnertrayandthenI’mout,suckedintomyfirstdeep,peaceful
sleepsinceSamstoppedreturningmycallssixdaysago.

Nomatterhowlongwe’vebeentogether,orhowmuchwe’vebeenthrough,apartofme

hadbeencertainshewasabouttoendit.Endourseven-yearrelationshipandtakea
sledgehammertomylifeintheprocessbecauseIcan’timaginewhoIwouldbewithout
her.

I’mtheownerofathrivingadventure-tourismbusiness,butonlybecauseit’sacareerI

knewwouldblendwellwithourdreamtotraveltheworldbeforewesettledown.I’ma
brother,anuncle,andsoon-to-beanuncleagainwhenmysisterCaitlin’sfirstbabyis
born,butnomatterhowmuchIlovemyfamily,theycouldneverfilltheplaceSamholds
inmyheart.

SamandIhavegrownuptogether,andallIwantistogrowoldwithher.We’relike

treesplantedtooclose,ourrootstangledandourtrunksfusedtogether.IfIlosther,I
wouldlosemyfoundation,apartofmyheart,andeverythingthatmakesmehappy.
Withouther,Ican’timaginewhattherewouldbetolookforwardto.Therewouldbeno
reasonlefttodream,andwithoutadreamthere’snofuckingpointinbeingalive.

Watchingmyfatherpisshislifeawaytaughtmethatlessonearly.

TheworldwouldhavebeenbetteroffwithoutChuckCooneyinit,andIneverwantto

beanythinglikehim.That’swhyI’vebeensoberfortwoyearsandfightthrough
temptationeverytimesomeone,whodoesn’tknowI’manalcoholic,offersmeadrink.
ButifI’dlostSam,Imighthavestartedshufflingthroughlifeinmyfather’sfootsteps,
drinkingtoomuch,caringtoolittle,choosingselfishoblivionoverfacingtheworld.

TosayI’mrelievedthatSamandIarestilltogetherisanunderstatement.

IfeellikeI’vesurfedpastasharklurkingbeneaththewaterandescapedwithallmy

limbsintact,andwhenIwakeuptothehummingsilenceofadarkenedplaneandfeel
Samcaressingmethroughmyfadedkhakishorts,theblissofherfingersgrippingme
throughmyclothesisenoughtomakemedizzy.

“Whattimeisit?”Iask,myvoiceroughwithsleepasIshifttowardher,grantingher

easieraccess.

“Themiddleofthenight,”Samwhispers,herfulllipsmovingintheshadows.“You’ve

beenoutforhours.Iwasgettinglonely.”

“Sorry.”Iscantheaislesacrossfromus.

Everyoneinmylineofsightispassedoutandsnoring,andthat’sallthepermissionI

needtoreachundertheblanketcoveringSam’slapandreturnthefavor.

Islidemyfingersupanddowntheridgeofherjeans,lingeringoverherclit,wishingshe

werewearingoneofhersundresses.Itwouldbesoeasytopushthefabricup,pullher
pantiestooneside,andgetmyfingersinsideher.It’sbeenalmosthalfayearsincewe’ve
beentogether,andI’mdyingtotouchher,tasteher,feelherbodygrippingmycockasher
muscledlegswraparoundmywaistandpullmedeep.

“It’sokay.”Sam’sbreathhitchesasIpopthebuttononthetopofherjeans.“You’re

awakenow.”

“Wideawake,”Iconfirm,teethdiggingintomylipasSamdragsmyzipperdownand

reachesinsidemyboxershorts,takingmycockintoherhand.

Shewrapsherfingersaroundmeandslidesherfistupanddown,tuggingmewiththe

perfectamountofpressurebeforeshepausestocircleherthumbaroundmyswollenhead,
spreadingthecumleakingfrommytipinteasingcirclesthatarealmostenoughtosetme
off.Herpalmiswarm,butmydickisonfire.I’vejerkedoffmorethanmyfairsharethe
pastfewmonths,butit’snotthesame.

IknowI’mgoingtocomefast,butIdon’twanttocomebeforeher.

Evenourfirsttime,thesummerbeforeoursophomoreyearofhighschool,whenIwas

sohornyIfeltlikeIwasgoingtopassoutfromexcitementthenightSamtoldmeshe
wantedtogoalltheway,Imadesuretogodownonherfirst.Ibroughtheroveronmy
tonguebeforeIslidonthecondomwe’dstolenfromhermom’slatestboyfriendand
pushedinsideher.

She’dbeensowet,sotight,andthesoundsshe’dmadeaspainbecamepleasurewerethe

mosteroticthingsI’deverheard.Icanstillremembereverymomentofourfirsttime—all
sixtysecondsofit.TonightI’mgoingtolastlonger,butmaybenotbymuch.

AsSamcontinuestojerkmeoffwiththeskillofawomanwho’sspentyearspleasuring

thesameman,Islidemyhanddownthefrontofherjeans,beneathherpanties,andbegin
todemonstratemyownexpertise.Herjeansaretight,butnotsotightIcan’treachher
entrance.WhenIdo,Icurltwofingersinsideher,fightingtheurgetogroanasher
wetnesscoatsmyskinandherbreathrushesoutovermylips.

“Danny,”shewhispers,herheadfallingforwarduntilherforeheadrestsagainstmine.

It’sonlymyname,butthosetwowhisperedsyllablestellmeathousandthingsatonce.

Theytellmeshe’sasdesperateforthisasIamthatshe’sfeltjustaslostwithoutthis

connection,thistouchstonetowhowearetogether.SamandIhavealwaysbeenableto
talk,buttherearesomethingsthatcan’tbecommunicatedwithwords.Likethefierceand
foreverwayIloveher,likethefactthatI’dfightanarmysingle-handedforthechanceto
liebyhersideforevenonemorenight.

“Iloveyou.”Islidemyfingersinandoutofherwithlong,sensualstrokes,summoning

moreheatfromherbody,lettingmeknowmytouchstillaffectsherthewayitalwayshas.

Wehaven’tlostthis.

We’restillus,andwe’regoingtofindourwaybacktoeachother,thewaywealways

have.

MypulsepicksupandmycockswellsbeneathSam’sincreasinglyfirmgrip,butIignore

thepressurebuildinginmyballsandfocusonpleasuringher.Ishiftmyhanduntilthe
heelofmypalmrubsagainstherclitasmyfingersdrivedeeperinsideher,ignoringthe
crampinmywristandthefaintstirringfromacrosstheaisle.Atthispoint,Idon’tcareif
someone’swatching.IneedSamtocomeonmyhand,IneedherreleaseasmuchasI
needmyown.

More.Iliveforhertouch,butIwoulddieforthechancetowatchherfeaturestwistasI

bringherover,toknowI’mtheoneresponsibleforunravelinghersocompletely.

“Yes,”shewhispers,chestrisingandfallingmoreswiftlyasherbreathcomesfaster.“So

close.”

Thereisjustenoughpalebluelightinthecabinformetoseehernippleshardbeneath

herteeshirtandit’sallIcandonottoreachupandcupherbreastinmyfreehand.I’m
dyingtopinchandteasehernipplesbetweenmyfingers,totakeherinmymouthand
suckherpebbledskin.Butthatwillhavetowaituntilwehavesomethingmorethanatiny
blankettohidebehind.

Fuck…wecan’tgettothathotelfastenough.

Ican’twaittogetSamnakedbeneathme,aboveme,orinanyotherpositionshe’sup

for.

Thepastcoupleofyears,ourlovemakinghasbeenveeringtowardthekinkiersideofthe

spectrum.ItstartedwithhavingsexineverywaterfallonMauitwosummersago,and
endedwithapaddlelastDecember.

SamisoneofthestrongestpeopleIknow,butshealsohas…unexpectedfantasies.When

she’dfirstmentionedwantingtobespankedandtoplaywithtoys—bringingitupina

sexywhisperwhenwewerealreadyhalfnaked—Iwasn’tsureI’dbeintoit.Butbythe
timeIhadSamtippedovermyknee,herbarebottomintheair,andherpussydripping
downherthighsasIreddenedherass,I’dchangedmymind.

Afterthatexperience,I’dbeensoldonkink,andlookingforwardtoallthenewwayswe

wouldfindtogeteachotheroff.

ButthenSam’semailsandtextsgrewshorterandfurtherapart,andwhenwetalkedon

thephoneonSaturdaymorningsshesoundeddistant.Shesaiditwasbecauseofhernew
roommate—heroldroomiewasstudyingabroadforasemester,andthenewgirl,Tate,
wasaneavesdropperandagossip.SamblamedTateforourshorter,lessintimatephone
conversations,andIdidn’thavethecouragetocallbullshitwhenshewasactingsoweird.

Sure,anoseyroommatemeantwecouldn’thavephonesex,butitdidn’tmeanwe

couldn’ttalk.Samcouldhavegonetotheparkoroneofthehikingtrailsnearher
apartmentfortheprivacyweneededtocatchuponourusualnews.Forhertotellme
aboutherclasses,andmetotellherhowfastthebusinesswasgrowing,andhowweirdit
felttohaveemployeesforthefirsttimeinmylife.Instead,ourcatchupsessionsgrew
microscopic,andIstartedtoworryourlastencounterwastoblame.

MaybeSamregrettedwhatwe’ddone.

MaybeI’dscrewedupsevenyearsoflovingeachotherwithonenightofraunchysex.

NomatterhowmuchI’denjoyedit,losingSamwasn’tworththenovelty.I’dratherhave

normal,amazingsexwithherthanallthekinkyshitintheworld.

ButwhenI’dfinallyworkedupthenervetomentionmyconcerns,Samhadrefusedto

talkaboutit.She’dsaidshewasn’tinasafeplacetohavethatkindofconversationand
madeanexcusetogetoffthephoneasfastasshecould.Thattime,shehadn’treturned
mycalls,texts,oremailsforfourdays.Whenshefinallypickedupthephoneagain,Iwas
toogratefultohearhervoicetodoanythingtospookheragain.

Thesexconversationhadbeentabled,butthefearthatoureasyphysicalrelationship

wasdamagedlingered,drivingmecrazyaswinterturnedtospringandSamstillsounded
weirdeverytimesheansweredthephone.

Iwasn’tsureI’devertouchherlikethisagain.Iwasn’tsureI’deverhearherbreath

hitchthewayitdoesrightbeforeshegetsoff.I’msogratefultobewithherI’mpretty
sureIcouldhavelostitjustfromhearingherwhimperandfeelingherhipsbuckintomy
palmasshegoesover.

Thecombinationofherpussypulsingaroundmyfingers,andherhandworkingmycock

isenoughtomakemecomesohardIseestars.

Theblisscoursingthroughmelastsforwhatfeelslikeforever.Ibitemyliptokeepfrom

makingnoise,butassoonasI’msureIcankeepquiet,IleanintoSamandkissherwith
alltheemotionmakingmychestfeellikeit’sabouttoexplode.Islipmytonguebetween
herlips,exploringeveryinchofhersweetmouth.Shetastesthewayshealwaysdoes,like
seaair,cleansweat,andsummertime.Likethebestpartsofbeingakid,thefreestpartsof
beinganadult,andeverythingI’vewantedsincethemomentSamagreedtobemygirl.

Shetastesexactlythesame,butthewaysheendsthekissafteronlyafewmomentsand

tugsatmywristisdifferent.

Strange.

“It’sokay,”Iwhisper,glancingacrosstheaisletofindtheotherpassengersstilldeadto

theworld.“Noone’swatching.”

“Thestewardesscouldbebyanyminute,”shewhispers,hertugsatmywristgrowing

moreinsistent.“Comeon,Danny.Ineedtogetzippedup.”

“Letmehelp.”Islipmyfingersfrombetweenherlegsandreachforherzipperonlyfor

hertobatmyhandawaywithasharpslap.

“Sorry,”shesayswithabreathylaughthatmakesmethinktheslapstartledherasmuch

asitdidme.“I’mjustafraidwe’regoingtogetcaught.I’llruntotherestroomforsome
tissuesforyou.Berightback.”

BeforeIcantellhertostay,thatIhavenapkinsleftoverfromdinnershovedintotheseat

pocketinfrontofme,she’sslippedoutintotheaisleandishaulingasstowardthe
bathroomsatthebackofcoach.She’stheonewhostartedthis,andIknowsheenjoyedit
asmuchIdid,butitfeelslikeshe’srunningawayfromme.

Nomatterhowphysicallyclosewewereamomentago,thatemotionaldistanceisstill

there,andIdon’tknowhowtomakeitgoaway.Evenwhenshegetsbackandasksina
sexywhisperifthismeanswe’vejoinedthemilehighclub,it’shardtoplayalong.Isay
therightwords,insistingwedeserveallbraggingrights,butthere’snothinglighthearted
aboutthewayI’mfeeling.I’veknownSamtoolongandtoowelltobefooledbyher
attemptstomusclethroughthestrainedmomentbeforesheboltedforthebathroom.

Somethingiswrong.Something’sbeenwrongsinceJanuaryandifit’snotherandme,

orthatlastnightbeforeshelefttheislandinDecember,thenithastobesomethingelse.

SomethingorsomeonehasrattledSamsobadlythatshe’sletourrelationship—theone

thingshepromisedshewouldfighttoprotect,nomatterhowbusyourlives,orhowgreat
thephysicaldistancebetweenus—suffer.

AndI’mgoingtofindoutwhatorwhothatis.

AndthenI’mgoingtokicktheirfuckingass.

NoonehurtsSamandgetsawaywithit.Noone.

ChapterThree

SevenYearsEarlier

Danny

“Andbothwereyoung,

andonewasbeautiful.”

-LordByron

It’srainingontheapproachtoMaui,andthecaptainwarnsustokeepourseatbelts

fastenedandallourbelongingssafelystowed.It’sonlymythirdtimeonanairplane,and
aswelurchtowardtherunway,theplanestutteringupanddownlikeanEKGmonitor,
I’mcertainI’mgoingtodie.

I’mgoingtodie,andI’llnevergettotellSamthatIloveher.

ThatIwillalwaysloveher,fortherestofmylife.

I’monlythirteenyearsold,andnoonebelievesI’mreallyinlove,butI’mnotsome

dumblittlekid.I’vebeenhelpingmybigsister,Caitlin,raisemyyoungerbrothersand
babyniecesinceIwasnine.Iwasmakingbreakfastformyfamilywhenmostkidswere
stillgettingtheirpancakescutupbytheirmomordadandgivingCaitlingrocerymoney
frommyoddjobsaroundtheneighborhoodwhilemyfriendsatschoolbitchedaboutnot
havingenoughallowancetobuyvideogames.

Iknowwhatitfeelsliketoshoulderbigresponsibility,butuntilSam,Ineverwantedany

ofit.Ihelpedoutandpitchedin,butdeepdown,allIwantedwastogrowup,getout,and
neverhavelivesdependingonme—evenalittlebit—everagain.

AndthenImetSam.

Sam,withherwild,curlybrownhair,alivingthingthatfollowsherheadaroundlikea

crazypet.Sam,withhersharpblueeyesthatmakemystomachflipeverytimeshelooks
atme.Sam,whorocksaskateboardlikeit’sherjob,nevercrieswhensheshredsherskin
onafall,anddidn’tmakefunofmeasingletimewhenshewasteachingmehowtosurf,
evenwhenIwipedoutforthetenthousandthtime.

Sam,wholetmekissherforthefirsttimerightbeforeweleftformydad’sfuneral.

It’sallI’vebeenabletothinkaboutfortendays.IguessIshouldbetornupaboutmy

dad,butitstilldoesn’tseemreal,andIdon’twanttothinkaboutit.Idon’twanttothink

aboutthefactthatIbasicallyhavenoparents,notevenshittyparents,andthatCaitlin,
withallthecrazystuffgoingoninherlife,istheonlythingstandingbetweenmeanda
fosterhome.I’dratherthinkaboutthewaySam’slipsfeltsowarmandsoftagainstmine,
thewayshetastedlikesunscreenandsaltwater,butmorethanthat,too.Shetastedlike
freedomandsecrets,likeapromisesomeonefinallykeptinsteadofrunningoffandletting
medown.

KissingSamwaseverythingthemoviesmakeakissouttobe—magicandlightsdancing

behindmyeyesandmybloodrushingsofastIthoughtIwasgoingtopassout.Ialready
lovedherlikeabestfriend,butthesecondIkissedher,itbecamesomuchmore.

I’veneverlovedanyonelikeIloveSam.Iwoulddoanythingforher.Iwanttomakeher

happyandkeephersafeandIwishlikehellIwasn’tstilljustakid.

Idon’twanttosaygoodbye,eventhoughIknowmovingistheonlywayCaitlincan

keepourfamilytogether.ButIwishIwereoldenoughtostayinMaui.Theentireplane
flightfromSouthCarolina,I’vebeendaydreamingaboutusfixinguptheoldabandoned
lifeguardlookoutonthebeachandlivingtherewithSam.Aboutwhatitwouldbeliketo
comehometoaplacethatwasjustmineandhers,nobodyelse’s,wherenoonecouldhurt
usbecauseitwouldbeherandmeagainsttheworld.

Butnowtheplaneisgoingdown,andI’mgoingtogetcrushedintothetarmaclikeabug

onawindshield,andI’llneverseeSamagain.

Iswallowhard,butIcan’tseemtoforcemyspitdownmythroat,andthenexttimethe

planelurches,mychickendinnerpushesagainstthetopofmystomach,fightingtoget
out.

“It’sokay,D.”Sherry,Caitlin’sbestfriend,squeezesmyhand.“We’llgetdownsafe.”

“Yeah,Iknow.”Ipullmyhandawayandcrossmyarms.

IlikeSherry,andI’mgladshewascoolenoughtoletmeflybacktoMauiwithherto

saygoodbyetoSam,butIdon’tneedtobetreatedlikeababy.

Iliftmychinandtrytolookboredfortherestoftheflight,butbythetimeweland—

bouncingbackupintotheairtwiceandswervingonthewetlandingstripbeforethepilot
getstheplaneundercontrol—Ihaveredcrescentmoonsonbothpalmsfromwheremy
nailshavebeendiggingintomyskin.IfollowSherryofftheplane,mylegsfeelinglike
rubberbandsthathavelostalltheirstretch,andweheaddowntotheluggageareatoget
thesuitcases.

TheairportinMauiisalmostallopentotheoutside,sothewindfromthedeparting

stormwhipsagainstourskinaswewatchthecarouselspinandwaitforthebagstoget
spitout.Icheckmycelleveryfewminutes,willingthebaggagepeopletohurry.I’m
supposedtomeetSamattheFishMarketRestaurant,wherewegetfriedcalamarionthe
weekends,atfouro’clock,andit’salreadythreethirty.

Afterwhatseemslikeazillionhours,ourbagsfinallyslideoutoftheshoot,andSherry

andIheadtothecurbtolookforherboyfriend,Bjorn.Outsidethesunisshiningagain,
likethestormthatalmostkilleduswasjustadream,andthere’sarainbowstretched
acrosstheskyabovethesugarcanefields.

“Thereheis!”Sherrymakesasquealingsoundandjumpsupanddown,wavinglikean

idiot,asBjorn’soldyellowtruckpullsup.

Whenhegetsout,Bjornhasabig,dumbgrinonhisfacetomatchSherry’s.Itrytostay

cool,butIcan’tkeepfromrollingmyeyeswhentheykiss,makingalltheseloveydovey
sounds,andcooingabouthowmuchtheymissedeachother.

Imaybeinlove,butI’mnevergoingtoactlikethosetwo.

They’retoobarfyforwords.

WeloadupandBjornheadsoutofthecityofKahului,towardthevillageofPaia,where

heandSherrylive,andwhereI’mmeetingSam.BythetimeBjornpullsupinfrontofthe
FishMarket,I’mgettingsweatypalms.SamandIhavetalkedandtextedaton,butI
haven’tseenherintendays.It’sthelongestwe’vebeenapartsincewemet,andacrazy
partofmeisafraidthingsaregoingtobedifferentbetweenus.

ButthenIseeSam’scrazy,curlyhairthroughthewindow,andsheturnstolookoutat

thestreet,likeshecansensethatIjusthoppeddownontothesidewalk.Oureyesmeet,my
stomachflipslikeitalwaysdoes,andit’slikenotimehaspassedatall.

“Behomebyeight,okay?”Sherrysays.“BjornandIwillbelookingforyou.Ipromised

CaitlinI’dbesupertoughaboutcurfew.”

“Yeah,cool,thanks,”Imumble,butIdon’tturntolookatherwhenIwavegoodbye.I

can’tlookawayfromSam.

HerblueeyesaresadderthanI’veeverseenthem,andherskinlookssopaleshemust

nothavebeentothebeachfordays.AllIwanttodoispullherintomyarmsandhugher
tight,butwedon’tdothatkindofthinginpublic—webothhatecoupleslikethat—so
whenIreachhertableIkeepmyhandstomyself.

“Hey,”Isay,slidingintotheseatnexttoher.“Youokay?”

Sheshakesherhead,thenturnstomeandputsherarmsaroundmyneck.

IsighasIhugherclose,relievedthathuggingisokayrightnow.

IcomfortherthebestIcan,pettingherhairandrunningmyhandsingentlecircles

betweenhermuscledshoulders.Samcanbesupergirlywhenshewantstobe,butshe’s
alsooneofthestrongestgirlsIknow.Shehasmusclesallover—stronglegsandarmsand
anintensesix-pack—butshealsohassoftplaces.

Whenhersoftnesspressesagainstmychest,Ican’thelpthewaymybodyresponds.I’m

moreworriedthanturnedon,butSamjust…doesthingstome.Ican’thelpit.Still,it’s
embarrassing,andI’mgladthetableishidingthesituation.

IwanttomakeSamfeelbetter,notletherknowwhatahopelesshorndogIam.

“I’msogladyou’refinallyhere,”shesays,sniffing.“I’vefeltlikeI’mallalone.”

“I’mhere,”Isay.“AndIgettostayforatleastaweek.”

Sampullsinashudderybreath.“Let’snottalkaboutit.Ican’tthinkaboutyoumoving

away,orI’mgoingtocompletelyfreakout.”

“Okay,”Isay,kickingmyselfforbeingsuchanidiot.“Youwanttotalkaboutwhat’sup

withyourmomanddad?”

Sampullsback,swipingatherdampeyeswiththebacksofherhands.“Youmean,the

factthatmydadismovinginwithsomerichladyoldenoughtobehismother?”

Ipullaface.“Wow.Youdidn’ttellmethatbefore.”

“Iknow,”shesays,runningahandthroughherhair,makingitstickupevenmoreinthe

front,wherehercurlsaretightest.“IjustfoundouttodaywhenPenelopecamebytohelp
Dadmovehisthings.Shehadabunchofmakeupon,andthistightdress,butitwas
obviousshewasolder,soIaskedDadaboutit,andhesaidshe’sfifty-two.He’sonly
forty-two!”

“That’stenyears,Sam,”Isay,liftingabrow.“That’snotoldenoughtobehismom.”

“Don’tplaytheNoBullshitgamerightnow,Danny.”Samnarrowshereyesatme,butI

cantellshe’snotreallymad.“Igettobefullofbullshit,becausemydadismovinginwith
anoldrichlady,mymomiscryingallthetime,andmylittlebrotherlockedhimselfinhis
roomandwon’tcomeout.IfIhadn’tbeenthrowingpeanutbuttersandwichesthrough
Erick’swindow,heprobablywouldhavestarvedtodeathbynow.EvenHanais
depressed.Shehasn’tchewedanyshoesforaweek,evenwhenIgotDad’sfavorite
sandalsoutoftheclosetandgavethemtoher.”

“Revengebypuppy,”Isay.“Thatwouldhavebeenprettysweet.”

Samshrugs,butherlipscurve.“Yeah,well.I’msureI’llthinkofotherwaystomake

Dadsuffer.ItriedsmokingacigaretteIbummedfromDevinattheskateparkinfrontof
himtoday,butittastedsogrossIalmostchokedtodeath,so…”

Ilaugh.Ican’thelpit.

“Shutup,”shesays,nudgingmeintheribs.“I’maverybadassperson.Respectmy

badassery.”

Iputmyarmaroundher,sogladshe’scloseenoughtotouch.“Irespectyourbadassery

somuchthatI’mbuyingdinner.Whatdoyouwant?”

“Theusual,”shesays,leaningintome,makingmychestfeeltightandthingslowerin

mybodythreatentostartactingupagain.“Butlet’stakeitdowntothebeach.Idon’twant
tobearoundotherpeople.”

“Soundsgood,”Isay,jumpingupfrommychairbeforeIcanembarrassmyselfagain.

Iplaceourorderandtheyhaveitreadyatthecounterafewminuteslater.SamandItake

ourbagsofcalamari,friedshrimp,andthreeordersofFrenchfriestotheparkdownthe
street,stoppingtogivethehomelessguysbythetrashcansoneofourordersoffries,
becauseSamcan’tstandforpeopletogohungry,andIknowwhatit’sliketogotobed
withoutsupper.

Wesettleinonthegrassnexttothebeachandwatchthewavesdotheirbesttokickthe

sand’sasswhileweeat.Wetalksome,butmostlywe’requiet,thecomfortablekindof
quietthathappenswhenyou’rewithsomeoneyouknowyoucanbeyourselfwith.

Wefinisheating,takealongwalk,andthrowchunksofdeadcoralintothewavesfora

while,buteventuallythesunstartstoset,andIknowIshouldstartheadingtowardBjorn
andSherry’s.I’mabouttotellSamIshouldwalkherhome,whensheturnstomeand
says—

“Let’srunaway.Justyouandme.”

Itakeadeepbreath,tryingtothinkofthebest,smartestthingtosay.Sam’susuallymore

level-headedthanIam,butshe’sinabadplace.Ineedtostepup,andtakemyturnbeing
theresponsibleone.“Wecan’t.Wedon’thaveanymoney,and—”

“Yeswedo,”Samsays,apleadinglookinhereyesthatmakesmeafraidshe’sserious

aboutthis.“I’vegotfivehundreddollarssavedup.WecouldgetflightstoOahu,work
oddjobsuntilwesaveupsomemoney,andthenfindsomeonetomakeusfakeIDs.And
assoonaswe’refakeeighteen,wecangetrealjobs,andanapartmentand—”

“Sam,I—”

“Please,Danny,”shesays,soundinglikeshemightstartcrying.“Don’tmakemego

home.Ihateitthere.IfeellikeI’lldieifIhavetogobackthereandtrytofindawayto
makeMomstopcrying,andgovisitDadandhisnewfamilyontheweekends.Itwillsuck
sohard,andIwon’tevenhaveseeingyoutolookforwardto.”

“Wecantalkeveryday,”Ipromise.“I’llcallallthetime.”

“FromCroatia?”sheasks,doubtinherclearblueeyes.

“Yes.Iswear.”Itakeherhandandsqueezeittight.“Caitlin’sboyfriendiscrazyrich.

I’msurehe’llletmemakeinternationalcalls,andevenifhedoesn’t,I’llfindawaytopay
forcallingcards.IknowhowtomakemyownmoneyandI…”

Ipullinabreathandforcethehardwordsout.“Idon’twantyoutoforgetaboutme.”

“ThencomewithmetoOahu,”shesays,thoughIcantellshe’slosingfaithintheplan.

“Wecouldmakeitwork.Iknowwecould.”

“Ornot,”Isay,pullingherupthebeachasabigwavecrashesintotheshoreandthe

waterrushestowardourplaceonthesand.“Andthenwe’denduplikethoseguyswegive
Frenchfries,exceptwewouldn’tbetwostinkydudeswithgnarlyfeet.We’dbeascrawny
kid,andaprettygirl,and…badthingshappentoprettygirlswhenalltheyhaveisa
scrawnykidtoprotectthem.”

“I’mtough,Danny,”Samargues.“Youknowthat.Andyou’renotscrawny.You’reall

muscle.”

“Yeah,whatever.”Ishruglikeitdoesn’tmatter,butpartofmelovesthefactthatSam

seesmymuscles,notthefactthatI’munderweightformyheight,nomatterhowmuchI
eat.“ButI’mnotasbigasagrownman,andImightnotbeabletoprotectyou,nomatter
howhardI’dtry.Andthatwouldscaretheshitoutofme,”Iconfess,thoughIdon’tlike
coppingtobeingafraid.“Idon’tcarewhathappenstome,butIdon’twanttothinkabout
yougettinghurt.”

Sam’seyessoftenandstarttoshineagain,butshedoesn’tcry.Shejustsqueezesmy

handandstudiesme,whileIstudyher.

Westandthere,staringateachother,notsayingaword,forwhatfeelslikeforever.Our

lipsdon’tmove,butIswearwehaveanentireconversationinthewaywesqueezefingers
andwatcheachother’sfacesturngoldinthesunset.It’sanintensemomentIknowI’ll
neverforget,andbythetimesheleansintokissme,I’mevenmoreinlovethanIwas
before.

Thekissisalittlesexierthanourfirstkiss—thereisahintoftongue,andImanageto

slipmyfreehandintoSam’shair—butit’ssweeter,too.

It’sthesweetest,mostamazingmomentofmylifesofar,andwhenwecomeupforair,I

can’tkeepfromconfessing—

“Iloveyou,Sam.”Mythroatistightandthewordsfeelscary,butgood,too.Right.

ShesmilesherbiggestSamsmile,theonethat’ssowideandfullofteethoneofher

meanergirlfriendsnicknamedherSamtheShark,butIlovethatsmile.Iloveitbecauseit
meansthatmybestfriendishappy.

“Iloveyou,too,”shesaysandkissesmeagain.

Wekissforanothertenminutes—oranotherhundred,Idon’tknow—Ionlyknowthat

it’sovertoosoon.IfeellikeIcouldkissSamforever,andnevergettiredofit.

Butit’spasttimetogo,sowestartbacktotown.

Idropheroffatthegatetoherhouse,promisingtobebackfirstthinginthemorning,

beforeretracingmystepstoBjornandSherry’s.I’mbeatfromthebigdayofflying,butI
canbarelysleepthatnight,eventhoughIwanttogetmyrestsoIcangetupearly.But
somethinginsidemedoesn’twanttoletgoofthisday,thedaythegirlIlovedtoldmeshe
lovedmeback.

SamandIspendtheentireweektogether,loggingasclosetotwenty-four/sevenasher

parentsandSherrywillallow.

Weskateandsurfandreadcomicbooksonthebeach.Wemakeapicnicandhikeoutto

herfriendJanis’shouse,andspendtheafternoonhelpingJanisandherparentsharvest
mangoesandbananasfromthetreesintheiryard.Wesplurgeonanafternoonatthe
movies,andwalkaroundthemall,anddootherdumbthingsthatdon’tseemasdumbas
usualbecauseI’mdoingthemwithSam.

Andthen,alltoosoon,theweekisover,andI’mbackattheairport.

Thistime,noone’sjumpingupanddownonthecurb.Sherryhugsmehard,andtellsme

tostaystrong,Bjorngivesmeasternhandshake,andthenit’stimetosaygoodbyeto
Sam,whoconvincedherdadtolethercomealongfortheride,eventhoughshe’s
supposedtobespendingTuesdayswithhimduringthesummer.

“Callmeassoonasyougetthere,”shesays,pressingherlipstogether,makingmethink

she’stryingnottocry.IknowIam.“Idon’tcarewhattime.I’llsleepwithmyphoneby
mybed.”

“Iwill,”Ipromise,wishingIcouldthinkofsomethingbettertosay.ButSherryand

Bjornarestandingafewfeetawaymakingeverythingfeelmoreawkwardbybeinggrown
upwhenSamandIaren’tyet.

“Okay,then…”Sambitesherlipbeforelaunchingherselfatmeandhuggingmetight.

“Don’tforgetme,”shewhispersintomyear.“Okay?”

“Never,”Iwhisperback,knowingit’sthetruestthingI’veeversaid.Iwillnever,ever

forgether,andIrefusetobelievewhatIfeelforherisgoingtofadeaway,justbecausewe
foundittoosoon.

AsIturnandwalkintotheterminal,IpromisethatIwillfindawaytostayclosetoSam,

nomatterhowmuchphysicaldistanceseparatesus.Itwon’tbeeasy,butthat’sokay.

Imayonlybethirteen,butIknowthatsometimesyouhavetofightforthethingsyou

believein.

AndIhaveneverbelievedinanythingthewayIbelieveinSam.

ChapterFour

PresentDay

Samantha

“Whatdeepwoundseverclosed

withoutascar?”

–LordByron

Thepasttenhourscouldhavebeenbetter,buttheycouldalsohavebeensomuchworse.

Allinall,I’dsaytheflightwasasuccess.Ihaven’tthoughtaboutanyofthethingsI

promisedmyselfIwouldn’t,andDannyandIbroketheiceafteralong,difficultdryspell.

I’dbeenafraidbeingintimateagainwouldbeawkwardatbest,awfulatworst,butitwas

neitherofthosethings.Aftermonthsoffeelingnothingbutnumbness,interspersedwith
burstsofalmostdebilitatingregret,IwasshockedtofindDannycouldmakemybodydo
morethanflutter.He’dmademeburn,heatingmeupsoquicklyI’dalreadycomeonhis
handbythetimemymindcaughtupwithwhatwasgoingon.

Ithadcaughtupeventually,anddoneitsbesttoruinthings,butIhadmanagedtoregain

control.

Iamincontrol.

I’mtakingmylifebackandsoontherewon’tbeanythinganyonecandotostopme.

AswetrudgeuptheJetway,IslipDanny’sphonefromtheouterpocketofhispackand

dropitintomypursewithouthimnoticing.I’lltakecareofbothofourphonesinthe
bathroom.OnceIdo,there’snowayanyofthebadthingswillbeabletotaintourfresh
start.

DannyandIstepoutintoAucklandAirport’sInternationalterminal,wheretheafternoon

sunisshiningbrightlythroughthefloortoceilingwindows,andoptimismfloodsthrough
meforthefirsttimeinages.Mychestrelaxesandmyspiritliftsasweletourselvesbe
carriedalongbythecrowd,throughamassiveornamentalarchwaywherecarved
monkeys,birds,andacatgodwithgoldeneyesstaredownatalltheexhaustedtravelers,
warningusthatwe’renotinKansasanymore.

Aswepassbeneaththewarm,honey-and-sunsetcoloredwood,ashiverpassesthrough

me.IcanfeelthenewSamslippingmorefirmlyintoplace.I’mreadytothrowmyarms

wideandembracethisadventure,andampositivelygiddybythetimewereachthe
restroomsjustbeforecustoms.

“I’mgoingtoruninandfreshenup,”Isay,givingDanny’shandasqueezebeforeI

releaseit.

“Metoo,”hesays.“Meetyoubythewaterfountain.”

“Okay!”Ipracticallyjogthroughtheburntorangehallwayintothemostlydeserted

bathroom.Ican’twaittopulltheSIMcardsfromourphonesandsmashthemtopieces.

IshouldhavetakencareofminebeforeweleftMaui,butIwasn’tthinkingbeyond

gettingthehelloutoftheairport.Butneitherofushaveturnedourphonesbackonafter
weshutthemdownfortakeoff,andI’vebeenpayingmyowncellbillforyears,sothere
shouldn’tbeanywayforDadorPennytotracemyjourneytotheoppositehemisphere.

Pennyofferedtokeepmeonthefamilycellplan,butassoonasIcouldafforditI

insistedongettingmyownphone.IwantedtobeabletocallDannyasoftenasIneeded
towithoutanyonepatrollingmytextsorthetimesofmycalls.Pennyhadstoppedgiving
meshitfor“wastingmylife”onthephoneyearsbefore,whensherealizedtryingto
shamemeintospendinglesstimetextingDannywasawasteofbreath,butIdidn’tlike
herhavingthatwindowintomylife.

Evenbackthen,beforethe—

Ishutthethoughtdownbeforeitcanreachcompletionandfocusonlockingthedoorto

thehandicappedbathroombehindmeandslippingtheSIMcardsfromthebacksofthe
phones.

Mythoughtsarestupidsheepthatkeepwanderingtowardthecliffattheedgeofthe

pasture,butifIkeepcatchingthemandshepherdingthemtowardsaferground,they’re
goingtolearnwherenottogo.Eventually,I’llbeabletorelaxmyguard,andonedayI
mightforgettherewaseveraclifftobeginwith.

AllthingsseempossiblenowthatDannyandIareherewiththousandsofmilesbetween

usanddanger.

Idropthecardstothetilefloornearthegarbagecanandusetheedgeofmyphoneto

smashtheminhalfbeforethrowingthepiecesandbothphonesintothetrashcanwitha
satisfiedsigh.

Now,noonecancallme,andmydadcan’tcallDanny.There’sachanceIwouldhave

beenabletogetbywithswappingouttheSIMcards,butontheoffchancethatDannyhad
Dad’snumberstoredonhisphone,notthecard,Icouldn’triskit.

Istandstaringatthetrashcanforalongmoment,therealizationthatI’vejustsaid

goodbyetomyfamilysettlingaroundmyshoulders.

MomneverrecoveredfromlosingDad,andhasbeenmorelikeanunpredictable

girlfriendIdon’ttrusttoborrowmyshoesthanamotherthepastsevenyears,butIstill
loveher.DadissofarupPenny’sassit’sridiculousandwaymoreimpressedwiththe
wealthhemarriedintothananythingI’veaccomplishedinmytwentyyearsoflife,butI
lovehim,too.IevenlovePenny.She’striedtodotherightthingbymylittlebrotherand

me,steppingintoplayMomwhenmyownmothercouldn’tbebothered,andalways
makingsureErickandIhadthebestofeverything.

Iloveallthreeofmyparents,butourrelationshipshavebecometoocomplicated,andI

havenoideawhatthey’llthinkwhentheyfindoutthetruth.

Maybethey’llhateme,maybethey’llpityme—eitherwaythey’llwantmetodothe

rightthing.MyparentsandstepparentareallverymuchintoDoingtheRightThing,in
facingtheconsequencesofyouractionsandfessinguptoyourfailings.Theywouldwant
metostoprunning,butIcan’tandIwon’t.

It’sbesttoendthingsnow,withacleanbreak,withouteventurningonmyphoneto

listentothemessagesthatIhavenodoubtarewaitinginmyvoicemailbox.

Itakeadeepcleansingbreathandletgriefwashthroughmeandwashbackoutagain,

likeawavelappingagainsttheshorebeforebeingabsorbedbackintotheocean.

ThethoughtoflosingtouchwithErickhitsharderthananyoneelse,buteventuallyI

loosenmygriponthatregretandsenditouttoseawiththerest.ErickandIaren’tsuper
close,butwehavefuntogetherandI’vealwaysfeltobligatedtolookoutforhim.Tokeep
himfromstarvingtodeathwhenmymomwasmiredinmisery,andpullhimasidefora
longtalkaboutnotdoingdumbshitwhenIcaughthimdroppingacidonthebeachwith
hisfriends.Buthe’sgraduatingfromhighschoolthisyearandgoingtocollegenextfall.
He’sstartinghisownlifeanddoesn’tneedmethewayheusedto.

Besides,theremightcomeadaywhenitwillbeokaytoreachouttomylittlebrother.

He’ssowrappedupinhisownlifethathe’sneverbeenterriblyinterestedinmine.There
wasatimewhenthathurt,butnowI’mgratefulhe’sself-absorbed.

I’mgratefulforallthepeoplewhodon’tcareenoughtosticktheirnoseintomy

business,whoaresobusywiththeirownpersonaldramastheyhaven’tnoticedthatI’m
fallingapart.

“Notanymore,”Iwhisper,shiftingmygazefromthetrashcantomyreflectioninthe

mirrorabovethesink.

I’vebeenavoidingmyreflectionthepastfewmonths,butnowIforcemyselftotakea

good,longlook.

I’velostweight,andhavefainthollowsbelowmycheekbonesforthefirsttimeinmy

life,butIdon’tlookgauntorsickly.Thenewleannessgivesmyfacestructureitdidn’t
havebefore.Thestronganglesofmyjawarevisibleinsteadofblendingintomychin,and
myeyeslookevenlargerthantheyusedto.I’vealwaysthoughtmyeyesweremybest
feature,butthey’realsomygreatestweakness.I’veneverbeengoodathidingwhatI’m
thinkingorfeeling.Itallshowsinmyeyes.

Oritusedto.

Now,holdingmyowngaze,Ican’tseeahintofthegiddinessIfeltwhenIenteredthe

bathroom,thesadnessIwasfeelingamomentago,ortheanxietyprickingatmynerve
endingsdoingitsbesttoconvincemethatcrushingacoupleofSIMcardswon’tbe
enoughtokeepmysecretsafe.Ilooktired,whichistobeexpectedafteraflighttothe

othersideoftheworld,butnottroubled.Myeyesare…empty,andonlyseemtogrow
emptierthelongerIstandstaringatmyself.

EvenwhenIstarttofeeldisturbedbythelackofemotioninmyexpression,nothing

flickersinmyeyes.Theelectricallinesconnectingmyfeelingstomyfacehavebeen
severed,leavingmysouladriftinmyphysicalbody,contained,butnotconnected.

“Sam?Areyouokayinthere?”Danny’svoiceechoesthroughtheemptybathroom.

“Yes,justbrushingmyteeth,”Icallback,breakingeyecontactwithmyreflectionwitha

sharpshakeofmyhead.“Beoutinaminute.”

Ifishmytoiletrybagoutofmypurseandgivemyteethaquickbrush.Imopmyface

withacleansingcloth,dripacoupledropsofVisineineacheye,andsmoothonsunscreen
andafreshcoatofpeachlipglossbeforeworkingcurlcreamthroughmyfuzzyhair.I
concentrateonmovingthroughmypost-plane-flightritualswiftlyandefficiently.Idon’t
lingeroverthesquashedcurlsatthebackofmyhead,andIdon’tmakeeyecontactwith
myreflectionagain.

It’snaturaltobefeelingdrainedafteraten-hourflight,andthere’snoroomfor

existentialangstinmyfreshstart.I’lljusthavetofakeituntilImakeit,andonedaysoon
thesmilesI’mforcingwillcomenaturally.

ChapterFive

Samantha

Itossmytoiletrybagbackintomypurseandheadoutofthebathroom,fakesmile

firmlyinplaceandliesswirlinginsidemyhead.

Liesarenecessaryrightnow,andI’mnotgoingtohesitatetotellthem.

Liesarekinderthanthetruth,forDannyandmeboth.I’mlyingbecauseIlovehim.The

truthwouldn’tseteitherofusfree,itwouldonlycausemorepainandmakemoving
forwardimpossible.Dannywouldneverbeabletolookatmethesameway,andI
couldn’tlivewithknowingIwastheoneresponsibleforbruisinghisbig,tenderheart.

“Youlooknice.”Iloopanarmaroundhiswaist,squeezingafistfulofhislong-sleeved

blueteeshirtaswestarttowardcustoms.“Ibroughtyouafleece,bytheway.It’sinmy
pack.Ifiguredyouwouldn’tbepreparedforwinter.”

Dannylaughs.“Theseasonchangedidn’tevenregisteruntilIwasstandingatthesink

brushingmyteethandpeoplekeptgivingmyshortsweirdlooks.Soisitwinterhereatthe
endofMay?”

“Lateautumn,Ithink.”

Dannyhugsmecloser.“Good.Ilovefall.”

“Ican’trememberthelasttimeIsawarealone,”Isay,excitementcreepingbackin,

banishingthelingeringangst.“ProbablywhenIwaslittleandwewenttogovisitmygreat
grandmainPennsylvaniabeforeshedied.Ihopewe’llseesomecoloronthewaydownto
ourkayakingtrip.”

“Kayaking,huh?”Dannypullshisarmfrommywaistaswereachtheendofthe

customsline,andshiftshisbackpackaroundsohecanreachthepocketonthefront.
“You’refullofplansandschemes.”

“Iam.I’vegotallkindsofadventuresplanned.”Ikeepmysmileinplaceashepullsout

hispassportandcontinuestosiftthroughtheoutercompartment.“Firstkayaking,witha
stopatahotspringinthemiddleofthetrip,andthenacavingexpeditionthecompany
callsDescentintotheAbyssthatsoundsterrifying.Shouldberightupyouralley.”

“Whataboutyourthingwithtightplaces?”Dannyasks,browfurrowingashecontinues

toshiftitemsaround.

“ThecavesaresomeofthelargestinNewZealand,”Isay,playinginnocentasIgetout

myownpassportandshuffleforwardinline.“TheguyItalkedtosaidthereweren’tmany
narrowparts,butthereisonestretchwhereit’scompletelypitchblackandyouhaveto
findyourboatwith—”

“Babe,I’msorry,butcouldyoutrytocallmyphone?”Dannyaskswithasigh.“IthinkI

mighthaveleftitontheplane.”

“Youthinkitwasinyourpocket?Idon’trememberseeingit.”Ireachintomypurse,

checkingalltheusualpocketsbeforeIstartshakingmyheadandallowmysiftingto
becomemorefrantic,hopingmyactingisgoodenoughtopullthisoff.

“Shit,”Isayafteraminute.“Ithinkmineisgone,too.”

“You’rekidding.”Dannyrunsahandoverthetopofhisnow-smoothponytailashe

glancesaroundus.“Doyouthinksomeonestolethem?”

“Idon’tknowhow.”Icontinuetomovethecrapinmypursearoundforafewmoments

beforeIabandonmyeffortswithafrustratedhuff.“Butit’sdefinitelynotinhere.”

Ishakemyheadagain,meetingDanny’smystifiedlookwithoneofmyown,ignoring

theguiltnigglingatthebackofmybrain.“Howcouldthishavehappened?Ididn’teven
setmypursedownwhenIwenttothebathroom.It’sbeenrightnexttomesincewegot
offtheplane.”

Dannycurses,“Idon’tknow,butI’mgoingtohavetohitapayphoneassoonasweget

throughcustomsandletCaitlinandGabeknowmyphonegotsnatched.Caitlinis
supposedtohavethebabyanyday,andItoldGabetocallassoonastheyheadedtothe
hospital.”

“Maybewecangetoneofthosepayasyougophones,”Isay.“Justtouseforhowever

longwedecidetostay.Thatwaywewon’tmissthebabynews.”

“That’llprobablywork,”Dannysays.“Butweneedtocallandreportourphonesstolen,

too.IhavenoideawhatkindofinformationIhavesavedonmine.Allmybankingstuff
forthebusinessisonthereandtheloginpagesfortheschedulingportal…”

Hepullsinadeepbreath.“IamseriouslyscrewedifIhaveanypasswordssaved,andI

onlyhaveahandfulofphonenumbersmemorized.I’mgoingtohavetocallPeteandhave
himpullmyclientcontactsfromthecomputerattheoffice.”

“I’msorry,”Isay,meaningit.

IhatethatI’mcausingDannystress,nomatterhownecessaryitwastoditchourphones.

“It’snotyourfault.”Hewrapsanarmaroundmyshoulders.“Andhey,atleastwestill

haveourpassportsandourwallets.Couldhavebeenmuchworse.”

HischoiceofwordsmakesmesmileasIleanintohim.“You’reright.Itcouldhave

been.”

Thingscouldhavebeensomuchworse,buttheyaren’t.

Imadeitoutofthecountrybeforetheshithitthefanandhaveeliminatedthefirstthreat

toournewbeginning.I’mnotstupidornaïveenoughtobelieveeverythingwillbeclear
sailingfromhereonout,butsofaritseemslikethefatesarewithme.

Oratleastnottotallyagainstme,andfornowthat’sgoodenough.

ChapterSix

ThreeYearsEarlier

Danny

“Thereisapleasureinthepathlesswoods,

Thereisaraptureonthelonelyshore,

Thereissociety,wherenoneintrudes,

Bythedeepsea,andthemusicinitsroar.”

-LordByron

Somedaystheoceanisthebestfriendyou’lleverhave.Somedays,theoceanisoutfor

yourblood,andyouneverknowwhatkindofdayit’sgoingtobeuntilit’stoolateto
makeadamnbitofdifference.

Nomatterhowgoodaswimmeryouare,howsavvyyougetatreadingthewaves,or

howcarefulyoutrytobe,theoceanisbetter,savvier,hungrier.MotherOceanwillgive
youjoy,hope,andcomfort,butshewillalsodragyoulow,stripyoubare,andmakeall
yournightmaresreal.

Theoceaniswherealltheoldestnightmareswereborn,andwheretheystilllive,

washinginandoutonthetide,waitingforhumanstodroptheirguardandstepintothe
water…

Ilearnedabouttheocean’sdarksidemyfirstyearontheisland,whenIgotsmackedin

theheadbyasurfboard,gotsodizzyIdidn’tknowwhichwaywasup,andnearly
drowned.IfSamhadn’tbeentheretotowmetoshore,Imightnothavelivedtoseemy
fourteenthbirthday.

Theviolenceoftheoceanshouldn’ttakemebysurprise,butwhenIlookupfromthe

bookI’mreading—amysteryaboutalienstakingovertheearthIwouldn’thavetouchedif
Samhadn’tputitinmyhandsbutthatnowIcan’tgetenoughof—toseeSamstruggling
againstthecurrentafewhundredfeetfromshore,Ican’tbelieveshe’sreallyintrouble.

Butshe’sthestrongestswimmerIknow,flitsthroughmyheadeventhoughIknowthat

doesn’tmeananything.

Theoceandoesn’tcareifyou’reHerculeswithasideofThor.Iftheocean’sdecidedto

fightyou,thebestyoucanhopeforistolivelongenoughforittoloseinterest.

Iknowthis,butstillIsitonmyassforagoodthirtysecondsafterIseeher,somestupid

partofmybrainrefusingtoprocessthatSamisfightinglikehelltogetbacktothebeach
inbetweensetsofpunishingwavesthattossherfartherouttoseaeverytimetheyrollher
under.BythetimeIthrowmybooktothetowelandsurgetomyfeet,she’salreadyten
feetfartherout.

BythetimeIracelikehellfortheocean,snatchingsomekid’sabandonedboogieboard

offthesandasIrun,Samisgettingslammedbyashoulderhighwavesohardthatwhen
shegoesundershedoesn’tcomeupagainforalong,longtime.

Ihitthewateratasprint,musclesburningasIfightmywaypasttheshorebreak,heart

lodginginmythroatuntilIseeherdarkheadsurfaceinthetrough,hershouldersheaving
asshepullsinabreath.

“I’mcoming,Sam!”IscreamasIshoveoutintothedeepwater,usingtheboogieboard

likeakickboardandkickinglikecrazytowardher,hopingtheboardwillbeenoughto
keepusbothafloatuntilwecangetoutoftheriptide.

Iscreamhernameagain,butI’mnotsureshecanhearmeovertheroarofthesurfandI

needalltheoxygeninmylungstokeepkickinglikehellasIduckunderwavesthatare
curlinghardoverhead,clawedfingersdeterminedtoscratchthroughskinanddrawblood.
It’sabrutalswim,butImakegoodtimeandI’malmostcloseenoughtotouchherwhena
doublewavecatchesthefrontofmyboardandflipsmehard.

IfI’dtakenthetimetoleashtheboardtomywrist,Iwouldhavebeenabletoletgoand

usemyarmstofightfreeoftheroll,butIdidn’t.IfIletgooftheboardnow,I’mnever
goingtogetmyhandsonitagain,andSamandImightbothdiebecauseofit.I’ma
strongswimmer,butnotasstrongassheis,anddefinitelynotstrongenoughtotowherto
shorewithoutsomethingtohelpmestayafloat.

ItightenmygripontheboogieboardandconcentrateonholdingmybreathwhileI’m

spunlikeatopandpuncheddowntowardthebottomoftheocean.Finally,afterseconds
thatstretchonforever,withnothingbutthedarknessbehindmyeyesandthemuted
rumbleofthewaterfrothingabovemyheadtokeepmecompany,thewavedecidesit’s
donewithmeandspitsmebackuptowardthelight.

ThesecondIbreakthesurface,Isuckinairandshakethehairfrommyeyes,blinkingas

Iscanthewateraroundme,tryingtoorientmyselfandfigureouthowfarIamfromSam.

“Danny!”shescreams.“Overhere!”

Ispininthewater,spottinghernotfivefeetaway.Ourgazeslockasanothermonster

wavebearsdownandthenwe’rebothpullinginairanddroppingbeneaththecurl.

Themomentofeyecontactlastslessthantwoseconds,butinthosetwoseconds

everythingthatneedstobesaidpassesbetweenus.ItellhertohangtightandI’llbethere
assoonasthewavepassesover.Shetellsmethatshe’sscaredtodeath,butshecanhold
onforafewmoreminutes.

Eversincewewerekids,I’vebeenabletoreadeverythingIneedtoknowinhereyes.

Howtogivehercomfort,howtogiveherpleasure,whenshewantsmetoteaseherinto
talkingabouttheshitthat’sbotheringher,andwhenshewantstositnexttomeandshare
asilentmoment.IneverhavetoaskSamwhatshe’sthinking.Ineverhavetowonderhow
somethingI’vesaidmadeherfeel.

AndI’veneverbeenmoregratefulforthatthanwhenIbreakthroughthesurface,scissor

kicktoherside,andslidetheboogieboardintoherhands.Iknowwithouteitherofus
wastingabreaththatshe’sokaynow,andwe’regoingtogetthroughthistogether.

Weduckunderanotherwave,butbythetimethenextoneisrollingtowardus,Samis

ontheboogieboardinfrontofmeandI’mleveragedaboveher,holdingontightaswe
catchtheswellandridethecrestdiagonallytowardshore.Wegetpoundedonceortwice,
butwestaytogether,holdontighttotheboard,andwithintenminuteswe’veteamboogie
boardedbacktowatershallowenoughtostandin.

Welockhands,andIsqueezeherfingerstightaswestruggleoutofthewaterand

collapseontothesand,gaspingforbreath.

“Shit,”Samsaysafteramoment,herbreathstillcomingfast.“IthoughtIwasgoingto

die.”

“Ithoughtyouwere,too,”Isay,thewordsmakingmelaughforsomecrazyreason.

“Shit,”Samrepeats,laughingalongwithme.“That’sthewordthatkeptgoingthrough

myhead,overandoveragain,shitshitshitshitshit.IthoughtIwasgoingtodieandmy
lastwordswerejustonelongstreamofprofanity.I’msodisappointedinmyself.”

Iputmyarmaroundhershouldersandpullheragainstmewhilewebothcontinueto

laugh.Herskiniscoldanddamp,butithasneverfeltbettertohaveherinmyarms.

Beforetoday,Iwouldn’thavesaidItakebeingabletotouchSamforgranted,butasI

pressakisstoherforeheadandhughercloser,IrealizeIdo.Itakeforgrantedthatshe’s
goingtobewaitingformeeverysummerwhenIflybacktotheislandandthatthis
perfectthingwehaveisalwaysgoingtobeperfectandnoonewilleverbeabletotakeit
away.

IfeelinvinciblewhenI’mwithher,butnothingisinvincible,notevenalovelikeours.

“I’mgoingtothinkofyou,”Isaywhenwe’vefinallystoppedlaughingandaresitting,

staringatpicturesqueHamoaBaywhereSammighthavediedifIhadn’tlookedupfrom
mybookintime.

“Iwasthinkingofyou,too,”Samsaid,understandingwhatImeanwithoutmehavingto

explain.“Ididn’twantyoutohavethisbeautifulbeachruinedforyouforever.”

“Itwouldhavebeenmorethanthebeach.”Somethingdeepinmybonesrecoilsfromthe

thoughtofMauiwithoutSam.“Iwouldneverhavecomebacktotheisland.Ever.”

“Don’tsaythat.”Shepullsbacktolookupatme.Herfaceisstillpale,buthereyesare

sparklingwiththeirusuallife.“Ilovethisisland,andIloveallthememorieswe’vemade
here.Iwouldn’twantyoutostayawayfromplacesthatremindyouofgoodtimesbecause
oneplaceremindedyouofsomethingbad.”

“Youdyingwouldbeworsethanbad,psycho.”Ibrushmythumbgentlyacrossher

cheek,rubbingawaysomeofthesandstucktoherskin.“Ican’timagineanythingworse.I
loveyousofuckingmuch.”

“Iloveyou,too,”shesays,eyesshiningwhenshesmiles.“Thanksforsavingmylife.”

Ireturnhergrin.“Well,IfiguredIowedyoufromthetimeyousavedmine.Butthenext

one’sgoingtocostyou.”

Shearchesonedampbrow.“Ohyeah?ShouldIstartsavingmypennies?”

“Iprefertobepaidinkisses.”Mybreathcatchesassheleansintomeandherbreast

pressesagainmyarm.Herbathingsuitisfreezingcold,buthersoftnessagainstmestill
makesmehotallover.

“ThenI’mgoodtogo.”She’scloseenoughthatherbreathwarmsmylips.“I’vegotall

thekissesyou’lleverneed.”

Imurmurmyagreementasourlipsmeetandwekisslikewebarelyavoidedwitnessing

theendoftheworld.

Becauseinaway,wedid.

SamandIbothhaveourownseparateschoolyearlives,families,andfriends.Wehave

dreamsthatareoursalone,andhopesforthefuturethatdon’trevolvearoundtheday
we’llfinallybeabletostoplovinglongdistanceandbetogetherallthetime.Butinevery
waythatcounts,Samismyworld,andI’mhers.Dyingwouldbepreferabletotryingto
figureoutwhoIamwithoutSamaroundtolove.

WetakeourtimeclimbingthesteepasphaltdriveuptowhereweparkedSam’svanand

aren’tinarushtogetbacktothecampsite.WestopinHana,geticecreamandmoreice
forthecooler,andeatourNuttyBarsonaparkbenchoverlookingHanaBay.Whenwe
getbacktothecampsiteattheblacksandbeachpark,weroasthotdogs,lingerover
dinnerwhilethesunsets,andtakeawalkaroundthelavatubesinthepurpletwilight.

Andwhenwefinallyclimbintoourtentandgetundressed,wemakelovelikeit’sthe

firsttime,onlybetter.

I’mnotfifteenandsoeagerIhavetoremindmyselftoslowdowneveryfiveseconds

anymore.NowI’vegottheself-controltospendafullhourkissingeveryinchofSam’s
skin,tellingherwitheverycaresshowmuchshemeanstome,howmuchIloveher,and
howgladIamshe’sstillherewithme.BythetimeIfinallyslideinsideher,IfeellikeI’m
abouttocryandtearsareslippingquietlydownSam’scheeks.

It’sthatperfect,sogoodithurts,butIwouldn’twantitanyotherway.

RealizingI’mgoingtoloseSamsomedaytwistsmygutinknots,butitalsomakesme

evenmoreawareofhowpreciousandirreplaceablesheis.I’mnotgoingtowastea
momentofthetimewehavetogether,howeverlongthatmightbe.I’mgoingtoloveher
evenmorethanIdidbefore,andonthedaydeatheventuallycatchesupwithoneofus,I
won’thaveanyregrets,onlywishes.

Evenifwelivetobeahundred,Iwillstillwishformoretime.

Andmorenightslikethese.

ChapterSeven

PresentDay

Danny

“Thereisnoinstinct

likethatoftheheart.”

-LordByron

Idon’twanttobelievethistripiscursed,buttheuniverseismakingsomepretty

compellingarguments.

First,SamandIbothhaveourphonesstolen.Thentherentalcarendsupbeingtwicethe

priceSamwasquotedonline,duetoabunchofbullshitfees.Andwhenwefinallygetto
ourhotel,aftergettinglostindowntownAucklandfornearlyanhour,wediscoverour
reservationwasforthenightbefore.

Samforgottoaddontheextradaywelostwhilewewereflyingthroughadozentime

zones,buthercardhasalreadybeencharged,thehotelwon’trefundthemoney,andthe
excessivelyunhelpfulmanbehindthecounterseemstoenjoyassuringusthatTheDePaul
hasnoroomsavailablefortonight.

WeheadoutthedoorontothesidewalksofdowntownAucklandandfortherestofthe

afternoonwewanderfromhoteltohotel,butit’sfashionweekandallthehotelsare
booked.Finally,justasthewintersunisslidingbehindtherooftopsaroundfiveo’clock
andthecoolairisacquiringabite,wefindastudiowithaloftbedataboutiquehotelnear
thebay.

Samplunksdownhercardjustasthewomanbehindthedesksaysthechargewillbe

fivehundreddollars,plustax.

IsnatchSam’sVisabackfastenoughtogivetheclerkwhiplash.

“Thanks,butthat’swayoverourbudget.”Ishootthebrunettemymostwinningsmile,

thesamesmileIusetoputnervouswivesateasebeforeItaketheirhusbandsoncamping
expeditionswherethey’llsleepsuspendedfromropesanchoringthemtothesheerfaceof
amountain.“Doyouhaveastudentdiscount?”

Thewoman’sforeheadwrinklessympatheticallyassheshakesherhead.“No,

unfortunately,wedon’t.Onanormalnight,Imightbeabletoknockabitoffsinceyou’re

rentinglateintheday,butwithitbeingfashionweek…”

“Iunderstand,”Isay,smilestillinplace,gratefulthatsheseemsmorehelpfulthanthe

douchewhopracticallykickedusoutofthefirsthotel.“Wouldyouknowifthereareany
youthhostelsinthearea?Ourphoneswerestolensowehaven’tbeenabletodoan
internetsearch.Wejustneedaplacewherewecangetabedforthenight,evenifwecan’t
findaroom.”

Theclerknods.“There’saYHAabouttenminutesfromhere.Wouldyouwantmeto

callthemforyouandseeiftheyhavebedsavailable?”

“Thatwouldbeamazing,”Sampipesupfrombesideme.“Really.Wewouldappreciate

itsomuch.”

“Ofcourse,”theclerksaysasshebacksaway.“Justletmepopintotheoffice.”

Samsagsagainstthedeskasthebrunettedisappearsaroundthecorner.“I’msosorry,

Danny.”

“Don’tbesorry.”Iputmyarmaroundhershouldersandgiveheracheerupsqueeze.

“We’llfindsomewheretosleep,andwakeuptomorrowtoanewday.”

Samsighs.“IthoughtIhadeverythingplanned.Ican’tbelieveIforgotaboutthetime

change.”

“Everyonemakesmistakes.”

Shelooksupatme,butIcan’ttellifI’vemadeherfeelanybetter.She’ssoexhausted

hereyesaren’tgivingherawaythewaytheyusuallydo.“Well,IpromiseIwon’tmake
anymore.Therestofthetripwillbeflawless.I’lldoublecheckalltheotherreservations
assoonaswegetsettled.”

“It’sokay,”Iassureher.“Really,Sam,whenhaveyouknownmetogetmadaboutstuff

likethis?”

“Never,butIstillfeelterrible,”shesays,bitingherlipbeforesheaddsinasmallvoice.

“Doyouthinkthefatesareagainstus?”

“No,”Isay,astheclerkreturns,anencouragingsmileonherface.

“You’reinluck,”shesays.“Theydon’thaveanyprivatesuitesavailable,butthereare

bedsfreeinboththemaleandfemaledormrooms.They’reholdingoneforeachofyou.I
toldthegentlemanatthefrontdeskyou’dbeoverinafewminutes.”

“Thankyousomuch,”Isay,toorelievedthatSamandIwon’tbesleepingonthestreet

orinthebackofourtinyrentalcartobetoobummedthatwewon’tgettoshareabed.

Sam’sobviouslybeatanyway.I’mdyingtobealonewithher,inaplacewherewe’ll

havetheprivacytotalkandfinishwhatwestartedontheplane,butrightnowI’mgrateful
forasigntheuniversehasdecidedtohavemercyonus.

NomatterwhatIsaidtoSam,untilthisscrapofgoodnewsIwasn’tsurehowthefates

werefeelingaboutourtrip.

WegetdirectionsfromtheclerkandapaperprintoutofdowntownAucklandtotake

withusandstepbackoutontothesidewalk.ItakeSam’spackandswingitoverone

shoulder—ignoringherproteststhatshe’snottootiredtocarryherownbag—hookmine
overtheother,andweheadeast,followingtheroutetheclerkoutlinedtothehostel.

Thesunhassetcompletelybynow,andthestreetlightsareflickeringonalongthebusy

street.Peoplebustlebyinlarge,laughinggroups,allofthembundledupinheavyjackets,
andalloftheminahurry.

Downtowniscomingtolifeastheofficebuildingsemptyoutandwell-dressedpeople

grababitebeforethefashionshowsslatedforlatertonight.TherestaurantsandbarsSam
andIpassareallcrowded,withtablesfillingupfastandwould-bedinersoverflowing
ontothesidewalk.There’safestive,end-of-the-yearholidayfeelingintheair,whichis
strangeconsideringit’snearlyJune,butnice.

ItremindsmeofmyfirstChristmasonMaui,whenwetookturkeysandwichesdownto

thebeachfordinneronChristmasDayandmadesnowmenoutofsand.

“IbetalotofpeopledoChristmasatthebeacharoundhere,”IsayasSamandIturnthe

cornerontoanarrowerstreetandtheupscalerestaurantsandboutiquesgivewaytobulky
lookingapartmentbuildingsandsmallerMomandPopshops.“Theywouldn’tthinkyour
mom’smermaidChristmastreewasweird.”

“Idon’tknowaboutthat,”Samsaid.“Yousawwhatshedidtoitlastyear,right?With

allthesparkly,shirtlessmermenhangingatthetop.”

Isnort.“Itlookedlikeagayunderwaterstripclub.”

“OrthekinkiestDisneyfilmever,”Samsaid,laughing,thatlow,huskylaughIhaven’t

heardinwhatseemslikeforever.

“I’vemissedyourlaugh.”Inudgehershoulderwithmine.“It’soneofmyfavorite

things.”

Samsmilesbutkeepshergazeonthegum-pockedgroundinfrontofus.“Thanks.”

“Really.”Ishiftclosertothestreetaswepassadarkenedapartmentbuildingwith

overflowingtrashcansmusclinginontheleftsideofthesidewalk.“Itranksrightupthere
withyoursmileandyourassandthatplacerightbehindyourjawthatsmellssogood
whenyougetoutoftheshower.”

Shelaughsagain.“You’resoweirdaboutthatplace.”

“I’mnotweird,”Isay,grinning.“I’maconnoisseur.”

“You’reabsolutelyweird,”SamsayswithawinkIalmostmissassomethingmoves

behindthetrashcans,pullingmyfocus.“That’soneofthereasons—”

Shebreaksoffwithastartledcry,butbythetimeIrealizethethingmovingbehindthe

trashcansisarangyteenagekid,he’salreadygothisarmlockedaroundSam’sshoulders
andtheknifeinhisrighthandjabbedagainstherthroat.

ThesecondIseetheknifepressingintoherpaleskin,fearunlikeanythingI’vefeltsince

Iwasakidtryingtoholdmyshittogetherthenightmysisterwaskidnappedfloods
throughme,fillingmymouthwithapoisonoustaste.

AllIcanthinkisNo.Noway.NofuckingwayisthispieceofshitgoingtotakeSam

awayfromme,notaftereverythingwe’vebeenthrough,notbeforewe’vemadethings
okayagain,notbeforewe’vehadthelifewe’vedreamedabout,andtheadventuresand
thekidsandthegrandkidsandalltherestofit.

Iwanttolungeforhimandsqueezethelifeoutofhimwithmybarehands,butbeforeI

cangrabforhisarm,hetugsSamseveralstepsback,increasingthedistancebetweenus.

“Givemeyourwalletandanythingelseyougotthat’sworthanything,”hesays,his

voicebreakinginthemiddleofthelastword.“DoitorIcutthisbitch!”

“Relax,okay,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth,holdingupmyhandsasIsizehimup.

He’salittletallerthanSam’sfiveseven,butthearmlockedaroundhernecklooks

strongbeneathhisstainedwhitethermal.Judgingsolelybyhisfuzz-freefaceI’dpeghim
asnomorethanthirteen,buthisbodylooksolder,solidenoughtobeinhighschool.

Butitdoesn’tmatterifhe’sthirteenorsixteen,orhoweasilyIcouldtakehimif

circumstancesweredifferent.Rightnow,allthatmattersistheknifeatSam’sthroatand
howquicklyIcanmakeitgoaway.

“Hurrythefuckup,man,”thekidsays,headjerkingashecastsanervousglanceupand

downthestreet.“I’llcuther.IswearIwill.Idon’tgiveafuck.”

“I’mgettingthemoneyrightnow.”IslideSam’spackoffmyshouldertorestonthe

sidewalkandthensetminedownbesideit.“Givemetenseconds.”

ItrytocatchSam’seye,tosilentlyassureherthatIwon’tletthislittlemonsterhurther,

buthereyesareclosed.

Herlidsaresqueezedtightlyshut,herlipsarepressedtogether,andshe’stremblingso

hardhercurlsarevibratingaroundherhead.IfIdidn’tknowherthewayIdo,I’dsayshe
wasscaredoutofhermind,butIwastherethatdayinseventhgradeP.E.whenSam
jumpedthegirlwho’dbeencallingherpubeheadallyear.Iwastherewhenwewere
sixteenandcaughttwohomelessguystorturingadogbehindtheManaHealthfoodstore
inPaia.Onemoment,Samwasvibratingonthesidewalknexttome,thenextshewas
shovingthebiggerguysohardhericochetedofftheDumpsterbeforefallingflatonhis
drunkassonthepavement.

Themanwasnearlytwicehersize,buthewasacowardwhogotoffontorturing

animalsandhedidn’thaveaknife.Ifshedecidestofightbackrightnow,itcouldendwith
herthroatgettingslashedopeninthemiddleofthestreetandherlifeisn’tworththerisk.
Notevenalittlebit.

I’mopeningmymouthtobeghernottodoanythingcrazy,butit’stoolate.

Mywordsdieonmylipsandmyheartlurchesintomythroatasshereachesup,

grabbingthearmthat’sholdingtheknifewithbothhands.Thekidreachesforherhair
withhisotherhand,butshe’salreadyturnedherhead,openedhermouthwide,andbitten
downsohardIcanseethetendonsinherjawpopasherteethdigintohisflesh.

“Fuck!”Thekidscreamsandtheknifeclatterstothepavement.

HefistshishandinSam’shairandpullshardenoughtomakehercryout,butbeforehe

candoanymoredamageI’malloverhim.

Myfirstpunchconnectswiththecenterofhisforehead,bonehittingbonewitha

satisfyingthud,sendingawaveofpainupmyforearmIbarelynoticebecauseitfeelsso
fuckinggoodtoknowSam’sfreeandthistrashisgettingwhathedeserves.Ashe
stumblesback,Samslipsoutoftheway,givingmeaclearshotattherestofthecreep.
Beforethekidcanrecoverhisbalancefromthefirstpunch,I’mpummelinghiminthe
stomach,hunchingmyshoulders,duckingmyhead,andgettinginclose,protectingmy
torsoasImakehimwishhedidn’thaveone.

It’sbeenyearssinceI’vebeeninarealfight,butitcomesbacktomelikeIneverleft

thatrough,sadschoolyardinSouthCarolina.LikeIwasneverspiritedawaytoasofter
existenceinMaui,andanevensofteroneinCroatia,whereGabe’smoneymadesureI
wasnevertreatedlikeawasteoffleshagain.

BackinGiffney,I’dbeennothingbutChuckCooney’soldestson,thekidmostlikelyto

getsenttojuvie.I’dgrownupinaneighborhoodwhereyouhadtofighttoproveyou
weren’taneasyvictim,andI’dlearnedmyhoodlessonswell.Iwasaruntuntilmy
fifteenthbirthday,butbythetimeIwaseight,Icouldlevelkidstwicemysize.

IlearnedtofightlikeamonsterbecauseIknewnoonewasgoingtotakeiteasyonmeif

Ididn’t.Ifyoulostafightinmyoldneighborhood,therewasachanceyou’dloseafew
teethoraneye,aswell.Ioncewatchedakidgetbeatensobadlyhewaspukingbloodby
thetimethetwoguysbeatingtheshitoutofhimgotboredandwenttogostealcigarettes
fromthecornerstore.

Whenyougrowuplikethat,youdon’tseeanyotherway.Beatorgetbeaten.

Learntobetougherthanthepeoplewhowanttohurtyou,orgetusedup,battered,and

abused.

IfIwerestillthelittlebeastIusedtobe,Iwouldn’tfeelanounceofregretforbeating

thefuckingshitoutofthiskid.Backthen,Iknewthelawsofthejungle.Ihadabsorbed
themintomybloodstream,beenbornwiththemencodedinmyDNA.Weakfuckswho
trytotakewhatthestrongerfuckshavedeservewhattheyget.Theydeservetosufferand
todieifthey’reunluckyenoughtogetpunchedinthewrongplaceonetoomanytimes.
Thiskidhadtriedtohurtsomeoneundermyprotectionandtakewhatwasmine,andhe’d
lost,andnowitwasmyrighttomakehimwishhehadneverbeenborn.

ButI’mnotthatmonsteranymore.Idon’thaveatasteforblood,orthefreedomtorisk

killingsomeonewithmyfists.IhaveaconsciencethatwouldeatmealiveifItookalife
foranyreasonotherthanself-defense,andIhavesomuchtolose.

IhaveSamandourfutureandthatis…everything.

“Getoutofhere.”Ishovethekidaway,breathburningmylungs,makingmeawareof

howmuchenergyI’dbeenexerting.

Hefallstothegroundnearthetrashcanswithagroananddoesn’tgetupforalong

moment,makingmewonderifItooktoolongtoregaincontrol.

Isilentlystartcounting,promisingmyselfI’llgofindaphonetocallforhelpifhe

doesn’tgetupbythetimeIreachten,nomatterhowfuckedI’llbeifIendupinjailina
foreigncountry.Butfinally,afteranothergroanandawhimperthatmakesmethinkhe

wasclosertothirteenthansixteen,hestaggerstohisfeetandlurchesawayaroundthe
edgeoftheapartmentbuilding.

Iwatchhimgo,tornbetweenfeelingrelievedanddisgustedwithmyself.

Aquickglanceatthebuildingrevealssheetshanginginthewindows,aChristmastree

stillvisibleinasecondstoryapartment,andanairofpovertysoheavythereisno
mistakingthebuildingforanythingotherthantheslumthatitis.Thisiswherethepeople
whoarejustafewrungsaboverockbottomareclingingtotheshitsplatteredconcrete
beforethey’resweptawayintothesewer.

ThisisaplaceliketheonewhereIgrewup,aplacewherealmostnoonegetsoutandno

onegetsbetter.

Generationbygeneration,peoplearesuckedintoevermorecrushingpovertyuntilkids

arebornknowingit’spointlesstohopeforsomethingbetter.Theonlywayoutistotake
whattheworldwon’tofferyou,tostealwhatthepowersthatbewillnevergiveyoua
chancetoearn.

AsawfulasitwastoseeSamwithaknifeatherthroat,apartofmeknowswherethat

kidwascomingfrom.AndIknowifthingshadbeendifferent,ifCaitlinhadn’tmeta
millionairewithatrustfundwholovedhercrazyfamilyasmuchashelovedmysister,
andifSamhadn’tmademewanttochange,Imighthavebeenthatkid.

“Areyouokay?”Samappearsinfrontofme,hereyessowideinherthinfaceshelooks

likeoneofthoseJapanesecartoons,remindingmeoftheotherthingthat’sbeenbothering
mesinceIpulledherintomyarmsattheKahuluiairport.

“I’mfine,butyou’retooskinny,”Isay,suckinginarelievedbreathasshelungesinto

me,hugsmetight,andprovesshedoesn’tthinkI’mamonster.“I’mgoingtobuyyoua
bigstackofpancakesassoonaswegetcheckedintothehostel.”

“Weshouldprobablygetcleanedupsomewherefirst,”shesays,pullingbacktolookup

atme,eyesstillwide.“YourknucklesaresplitandI…IthinkIhavebloodinmymouth.”

Icaptureherfaceinmyhands,runningmythumboverherfullbottomlip.“No,you

don’t.You’refine.Noblood.”

“Areyousure?”sheasks,bringingherfingerstohermouthandwipingtoohardatthe

edges.“Iswear,Itasteblood.It’slikemymouthisfullofit.”

“Ican’tseeanything,butthatwasdangerous,Sam.”Ibend,scoopingupourpacks,

readytogetawayfromthesceneofournearmugging.“Ifanythinglikethateverhappens
again,justgivetheguythemoney.Itisn’tworthriskingyourlife.”

“Iknow.”Shecrossesherarmsatherchestaswemakequicktimedownthestreet,

towardthegreenhostelsignglowingattheendoftheblock.“Idon’tknowwhat
happened.OneminuteIwasscared,andthenextIwassoangryIcouldn’tthinkstraight.I
don’tevenrememberdecidingtofightback.Ijust…didit.”

Herfingersdrifttoherlips.“Ibithimsohard,Danny.IthinkIfeltsomething…snap.A

tendonorsomething?”

“It’sokay.”Istudyherfaceintheglowofthestreetlights,notlikinghowpaleshelooks.

“Don’tworryabouthim.”

“I’mnot,Ijust…”Shebrusheshersleeveacrossherlipshardenoughforthefabricof

herfleecehoodietoraspasitdragsacrossherskin.“It’snothing.Ijustneedtogetthe
tasteoutofmymouth.I’llbrushmyteethassoonaswegetthere.It’llbefine.I’llbe
fine.”

Iwanttobelieveher,butmyguttellsmenothingisfineandmaybethefatesarestill

againstus,afterall.

ChapterEight

OneWeekEarlier

Samantha

“Weareallthefoolsoftimeandterror:Days

Stealonusandstealfromus;yetwelive,

Loathingourlife,anddreadingstilltodie.”

-LordByron

“SoyouthinkIcanfinishinonemoresemester?”Ipluckatthepillingfabriconthe

upholsteredchairinmyadvisor’scrampedoffice,wherestacksofhardcoverbookson
mathematicaltheorywarforspacewithhiswidecollectionofantiquebeersteins.

ThefirsttimeI’dmetwithMr.Thompsonfreshmanyear,I’dthoughthisofficewas

depressing,butnowIcanappreciatethecozysafenessofhistinyroomonthethirdfloor
ofthebusinessschoolbuilding.

Itmightnotbemuch,butitwasallhis,andithadadoorhecouldcloseandlocktight

whenhewantedtoshutouttheworld.ItsoundedlikeasliceofparadiseandwasallI
wantedfortherestofmycollegecareer—aspaceofmyown,andtospendaslittletime
withtherestofthestudentbodyaspossible.

“Youcould,butyou’dhavetocarrytwentycredits,”Mr.Thompsonsays,squintingat

hiscomputerscreenbeforedippinghischintomakeanoteontheprintoutsinfrontof
him.“Andtwooftheclassesyouneedaren’tavailableonlineuntilthespringsemester.”

Myfingersdigintotheseat,mynailsscratchingalongtheroughfabric.“ButifIspread

myclassesoutovertwosemestersIcandoeverythingonline?”

“Ithinkso,”hesays.“Justletmecheckacoupleofthingstobesure.”

“Okay,thanks,”Isay,kneejoggingasIwaitforhimtofinishmappingoutmy

educationalplanforthenexttwelvemonths.

Behindhisbowed,baldhead,Ihaveasliver-sizedviewofthecampusquadthroughhis

narrowwindow.

Outside,therestofthestudentbodyiscelebratingtheendoffinalswithpicnics,

sunbathing,andanimpromptugameofultimateFrisbee.Everyoneissmiling,laughing,
andlookingsorelaxedandhappyyou’dthinkthesemesterhadbeennothingbutsmooth

sailingandwehadn’tspentthelastfivemonthsweatheringtheworstscandalSterling
Universityhaseverknown.

YouwouldthinknoonehadpostednightmarishvideosonthecampuswebsiteonNew

Year’sEve,noonehadstarteddangerousrumors,andnoonehadhungthemselvesfrom
theceilingintheirdormroomtwodaysbeforeSpringBreak.

Youwouldthinkwewereonebighappyfamily,butIknowbetter.

Therearemonstersonthiscampus,andIcan’tgetawayfromSU,oroutofL.A.fast

enough.AssoonasIhavemyscheduleinhand,I’mgoneandI’mnevercomingback.I’ll
finishtherestofmyclassesonlinefromthesafetyofmyownapartmentsomewherefar,
faraway.Somewherewherenooneknowsme,andnothingremindsmeofallthemistakes
I’vemade.

“Allright,MissSammy,hereiswhatI’vegotforyou.”Mr.Thompsonpushestwo

sheetsofpaperacrossthedeskandproceedstowalkmethroughtheclassesI’llneedto
completemydegreeinbusinessmanagementconsulting.“You’lljusthavetotalkto
ProfessorGrahamaboutthemid-termandfinalforAdvancedManagementPracticum.I
knowhepreferstohavestudentscomeintotheclassroomtotakethose,buthe’saflexible
guy.Ifyouswingbyhisofficetoexplainwhyyouwon’tbeabletomakeitbackto
campus,I’msurehe’llbehappytoworkwithyou.”

“Thankyousomuch.”Mybreathrushesoutasawaveofreliefspreadsthroughmy

chest.“IreallyappreciatethisMr.Thompson.”

“GladIcouldhelp.”Hiswidesmilemakeshisgrayingmoustachelookbushierthan

usual.“I’msorrytoseeyougo,butit’sgoodtoseepeopletakingcareoffamily.I’msure
yourgrandmotherwillappreciatethehelp.”

Inod,butkeepmyeyesonmyscheduleasIfoldthesmallstackofpapersandtuckthem

intomypurse.IshakeMr.Thompson’shandgoodbye,andheadoutoftheoffice,heart
racing.

I’malmosthomefree,soclosetomakingtheescapeI’vebeencravingformonthsIcan

tasteitonmytongue,sweetandbrightlikethelemon-flavoredshaveiceIcouldn’tget
enoughofasakid.

IknowIshouldfeelbadaboutlyingtomyadvisorandcreatingafakesickgrandmawho

needshelprunningherchainofrestaurants,butIdon’t.Thefibisgoingtobuymy
freedom,andit’snotthekindofliethatcouldleadtosomeonegettinghurt.It’sa
victimlessfalsehood,notliketheotherone.BythetimeIleaveL.A.tonight,thatotherlie
willhavecostmeeverythingthatmatters.

Butthat’sonlyright.Alifeforalife.

OnlyI’llhaveachancetostartover,torisefromtheashes,insteadofhavingwhat’sleft

ofmescatteredonabeachinMalibu.

There’sjustonethinglefttodobeforeIcanmakemyescape…

AsIstepoutintothesunandstartacrossthegrasstotheparkinglotonthefarsideof

thequad,Itugmyphonefrommypurse,scrollingthroughmycontactsuntilDanny’s

namepopsup.

JustlookingatitisenoughtomakemefeellikeI’veswallowedaneggwhole.

Sofar,noneofthetiesI’veseveredhavehurtme,atleastnotenoughtomakean

impressioncomparedtothemiserythathasshadowedmeformonths.Butbreakingup
withDannyisgoingtohurtlikehell,andthelogicalpartofmeknowsendingour
relationshipnowislikecuttingoffmylegthenightbeforeabigrace.Dannyistheperson
Iturntowhenthingsgettough,andthingshaveneverbeentougherthantheyareright
now.IshouldberunningtohimasfastasIcan,notrunningaway.

ButIlovehimtoomuchtoforcehimtosharethisload.He’sdonenothingtodeserveit,

andIrefusetoletmyselfishnessruinhislifethewayit’sruinedmine.

I’msteppingintotheshadeofthemapletreeinfrontofthesciencebuilding,hoping

makingthiscallinpublicwillkeepmefromfallingapartthewayIknowIwillifI’mat
homealone,whenafamiliarvoicecallsmyname.

Withacurse,Ishovemyphonebackintomypurse,gritmyjaw,andbracemyselffor

anotherrun-inwithmyleastfavoriteperson.

I’msuremostpeoplewouldsayIshouldhatehisfriendsmore,butAlecistheonewho

wassupposedtohavemyback,oratleastnotholdaneonsignovermyheadletting
troubleknowwheretofindme.Instead,mystepbrotherstuckhisnoseintomyprivate
business,andissuedthemiseryofthepastyearahand-writteninvitation,andIhatehim
forit.

IhatehimsomuchIhavetofighttheurgetospitinhishandsomefaceeverytimeour

pathscrossonthewaytoclass.

“Whatdoyouwant?”Iaskashestepsintotheshade.“Ithoughtweagreedtoleaveeach

otheralone.”

“No,Iagreedtokeepeveryonequiet,”Alecsays,angerinhisdarkbrowneyes,eyesthe

samecolorashischeesydesignerpoloshirtwiththefernembroideredontherightside.
“Butthat’sover.Thearraignmentwasthismorning.Thegrandjurydidn’tdismissthe
chargesthewaythelawyersthoughttheywould.”

“What?”Iask,mybrainrefusingtomakesenseofthewords.“ButIthoughttherewas

nowaythe—”

“That’swhateveryonethought.”Herunsaclawedhandthroughhisbrownhair,butit

fallsimmediatelybackintoplace,becausethat’swhathappenswhenyoupaythree
hundreddollarsforahaircut.“ButitturnedoutDeidrebeingdeadmadeitworseforour
case,notbetter.Nowthere’sgoingtobeatrialattheendofJune,andwecan’taffordto
fuckaround.Igavemynewstatementacoupleofhoursagoandtheothersaredownat
thepolicestationrightnow.They’retellingDetectiveSpanutheverything,thecomplete
truth.”

“Thetruth.”Asharpbarkoflaughterescapesmylipsdespitethepanictighteningmy

throat.“Ican’tbelieveyoucansaythatwithastraightface.”

“I’mnotgoingtohavethisargumentagain,”Alecsayswithafrustrationthatwould

makeapersonthinkwe’dhadthesamefightathousandtimes,insteadofonce,onthe
sidewalkoutsidehisstupidfrathouse.“Ijustthoughtyoushouldknowyou’llbegettinga
subpoenasoon,andacallfromthepolice.They’llwanttotalktoyoubeforethetrial.
Hearyoursideofthestory.”

“It’snotmyside.”Ipaceacrossthegrass,heartslamminginmychestandfearbanishing

thetasteoffreedomfrommymouth.“It’swhathappened.”

“Fine.”Alec’stoneissharpenoughtomakemeflinch.“Tellthemwhateveryouwant,as

longasyoutellthetruthaboutDeidre.Noneofusdidanythingtoher.You’rethereason
she’sdead.Toddand—”

“Don’tsaytheirfuckingnames,”Ishout,turningtheheadsofthreegirlslyingoutona

quiltattheedgeofthelawn.They’reallwearingbikinitopsandcutoffshorts,anddon’t
seemtocarethateveryboycrossingthequadstopstodroolonhiswayby.

I’veneverbeenthatkindofgirl.Igrewupinthewater,butwhiletherestofmyfriends

embraceditty-bittybikinis,Istuckwiththesame,full-coveragetwo-piecesI’dwornasa
kid.Ididn’tliketoworryaboutmytopfallingoffwhenIwipedoutonawaveandI’ve
neverbeeninterestedinflauntingmybodyforgeneralconsumption.BythetimeIwasold
enoughtofeelconfidentinmyskinandrealizeIlookedgoodinskimpyclothes,Danny
andIhadbeendatingfortwoyearsandhewastheonlyoneIwasinterestedinturningon.

He’salwaysbeentheonlyone.

Ihaveneverwantedtobewithanyoneelse,andknowingI’mgettingreadytolosehim

becauseofAlecandhishorriblefriendsandallthestupidlieswe’vetold,makesmewant
toscream.ToscreamandkeepscreaminguntiltheworldshattersandIcantrytomake
somethingnewwiththepieces.

“Listen,”Alecsaysinaharshwhisper,overcompensatingformyshout.“Youneedto

pullittogether.I’vebeenchargedasanaccessorytoafelonyandyoudon’tseemelosing
myshit.”

“Youknowyou’renotgoingtojail,”Isay,voicerough.“It’slikethelawyerssaid,the

prosecutorwillneverbeabletoproveyouhadanythingtodowithit.”

“Ididn’thaveanythingtodowithit,”Alecsays,butforthefirsttimeinmonthsIhear

uncertaintyinhisvoice.“Youknowthat,Sam.YouknowIpassedoutonthecouchafter
theballdropped.Ihavenocluewhathappenedafter.”

“Ifyousayso.”Icrossmyarmsovermychest,colddespitetheeighty-degreeheatof

theMayafternoon.

“Idobecauseit’sthetruth.”Alecstepscloser,eyesnarrowingonmyface.“Fromhere

onout,I’mgoingtobetellingnothingbutthetruth.I’malreadyintroublewiththepolice
forlying,andIwouldhavebeenchargedwithperjuryifI’dbeencalledtotestifyforthe
grandjury.Ihavetolookoutfornumberone,Sam.Ican’tprotectyouanymore.”

Idon’tknowwhethertolaughorcry.

TheonlythingAlechasbeenprotectingishisownass.Thelawyerrepresentinghimwas

certainthefactthatDeidrewasdeadwouldguaranteethecasewouldbedismissed.Itwas

convenientforAlecandtheotherstoletmylieliveon,butnowthey’llallbetelling“the
truth,”andIknowtheirtruthwillbearlittleresemblancetomine.It’sgoingtocomedown
totheirwordagainstthewordofthegirlwhostartedtherumorthatledtoDeidreJones’s
suicide.ThewordoffourofthewealthiestboysatSU—twoofthemlegacies,onetheson
ofacelebrity,andallofthemwell-connectedintheLosAngelescommunity—againstthe
daughterofaMauigeologist.

Iweardesignerclothesandrentanapartmentinaposhneighborhoodbecausemy

stepmotherisrich,butIdon’thaveatrustfund.IhavesixthousanddollarsinsavingsI’ve
earnedteachingsurflessonseverysummerandworkingparttimeasamathtutor,butI
alreadyknowthatwon’tbeenoughtopayforagoodlawyer.

I’vedoneenoughlatenightInternettrollingtoknowIcan’tbechargedwith

manslaughterinCaliforniaforunintentionallydrivingsomeonetotaketheirownlife,but
ifthepolicewanttotalktome,I’mgoingtoneedgoodrepresentationbymyside.I’ve
liedtoaninvestigatingofficerandwithheldevidence.That’senoughtogetmeintosome
serioustrouble,eveniftheybelieveInevermeanttohurtanyone.

Andtalkingtothepoliceisjustthefirststep.Thenthey’llwantmetotalktothe

prosecutingattorney,andeventuallyI’llbecalledtothestandinacourtroomandhaveto
tellmystorytoaroomfullofstrangers,whiletheboyswhoruinedmylifewatch.Andthe
wholetimetheywillbeinsistingthatthey’reinnocent,thatthisismyfault,andatleast
someofthepeopleonthejurywillbelievethem.

Becausethat’showcaseslikethiswork.

Justthinkingabouthowhorribleit’sallgoingtobeisenoughtomakemefeellikeI’m

goingtobesickalloverAlec’sfive-hundred-dollarshoes.

Instead,Icovermymouthwithmyhand,closemyeyes,andtakedeepbreathsinand

outthroughmynose.Ican’tfallapartrightnow.NotinfrontofAlec,notinthemiddleof
thequadwhereeveryonecansee.

“DoyouwanttocallMomandyourdadtogether?”Alecasks,sympathyinhisvoice.

“Wecouldgetastudyroominthelibraryandputthemonspeakerphone.”

Ishakemyhead.Ican’timaginetellingmydadandPennythetruth,letalonewithAlec

sittingrightnexttome.

“Areyousure?Idon’tmind.”

Iwipemymouthwiththebackofmyhandandforcemyeyesopen.“Nothanks,”Isay,

mymouthsodryIcanbarelygetthewordsout.“I’mgoingtowait.Iwanttoknowwhat’s
happeningfirst.”

“Idon’tthinkyou’llbechargedwithanything,butyoushouldgetalawyerjustincase,”

hesays,echoingmythoughtsfromamomentbefore.“Youcan’tbetoocareful.Mom’s
payingformylawyer,Iknowshewon’tmind—”

“IsaidIwanttowait,okay?”Isnap.

Hissympatheticexpressionbecomesafrown.“Listen,I’mjusttryingtohelp.Noneof

thisisevenmyfault.Idon’thaveto—”

“Iknow,I’msorry,”Isayinasoftervoice.“Ijust…It’salottotakein.Ineedsome

timetothinkisall.”Ican’taffordtopissAlecoff,ortogivehimanyreasontothinkI
mightnotbearoundforthatinterviewheandhisfriendsareassumingI’llgrantthepolice.

Ineedtimetothink,andtoplanhowI’mgoingtokeepthecourtroomscenariofrom

happening.Ican’tenduponthestand.

Ijustcan’t.Iwon’tlivethroughit.Itwillblowoutthelastflameofhopeinsideme,and

I’llnevergetthatfreshstartI’vebeendreamingabout.IfIgodownthatroad,I’mnever
comingbackagain.

I’mgoingtohavetorun,butnottosomenowheretowninMiddleAmericaorthestudio

apartmentinCapeCodI’vebeendaydreamingabout.I’llhavetogofarther,someplace
wherenonewsstationsarefollowingthescandalatSUandnoonecaresthatI’ma
witnessinafelonytrial.SomewherewhereIcandisappearintoanewlifeandnoneofthe
badthingsfromthepastcaneverfindme.

EvenbeforeIsaygoodbyetoAlec—promisingtocallhimifIchangemymindabout

thelawyerandwanthimonthephonewhenIcallPennytoaskformoney—I’malready
plottingmynewescaperoute.Butthistime,Iwon’tbeabletotakeanyofthegoodthings
withme.Iwon’tbeabletofinishmydegreewiththishangingovermyhead,the
universitymightevendecidetokickmeoutofschool,oncetheylearnthetruth.My
educationisover,andI’mgoingtobeleavingSterlingwithnothingbutwhatIcancarry
inmysuitcase,headingoutintotheworldevenmorealoneandfriendlessthanIthought
I’dbe.

Unless…

IreachwhereIparkedmycar,butdon’topenthedoortogetinside.Instead,Ipullout

myphoneandstareatDanny’snumber,wonderingifmaybeIdon’thavetoleaveallof
thegoodthingsbehind,afterall.

MaybeI’vebeenlookingatthisthewrongway,andIdon’thavetorunoffandcarrythis

loadalonefortherestofmylife.MaybeDannyandIcanrunawaytogetherandleaveall
oftheuglinessbehind.

IjusthavetodecidehowfarI’mwillingtogotokeeptheonepersonwhomattersbymy

side.

ChapterNine

PresentDay

Samantha

“Thegreatobjectoflifeissensation—

tofeelthatweexist,eventhoughinpain.”

-LordByron

Iwakeupinthemiddleofthenighttothesoundofsomeonemoaning,andfora

terrifyingmomentIhavenoideawhereIam.

Ifreezeinbed,handsclutchingthescratchywoolblanketandpullingituptomyneck,

instinctivelymovingtoconcealmyselfthoughIknowhidingunderthecoverswon’tdo
anygoodifsomeone’sbrokenin.

Themoancomesagain,along,low,miserablesoundfromtheoppositesideoftheroom.

I’mabouttoaskwho’stherewhenmyeyesadjusttothedarknessandImakeoutthe
silhouettesoftheotherbunkbedsfillingthespaceandmymindcatchesupwithmybody.

IrememberthatI’minthegirls’dormatthehostelandthatthemanatthedesksaid

therewouldbeafullhousetonight.Twelvegirlsinthebedsandanothergirlbunkingon
thefloorinthecorner—eventhoughthat’stechnicallyagainstthelaw.Buttheguywith
thebeadsthreadedintohisbeardondutytonightsaidhecouldn’tstandtoturnagirloutto
sleeponthestreets.Hewaswillingtoriskafirecodeviolationifwewereallwillingto
makeroomforonemore.

Eightofthegirlsintheroomareonamissiontriptohelpbuildhomesfortheneedyand

therestofuscamecloseenoughtonothavingaplacetosleepthatwecouldempathize.
Weevenhelpedmovethebedsaroundtogiveourthirteenth—atinygirlwithdreads
who’sonherwaytoworkonacommunalfarm—roomtocrash.

Everyoneatthehostelhasbeenverynice,anddonetheirbesttomakeDannyandme

feelwelcome,butevenallthatnicenesscan’tbanishthememoryofthatkid’sknifeatmy
throat,orthewayitfelttobepressedsotightagainstastranger’sbody.Forafewminutes,
I’dbeentransportedbacktoNewYear’sEve.

I’dreliveditallinfastmotion,imagesandsensememoriesracingthroughmyheadso

fasttheworldstartedtospin.Butforthefirsttime,thememoriesdidn’tmakemefeel
scared.I’dbeenenraged,sofuriousI’dfoughtbackwithoutthinkingaboutthe

consequences,andIdon’tregretit.Iwouldratherdiethanbeavictim.I’mnotgoingtolet
anyoneholdmedown,noteveragain.

Themoancomesagain,higherpitchedthistimewithaplaintivewhimperattheendthat

makesmeworrythisgirlisinseriouspain.

“Areyouokay?”Ihissintothedarkness.“CanIgetyouanything?Tylenolor

something?”

“It’sjustSheila,”anunfamiliarvoiceanswers.“She’llmoanallnight,andnotremember

whatshewasdreamingaboutinthemorning.IthinkPercyhassomeextraearplugsinher
bag.Icantrytofindthemforyouifyouwant.”

“No,that’sokay,”Iwhisper.“I’vegotheadphonesifIneedthem.”

“Okay.Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,”Isay,anddomybesttorelaxintothemattress,butitfeelslikeI’m

sleepingonamarbleslab.Ihadn’tnoticedhowhardthebedwaswhenIlaydown—Iwas
sodesperatetoclosemyeyesIcouldhavepassedoutleaningagainstawall—butnow
I’vehadenoughresttonoticehowuncomfortableIam.

SinceIthrewawaymyphoneandhaven’thadtimetobuyawatch,Ihavenoideawhat

timeitis,butIfeelrefreshedandstrangelykeyedup.Lastnight,I’dbeenfreakedoutby
thetasteofthatkid’sshirtinmymouthandthesightofDannyunleashinghisviolentside
inawayIhaven’tseeninforever,butnowthememoryofhowwetookcareofthethreat
tooursafetymakesmefeelproudand…hopeful.DannyandIareagoodteam.Lifethrew
alotofshitatusyesterday,butwedealtwithitandmadethebestofeverybadsituation.

IknowwehavemilestogoandmanybridgestocrossbeforeIcancallthisescapea

success,butrightnow,Ifeelconfidentthatwe’llgetthere.Together.

Itrytosleepforalittlelonger,butwhenSheilathemoanerstartsupagain,Idon’treach

formyheadphones.Instead,Igrabmypurseandmytennisshoesandslipquietlyoutof
theroomintothedimlylithallway.Foramoment,Ithinkaboutpeekingintothemen’s
dormtoseeifDannyisawake,butdecideagainstit.Heneedshissleep,andIcankilla
coupleofhoursaloneatthecoffeeshopdownstairs.Itwillprobablybegoodforme,give
metimetothinkthroughtherestoftheplanagainwithaclearerhead.

Itugonmyshoesandrunmyfingersthroughmyhair,butIdon’theadintothe

bathroomtomakesureI’mpresentablebeforeIheaddownstairs.Runningacoffeeshop
nexttoayouthhostel,thewaitressesmustbeusedtorumpledkidsrollinginatallhours.
AndIwenttosleepinmyblacktrackpantsandawhitelong-sleevedteeshirt,soIlook
morelikeI’mheadedoutforarunthanrollingoutofbed.

Forasecond,Icontemplatearun—nothinghelpsmeorganizemythoughtslike

poundingpavement—butIdismisstheideaalmostimmediately.Thisneighborhoodis
rough,andIdon’twanttoriskrunningintotroublealone.Likeitornot,theworldisn’t
safeforawomanbyherself,orevenwithsomeone,ifthatsomeoneisanassholelikemy
stepbrother.

Alec’sfacefloatsthroughmymindasIpaddownthestairs,throughthecommonroom

wheretheclockonthewallproclaimsthetimetobefourforty-fivea.m.,andoutthefront
doorofthehostel.ButbythetimeIpushinsidethetwenty-fourhourcoffeeshopnext
door,I’mnotthinkingofanythingbuthowgoodcoffeesounds,andwhetherornotI’ll
orderbreakfastaloneorwaitforDannytocomedownlater.

Witheverypassingmoment,I’mgettingbetteratlettinggoofthepast.Atthisrate,by

thetimeDannyandIreachourlastscheduledstop,IwillbethatnewSammyI’vebeen
dreamingabout,thekindofcarefreegirlwhocanconvinceherboyfriendtostayinNew
Zealandwithoutmakinghimwonderifshe’scompletelylosthermind.

I’msmilingasIfollowthewaitressintheplaidpantsandbrightyellowsweatertomy

booth.WhenIseethemanseatedatthenextbooth,mysmilebecomesalaugh.Seeing
himhere,lookingadorablyrumpledwithhischeekscoveredingoldenstubbleandhishair
hanginginslightlytangledwavesaroundhisshoulders,feelslikeasignofgoodthingsto
come.

“Hello,stranger,”Isay,leaningahipagainstDanny’sbooth.“Isthisseattaken?”

Helooksupwithagrin.“Itisnow.Sitdown,woman.I’vegotenoughfoodcomingfor

fivepeople.”

“Good,I’mstarved.”Islideintotheboothandwaveawaythemenuthewaitresstriesto

giveme.“That’sokay.I’lljusttakecoffeeandstealhalfofwhateverhe’shaving.”

“I’llberightbackwithcoffeeandwater,”shesays,hustlingbacktothefrontofthe

restaurantwithaspringinherstep.

“Youcouldn’tsleep,either?”Dannyasks.

“No,therewasamoanerinmyroom,”Isaywithashrug.“Butit’sokay.Ifeelrested.I

feelgreatactually.Howaboutyou?Howareyourknuckles?”

Dannystudiesmeforabeatbeforenodding.“They’reokay,andIfeelgood.Islepthard

untilabouttwentyminutesago.”Hepauses,butIcantellhe’sleftsomethingunsaid.

“What’sup?”Iask.“Youstillstressedaboutlastnight?”

Histipshischintotheside,thewayhedoeswhenhe’snotsurewhattosay,before

shakinghishead.“No,notstressed,just…”

“Justwhat?”Ipush,feelingbolderthanIhavesinceDannyandIgotontheplane.“Spit

itout.Icantakeit.Areyoustillupsetwithmefornotpickingupthephonelastweek?”

“No.”Hetuckshishairbehindhisearsandstudieshisownmugofcreamycoffee.“I

don’tknow.Maybe.Alittle.Somethingstillfeelsoffkilter.Eversince—”

“Okay,I’vegotcoffee,water,andashareplateforthelady,”thewaitresssays,returning

withatraybalancedononearm.“Andscrambledeggswithcookedtomatoes,
mushrooms,toast,andasideofbeans,anorderofbananapancakes,andasideofbacon
forthegentleman.”

Shefinishessettingthesteamingplatesoffoodonthetableandstandsbeamingdownat

us.“AnythingelseIcangetforyoutwo?”

“No,thisisgreat,”Isay.“Thankssomuch.”

Asshepromisestocheckbackinafewminuteswithacoffeerefillandhurriesaway,I

turnbacktoDannywithmymostdeterminedsmile.“Yesterdaywasaweirddayall
around,soIthinkthatexplainsthat,butasfarasbefore…”

Itakeabracingbreath,launchingintomynextliewithhardlyaflickerofguiltinmy

chest.“I’vedecidedtoleaveschool.Idroppedoutafterfinals.”

“What?”Dannyshakeshishead.“Butwhy?Ithoughtyoulovedtheprogram.And

you’vebeendoingsogreat.Like,straightAsandeverything.”

“Iknow,andIdidlikeit,buttherearealotofthingsIdon’tloveaboutL.A.andit’sso

hardbeingawayfromyouforsomuchoftheyear…”Itakeasipofcoffeetocovermy
momentofhesitationwhileIthinkofhowbesttospinthis.“I’vebeenthinkingall
semesteraboutwhatIreallywanttodowithmylifeandIdecidedlastweekthatfinishing
schoolisn’tit.Iwanttogetstartedonthefuture.I’mtiredofwaiting.Ican’tmakeit
throughtherestofundergrad,letalonethetwoyearsofgradschoolitwouldtaketogeta
reallygoodjob.”

Iaddmorecreamtomycoffeeandstiritinslowcirclestoavoidmakingeyecontact.“I

wouldhavetoldyouwhatwashappening,butmyparentswerealreadyridingmyass.
EvenMomandyouknowhoweasilydistractedsheis.Iwasjustafraidyou’dtrytotalk
meoutofit,too.”

Dannyblowsalongbreathoutthroughpursedlips.“Iwouldhave.Imean,you’ve

workedsohardandyoualwayssaidmanagementconsultingwastheperfectcareerfor
someonewholovestotravel.”

“Butsoisteachingsurflessons,”Isay,lookingupfrommycoffee.“I’mnotmydador

Penny.I’vebeenbuyingintothefearthey’vebeensellingforyears,butIdon’tneedto
driveahundredthousanddollarcarorownamansiononMauitobehappy.AllIneedis
enoughtogetby…andyou.”

Hereachesacrossthetable,takingmyhandinhis,sendingatinglingfeelingracingup

myarm.“Youhaveme,andIhaveenoughtocoverallthebasicsforbothofus.Ijust
don’twantyoutolookbackandregretthis,orresentmeforbeingthereasonyougaveup
onadream.”

“Businessmanagementconsultingwasnevermydream,”Isay,threadingmyfingers

throughhis,thismanwhocanstillmakemetingleafterallthehellofthepastfew
months.

Thisconversationstartedwithalie,butit’sgoingtoendwiththetruth.“You’remy

dream,DannyCooney.Don’tyouknowthatbynow?”

“You’remydream,too,”hesays,liftingmyhandtopressakisstomyknuckles.

“I’msogladyou’rehere.”Ismileeventhoughmyeyesarestartingtosting.“Thistripis

goingtobeamazing.Thebadluckisbehindusnow.Ifeelitinmygut.”

Asmilecreepsacrosshisface.“Atleastweknowthechanceswe’llgetmuggedinthe

caronthewaytotheriverareprettylow.”

Ilaughandsniffawaythetears.Idon’twanttocry,notnow,whenthefutureisfinally

startingtolookbright.“Iwouldkissyou,butIdidn’tbrushmyteethbeforeIcame
down.”

“Idon’tgiveashit,”hesays,leaningintokissme,softly,butnotsosweetly,acrossthe

platesoffoodcoveringthetable.“Ican’twaittobealonewithyoutonight.”

Ishiverbutrefusetogetnervous.

Tonightwilltakecareoftonight.Fromnowon,I’mallaboutlivinginthemoment.

IsmileasDannysitsbackinhisseat.Wespendthenexthourguzzlingcoffeeandeating

untilwefeellikewe’regoingtoexplode.

AndthenIslideintotheboothbesidehimandwespendanotherhourdrinkingmore

coffeewhilepagingthroughmyguidebook,markingalltheplaceswewanttovisitand
watchingthemorningsunfillthedinerwithwarm,hopefullight.

ChapterTen

Danny

“Allwhojoywouldwin.

Mustshareit—Happinesswasbornatwin.”

-LordByron

NewZealandisinsanelybeautiful,Samisbacktoheroldselfagain,andotherthanthe

factthatherfamilyisthreateningtodisownherfordroppingoutofschool,allisrightwith
theworld.

WeheadoutofAucklandalittleafterteno’clock,andbyeleven,we’reinthemiddleof

themostamazingfallcolorI’veeverseen.Explosionsoforangeandredlinetheroadby
thehighway,whileinthedistancesnow-cappedmountainswarnthatwinterisonitsway
inandallthiswildcolorwillonlybehereforalittlelonger.Butlookingoutthewindow
atthecrystalclearriverwindingbesidetheroad,Icanimaginehowbeautifulthenorth
islandisgoingtobewithbarebrancheshauntingthelandscape.

IstartthinkingmaybeIcanmakeanextendedtrip,likeSamwastalkingaboutat

breakfast,workafterall.

“IthinkweshouldstayuntilDecember,”IsaywhenSamandIpulloffataroadside

fruitstandtograblunchhalfwaytoLakeTaupo.

“Youdo?”Sheturnstome,grinninglikeshegotherbirthdaypresentsearly.“Really?”

“Really.”Thatsmilemakesmedeterminedtofindawaytomakethiswork.It’sbeentoo

longsinceI’veseenhersmilelikethat.“I’dalreadyplannedonrunningthebusinessin
Croatialongdistance,andIcancallGusandtellhimIneedtoputoffstartingthelocation
inMauiforsixmonthsorso.He’sbeenhedginganyway,wonderingifhecouldaffordto
putuphishalfofthemoney.ThiswillgivehimmoretimetosaveandIcanaddsomeof
thecashIwasgoingtoinvesttoourtravelbudget.”

“Orwecangetjobssoyoudon’thaveto,”Samsays.“Therearetonsofbeacheshere.

Comespring,wecanteachsurfing,andinthemeantimeIbetwecanfindworkata
campgroundorsomething.Ihadafriendwhocameherelastwinterandgotacamperto
rentforfreeinexchangefordoingoddjobsaroundthecampgroundandcleaningupafter
theguests.”

“Soundsamazing,”Isay,wrappingmyarmsaroundherwaistandpressingakisstoher

neckbeforemurmuringintoherhair,“Ican’twaittoshackupinacamperwithyou.”

Samlaughsasshespinsawayfrommeandwandersfartherdowntherowofapples,

pluckingajuicylookingpinkonefromatinybasketandcheckingitforbruises.“And
you’reokaywithmissingthefirstsixmonthsofyournewniece’slife?”

Ishrug.“Babiesaremostlysleepingmachinesforthefirstfewmonthsanyway.Aslong

aswemakesuretogetbacktoCroatiaforChristmas,Iwon’tfeellikeImissedout.And
Caitlinwon’tcare.Sheknowshowlongwe’vewaitedtobetogether.I’msureshe’llbe—”

“Doesthatsayseventeendollars?”Samasks,browfurrowingassheliftsthebasketfrom

thetable.

Ileandowntotakeacloserlookatthehandwrittencardtuckedbetweentwoapples.

“JesusChrist.Forfiveapples?Aretheymadeofgold?”

Samplacesthepinkapplecarefullybackintothebasketandsetsthebasketbackonthe

table.“Myfoodbudgetwon’tlastlongifthat’sthegoingrateforapples.”

“Thebreakfastthismorningwasinsane,too,”Isay.“ButIthoughtthatwasbecausewe

wereinthecity.You’dthinkaroadsidestandwouldhavebetterprices.”

Samturnstome,worryinherbigeyesforthefirsttimeallday.“Isthiscrazy?Arewe

goingtostarvetodeathinaforeigncountry?”

IlaughasIwrapmyarmsaroundheragain,pullinghercloseasacoolbreezewhips

throughthestand,makinghercurlsbobaroundherface.“No,we’renotgoingtostarveto
death.Wejustmightneedtostartlookingforthosejobssoonerratherthanlater.MaybeI
cantalktothepeopleatthecaveexpedition.ThatsoundsalotlikethetoursI’vebeen
doingalready.TheymighthaveaguidepositionopenI’dqualifyfor.”

“Andifyouhaveajobit’seasytogetaworkvisahere,”Samsays,leaningintome.“I

readalittlebitaboutitontheimmigrationwebsitebeforeweleft.”

Ishakemyhead.“Ican’tbelieveyouhadthisallplannedout.”

“Iwouldn’tcallitplanned,”shesayswithacrookedsmile.“Morelikeflyingbytheseat

ofmypantsandhopingyou’dwanttocomealongfortheride.”

Iletmyhandslipdowntocupherbottomthroughherjeans.“Anytimeyourassis

involved,countmein.”

Herbreathrushesoutasshesquirmsaway.“Comeon.Let’sseeifwecanfind

somethingwecanaffordforlunch.Isawasignforagrocerystoreinoneofthetownsup
ahead.”

Therestoftheafternoonisasperfectasthestartoftheday.Wefindagrocerystoreand

bulktrailmixthatonlycostsasmallfortuneandgrabacoupleofLemonandPaeroasodas
todrink.Weeatonaparkbenchoverlookingtheriverwe’regoingtokayaktomorrowand
watchagroupofraftersdriftby,lookingsnugintheirlifejacketsandthicksweaters.

“Iguessnoonefallsin?”Iask.

“Iguessnot,”Samsays.“Ibetthatwater’sfreezingifyoudid.”

“Can’tbeworsethantheoceaninPorecthistimeofyear,”Isay,tippingmydrinkback,

enjoyingthewaythesweetsodafizzesatthebackofmythroat.Istoppeddrinkingbeera
coupleofyearsago,whenitbecameobviousI’dinheritedChuck’sweaknessforalcohol
andcouldn’tstopwithtwoorsevenbeers,butImissthatfizz.Mostsoftdrinkscan’t
matchit,buttheL&Pcomesprettydamnedclosed.

Justanotherthingtoloveaboutournewtemporaryhome.

BythetimewereachourhotelinTaupo—aplacethatremindsmeofanoldfashioned

huntinglodgewithaviewofLakeTaupoandmoresnow-cappedmountainsfarinthe
distance—I’vemorethancomearoundtotheideaoflivinginNewZealand.I’mfucking
thrilledandcan’twaittocelebratewithSam.Icanbarelykeepmyhandstomyselfaswe
checkinatthefrontdeskandgetthekeytoourcabin,andthemomentthedoorcloses
behindSam,Idropmybackpackandreachformygirl.

“Don’tyouwanttolookaroundfirst,”shesays,laughingasIsweepherupintomy

arms.

“Iknowwherethebedis,”Isay.“That’sallIneedtoknowrightnow.”

“Butwhataboutdinner?Ourreservationsareinanhour.Ineedtoshower.”

“We’llshowerafter,”Isay,tossingherontothebedbeforereachingformyfleeceand

tuggingitovermyhead.“I’llwashyourback,youcanwashmine.”

“Danny,forreal.”Shepushesuptositagainsttheheavywoodenheadboardanddraws

herkneesuptoherchest.“I’dratherwaituntilafterdinner.Takeourtime.”

Ipausewithmybelthalfwayundone.“Areyouserious?”

“Yes,I’mserious,”shesays,rollinghereyes.“Iknowit’sbeenalongtime,butis

anothercoupleofhoursreallygoingtomakethatmuchofadifference?”

Istudyherforalongmoment,butshedoesn’tmeetmyeyes.

Shejustwrapsherarmsaroundherknees,hugsherlegstoherchest,andgazes

uncomfortablyoutthewindowintothedarkeningwoods,lookingmorelikeIsuggested
wegethisandhersgenitalpiercingsthanhavesexforthefirsttimeinalmosthalfayear.

Asecondago,Iwassohardmyboxerbriefsfeltliketheywerecuttingoffmy

circulation,butasIstandattheendofthebed,half-dressed,withmygirlfriendso
disinterestedshedoesn’tevensneakapeekatmychest,letaloneinvitemetojoinheron
thebed,myerectiondiesamiserabledeathandourperfectdaytakesaturnasIrealize
whatmusthavehappened.

TheonlytimeSamhaseveractedthiswaybeforewasthreeyearsago,whenIcame

backtotheislandafterhergraduationfromhighschooltofindoutshe’dcheatedwithher
bestfriend’sbrotheratthegraduationparty.Theywerebothdrinkingbeersinthehottub
whenheleanedoverandkissedher.Shesaidsheonlykissedhimbackforafewminutes
andregretteditimmediately,butithadobviouslyfuckedwithherhead.Shewastwitchy
andweirdforanentireweekbeforeIfinallycalledheronitandsheconfessedtowhat
happenedonedaywhileweweresurfing.

Nottrustingmyselfnottocompletelylosemyshit,Ipaddledinwithoutsayingawordto

Sam,hitchhikedovertoSherry’s,anddrankbeerwithBjornuntilfourinthemorning
beforeIthrewupandpassedout.Myhangoverlastedfortwodays—twomiserabledays
thatconvincedmeitwastimetogetonthewagonwiththerestoftheCooneymenwho
werehalfwayfunctionalandstaythere.DuringthosedaysIspentprayingtotheporcelain
godandbeggingtheworldtostopspinning,Samhadcalledatleastfiftytimesto
apologize,butI’drefusedtotakehercallsandlethermessagespileupuntilmymailbox
wasfull.

BythetimeIfinallyfeltgoodenoughtoaskhertocomeovertotalkondaythree,she

wasawreck.ShearrivedatSherry’shouselookinglikeshe’dstuckherfingerinalight
socket,withdarkshadowsunderhereyesandhercurlsfrizzingintoawhitegirlafro.
She’dstartedcryingthesecondoureyesmet,devastatedsobssoheart-wrenchingI
couldn’tholdontomyangerorhurtforanothersecond.

I’djustpulledherinforahugonBjorn’sfrontporch,toldherIlovedher,andthatwas

that.Weneverdidgetaroundtotalkingaboutthestupidkiss,butwedidn’tneedto.We
bothknewshewouldn’tdoanythinglikethatagain.

Thatwasthekindofmistakeyoumakeonetime.

Oratleastthat’swhatI’dassumed…

ButlookingatSamnow,seeingthetensioninherjawandshoulders,andremembering

thewayshepulledawayfrommeeverytimeItriedtotouchhertoday,Ikeepaddingup
twoandtwotogetfour.Cheatingwouldexplainwhyshe’sbeensostrangeanddistantfor
thepastfewmonths.Itwouldexplainwhyshedidn’twanttotalkdirtyonthephone
anymore,andhadpracticallyruntothebathroomafterIgotheroffontheairplane.

Cheatingmightevenexplainwhyshe’sdecidedtoleaveschool.Maybetheaffairranits

courseandthingsareweirdbetweenherandthemysteryguy.Maybeshedumpedhim,
andhe’stryingtowinherback.Ormaybehedumpedherandshefindsittoopainfultobe
aroundhim.Maybethat’swhyshecamerunningtome.Notbecauseshelovesmeor
wantstobewithmeanymore,butbecausesheneededsomeonetomakeherfeelbetter
aftershegotdumpedbywhoevershewasfuckingbehindmyback.

ArationalvoiceinsidemyheadtellsmeI’mlettingmyimaginationrunblindfoldedinto

acondemnedbuilding,butmygutistwistingwiththecertaintythatI’vefoundtheanswer
tothemystery.

ItwouldexplaineverythingandI’vebeenafoolnottosuspectsomethinglikethis

before.

ApartofmewantstoconfrontSamrightnow,butinsteadIreachformyfleeceand

shrugiton.“Whateveryouwant,babe,”Isayinaneutraltone.“Whydon’tyoutakethe
firstshower?I’mgoingtogoforarunanddosomepush-upsandsit-upsontheporch,get
someexerciseafterbeingcoopedupinplanesandcarsfortwodays.”

“Okay,”Samsays,hershouldersvisiblyrelaxingasshe’ssparedtheunpleasanttaskof

fuckingmeuntillaterintheevening.“I’llstartafire,too.”

“Soundsgood,”IlieasIheadforthedoor.

Nothingsoundsgoodrightnow,butI’mnotgoingtorushintoaconfrontationlikeI

wouldhavewhenIwasyounger.

I’llletitliefornow,trytoenjoymylastmealbeforeeverythinggoestoshit,andthen

tonight,afterthesunhassetandwe’retuckedintoourcabinalone,SamandIaregoingto
havealongtalkaboutwhat’sreallygoingonandwherewegofromhere.

ChapterEleven

Samantha

“Man,beingreasonable,mustgetdrunk;

Thebestoflifeisbutintoxication.”

-LordByron

“Doyoureallythinkyoushouldhaveanotherglass?”Dannywatchesmetakealong

swigofalocalpinotnoir,studyingmeintentlyoverhislastbiteofsteak,makingmyskin
tinglewithacrazy-makingcombinationofnervesandexcitement.

Thereisexcitementmixedinwiththeanxietynow,andIknowthewineisthereason

I’vebeenabletorelax.

SodoIneedanotherglass?Yes,Ido.Imayneedtwomore.

That’swhyIorderedanentirebottleeventhoughDannydoesn’tdrink.Idon’tcareifI

feelawfulinthemorning,aslongasIcanenjoybeingwithhimtonight.

It’stimetojumpthelasthurdle,tomakelovethewayweusedtoandproveI’vetruly

leftthepastinthepast.

“Whynot?”Iaskwithaflirtysmile.“Aren’tyougoingtodrivemehome?”

“Wewalkedfromthecabin,”hesaysinahumorlessvoice.

“Iknow,Danny,”Isay,withalaugh.“Iwasjoking.I’mnotdrunk.Just…tipsy.”

“Ijustcan’trememberthelasttimeIsawyoudrink.”Hetakesasipofhissoda,the

tensioninhisfeaturesmakingmewonderifhe’sasokaywithmedrinkinginfrontofhim
ashealwayssaysheis.

“Areyouhavingatoughnight?”Iasksoftly,notwantingtobeoverheardbythecouple

seatedatthenexttable,anoldermanandwomanwhoarecelebratingtheiranniversary
andlookingspectacularlyboredaboutit.

They’rethekindofpeopleDannyandIhavealwaysswornweneverwanttobe,butso

farourowndinnerconversationhasbeenstrainedtosaytheleast.Iassumeditwasmy
fault—IknowIhurtDanny’sfeelingswhenIdidn’tjumpatthechancetogetnakedwith
himthewayIusuallywould—butnowIwonderifit’sthealcoholthat’stoblame.Danny
makesstayingsoberlookeasy,butIknowitisn’talways.Iknowtherearedayswhenhe

cravesadrinkasmuchasanyaddictcraveshisdrugofchoice.

“Icanhavethewaitertakethebottleawayifyouwant,”IaddwhenDannydoesn’t

respond.“Anotherdrinkisn’tworthyoufeelingtempted.”

“Idon’tfeeltempted,”Dannysays,foldinghisnapkinandplacingitbesidehisempty

plate.“I’mreadytogetoutofhere.”Helooksup,meetingmyeyeswithahungrylook
thatsendsanothershiverofexcitementacrossmyskin.“Ineedtobealonewithyou.”

“Thenlet’sgetthecheck.”IdrainthelastofmywineinseverallongpullswhileDanny

flagsdownourwaitressandsignsthebilltotheroom.

Bythetimewestepoutside,myheadisspinningandmyskinissoflushedthecrisp

nightairrushinginoffthelakefeelswonderfulonmycheeksandbareshoulders.I’m
definitelytipsy,butI’malsosomuchcalmerthanIwasonthewaytodinner,andableto
thinkaboutthethingsDannyandIaregoingtodotogetherwithoutanxietydrifting
throughmywine-fuzzythoughts.

“Youwantmyfleece?”Dannyasksaswestartupthegravelpathintothewoods,

followingthetrailoftinylanternsilluminatingthewayintotheforest.

Iliftmyarmsouttothesidesandsuckinadeepbreathofcoldair.“No,thankyou.The

coldfeelsgreat.Anddoesn’ttheairsmellbrilliant?I’veneversmelledsuchperfectair,
notevenonMaui.”

“Itdoes,”Dannyagrees,loopinghisarmaroundmywaistaswewalk.“Andyoulook

amazing.Thisdresshasbeendrivingmecrazy.”

“Ithoughtitmight.”I’dwornasleevelessblacklacedresswithheavyredstockingsand

knee-highmotorcycleboots,knowingthecombinationofhardandsoftwasexactlythe
kindofthingthatdrivesDannywild.

“Youknowmeprettywell,”hesays,hisfingerscurlingpossessivelyaroundmyhip,

makingmybellyflutterandmynipplestighteninsidemystraplessbra.“ButIknowyou
prettywell,too.”

“Iknow.Iloveyouinthesejeans.”Ileanintohim,relishingthewaymynerveendings

aresizzlingtolife.

Thisisdifferentthanwhathappenedontheplane.Thisisn’tdesiresneakinguponme

beforeIcanstartstressing.Thisiswispsofwantingdriftingthroughmylimbsandinto
mycore,smokerisingslowlyfromwoodabouttocatchfire.

ThisisthewayitusedtobewithDannyandme,whenjustholdinghishandaswe

walkedalongthebeachcouldmakemyskintingleandmybodyache.Whenmeetinghis
eyesovericecreamwasenoughtomakemedraghimbackbehindthedessertshopto
makeoutbytheDumpsterswhenweweretooyoungtohaveaplacetogo.

“AndbecauseIknowyou,I’mprettysureyou’rekeepingsomethingfromme,”hesays

asweclimbthestepstoourcabin’sfrontdoor.Heturnstomeaswereachtheporch,
wherematchingwoodenrockerscreakinthewind,andpinsmewithoneofhispiercing
looks.“AndIthinkIhaveanideawhat.”

“Ohyeah?”Iask,thewinemakingmeboldenoughtomeethisgazeandpretendIhave

nothingtohide.“You’reright,Idohaveasecret,andI’vebeenwantingtoshowittoyou
allnightlong.”

Ireachforthebottomofmyfull,knee-lengthskirtanddrawitupmythighs,revealing

thetopsofmyredstockingsandtheblackgarterbeltholdingtheminplace.Iknowthe
secondthey’revisibleinthedimlightoftheporchlampbythewayDanny’seyesdarken
andhisbreathcatches.

“IboughtthatgarterbeltyousaidyoulikedlastChristmas,”Isay.“That’swhyIwanted

towaitearlier.Iwantedtosurpriseyou.”

Dannycursessoftlyashesinkstohiskneesinfrontofmeandreachesouttogripmy

thighsinhisbighands.“Spreadyourlegs.”

“Shouldn’twegoinside?”Iask,evenasIobeyhim,mypulsebeginningtobeatlowin

mybodyasIwidenmystance.

“Notyet.”Hepressesakisstomyrightthigh,andthenmyleft,settingaheavy,achy

feelingtospreadingthroughmypelvis.“Thisfirst.”

Hismouthhoversinchesfromtheapexofmythighs,hisbreathwarmingmyskin

throughmysatinpantiesandmakingmyclitswell.Iholdabsolutelystill,breathcoming
fasterasIimaginewhathe’sgoingtodonext.Iexpecthimtokissme,ormaybepullaside
thecrotchofmypantiesandslideafingerinsidewhereI’mgettingwetterbythesecond.I
don’texpecthimtoleaninandtrapmyclitbetweenhisteeth,bitingdownhardenoughto
sendashockwaveofdesirerocketingacrossmyskin.

Igaspinsurprise,butmybodyarchesinstinctivelyintohismouth,cravingmoreofthis

razorsharppleasure.

Dannyrespondsbycuppingmybottominhishandsandpullingmecloser,French

kissingmethroughthethinsatin.Histongueswirlsinwildcirclesaroundmyswollenclit,
tighteningmynipplesintohardpointsthatacheforhisattention,rampingupthepressure
buildingbetweenmyhipsuntilmykneesaretrembling.

“God,Danny,Icanbarelystand.”Iswallowhardandthreadmyfingersthroughhis

loosehair,hangingonfordearlifeashekissesandlicks,strugglingtostayquietwhenhe
curlshisfingersinthetopofmypantiesandjerksthemdownaroundmykneesbaringme
tohim.

OurcabinissetoffthemaintrailandIknownoonewalkingbycanseeus,butifIstart

moaningsomeoneisdefinitelygoingtohear.“Let’sgoinside,”Iwhisper,tuggingathis
hair.

“Notyet,”hesays,fingersdiggingintomythighs.“Notuntilyoucomeonmymouth.”

Ihaveamomenttonoticehowcoldthenightairisagainstmyburningskinandthen

Danny’stongueisbackbetweenmylegs,curlingaroundmyclitasheslidestwofingers
insidewhereI’msohotandwet.Soon,Ilosetrackofeverythingbuthowgoodhemakes
mefeel.Hisfingersglideinfastanddeep,hisfingertipshittingthatsensitivespotdeep
insidewhilehistonguecontinuestoworkagainstmyclitwithaskillheperfectedwhen
wewereinhighschoolandhasgoneontodevelopintoanartform.

SoonstarsaredancingbehindmyclosedeyesandIcan’tkeepquietforanothersecond.

MybreathraspsinandoutandasoftmoanescapesmylipsasDanny’sthrustsgrow

faster,deeper,untilhe’sfuckingmehardwithhisfingersandteasingmewithhistongue
andmyentirebodyisshakingasIcareenclosertotheedge.Andthen,suddenly,I’m
cominginalong,wrenchingwave,mybodyclenchingtightaroundDanny’sfingersasmy
kneesgiveout.

BeforeIcanfall,Dannycomestohisfeetandgrabsmearoundthewaist,bracingme

againsthimasheopensthecabindoor.

Myskinisstilltinglingalloverandmybodyshudderingwithblisswhenhesweepsme

intohisarmsandcarriesmeinside.

Butthemomenthesetsmeonmyfeetandspinsmearound,bendingmeovertheedge

ofthebedtotakemefrombehind,thewayIusedtoloveaftercomingonhismouth,panic
flushesthroughmewithasuddennessthatmakesmeflinchandcryout.Myskingoes
coldandmyheartthreatenstoburstfrommychestasIspinaroundandscramble
backwardonthebed,crab-walkingawayfromDannysofastIalmostfallofftheother
side.

“What’swrong?”heasks,breathcomingfast.“Youokay?”

“F-fine,”Isay,butI’mshakingandIknowImustlooklikeI’veseenaghost.

ThankGodDannydidn’tbothertoturnonthelights.Icanstillplaythisoff.It’snottoo

latetorecaptureourperfectnight.

It’snottoolatetoprovethatI’mstrongerthananyofthememoriesthatwanttobring

melow,tostealmyhappinessandallthepleasureandsafetyI’vealwaysfoundin
Danny’sarms.

“IthoughtIfeltsomethingrunacrossmyboot,”IlieasIreachforhim,ignoringthe

nervousracingofmyheart.“Amouseorsomething.Let’sstayonthebed.”

HeclimbsupbesidemeandIleanin,pressingakisstohislipsbeforeIwhisper,“Iwant

tokissyouwhileyou’reinsideme.”

“God,Sam,”hemurmursagainstmylips.“Ican’twaittobeinsideofyou.”

“Don’twait.”Ireachforhisbelt,tuggingitfreeashekissesmehardanddeep.Itaste

myselfonhislipsasourtonguesspar,remindingmethatthisiswhatDannydoestome.
Heturnsmeonanddrivesmecrazy.Thereisnoreasontobeafraid,noroomforpanicin
theroomwhenwe’reskintoskin.

Gradually,themomentofterrorfadesaway,replacedbyhungerforthemanIlove.For

histouch,hislips,histastefillingupmymouth,banishingthebitternesslingeringonmy
tongue.

BythetimeDannyfindsthezipperatthebackofmydressanddragsitdown,myheart

isracingfortherightreasonsagain,andwhenherollsontopofme,hiserectionhotand
heavyagainstmythigh,Iarchintohim,grindingagainsthiscockashepullsmynipple
intohismouth.

“Please,”Ibeg,liftingintohimwithlong,sensuousthrusts,mimickingthewayIwant

himtotakeme.“I’mready,babe.”

Dannypullsawayfrommybreastashebringshisfingerbackbetweenmylegs,driving

intomehardanddeep,makingmecryout.“God…you’resowet,Sam.It’skillingmenot
tofuckyourightnow.Iwantyousomuch.”

“Thentakeme,”Isay,voicestrained.“Please.”

“Ihaveaquestionfirst,”hesays,flickinghistongueacrossmyerectnipple,makingme

moanasanotherwaveofdesireflowsfrommynippletofistaroundmywomb.“Doyou
wishwe’dtakenabreaktoseeotherpeople,thewayyourmomkeptsayingweshould
backinhighschool?”

“No,”Isay,squirmingashecapturesmyothernipplebetweenhisfingerandthumband

beginstorollitinmind-muddyingcircles.“OhGod,Danny,please,Ineedyou.”

“Areyousure?”heasks,continuinghiserotictorture.“Youdon’twishyou’dbeenwith

someoneelse?Justtoknowwhatitwaslike?”

IsuckinabreathasIcapturehisfaceinmyhandsurginghimtolookatmeuntilhe

finallyabandonsmynippleandmeetsmygaze.“Why?”Iask,pulseracingasIimagine
whatmighthavespurredthisquestion.“Wereyou…withsomeoneelse?”

“Hell,no,”hesayswithapassionthatcrushesmyfear.“You’retheonlyoneIwant.”

“Andyou’retheonlyoneIwant,”Isay,breathrushingoutwithrelief.“You’retheonly

oneI’veeverwantedtobewithlikethis.Ican’timagineanythingbetterthanthewayyou
makemefeel.”

Mytongueslipsouttodampenmylipsastearsfillmyeyes.“You’retheonlypersonI

wanttomakelovetofortherestofmylife.Don’tyouknowthat?”

“Ido,”hesays,gazesoftening,untilhe’slookingatmethesamewayhelookedatme

thefirsttimeweweretogether,likesomethingsobeautifulhecanbarelybelieveI’mreal.
“Ijustdon’tunderstandwhat’sbeengoingon.Ifeellikeyou’vebeenpushingmeaway
formonths.”

“I’mnotpushingyouawaynow,”Isay,wrappingmylegsaroundhiswaist,makinghim

groanashiscockcomesincontactwithwhereI’msohotandwet.“Let’sforgetthepast
fivemonths.Let’sbeyouandmeagain,okay?Please,Danny,”Ibeg,fightingtears.“Let’s
justbeyouandme.”

“Always.”Hethreadshisfingersintomyhair,liftingmyheadoffthepillowashekisses

mewithenoughpassiontomakethatonewordapromiseassacredasanyweddingvow.

Momentslater,he’spushinginsidemewithonelong,slow,soulfulstroke,histhickness

spearingthroughmyarousedflesh,stretchingmewide,fillingeveryinch,sendingawave
ofreliefcoursingthroughmeashecomestoastopandholdsstilldeepinside.

Itfeelssogood,soright.

Ican’tbelieveIwentwithouthimforsolong.Ican’tbelieveIwasafraid.

ThereisnothinginmakinglovetoDannytoremindmeofdarkthings.Thereisonly

lightandloveandpleasuresosharpandsweetI’mhalfwaytherebythetimehethrusts
intomeasecondtime,grindinghispelvisintothebundleofnervesatthetopofme.I
couldcomeinaheartbeat,butinsteadIsuckinadeepbreathandfightthepleasure
buildinginside.Idon’twanttogojustyet,Iwantthistolast.Iwanttorememberevery
moment,imprintitonmybrainfortimeswhenI’mstupidenoughtoforgethowamazing
DannyandIaretogether.

“God,Sam,you’resoperfect,”Dannysays,liftinguponhisarmsashestrokesdeeper,

givingmeaclearviewofhisstunningchestandthewayhisabdominalmusclesrippleas
hethrustsinsideme.“Youfeelsofuckinggood.I’vemissedyousomuch.”

“Yes,yes,”Ichantinagreement,diggingmyfingernailsintothethickmusclesofhisass,

pullinghimcloserwitheverythrust,feelinglikeI’llnevergetcloseenough.“Don’tever
leave,babe.Don’teverleave.”

“Never,”hepromisesashisthrustsgrowfasteruntilhe’sridingmehardandwe’reboth

moaninglowinourthroatseachtimewecometogether.

Iclingtohim,fightingtoholdbackasecstasycrestsinsideme,butthistimethere’sno

keepingitatbay.Icomewithablissed-outcry,eyessqueezingshutandstarsdancingin
theblacknessbehindmylids.

MomentslaterDannyjoinsme,hipsjerkingonelasttimebeforeIfeelhiscockbeginto

pulse.Iwrapmyarmsandlegsaroundhimandholdhimtight,relishingtheheavyweight
ofhimasherelaxesontopofme,catchinghisbreath.

“Loveyou,”IwhisperintohisearbeforeIpressasoftkisstohisearlobe.

“Loveyou,”hewhispersback,kissingmycheek.“Somuch.SorryIwascrazy.”

“You’renotcrazy.”Ihughimtighter.“Iknowthingshavebeenweird,butthey’regoing

tobebetter.Ipromise.I’vemadethedecisionaboutschool,we’restayinghere,and…I
don’tknow.IfeellikeIcanfinallyrelaxandletlifebegoodagain.”

Hepropsuponhisforearmsandbrushesmyhairfrommyforehead.“Iwishyou’dtold

methingsweresobad.Iwouldhavecomeandkidnappedyoumonthsago.”

Ismile.“Thatwouldhavebeennice.Thenwecouldhavedonethissooner.”

IsighasItightenmylegsaroundhiswaist,wantingtokeephissofteningerectioninside

meforaslongaspossible,blinkinginsurpriseasIfeelhimtwitchinsideme.“Surelynot
evenyoucanbereadyagainthisfast?”

“I’vebeenmakingdowithnothingbutmyownhandforfivemonths,”hesayswitha

wickedgrinasheslidesoutofmeandglidesbackinagain,makingmemoan.“I’mgoing
tobehardallnight.”

“AndImaynotbeabletowalkinthemorning,”Isay,withamatchinggrin.“ButIdon’t

care.”

TherestofthenightissogoodthatbythetimeIgotosleepI’mhighonsex,love,

Dannyandthecertaintythattogetherwe’restrongerthananyoftheghostsinmypast.

ChapterTwelve

Danny

“And,afterall,whatisalie?

Tisbutthetruthinmasquerade.”

-LordByron

IwakeuptofindthecabinsocoldSam’steetharechatteringinhersleep.

Ourfirehasgoneoutandevidentlytheheatthatwasclunkingsluggishlyonandoff

yesterdayhasdecidedtoclunkouttoday.

AftermoundingtheblanketsontopofSam—takingamomenttoadmirehowbeautiful

shelookswithherhairwildonthepillowandherpaleskinglowinginthemorninglight
shiningthroughthewindow—IslideoutofbedandgetdressedasfastasIcan.

TheracetoescapethechillremindsmeofwakingupinourSouthCarolinahouseasa

kid,backwhenDadwaslivingathomeandkepttheheatturneddowntofiftydegreesin
thehousetosavemoneyforbeer.ThingswerebetterwhenCaitlintookover,butshestill
kepttheheatatnomorethansixty.

Igrewupdealingwiththecold,butSamwasbornandraisedonMaui.ShethinksLos

Angeleswintermorningsarechilly.She’sgoingtobetraumatizedifshewakesupinthis
freezerbeforeIgetthefiregoingagain.

AfterwritingaquicknotetoletherknowI’mheadingdowntothemainbuildingtotell

themtheheat’soutandtograbanotherbundleoffirewood,Iclickquietlyoutthedoor.
Outside,it’ssocoldmybreathinstantlyformsacloudinfrontofmyface,butwithmy
fleeceon,it’sbearable,andthere’saheavinessintheairthathintsthatthedaywillbe
warmingupsoon.It’dbetter,orwemayhavetoskipoutonourfloattripandspendthe
restofthemorninghuddledinfrontofthefireinourroom.

ThoughhuddlinginfrontofthefirewithSamdoesn’tsoundlikeabadwaytospendthe

day…

Thethoughtbringsimagesfromlastnightfloatingtothesurfaceofmybrain.Samwith

herbootsandredstockingsstillonwhileIateherpussy.Samwithherheadthrownback
andherbreastsbouncingassherodemethesecondtime.Samfallingasleeponmychest
makingthosesnufflingnoisesshemakeswhenshe’sreallytiredandgoesfromawaketo

dreamingintwoseconds.

Ifellinlovewithheralloveragainlastnight.

SheiseverythingI’veeverwanted—mybestfriend,myotherhalf,andaloverwho

blowsmymindeverytimewe’retogether.Ilovehersomuchmychestfeltbruisedwithit
bythetimeweworeourselvesoutandhadtocrash—herpassingoutthemomentherhead
hitmychest,mestaringatthedarkbeamsoftheceilinguntilIdecidedIdidn’tcarewhat
shewaskeepingfromme.

IloveSamandonlySam.

Iftherewereanotherguy,sheobviouslyisn’tpiningforhimnow.Thewayshe

respondedtomelastnightmadethatclear.Andifit’ssomethingelsethat’sbotheringher,
sheclearlydoesn’twanttotalkaboutit.SamandIhavealwaystoldeachother
everything,butmaybeit’stimeforthattochange.We’renotkidsanymore.We’readults
andsometimesadultskeepsecrets.Sometimesadultskeepsecretsbecauseit’skinderthan
tellingthetruth.

AsI’dlaintherelastnight,imaginingwhatIwoulddoifIweretheonewho’dhadaone

nightstandwithagirlwhomeantnothingtome,IrealizedIwouldn’ttellSam,either.It
wouldonlyhurtheranddamagetherelationshipwe’veworkedsohardtobuild.Fallingin
lovewithSamwaseasy,butstayingtogetherlongdistance,throughsomeofthecraziest
yearsofourlives,aswegrewupandbecamedifferentpeoplethanwewerewhenwe
startedout,wasn’talwaysawalkinthepark.

Whatwehaveisprecious,irreplaceable,andifI’dmadeamistakeIwascertainI’d

neverrepeat,IwouldlietoSamtoprotectit.Toprotectus.

Soifthat’swhatshe’sdoing,I’vedecidedtoletitgo.

ImadethedecisionlastnightandwokeupfeelinglighterthanIhavesincewegotoff

theplane.Evenwakinguphalffrozenisn’tenoughtoruinthestartofmyday.And
hearingtheclerksaythehotelisgivingushalfoffthesecondnightofourstaybecauseof
theheatproblemmakesthecaseoffrozentoesworthit.NowSamandIcansplurgeon
somethingotherthantrailmixforlunch.

WhenIgetbacktotheroom,she’sstillasleep,soIbuildafireandputontheelectric

kettletomakeinstantcoffee.

Finally,whentheroomiswarmandwebothneedtogetmovingifwe’regoingtomake

ourfloattime,Iwakeherbywavingthesteamingcoffeefumesathernoseacrossthe
mattress,laughingwhenshemoanshappilyinhersleep.

“Wakeup,sleepingbeauty.We’vegottogetmoving.”

“Whattimeisit?”Samasksinaroughvoice,smilingwhensheopenshereyesandsees

thecoffee.“Coffeeangel.Cometome.”

Iwaituntilshe’sproppedupagainsttheheadboardwiththecoverstuckeduptoher

chestandhandoverthemug.“It’seight.Ifiguredweshouldleaveherebynine,right?”

Samtakesasipandnods.“Yeah.Thatshouldbefine.”Shefrownsovertherimofher

mugasshetakesanothersip.“Isitcoldinhere?”

“Itwasevencolderthirtyminutesago.”Itellheraboutthebrokenheatandthediscount

onoursecondnight,laughingwhensheperksupandsays—

“Thatmeanswecanhaveareallunch.What?”Shelaughswithme.“What’sfunny?”

“Nothing.Iwasjustthinkingthesamethingafewminutesago.Greatmindsthink

alike.”Ileaninandkisshercheek.“Lastnightwasamazing,bytheway.”

“Yes,itwas.”Sheturnstome,givingmeaclosedlipkiss,shakingherheadandpulling

awaywhenItrytodeepenthekiss.“Noway,Ihavemorningandcoffeebreath.”

“Sowhat,”Isay,kissingherbareshoulder.“You’renakedunderthisblanket.That’sallI

careabout.”

ShelaughsahuskylaughthatmakesmeprettysureI’mgoingtogetlucky,evenbefore

shesays,“Fine,buttakethecoffeebeforeIspillitandburnbothofus.”

“Yourwishismycommand,princess,”Isay,takingthemugandsettingitonthe

nightstandbeforerollingbackintobedwithSam.

Twentyminuteslater,she’sarchingbeneathmeasshecomesandI’mfightingtoholdon

alittlelonger,butit’spointless.Shefeelstoofuckingamazing,andI’vebeendyingtobe
withherlikethisforsolongnotevenourmarathonsessionlastnighttooktheedgeoff.

Icallouthername,myballsfeelinglikethey’regoingtocrawlupintomybodyasI

comesohardtheworldisstillspinningwhenIrolloverontomybackafewminuteslater,
pullingSamwithmesoshe’slyingsprawledacrossmychest.

“Sogood,”shesays,witharaggedsigh.“Thatwasevenbetterthanlastnight.”

“Iknow.I’mreallygoodinbed,”Isay,laughingwhenshepinchesmynipple.

Afterwecatchourbreath,weheadintotheshower,managingtokeepourhandsto

ourselveslongenoughtogetcleananddressedinourwarmestclothes.Wegrabtowels
fromtheroomandourswimsuitsforthehotspringswe’llbestoppingathalfwaythrough
thefloattripandareoutthedoorinplentyoftimetosnagbreakfastsandwichesfromthe
restaurantonourwaytotheriver.

Wemeetthepeoplewe’llbefloatingwith—afamilyoffourfromAustralia,whoseem

friendlyandlaidback—getourlifejacketsandhittheWaikatoRiver.SamandIeach
haveourownkayakandhavenotroublekeepingupwiththeguide.Thefamilywe’rewith
isdividedbetweentwodoublekayaks,withtheparentsinthebackandthekidsinthe
front.They’realittleslower,butIcantellSamdoesn’tmindtakingiteasy,andneitherdo
I.It’sanothergorgeousfallday,andthecountrysideisevenmorestunningfromthewater.

I’vespentthepastseveralyearswiththeoutdoorsasmyoffice,butthebeautyofthe

naturalworldneverfailstotakemybreathaway,andthispartofNewZealandisover-the-
topstunning.Theblue-greenwaterflowsinapeacefulribbonthroughfarmlandand
gentlyrollinghills,underhighsteelbridgesandbetweenrockformationssharplyeroded
onbothsides,hintingattheviolenceofthecurrentwhentheriverishigh.Treesonfire
withorangeandredleavesbenddowntokissthesurfaceofthewaterandthecoolbreeze
carriesacleanmineralscent.Justpullinginabreathisanexerciseinbliss,andforthe
firsttimeinyearsIwantforabsolutelynothing.

IlookoveratSamaswepaddleinsilencebehindourguide—aburlymannamedBlake

withabrightredbeardandawarmsmilewholookslikelifeontheriverisgoodtohim—
andrealizeourdreamhasfinallycometrue.IhaveeverythingI’vewantedsinceIwas
thirteenyearsold.IhaveSamwithmeallthetime,thehealthandfreedomtodothekind
ofworkIlove,andtheconfidencethatwe’regoingtogoalltheway.

Icanseeourfuturestretchingoutaheadofus,filledwithadventure,love,andmaybe

someday,nottooterriblylongfromnow,acoupleofkidsinthefrontofourkayaks.After
thestressofhelpingCaitlinraiseRay,Sean,andEmmiewhenIwasyounger,Iusedto
thinkIdidn’twantkids,butIwanteverythingwithSam.Iwanttomakeplansandbabies
andmemoriesasbeautifulasthisonefortherestofourlives.

Shesmilesbackatme,awide,excitedsmilethatmakesmecertainshe’sreadmymind,

butwedon’tsayaword.Wedon’tneedto.

EverythingIneedtoknowisrightthereinherblueeyes,shiningwithhopeand

happiness.

Evenwhenwestopatthehotsprings,changingintoourswimsuitsbehindsomerocks

beforeeasingintothewaterofourownprivatepoolagoodtenyardsawayfromthe
familyandourguide,wedon’ttalkmuch.

Sometimesyouneedwords,butsometimeswordsjustdistractfromtheexperience.

Sittinginthehotwater,withmyarmaroundSamaswelookupattheblueskyandthe
fallleavesgoingoutinablazeofglory,Iknowwordscouldn’tmakethisanybetter.

Thisdayisbeyondwords,beyondperfect,somagicalIcan’tevenbesadwhenit’sover

andwe’repullingourkayaksoutofthewaterthreehoursafterwewentin.

IjusttakeSam’shandandfollowherintotheroadsidecaféupthehillfromtheriver,

knowingI’llneverforgetasingledetailofthismorning.Wegetsettledinacornerbooth
asfarfromthetelevisionblaringinthecorneraswecan,andwarmupwhileourguide
bringscocoatoourtable.

“Twococoas,extramarshmallows,”hesays,settingthecrackedmugsdowninfrontof

us.“Feelfreetobringitoutsideifyoucan’thearyourselfthink.Rick’sahellofaguy,but
theman’sgoingdeaf.Thenewsgetsloudereverytimewecomein.”

SamandIthankhimandheheadsoutthedoor,joininganotherburlymanattheashtray

outsidetohaveasmokewithhiscoffee.

“Let’sdoitagain,”Samsayswithahappysighwhenwe’realone.

“Wewill,”Ipromise,takingherhandbeneaththetable.“Atleastoncebeforewego.”

“Ormaybewe’llnevergo,”shesays,smiling.“Maybewe’lldecidetobecomeofficial

KiwisandhavelittleKiwi…”

Shetrailsoff,smilefadingandeyesgoingwideasshestaresatsomethingacrossthe

room.

Iturntoseewhat’scapturedherattention,butshegrabsmyarmandsurgestoherfeetso

fastherchairlegssquealacrossthetilefloor.

“Let’sgo,”shesays.“Let’swaitoutsideforthevan.”

I’mabouttoaskwhat’swrong,butbeforeIcangetthewordsoutIhearthenewsanchor

mentionascandalatSterlingUniversityinLosAngeles.

“That’syourschool,”Isay,frowningupatSam.

“Comeon,Danny,”shesays,desperationinhervoice.“Please,let’sgo.”

Butit’stoolate,I’vealreadyturnedtofacethetelevisionscreen,justintimetoseeher

stepbrotherAlec’spictureintheupperright-handcorner.

Thereareshotsoffivecollege-ageguysfloatingintheairbesidetheblond

anchorwoman’sface,butmyeyesaredrawntoAlecimmediately.I’velookedintothat
smugprettyboyfaceenoughacrossthedinnertablethatitisintimatelyfamiliar,though
I’veneverseenhimlookingasshakenupashedoesinthatpicture.

“Danny,Ineedtogo,”Samsays,makingithardtoconcentrateonthestory,butthe

televisionisturneduploudenoughthatIhearthephrase“rapetrial”and“suicide”with
crystalclarity.

“Whatthehell,Sam?”Isay,turningbacktothescreen.“Isthiswhyyou’ve—”

Sam’spictureappearsinthemiddleofmysentence,stealingthewordsoutofmymouth,

andmakingmefeellikeI’vebeenpunchedinthestomach.

It’sashotofherfromsomecollegeparty.She’sgotaredsolocupinherhandandshe’s

laughingsohardhersmileisamilewide.Shelookslikeshedoesn’thaveacareinthe
world,whichI’msureispartofthereasonthenewsstationchosethatpicture.

Itmakesformoreinterestingnewstopaintthegirlwho’sfledthecountrytoescape

testifyinginarapetrialasapartygirlwhocouldn’tcarelessthatoneofherclassmatesis
dead.

“Fuck,”Imutterbeneathmybreathasthesegmentendswithasoundbitefromthe

fatherofoneoftheaccusedboys,someBlistcelebritywhoinsistshissonwillbeproven
innocentoncethetruthcomesout.

Ihavenoideawhatthetruthis,butIknowmydecisiontoletSamkeephersecretscan’t

stand.Shecan’trunawayfromthisbecauseshedoesn’twanttotestifyagainstAlec,or
whateverelseisgoingthroughherhead.Ifsheignoresasubpoena,shecouldgotojail.

Whichiswhyyou’reinNewZealandrightnow,dumbass.

IturnbacktoSamwithmybrowsfurrowed,determinedtofindoutifthisiswhyshe

draggedmehalfwayacrosstheworld,butherseatisempty.Sometimeinthethirty
secondsIwassuckedintothenews,shemusthavemadegoodonherthreatandwent
outside.Istand,searchingthecaféjustincase,butthere’snooneherebutthefamilywe
kayakedwithandtheoldmanrunningthejointwho’sstillgluedtothenews.

Ihurryoutside,butthere’snosignofSamintheparkinglot,either.

“Youlookingforyourgirl?”Blakeasks.Forthefirsttimetodayheisn’tsmiling.

“Yeah,youseenher?”

Henodsandpointstowardtheroad.“Shegotintoatruckwithsomefellaliketen

secondsago.Itoldherthevanwasalmosthere,but…shedidn’tseemtohearme.”

IcurseasIrunahandthroughmyhair,mypulseracing.

Wherethefuckisshegoing?AndwhatdidsheseeinL.A.thathashersomessedup

she’swillingtorunawayandleavemeinthemiddleofaforeigncountrywithoutsomuch
asa“seeyoulater.”

“Didyouseewhichdirectionthetruckwent?”Iask,preparedtorunafterherifthat’s

myonlyoption.

Blakepointsbackthewaywecame.“TowardTaupo.Situpfrontwithme,broandwe’ll

lookforitonthewayback.Ididn’tlikethelookofthedriver.”

I’mabouttotellhimthanks,butnothanks,thatIcan’twaitevenafewminutestogo

afterher,whenavanwiththeWaikatoRiverTourslogopaintedonthesidepullsintothe
parkinglot.

“Getin,”Blakesays,clappingmeontheshoulderasheheadsbackintothecafé.“I’ll

hustleeveryoneelseintothevan.We’llcatchup.Atruckthatoldcan’tbegoingthatfast.”

Inod,tryingnottoimaginewhatcouldhappentoSamifshegotintoacarwithacreep.

Itrytorememberhowstrongsheis,andthewayshefoughtbackagainstthatguyin
Auckland,butIkeepthinkingabouthoweasyitwastoliftherinonearmlastnightasI
carriedherintoourcabin.

Sam’sgotabigpersonalityandabigsmile,butshe’sstillonlyfivesevenandahundred

andfiftypounds.

Againstamanmysize,orbigger,shewon’tstandachance.

ChapterThirteen

Samantha

“ThethornswhichIhavereap’dareofthetree

Iplanted;theyhavetornme,andIbleed.

Ishouldhaveknownwhatfruitwouldspringfromsuchaseed.”

-LordByron

It’sover.

Therewon’tbeanyfreshstart,nohappyending.

IshouldhaverealizedTodd’sfather’sconnectiontoHollywoodwouldmaketherape

trialnewsevenoverseas.Theentiregoddamnedplanetworshipscelebrity.Jesusmaystill
fillpewsonweekends,butit’scelebrityandscandalthatsellsmagazinesandpowersthe
twenty-fourhournewschannels.

IshouldhaveknownbetterthantothinkIcouldputthepastbehindmeandmoveon.

Thepastwasalwayshere,lurkinginmybonemarrowlikeacancer,providingtheillusion
ofsafetywhenithadthepowertoresurfaceanddestroymylifeallalong.

“YoucancomeallthewaytoAucklandwithmeifyouwant.”Themiddle-agedman

withthemangybeardwhopickedmeupslowsaswepullintodowntownTaupo,but
doesn’tpullover.“Idon’tmind.Ilikecompany.”

Ilaugh,astrangledgigglethatsoundsascrazyasIfeelrightnow.

Ihaven’tsaidawordtothismansinceofferingmynamethirtysecondsintotheride,and

haveignoredallofhisattemptstomakeconversation.I’vejustbeenstaringoutthe
window,chewingonmylipuntiltheskinfeelsbruised,mythoughtsracingasItryto
figureoutwhattodonext.

Ican’tgobacktothehotelandwaitforDanny,butIcan’ttakethecarandrun,either.

TaupoishoursawayfromAuckland.EvenifIleaveDannyanoteandmoneyforaflight
home,hewon’tbeabletoaffordataxi,andIhavenoideaifthebusesaroundhererun
thatfar.

“Youwanttogetsomethingtoeat?”theman—Joseph,Ithinkhesaidhisnamewas—

asks.“Icouldgoforaroastbeefsandwich.I’mbuyingifyou’llsitacrossthetableand
lookprettyforme.”

Lookprettyforhim.

LikeI’madecoration,notaperson,apersonwhoselifeisfallingapartandwhois

obviouslyinsomekindofseriousdistress.Surelynoteventhislugissoempathyimpaired
hecan’ttellI’vebeentryingnottocrysincethemomentIgotintohistruck.

No,hecanprobablytell.Hejustdoesn’tcare.Thefeelingsoftheflowersinthevaseare

irrelevant.Objectsaremeanttobeobservedandenjoyed.Objectsdon’tmattertheway
peopledo,andtothismanI’manobject,whetherherealizesthat’showheseesmeornot.

“No,thankyou.”Ireachforthedoorhandle,decidingtojumpoutofthetruckwhileit’s

movingifIhaveto.Mygutdidn’tpingwhenthisguypulledover,butit’spingingnow.
“Youcanjustletmeoutatthenextcorner.”

“Yousure?”heasks,stillnotslowingdown.“Iknowagoodplaceinthenexttownover.

Greatsandwichesandthey’vegotthecutestdogthatsleepsnearthedoor.Lovethatlittle
dog.PethimeverytimeIstopin.”

“IneedtogetoutinTaupo.”Mygriptightensonthedoorhandleasmyeyesslidetothe

doorlock,makingsureit’sopen.“Myboyfriendismeetingmehere.”

“Boyfriend,huh?”Josephlaughsuncomfortably.“Iwouldn’tletanygirlfriendIhad

hitchhikeonthehighway.Busyroad.Lotsofscabspassingthrough.Youdon’tknowwho
mightpickyouup.”

“LuckyIfoundyouthen,”Isayflatly,gazeshiftingtothetrafficlightupahead,willing

ittoturnredbeforethetruckgetsthrough.

“Yeah.Sureis,”Josephagrees.“Idon’tpickuphitchhikersoften,butcouldn’tleta

prettygirllikeyoustandoutthereinthecold.”

ThelightturnsredandJosephbeginstobrake.

Idon’twaitforthetrucktocometoacompletestopbeforejerkingopenthedoorand

jumpingoutintothestreet.

ThecarbehindushonksandthedrivershoutssomethingIcan’tmakeout.Josephslams

onhisbrakesandcallsformetogetbackinthetruck,butI’malreadyonthesidewalk,
powerwalkingintheoppositedirectionwithoutasingleglancebackovermyshoulder.

Idon’thavetimeforanymorebullshit.Ialreadyhavemorethanenoughshitonmy

plate.

Iduckintoadrugstoreattheendofthenextblock,mynosestingingasanaggressive

blastofheatattacksmychilledface.Shovingmyhot-spring-fuzzedhairfrommyface,I
makemywaytotherearofthestore.Ifindalonelycorner,wheredustycanvasesand
boxesofpaintsooldtheoilhasprobablygonerancidsitnexttocrossstitchpatternsand
neattwistsofthreadhanginginarow,andsitdownonthecoldtilefloor.Ipullmylegs
intomychest,pressmyforeheadintomyknees,anddomybesttocalmthefuckdown
andthink.

OnepartofmeisscreamingthatIshouldn’thaverunfromDanny,buttheterrified

animalcrouchinginsideinsistsIhadnootherchoice.

Ican’ttellDannythetruthanymorethanIcouldtellapoliceofficeroraroomfullof

strangers.IfDannyknew,anightlikelastnightwouldneverhavehappened.Hewould
neverlookatmethesamewayagain.Hewouldnevertouchmewiththateasyfamiliarity
thatfeelssoright.Iwouldbecomesomethingtobehandledwithcare,ornottobehandled
atall,andwewouldneverbealoneinbedagain.Theywouldalwaysbetherewithus,
ruiningeverythingtheytouch,spoilingeverysweetkisswiththeirwhiskeybreathand
theirbitingfingers.

Ipullinabreathandholdit,refusingtogobackthere,refusingtocry.

Dannyisprobablylookingformealreadyandisnodoubtworriedsick.Ihavetofigure

outwhattodo.

IfIhadn’tdestroyedourphones,Icouldcallhimandtrytonegotiateatrucebeforewe

metinperson,butourphonesarenodoubtontheirwaytoalandfillbynowandDanny
decidedagainstthepay-as-you-gophoneoncewesawhowmuchtheycost.Collectcalls
toCroatiaarecheaper.

Everythinghereissoexpensive.I’mgoingtorunoutofmoneysoon,evensoonerifI

payforDanny’splaneflightbacktoMaui.

WithDannybymyside,buildinganewlifefromnothinghadseemedlikeascary,but

excitingadventure.Aloneitwillsimplybeterrifying.Apoundofapplescostsasmuchas
Iearnteachingsurflessonsforanhour,andtherewon’tbeanyoneinthewateruntil
spring.Ihaveexperiencetutoringkidsandbabysitting,butwhoisgoingtowanttohirea
girlwithnoreferences,whosefacetheymighthaveseenontheeveningnews.

Apanickedsobescapesmylips,butbeforeIcanreallystartcryingagirl’svoicebreaks

thesilenceatthebackofthestore.

“Areyouokay?”thevoiceasks,makingmejumpinsurprise.

Iliftmyheadtoseeabrunetteinalong,flowing,browndressstandingbythegunky

paint.Shelooksaboutmyage,withlightbrownhairpulledintoaFrenchbraid,freckles
acrosshernose,andkindbrowneyesthatlookolderthantherestofher.

“I’mfine,”Ilie,tryingtosmile.“Justhadafightwithmyboyfriend.Nothingserious.”

Shenodsbutdoesn’treturnmysmile.“You’reAmerican?”

“Yeah,”Isay,eventhoughI’dbeenplanningtopretendtobeCanadian.Myfriend

MindyhadwarnedmethatsomeKiwisdon’tcareforAmericans,butIdon’thavethe
energytopretendtobesomeoneI’mnotrightnow.NotwhileI’msobusylyingabout
everythingelse.

“MyunclemarriedanAmerican,”shesays.“Heandhiswifeliveherehalftheyearand

inNorthernCaliforniatheotherhalf.TheyinvitedmeforChristmaslastyear,butIdidn’t
wanttomissthegoodweatherhere.Iworkasastreetartistinthesummers.”

“That’scool,”Isaywithasniff.IfeellikeIshouldgettomyfeet,butI’msuddenlyso

tired,andit’snotlikeIknowwhereI’mgoing.Istillhavenoideawhattodoasidefrom
prayforthegroundtoopenupandswallowmewhole.

Shesmiles.“I’msorry.I’mbabbling.Idon’treallyknowwhattosay.Ijustfeellike

you’reintroubleandneedhelp,yeah?”

Shestepscloser,loweringhervoicetoaconfidentialwhisper.“Doyouneedsomeplace

tostay?There’sawomen’srefugeontheothersideoftown.Theytakeingirlswhoare
scaredoftheirboyfriendsor…whoever,helpthemgetbackontheirfeet.”

“That’sreallyniceofyou,butI’mnotscaredofmyboyfriend.He’s…wonderful.”I

pressmylipstogether,ignoringtheburningsensationatthebackofmynose.“I’mjust
confused.ButI’llfigureoutwhattodo.I’llbefine.”

“Yousure?”sheasks.“Idon’tmindhelping.I’dliketo.Iknowwhatit’sliketobeina

toughspot.MydadusedtoroughmeupandmystepmomthrewmeoutwhenIwas
sixteen.I’velivedallovertheplacesince.Itcanbehardherewithoutanyfamilytoback
youup.Hardanywhere,Ibet.”

“Howdidyoumakeit?”Iask,feelinglikeanasshole.Iusedtofeelsorryformyself

aboutmyparents’divorcewhenIwasyounger,butI’vereallyhaditeasyinsomany
ways.

Atleastuntilrecently.

“Friends,thekindnessofstrangers,”thegirlsays,abigsmilecreepingacrossherface.

“ThankGodforgoodpeople,right?ItseemslikejustwhenI’mabouttogiveup,someone
comesalongandmakesmebelieveinpeopleagain.”

Inod,nottrustingmyselfnottostartcryingifItrytospeak.Shedoesn’tknowhowright

sheis.Shedoesn’tknowhowmuchIneededsomeonelikeherrightnow.

“I’mMeg,bytheway,”shesays,holdingoutherhand.

“Sam.”Ireachup,givingherpalmafirmclasp.“Thankyou.”

Shelaughs.“Forwhat?Ihaven’tdoneanythingyet.”

“Youhave,”Isay,gettingtomyfeet,mykneesfeelingstrongerthantheydidaminute

before.“Youmademethinkmaybetheworldisn’tagainstme,afterall.”

Shecocksherheadsympathetically.“No,it’snot,butitcanfeelthatwaysometimes,

can’tit.”

Shereachesout,givingmyarmagentlesqueeze.“Youwanttograbacuppawithmeor

something?There’sagoodplacedowntheroad.They’vegotfreeWi-Fi,andDave,the
guywhoownsit,hasabunkinbackwhereheletspeoplesleepforfree.I’mnotsupposed
totellanyoneelseaboutitbecausethelastkidwhoslepttherehadliceandittookhim
forevertogetridofthem,butIcantellyou’renotbuggy.”

Ilaugh.“No,I’mnotbuggy.Iactuallyhaveahotelroomfortonight,butImighttake

youuponthatbunktomorrow.Ineedtoseehowthingsshakeoutwithmyboyfriend.”

“Surething,”shesays,reachingintoherroomycorduroypurseandpullingoutabattered

oldflipphone.“Wanttogivemeyourdigits,andIcangiveyouacallwhenIgetoffwork
tomorrow?”

“Idon’thaveaphone,”Isay.“ButIcanwriteyournumberdownifthat’sokay?”

“Ofcourse.IthinkIevenhaveacardsomewhere.”Shedropsherphonebackintoher

purseanddigsaroundatthebottombeforepullingoutabrightlycoloredbusinesscard.
“Hereyougo.Iworkuntilthree,butI’mfreeallnightafter.”

Itakethecard,smilingasIread—MegBugsby,streetart,cartoons,commissions,free

smiles.

“Docall,’kay?”Shesqueezesmyarmagainwithonehand,whiletheotherreaches

casuallyforatwenty-fourpackofoilpaintsandslipsitintoherpurse.“Iwanttoknow
you’reright.Anddon’tworryaboutthis.”Shenodstowardherpurse.“I’llpaythemback
onFridaywhenIgetpaid.Ijustcan’twaitthatlongformorepaint.I’vegotamermaid
swimmingaroundinmyimaginationIneedtogetonwoodbeforeshedisappears.”

Ishrug.“I’mnotinanyplacetojudge.”

“Cool.”Megwinksasshebacksaway.“Ilikeyou.Youcallmetomorrow.We’llwork

everythingout.Nomoretearsinthepharmacy,eh?”

“Nomoretearsinthepharmacy.”Iliftahandandwigglemyfingers.

“Seeya,Sam.”Sheturnsandwalksaway.Istandwatchingher,holdingmybreathuntil

herbobbingbrownheadbobsoutthedoorwithouttheshopkeepertacklinghertothe
groundandpullingthepaintsfromherpurse.

Myguardianangelisashopliftingartist.

Somethingaboutitfeelsright.

ItuckMeg’scardintomypurseandmakemywaytothecheckoutviathehairproducts

aisle,whereIsnagapackofrubberbands.Ipayforthetiesandstepoutontothestreet,
standinginapatchofsunlightasIrakemyrapidlyexpandinghairfrommyfacewithmy
fingersandsubdueitintoaponytail.

I’mstillstandingthere,wonderingwhetherIshouldstartwalkingtowardtherafting

companyonlyacoupleofmilesdowntheroad,ortrytofindacaborabustotakemeto
thehotelandhopeDannyendsuptheresoonerratherthanlater,whenIcatchaflashof
brightredpaintandourrentalcarpullsintoaparkingspotacrossthestreet.

Dannyisoutthedriver’sdooramomentlater.

Hiseyesfindmeimmediately,leavingnodoubtIwasthereasonhepulledover.His

bodyissotenseIcanpracticallyfeelitvibratingfromacrossthestreetandtheexpression
onhisfaceisaheartbreakingmixofanger,betrayal,andconfusionthatmakesmewishI
wasstillhidingintheartsandcraftsaisleofthedrugstore.

ButI’mnotgoingtorunawayagain.Dannydeservesbetterthanthat,andjustbecause

I’mafraiddoesn’tmeanIhavetobeacompletecoward.Kind-heartedgirlswhowantto
helpthefriendlessstillshopliftfromstrugglingstoreowners.Creepyguyswhorefuseto
letgirlsoutoftheirtruckslovetopetlittledogs.

Theworldisn’tblackandwhite.It’smadeupofathousandshadesofgray,andmaybe

thereisashadethatcanworkformeandDanny.

MaybethereisawaytotelljustenoughofthetruthtokeepfromlosingthemanIlove.

Itakeadeepbreathandstartacrossthestreet,prayingthatI’llbeabletomakeitwork.I

canseeinDanny’sgreeneyesjusthowmuchI’vehurthimbyrunningoffforlessthanan
hour.Idon’twanttoimaginehowbadlyI’llhurthimifIneedtokeeprunningfortherest
ofmylife.

ChapterFourteen

Danny

“Iwantahero:anuncommonwant,

Wheneveryyearandmonthsendsforthanewone.”

-LordByron

SamandIdon’ttalkonthewaytothehotel.Samsaysshesorry,IsayI’mgladIfound

her,andweleaveitatthatforthedrive.

Butwebothknowaconfrontationiscoming.

Theimpendingmeltdownhangsthickinthesilence,asominousastheblackstorm

cloudsgatheringbehindthemountainsontheothersideofLakeTaupo,makingthesnow-
cappedpeakslookevenbrighteragainstthebruisedsky.

Iparknearthemainlodgeandwewalkupthegraveltrailsidebyside,butnottouching

orholdinghandsthewayweusuallywould.Whenwearriveatourcabin,there’sanoteon
thedoorapologizingthattheheatstillisn’tfixedandanothertwobundlesoffirewoodon
themat,butSamandIdon’ttalkaboutthateither.Wejustletourselvesintothecoldroom
andIgettoworkbuildingafirewhileSamstartswaterandmakestea.

Ihardlyeverdrinktea,butwhenshehandsmethecupofcloudybrownliquid,itsmells

good—sane,andIcouldusesomesanityrightnow.Isitinthearmchairthatdoesn’thave
aviewofthebed—Ican’tstandtolookatitandthinkabouthowgoodthingswerethis
morning—andtakeasip.Iclosemyeyes,relishingthewaythehotwaterburnsatrail
downmythroatandthehoneyaftertastelingersonmytongue.

It’stimetosaysomething,butIdon’tknowwhattosay,howtostarttotacklethis.

Itfeelslikeeverythingisonthevergeofunraveling.Idon’twanttopullatanyofthe

threadsforfearI’llstartsomethingIwon’tbeabletofix,butwecan’tstaylikethis.Sam
hasbeenlyingtomeandisheadeddownapaththatwilldamageherlifeandroyallyfuck
ourfuture.

Ifitisn’tfuckedalready…

Somethinginthesetofherchinsinceshegotintothecarmakesmefeellikeshe’sstill

runningawayfromme.She’swithmeinbody,buthermindissomewhereelse,thinking
thingsshemightnevertellme.

She’sgettingsogoodatkeepingsecrets…

WhenIopenmyeyesandmeethergazeacrossthelowtablenestledbetweenthe

armchairs,Ihavenocluewhatshe’sthinking.It’sthemostawful,foreignfeeling.It’slike
apartofmyownbodyhasgonetosleepandIcan’tfeelitanymore;that’showinsaneitis
tolookatmybestfriend,sinceIwasthirteen,andfeelshutoutofherheart.

“I’msorry,”shesays,buthereyesarestillglassy,reflectingmyownhurt,butshowing

menothingofwhatshe’sfeeling.“Ipanicked.Iwasn’tthinkingstraightorIwouldn’t
haverunofflikethat.Itwasstupid.Ipromiseitwon’thappenagain.”

“Promise.”Ibitemybottomlip.“I’mnotsureIcantrustyourpromisesanymore.I’m

notevensurewhoyouarerightnow,Sam.”

“Don’tsaythat,”shesays,inthiscalmvoicethatmakesmewanttothrowmymug

acrosstheroom.Howcansheactlikethisisn’tabigdeal?Howcanshesitthereandlook
atmelikeI’mtheonebeingcrazy?“Nothinghaschanged.I’mstillthesameperson.”

“No,you’renot.”MychestissotightIhavetoconcentrateonrelaxingmymusclesto

pullinadeepbreath.“TheSamIknowwouldneverhaveputherselfinthiskindof
position.Whatwereyouthinking?Youcouldgotoprison.Youknowthat,right?”

Iwaitforaresponse,forsomesignthatmaybeshedidn’trealizewhataseriousmistake

shewasmaking,butshejustsitstherestaringatmewiththoseguardedeyes.

“Seriously,Sam,”Icontinueinahardervoice.“Thefederaljusticesystemdoesn’tfuck

around.Ifyouignoreasubpoena,theycanputyouinprison.Notcountycorrectionalor
statelockup—prison,withwomenwhowilleatyouforbreakfast.”

“Iknow,”shesayswithatiredsigh.“Butit’snotassimpleasitsounds.Thereare…

otherfactors,thingsthat—”

“IsitbecauseofAlec?”Mygriptightensonmymuguntilmyfingertipsstarttoburn.

“Areyouprotectinghim?Becauseifyouare,youshouldrethinkthatdecision.Realquick.
He’snotyourbrother.Youdon’towehimanything.Andthatsonofabitchcertainly
wouldn’tstickhisneckoutforyouifyouweretheoneintrouble.”

“Iknow,”Samsays,chintippingdownasshestaresintohermugoftea.“That’spartof

thereasonIleft.Heandhisfriendsneedmetotestify.Theythinkitwillgetthemoffthe
hook.”

“How?”Iask,moreconfusedthanever.“Whatdo—”

“Idon’tknow.They’recrazy.”Sheshakesherheadbutdoesn’tlifthereyestomine.“I

don’tthinkanythingIhavetosaywillreflectwellonthem,butthelawyersthink
differently.Idon’tknow,maybeI’mthecrazyone.Eitherway…Ican’tdoit.Itwouldbe
toohard,anditwouldn’tchangeanything.Itwouldn’tbringDeidreback.”

Ipropmyelbowsonmykneesandleanforward.“Wassheyourfriend?”

Samtucksherchineventightertoherchest.“No,”shewhispers.“Ibarelyknewher,but

IfeltawfulwhenIfoundoutshe’dkilledherself.Sheseemedlikeasweetperson.She
wasmajoringinPTandwantedtostartherownclinic.ShehadaboyfriendbackinUtah
shetalkedtoeverynightandlotsoffriends…”

Shedrawsinaraggedbreath.“Shewasjust…innocent.Shecouldn’ttakeeverything

thathappenedandknowingeveryonehadseenitonthecampuswebsitebeforetheytook
itdown…”

SamtrailsoffandafteramomentIrealizeshe’scrying—soft,nearlysilenttears,nothing

likethewaysheusuallycries.

Ipushthetableoutofthewayandsetmyteadownbeforegoingtomykneesinfrontof

her.

“It’sokay,babe.”Itakehertea,settingitnexttominebeforebringingmyhandstorest

onherkneesthroughherjeans.“Iknowthishastobehard.ButifAlecandhisfriendsdid
thistoher,andyouknowsomething,youhavetogobackandtestify.Rapeisbadenough,
butfivebigguysgangingupononegirllikethat…”

Sam’sshouldersshuddersilently.

“They’remonsters,Sam,”Icontinueinagentlevoice.“Theydeservetogotojailforthe

restoftheirlivesforwhatthey’vedone.”

“Butwhatiftheydon’t?”sheasksinasharptoneasshefinallylooksupatme,hereyes

glitteringwithgriefandrage.“Whatiftheygetoffandgetawaywithit?Youknowhow
trialslikethisgo.They’regoingtotrytoprovethatDeidrewasaslutwho’dbeen
screwingherboyfriendsinceshewasthirteenanddeservedwhatshegot.They’llsayshe
wasaskingforit.Orsodrunktheboyscouldn’ttellshewasn’tintoit,orsomething.”

Sheswipesthebackofherhandacrosshercheeks,smearinghertears.“ThenIwillhave

satupthereandtoldthetruthfornothing.Deidreisalreadydead;I’mnot.Ijustwantto
moveforwardandstoplettingAlec’smistakeruinmyentirelife.”

Ishakemyhead,genuinelyshocked.“Ican’tbelieveI’mhearingthisfromyou.”

“What?”Sheshiftsherkneessharplytoonesideofthechairasshebrushesmyhands

away.“YouthinkI’mbeingselfish?Well,youdon’tknowthesepeople.Theseguysare
richandconnectedandtheyhaveamazinglawyerswhowon’thesitatetoteartopieces
anyonewhogetsuptherefortheprosecution.It’sgoingtocomedowntomywordversus
theirsandnooneisgoingtobelievemeafter—”

Shebreaksoffwithashakeofherhead.

Asecondlater,she’soutofthechair,pacingpastmeintotheroom.“Itdoesn’tmatter.

Justtrustme,nooneatthatschoolisgoingtobelieveawordIsay.”

“Why?”Istandandfaceher,gettingmoreconfusedthedeeperwegetintothisstory.

“Whywouldn’ttheybelieveyou?You’reastraightAstudentandoneofthestarsofthe
volleyballteam.You’revicepresidentofthehonorsociety,forGod’ssake.Whywould
anyone—”

“Igotcaughtcheatingonatest,”shesays,eyessqueezingclosedasthewordscomeout.

“IgotbehindafterIwassickduringSpringBreakandI…IthoughtIwasgoingtofailone
ofmymidterms.SoIcheatedand…Igotcaught.”

Idon’tknowwhattosay.Samnevercheats;shedoesn’tneedto.

She’ssosmartevenacoupleofhoursofstudyingisusuallyenoughforhertoaceany

test,whileIwouldhavetohitthebooksfordaystogetbetterthanaC+backinhigh
school.

“Whathappened?”Ifinallyask.“Didyougetkickedoutofschool?”

Shebringsonehandtoherfaceanddigsherfingersandthumbintothetopsofhereyes.

“No,justthehonorsociety,butitwas…bad.Iwasonacademicprobationanditruinedmy
reputationwithmyteachers…CheatingisareallybigdealatSterling.It’senoughto
throwmywordintodoubt,andmakeitpointlessformetotestify.”

“Idon’tagree,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Youcheatedtogetahead,you’dbetestifyingto

helpsomeoneelse.It’satotallydifferentthing.”

Herhandfallsawayfromherpalefaceandshemeetsmygazewithastubbornlook.“It

doesn’tmatter,Danny.I’mnotgoingback.I’mnotgoingtotakethatchance.Ican’t
affordtomakethekindofenemiestestifyingagainstToddWinslowwillearnme.”

“Areyouafraidthey’llhurtyou?”Ifeelstupidfornotconsideringitbefore.Ofcourse

shemustbeafraid.Thesecreepsbrutalizedagirlsobadlyitdrovehertotakeherownlife.

“Ifthat’sit,youdon’thavetobe,”Isay,crossingtheroomtocupherfaceinmyhands,

toletherknowwithmytouchthatIwanttobethereanytimeshe’safraid.“I’llcomewith
youtoL.A.,andsitinthecourtroomtheentiretime.I’llstayrightnexttoyouevery
secondwe’reinCalifornia,andbeattheshitoutof—”

“Thisisn’tsomethingyoucansolvewithyourfists,Danny,”shesays,voicerisingasshe

takesastepback,severingourconnection.“Andthisisn’tupfordebate.I’mnotgoing
back.I’mstayinghere.Iwantyoutostaywithme,butifyoucan’tforgivemeforbeinga
cowardforonceinmylifethen—”

“That’sit,”Isnap,liftingmyfistedhandsintotheairatmysides.“You’renotacoward!

Thisisn’twhoyouare,andIknowyou’regoingtoregretit.It’sgoingtoaffecttherestof
ourfuckinglives,Sam!Ifyouhaveawarrantoutforyourarrest,wecannevergobackto
thestates.Never.”

“So?”Samshouts,pointingonearmtowardthecabindoor.“Yoursisterranawayfrom

thepolice,andherlifeturnedoutjustfine.She’slivinghappilyeverafterandaboutto
haveabeautifulbaby.”

“Caitlinhadamillionaireboyfriendwithtonsoffuckingmoney,”Ishoutback.“We’ve

gotnothing,notevenminimumwagejobs.AndCaitlinrantokeepourfamilytogether
andbewiththepersonsheloved,shedidn’tdoittohurtanyone.”

Sam’sforeheadwrinkles.“I’mnotdoingittohurtanyone,either,I—”

“Butyouare,Sam,”Iinterrupt.“Likeitornot,you’rehurtingpeople.Thinkofthat

girl’sparents,herboyfriend,herfriends.Thinkhowallofthemmustbehurtingrightnow.
Andhowmuchtheywantjusticeforwhathappenedtothepersontheyloved.”

Sambitesherlipsforalongmomentbeforeshakingherheadslowlybackandforth.

“Butitwon’tbringherback,Danny.Nothingcanbringherback.”

“You’reright,”Iagree.“Butyoucanmakesomethinghorriblealittlebitbetter.Youcan

helpbringsomepeacetoherfamily,andshowtheothermonstersouttherethattheycan’t
getawaywithdoingshitlikethis.Youcanhelpothergirlswhoarescaredtocome
forwardand—”

“Youdon’tgetit.Idon’twanttobeahero,”shesays,voicetight.“Iknowyouwantme

tobe,butIcan’t.Notthistime.It’stoocomplicated,andI’mnotgoingtodoit.”

Istudyherforalongmoment,readingherdeterminationtostandhergroundinhereyes,

hersquaredshoulders,thehandscurledintofistsathersides.She’sdugherheelsinand
she’snotgoingtobudge,nomatterwhatIsay,nomatterhowmanypeopleshe’sgoingto
hurt.

Allthat’slefttodecideisifI’mgoingtostandwithheraftereverythingI’velearnedthis

afternoon.

Ontheonehand,she’sstillSam,stillmybestfriend,mylover,andtheonlypersonwho

couldevermakemelaughsohardIliterallycouldn’tstand.Ontheotherhand,she’slied
tome,runawayfromme,andisdeterminedtochoosetheeasypathovertherightone.It’s
notanunforgivablesin,andit’snotlikeIcan’tunderstandtheurgetoshyawayfromthe
hardstuff,butit’sjustsonotSam.

ThegirlIfellinlovewithwouldneverdohalfofthethingsSam’sdoneinthepastfew

days,wouldneversaythethingsSamhassaidinthisroom.I’mnotsurewhosheis,or
whatshestandsforrightnow.

AndifIdon’tknowthat,howcanIknowourloveisgoingtosurvive?

HowcanIknowitisn’talreadydying,andtheoptimisticwayIfelttodayjustabrief

stutterinthedownwardspiral?

“Ifyouneedtogohome,Iunderstand,”shesayssoftly.“Iwon’tblameyou.”

Ishakemyhead.Thethoughtofleavingherisunimaginable.Ican’tenvisionalife

withouther,butI’mnotsureIcanenvisionalifewhereSamiswantedonafelonycharge
forobstructionofjustice,either.Thisisallsocrazy,andso…avoidable.

I’mnevergoingtounderstandwhyshe’sdoingthis.EvenifIstayhereandthingsgo

backtobeinggoodbetweenus,it’sgoingtotakealongtimeformetotrustherthewayI
usedto,andIdon’tknowifI’llbeabletolookatherthesamewayeveragain.

“You’vealwaysbeenoneofmyheroes,”Isay,voicerough.“Youknowthat,right?Ever

sincewewerekids.Iwouldn’thavebecomeapersonI’mproudofwithoutyou.”

Sam’sthroatworksassheswallows.“Soit’smyfault?”

“What?”Mybrowsdrawtogether,themovementmakingmerealizemyheadfeelslike

it’sgoingtoexplode.Ihaven’thadaheadachelikethisinlongerthanIcanremember.
“What’syourfault?”

“Thatyou’releaving,”shesays,thenextblinkofhereyelidssendingtearsspilling

quietlydownhercheeks.“BecauseIhelpedmakeyouintosomeonetoogoodforthe
personIamnow?”

Isuckinabreath,soclosetocryingwithherIcanbarelybreathe.“Idon’tunderstand

Sam.Idon’tunderstandwhythisishappening,whywecan’tjustgobacktoCalifornia
togetherandfixthis.”

“Somethingsaretoobrokentobefixed,Danny,”shesayssoftlybeforesheturnsand

walkstothedoor.

Shelingerswithherhandontheknobbutdoesn’tturnaroundtolookatme.“I’mgoing

forawalk.Ifyoudecideyouwanttoleave,pleasebegonebeforeIgetback.Youcantake
thecartotheairportandI’llpayforyourflightbacktoMaui.I’llgetonlineinthelobby
tonightandhavetheticketbookedbeforeyougettoAuckland.”

“Sam,wait,”Isay.“We’renotdone.Youcan’t—”

Ibreakoffassheclosesthedoorbehindher,leavingmealoneinthecabinwherejust

thismorningIwassureI’dwokenupwitheverythingIreallyneededinmyarms.

ButnowmyarmsareemptyandmyhearthurtssobadIdon’tknowhowI’mgoingto

makeitthroughthenight.

ChapterFifteen

EightYearsAgo

Danny

“Smilesformthechannels

ofafuturetear.”

-LordByron

It’srainingonmyseconddayatthenewschoolinMaui,apummelingrainthatsounds

likeamilliontinyfistsslammingintotheroofofthecar.Theskyissodarkitfeelslike
nighttimeandthepalmtreesarethrashingbackandforthinthewindlikethey’retryingto
pulluprootsandflyawayintotheblacksky.

It’sadepressingday,andallIwantedtodothismorningwasstayinbed.

Instead,IhadtogetupatsixtogivemylittlenieceEmmieabathwhileCaitlinchanged

hersoakedsheets.

EversinceCaitlin’sboyfrienddiedthissummer,Emmie’sbeenwettingthebed.Idon’t

thinkEmmieunderstandswhathappenedtoGabe—she’sjustatoddler—butshecansense
howfuckedupandsadCaitlinis.Mybigsistercriesherselftosleepeverynight.She
thinkswecan’thear,butthewallsinouroldhousewerethinandnowshe’ssleepinginthe
sameroomwithmeandEmmieuntilthebedroomfurnituresheorderedisdeliverednext
weekend.

LastnightCaitlindidn’tmakeasound,butIcouldfeelthebedshakewhenshestartedto

cry.I’monthetopbunk;she’sonthebottom,butshe’snotsofarawayIcouldn’tfeelher
sadnesspushingupthroughmymattress,seepingintomyskin,makingmefeellikeI
wantedtojumpoutofbedandpunchthewallafewhundredtimes.

I’msofuckingpissedoff,butnotatCaitlin,orEmmie,orevenmybrotherRay,though

he’sbeenapainintheassknow-it-alllately.I’mpissedoffateverything,theentirestupid
worldthatcreatedpeoplelikemydadandthemanwhokidnappedCaitlinwhenwelived
inSouthCarolina.I’mpissedatpeoplewholeave,peoplewholie,andpeoplewhodiejust
whenyou’restartingtothinktheymightbethereforyouandthatyoumightendup
havinganormalfamilywithtwoalmostgrown-upsinityoucancounton.

Instead,I’vegotabigsisterwho’sfallingapart,ababyniecewhostinksupmyroom

everynight,andanewschoolfilledwithassholeswhowanttobeattheshitoutofme.
Yesterday,Ipeggedthetwoguyswhoaregoingtotryfirst.Isawthemeyeingmeduring
lunch,sizingmeupovertheirluaupork,orwhateverthehellthecafeteriasloppedonto
ourtrays.Ihadbarelytastedmineorhadachancetoenjoythenoveltyofactuallypaying
forlunch,insteadofgettingitforfreebecausemyfamilyissopoor.Iwastoobusy
keepingwatchontherestofthelunchroom,wonderinghowIwasgoingtoearnmyfirst
triptotheprincipal’soffice.

I’mgoingtoenduptheresoonerorlater.Idon’ttakeshitfromanyone,andwhenyou

refusetotakeshit,youinevitablyendupdishingitout.

“Begoodtoday,okay?”Caitlinturnstolookatmeoverhershoulderasshepullsupto

thecurboutsideschool,practicallyshoutingtobeheardovertherain.“Youdon’thaveto
makefriends,butdon’tmakeenemies,okay?Okay,Danny?”

“Okay!Jesus.”IrollmyeyesasIreachformybelt,hatingthatmybigsistercanread

mymind.

I’msickofherbeinginmyhead.I’msickofthisfamilyandallourstupidproblems.I’m

sickofbadluck,butIdon’ttrustthegoodluckthat’sfounduslately.

Themysteryrelative,thehouseinHawaii,thegrocerymoneythat’ssuddenlyin

abundantsupplyafteryearsofscrimpingtoaffordmac’n’cheese—itmakesmeso
nervousIwakeupinthemiddleofthenightfreakedoutandcan’tgetbacktosleep.

Theonlythingworsethanbeingatrockbottomiswonderinghowlongyou’llgetto

enjoytheeasylifebeforeit’srippedawayandyoufindyourselfbackwhereyoustarted.

“Byebye!”EmmiewavesgoodbyeasIopenthedoorandjumpoutintotherain,butI

don’tstoptowavebackthewayIusuallywould.ThesecondIstepoutside,I’malready
halfsoaked.BythetimeIreachtheoverhangnearbuildingone,thepoundingdropshave
finishedthejob.

IcursesoftlyasIstartdowntheconcretepath,mytennisshoessquishingwithevery

step.Myclothesaregluedtomyskinanddespitethewarmtemperature,I’mfreezingby
thetimeIgettothebasketballcourtswherewe’reallsupposedtohangoutlikesomebig
happyfamilyuntilthefirstbellrings.

There’sagiantmetalthing—almostlikepartofanairplanehangar—thatcoversthe

courtsandblocksthewindfromoneside,butthewindiscomingfromtheotherdirection
today.WhenIfindanabandonedplaceonthewalltoleanagainst,Ihavetofighttheurge
toshiver.Icrossmyarmsatmychest,gritmyteeth,andnarrowmyeyes,refusingtolet
onthatI’mcold.Iknowbetterthantoshowweaknessontheseconddayofschool.

I’mstillnewenoughtoattractattentionbysimplyexistinginthesamespaceasthese

peoplewhohaveknowneachother—andthesocialorderofthisgroupoflosers—their
entirelives.Ican’tletmyguarddownuntilI’vemademyplaceinthiseco-systemclear.I
maybearuntandoneofthesmallestkidsinschool,butI’mapredator.

I’matthetopofthefoodchain,andthebestcallanyofthesepunkscanmakeistostay

thehelloutofmyway.

“You’reinmyEnglishclass,right?”Thegirlwalkingbystops,cockingherheadasshe

glancesmyway.She’sgotcrazy,fuzzy,almost-blackhairandhermouthistoobig,but
she’spretty,notthekindofgirlwhousuallytalkstoruntslikeme.

“Ilikeyourshoes,”sheadds,noddingtowardmyone-stars.

She’sprobablytryingtobeaGoodSamaritan,orwin“MostLiked”attheendofthe

schoolyearandgetherpictureintheyearbook,orsomethinglamelikethat.Still,it
wouldn’thurttotalktoher.AtleastIknowagirlinafluffyblackdressandcombatboots
probablyisn’tgoingtotrytokickmyass.

“Yourstoo.”Iglanceatherbootswiththechainatthetop.“Likethehardware.”

Shesmilesandherprettyfacebecomesbeautiful.“Thanks,metoo.Isewediton

myself.”

“Cool,”Isaystupidly,becauseIcan’tthinkofanythingbettertosay.Ican’tlookaway

fromherface,either.There’ssomethingaboutthisgirlthatmakesmefeelall…upside
downinside.Somethinginhereyes,inthatvulnerable,focusedwayshe’slookingatme
thatmakesmewanttodropmyguard.

ButIshouldknowbetter.Droppingmyguardhasonlyeverledtoonething—trouble.

“Heykid,gotanymoney?”

Thevoicecomesfrommyotherside,theflankIleftunguardedwhileIwastalkingto

BootGirl.Iglanceovertoseethebig,mountain-shapedguywiththefuzzmoustachewho
wasstaringatmeinthelunchroomyesterdayandhissidekick,ashorterkidwithathick
neckandshoulderstwiceaswideasmine.

Thebigguy’sbrowneyesareflatashisgazeslidesfrommyfacetothebackpackslung

overmyshoulder,buttheshorterkidisgrinningandshiftingfromonefoottotheother,
obviouslyitchingforanexcusetotakewhathisbullyfriendwantsifIdon’thanditover.

“Yeah,I’vegotsomemoney,”Isay,forcingasmile.

“Good,”MountainBoysays,holdingoutonebloatedhand.“Giveittome.”

“Ihaveabetteridea,whydon’tyougofuckyourself.”Electricitycracklesinmy

musclesasIpreparetofight,todrawasmuchbloodasIcanbeforethesetwotakeme
down.I’mnotstupidenoughtothinkIcantakethemboth,justhopingIcandoenough
damagethatthey’lldecidetopickaneasiertargetnexttime.

Themuscledkidlaughs.“You’vegotabigmouthforalittlekid.”

“Ialsohitprettyhard,”Isay,smilestillinplace,refusingtoshowfear.

“Ohyeah?”MuscledKid’ssmilefades.“IbetIhitharder.”Hetakesasteptowardme.

I’mabouttodropmybackpackandgoforhisgut,whensuddenlyI’vegotamouthfulof

fuzzyblackhair.

IsputterandstepbacktoseethatBootGirlhaswedgedherselfbetweenthekidcoming

topoundmyfaceandme.

“Leavehimalone,Lono,”shesays.“It’sonlyhissecondday.”

Lonoscowls.“Getoutoftheway,Shark.Idon’tmindhittinggirls.”

BootGirlstandsupstraighter.“I’mnotmoving.I’mnotgoingtostandhereandwatch

youhurtsomeone.”

Lonoshrugsandpullshisarmback.Hemovessofastthereisn’ttimetoshoveBootGirl

outofthewaybeforethekid’sfistfliesout,catchingherinthegut.Shedoublesoverwith
acryofpainandIswearIfeelthatsoundlikeIwastheonewhogotsuckerpunched.

Thatassholepunchedagirl!

Agirlhalfhissizewhohadn’tdoneshittohim!

It’sallthesparkIneedtomaketheangerinsidemedetonate.

Ihurlmybodyatthatkidlikeabombandexplodealloverhisass.Myfistsflysohard

andfast,I’vegothimbackedhalfwayacrosstheconcreteattheedgeofthebasketball
courtsinthirtysecondsandonhisbacknotlongafter.Hefightsbackthebesthecanwhile
he’spinned.Ifeelhispunchesconnectwithmyribsandstomachafewtimes,butIdon’t
letthemslowmedown.Ikeeppoundingonhimlikeit’smyreasonforliving,thesound
ofthegirl’scryofpainechoinginmyears,makingeverysufferingsoundIdrawfromthe
bullybeneathmethatmuchsweeter.

IknowIwon’thavelongbeforethebigguycomesforme,butImakethemostofthe

timeIhave,andwhenbighandslockaroundmyupperarmsandpullmeoffLono,I’ve
stillgotplentyoffightleftinme.IspintoshowMountainBoywhatI’vegotforhimand
comewaytooclosetohittingamaninthestomach.

AmaninafloweredshirtandkhakishortswithateacherI.D.hangingaroundhisneck…

Istumbleandliftmyhandsintotheairbymyhead.Istillstepontheguy’sfoot,butit

couldhavebeensomuchworse.IknowI’mheadedtotheofficeforfightingandmight
getsuspended,buthopefullythefactthatIstoppedassoonasIsawateacherwillkeepme
fromgettingexpelled.

“Bothofyou.”Themansnapshisfingersatthekidontheground.“Getup.Comewith

me.”

“Mr.Sanderson,wait!”BootGirlappearsatmyside.“It’snothisfault.Lonostartedit.I

sawthewholething.Andhedidn’thitanyoneuntilafterLonohitme.”

Mr.Sandersonsighsandrollshiseyestowardtheroofofthegiantmetaloverhang,

lookingmoreirritatedbytheinformationthanoutraged,whichpissesmeoffevenmore.

“WhereIcomefrom,wedon’tletguyshitgirls,”Isay,notbotheringtohidemy

contempt.

“Yeah,wedon’tcareforthat,either.”Mr.Sanderson’sgazeslidestoLono,who’spicked

himselfupoffthefloor,beforeflickingbacktome.“ButIreadyourfile.You’renohero,
Mr.Cooney,farfromit,andyou’regoingtolearnreallyquickthatwedon’tputupwith
violenceatthisschool.”

HeturnstoBootGirl.“HeadintothenurseSam,I’llcometalktoyouafterI’mdone

withthesetwo.Andfromnowon,trytostayoutofthemiddleofthings,okay?Noneed

togolookingfortrouble.”

“Okay,”BootGirl—Sam—saysasshemovesaroundMr.Sandersonandstartstoward

theoffice.

Butsheonlytakesafewstepsbeforeshelooksbackoverhershoulder.Oureyesmeet

andshesmilesagain,ajust-between-ussmilethatmakesmefeelamazing,eventhoughall
theplacesLonogothispunchesinarestartingtohurt.

Rightthen,Iknowshe’snotgoingtostayoutoftrouble.She’sgoingtocomelooking

fortrouble…forme.

Themomentofconnectiononlylastsacoupleofsecondsbeforesheturnsandwalks

away,butIknowthisisn’ttheendwiththisgirl.Insanelyenough,Ithinkshemightlike
me—likereallylikeme,notjustasafriend.IfIdon’tscrewthingsup,Imighthavea
chancewithher,eventhoughI’msmallformyage,myfaceisn’tanythingtobragabout,
andshe’sobviouslyoneofthepretty,goodgirlswhowouldn’thavesatnexttomeonthe
busforathousanddollarsbackhome.

AsIfollowMr.Sandersontotheoffice,Imakeadecisionthat’snothinglikeme.I

decidetosuckup,playnice,anddowhateverittakestokeepfromgettingsenthome.I
shouldwanttosmooththisoversoIdon’tupsetCaitlin,butSamistherealreasonIwant
tostay.

I’mnottooproudtoplaythevictimifitmeansI’llgetanotherchancetoseehersmile

today.

I’vegottearsinmyeyesbythetimeLonoandIsitdownacrossfromtheprincipal’s

deskandIplaythepoornewkidwhogotbeatuptryingtodefendagirlsoperfectlyMrs.
NakayamahastearsinhereyesbythetimeI’mdone.Igetoffwithawarning,Lonogets
threedayssuspension,andI’mbackinfirstperiodonlyafewminutesafterthetardybell
ringsfeelingdamnedproudofmyself.EventhefactthatMountainBoydidn’tgetin
trouble,andisstillgoingtobearoundtoglareatmeduringlunchcan’tbringmedown.
I’minschool,andI’mgoingtoseeSamagaintoday.

Ithinkaboutherallmorning,andwhenfourthperiodEnglishfinallycomesaround,I’m

sonervousIfeellikeI’mgoingtobesick.

I’veneverhadacrushbefore—atleastnotaseriousone—butthisoneishittingmehard.

WhenIstepintoMr.Fiore’sroomandseeSam’sfuzzyhairinthesecondtothelastrow,
mystomachturnsover.WhenIsitdownnexttoherandsheturnstomeandsmiles,it’s
betterthanthetimeIfoundagiantstashoffireworkshiddeninCaitlin’scloset.

“Hey,youokay?”Iask.“Yourstomachand…stuff?”

“Yeah,thanks.”Shestudiesmyfaceforasecondbeforesheasks,“Didyoureallygetin

fightsalotatyouroldschool?”

Ishrug.“Sometimes.Andsometimesmyfriendsgotmeintofights.Someofthemwere

prettystupid.”

“Thefightsorthefriends?”

“Both,”Isay,smilingwhenshelaughs.“Buttodaywasdifferent.I’mreallygladyou’re

okay.Ihatedseeinghimhityou.”

“Itdidn’thurtthatbad.Anditwasworthit,youknow?TostandupforwhatIbelieve

in.”

“Yeah,”Isay,eventhoughI’mnotsureIdoknow.Ihaven’tdonemuchstandingupfor

whatIbelievein.I’velashedoutattheworldforbeingshittyandunfair,andI’vecaused
troublebecausethatwaswhatwasexpectedofmeinatownwhereallthemeninmy
familyendedupinjail,soonerorlater.

Butnow,I’minadifferentplace,andmaybeIdon’thavetobethesamepersonIwas.

MaybeIcanbethetypeofguywhostandsupforthings,forpeople.I’mnotsurewhatI
believein,butIknowI’dstandupforSamagaininaheartbeat.

“Wanttoeatlunchtogether?”IaskbeforeIlosemycourage.

“Yeah,sure,”shesays.“IusuallysitwithJanisandTia.Youcansitatourtable.They’re

bothnice,andsometimesourfriendPipsitswithus,too.You’lllikehim.Weallgo
surfingtogetheronFridays.Doyousurf?”

“No,”Isay.“NooceanwhereIcamefrom.”

“That’sokay,it’snotashardaspeoplethink,”shesays.“Icouldteachyouifyouwant.”

“Yeah,thatwouldbecool,”Isay,butthenit’stimeforclasstostartandIdomybest

impressionofoneofthosekidswhopaysattentioninclass,thoughreallyI’mstill
thinkingaboutSam.

Wedon’tgetanotherchancetotalkuntillunch,butwhenIsitdownwithherfriends,I’m

immediatelyacceptedbecauseI’mwithSam.Isittherewiththreenice,prettygirlsanda
funnyguywithlongbrownhair,whoIthinkmightbegaybutIcan’ttellforsure,andfeel
likeoneofthegoodkidsforthefirsttimeinmyentirelife.BymyfirstFridayatHaiku
JuniorHigh,I’mcallingallofthemfriends,andbythesecond,I’mloadingintoTia’s
dad’svanwitheveryoneafterschool,headingovertoBabyBeachtolearntosurf.

ThatyearonMauiisfarfromperfect—Caitlinlosesherbaby,herfriendIsaacbecomes

herboyfriendandthingsareweirdathome—buteveryschooldayIgettoseeSam,and
slowlyIbecomethekindofpersonwho’sgoodenoughtobeherboyfriend.Ilearnhowto
controlmytemper,andstoplookingfortrouble.IstarttounderstandwhatIbelieveinand
howtomakechoicesthatshowI’mbetterthantheotherpredatorswhoroamtheschool
lookingforeasyvictims.

IaskSamtobemygirlfriendattheHalloweenDance,andwestartspendingtime

togetherafterschool,andonweekends,too.Prettysoon,we’reinseparable.She’sthebest
friendI’veeverhad,andIwanttokisshersomuchit’sthisgnawingfeelingthatchews
awayatmystomachliningeverytimewe’retogether.ButI’mworriedakissmight
changethings,mightmakethingstooseriousorsomethingandthenSamwouldn’twantto
bearoundmeanymore.

Idon’tthinkIcouldtakethat,soIwait.

Iwaitandwaitandwaituntilthenextsummer,thedaybeforeweflyoutformydad’s

funeral.I’mleavingtheislandforthefirsttimesincewemoved,andapartofmeisscared
Iwon’tbecomingback.

IfinallygoforthekissinSam’sbackyard,afterwe’vebeenjumpingonhertrampoline

andarelyingonthewarmblacksurface,staringupattheskyasthestarspopout.The
secondmylipstouchhers,Iknowthatkissingisonlygoingtomakeagoodthingbetter,
andthattheloveIfeelforherismorethanloveforabestfriend.

Thisistherealthing,thisiswhatallthosestupidsongsareabout,thisiswhyCaitlin

criedeverynightforso,solong.

Becauseshe’dhadthisandlostit.

AsSam’slipsmovebeneathmineandherarmswraparoundmyneckwiththislittlesigh

thatletsmeknowshe’shappy,IswearoneverythinggoodintheworldthatIwon’tlose
her.NomatterwhatIhavetodo,nomatterwhoIhavetofight,nomatterwhatobstacles
trytocomebetweenus,Iwillholdontoherforever.

UntilthedayIgointotheground.

ChapterSixteen

PresentDay

Samantha

“Fortheswordoutwearsitssheath,

Andthesouloutwearsthebreast,

Andtheheartmustpausetobreathe,

Andloveitselfhaverest.”

-LordByron

Ihikeupthetrailintothefoothillssurroundingthelake,pastthelastcabinandup,up,

upafireroadtoGodknowswhere.Ionlyknowitgoestoofarformetofindtheendofit.

Iwalkuntilmyfeethurtandthesunstartstoset,andturnaroundwhentheforestgrows

chillyenoughtomakemeshiverbeneathmyfleece.OnlythendoIstartbackthewayI
came,armscrossedtightlyatmychest,jawgrittedagainstthecold.I’vebeengoneatleast
anhouranditwilltakenearlythatlongtogetback.

Dannyshouldhavehadplentyoftimetopackandleave.

Danny.Leaving.

Packinguphisthingsandnevercomingback.

Afreshwaveofmiserywashesupfrommyfeettopunchmebehindthebacksofmy

eyes,butIdon’tstartcryingagain.I’mtootiredtocry.I’mtootiredtodoanythingbut
curlintoaballandsleep,thoughIdoubtsleepwillcomeeasywhenI’mlyingaloneinthe
bedwhereDannysleptbesidemelastnight.It’sgoingtosmelllikehim.I’llbeableto
catchawhiffofhisshampooonthepillowcaseandhisDannyscentonthesheets.Andit
mightbeforthelasttime.

Imayneversmellhim,touchhim,seehimsmileeveragain.ThemanIlovemighthave

decidedhecan’tlovemeanymore.

Ifso,I’vemademyworstfearcometrue.

MaybeIshouldhavetoldhimwhatreallyhappened.Ifheknewthetruth,hemightbe

abletoforgivemeforbeingacoward,thoughIdoubtitwouldchangetheoutcomeinthe
longrun.

Ourrelationshipwouldstillbeforeverchanged.Iamforeverchanged.

NothingIdowillbringDeidreback,butI’mbeginningtothinknothingwillbringme

back,either.Nottheoldme,thegirlwhowassorarelyafraid.Thegirlwhohadnodark
secrets,noshame,noregret.

Ihatethatgirl.

Ihatehowinnocentshewas,allwhilethinkingshewaswildbecausesheenjoyedalittle

spiceinthebedroomwiththeboyshe’dbeendatingforsolongtheywerepracticallythe
sameperson.Ihatethatshedriftedthroughlifeexpectingthebadthingstobefarandfew
between,andthatshewalkedthroughthedoorsofthefrathousesocertainnothing
terriblewasgoingtohappen.

IwishIcouldtravelbackintimeandslapherintheface,shakeheruntilherteethrattle,

dowhateverittakestoknocksomefearintoherbeforeit’stoolate.IwishIcouldgoeven
furtherbackintimetoshamethepeoplewhoraisedhertobefearlessandbrave,andto
warntheboywholovedhersowellhemadeherbelievelovelastsforeverthathewas
settingherupforalong,hardfall.

Nothinglastsforever.Sometimes,knowingthateverythingcomestoanendwastheonly

thingthathelpedmegetoutofbedinthemorning.

ButnowlosingforeverwithDannyfeelslikeit’sgoingtodestroywhat’sleftofmy

heart.

It’salmostdarkbythetimeIreachthecabin.Ican’tseetheparkinglotfromhere.I

don’tknowifthecarisgone,butI’mtootiredtowalkdownandcheck.

Myheadisspinningandmylipsandfingertipsfeelfrozen.Stressandmiseryareas

exhaustingastrainingforamarathon.Worse,becauseatleastyougetanendorphinrush
afteratenmilerunandafewcircuitsintheweightroom.Allstressandmiseryleave
behindisemptiness,hopelessness.Theythrowyoudownthedeepestwellintheworld
andleaveyoutheretoshiveraloneinthedarkness.

I’mshiveringasIclimbthestairs,andhopingthefirewillstillbelit.I’mtooafraidto

hopeforanythingelse.

IsawthelookinDanny’seyesbeforeIleft.He’sneverlookedatmelikethatbefore,

likeastranger,amonsterwhowasholdingthegirlhelovedprisoner.I’vedonemyshare
ofhatingmyselfthepastfewmonths,butnothingasawfulasthewayI’vefeltthis
afternoon.

Iwishtherewasanotherchoice.IwishIcouldseesomewayoutofthisotherthanthe

wayI’vechosen.ButIcan’tandnowallthat’slefttodoistofindoutifI’llbemovingon
alone.Ipushthedoorhandleandstepslowlyintothecabin,holdingmybreathasIscan
theroom.

WhenIseeDannysittingonthecarpetinfrontofthefireplace,Ipracticallysobwith

relief.

AndthenIseethem,thebottles…

Therearetwoemptybottlesofwineonthetablebesidehim,andathirdinhishand.

Fromthelooksoftheliquidsloshingaroundinthebottom,itwillbeemptysoon.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Ipushthedoorclosedbehindme,fightingtheurgetocry.

“Goingdownwiththeship,”Dannysayswithagrin.“Aw,don’tlooksoupset.It’sjusta

fewbottlesofwine.Nothingtocryabout.”

“You’reanalcoholic,”Iremindhim,thoughI’veneverseenhimwastedandhavehadto

takehiswordforitthatheandalcoholdon’tmixwell.

Evenbackwhenheusedtodrink,Dannyneverdrankinfrontofme.Anytimetherewas

apartyonthebeachoratoneofmyfriends’houses,hewouldvolunteertobethe
designateddriver.Hesaidhedidn’twanttolosecontrolorputmeindanger.Backthen,he
sworehedidn’tneedalcoholtohaveagoodtime,butmaybenowheneedsittodullthe
pain.

“Iam,”hesayswithashrug.“Butwhogivesashit,right?Iliketodrink.No,Ifucking

lovetodrink.”

Hetakesaswigofwinestraightfromthebottleandletsoutahappysigh.“Nothingfeels

thisgood.Justnumbandfree,upaboveitall.”

Ilickmylipsandcrossmyarms,notsurewhattodo,whetherIshouldtrytotakethe

lastbottleawayorlethimfinishbeforeIcoaxhimintobedwithaglassofwater.I’ve
neverdrunkanywhereclosetothreebottlesofwine,butI’veoverdoneitenoughtoknow
he’sgoingtofeellikeshittomorrowwhetherhegetsthatlastcuporsoinhimornot.

“Youwereright,Sammy,”hesays,liftinghisbottleinanunsteadytoast.“Beingahero

isoverrated.”

Ifreeze,chestlurchingbeneathmytightlyclenchedarms.“Youcan’tbeserious.”

“I’mserious,”hesays,thelastwordslurring.“I’mwithyou,babe.Fucktryingtodothe

rightthing.Fuckcaringaboutotherpeople.Let’sjustdowhatwewant.”

Ishakemyheadslowlybackandforth,stillunabletobelievewhatI’mhearing.“Sothis

ismyfault,too?Iliftedyouup,andnowI’mdraggingyoudown?Isthatit?”

“Maybeweshouldstartstealingthings,”hesays,ignoringmyquestionasheliftshis

bottleforanotherswig.“I’venevertoldyou,butIthinkCaitlinandGabestillstealshit.
LiketheyusedtobackbeforewemovedtoCroatia.IcaughtGabecomingintothehouse
dressedallinblackaweekbeforeIflewout.Hehadasockmaskinhishandand
everything.”

Hewinksatme.“See,Icankeepsecrets,too.Ididn’ttellyouaboutthat.Ikeptita

secret.All.To.Myself.”

“I’dbesopissedatyourightnowifyouweren’tdrunk,”Isay,lipcurlingasIturntothe

kitchenette,grabbingacoffeemugandfillingitwithwaterfromthetap.

“Thenbepissed.”Dannylaughs,alazyrumblethatmakesmewanttopourthemugof

wateroverhishead.“IknowwhatI’msaying.I’mnotgoingtolettheknightinshining
armorsideofmeruinthingswithyou.Deepdown,I’mstillthatfuckedupkidIusedto
be.Icanbehimagain,allIhavetodoisstoptryingtobesomethingbetter.”

“Fuckyou,Danny.”Isetthemugnexttohimonthetableandsnatchatthewinebottle,

buthemanagestojerkitoutofmyway.

“No,fuckyou,Sam,”hesays,grabbingmywristandholdingtight,addinginahusky

voice,“Iwanttofuckyouallnightlonginthatbed,andwe’llwakeuptomorrowandstart
fresh.We’lljustbeyouandme.Wewon’tgiveashitaboutanyonebuteachother.Ididn’t
evencallCaitlintonightlikeIsaidIwould.Fuckcaring.Fucksistersandbabies.It
doesn’tmatter.Wematter.”

“That’snotwhatIwant,”Isay,pullingatmywrist,ignoringthewaymyhearthas

startedtopoundinmychest.“Letmego,Danny.”

“No.”Hisgriptightensuntilmywristachesandhorriblememoriesbegintosharpen

theirclawsatthebackofmymind.“I’mnevergoingtoletyougo.Iloveyoutoomuch.”

Heswallowshard.“IwasheadedoutthedoorafteryouleftandIjust…couldn’tdoit.I

couldn’tleaveyou.Idon’tcareaboutbeingagoodpersonifIcan’tbewithyou.Idon’t
careaboutanythingasmuchasyou.Ifyou’regoingdown,Sam,thenI’mgoingdown
withyou.”

Tearsfillmyeyesandmybreathstartstocomeinshallowpants.“Pleaseletmego.”

“No,comekissme,”hesays,tuggingmecloser.“LetmeshowyouI—”

“Letmego!”Ishout,thelastwordendinginahystericalsob.“Please!”

“Okay.”Hiseyesopensowideitwouldbecomicalifanythingwerefunnyrightnow.

“Jesus,Sam.YouknowIwouldneverhurtyou,right?I’madrunk,butI’mnotamean
drunk.”

Ibitemylipandshakemyhead,strugglingnottocry.“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthis.I

can’tbelieveyouputthisonme.”

“Itoldyou,I—”

“Ican’ttakeit,Danny.Ican’ttakeanymore!”Isuckinabreathandcovermyfacewith

myhands,losingthebattleagainsttears.

IsobsohardmyentirebodyshakesandIfeellikemyjawisgoingtosnapinhalfit’s

clenchedsohard.

“Relax,”Dannysays.“Comeon,babe,I—”

“Ican’ttakethis,”Ibabbleintomydamphands.“Ican’tberesponsibleforyou.Ican’t

beresponsibleforme,letaloneyou.Ineededyoutobethestrongone,Danny.Ineededit
sobad.”

“Iamstrong,”hesayswithagrunt.“It’sokay,Sam.It’sjustalittlewine.”

“It’stwoyearsofsobrietyinthetoilet.”IlookuptoseeDannyweavingunsteadily

towardmeacrossthecarpet,winebottlestillinhand.“Iknowhowhardyou’veworkedto
staysober,andyouthrewitallawaythesecondIfailedtobetheperfectgirlyouwantme
tobe.”

Dannyscowls.“Iknowyou’renotperfect.Ijustwantedyoutotry.”

“Iamtrying,”Isay,laughingthroughmytears.“I’mtryingsohard!”

“Doesn’tseemlikeit,”hesays,liftinghiswinebottle.“Andifyou’renottrying,why

shouldI?”

“Becauseyou’rebetterthanthis.”Iwavemyhandupanddownhisbodyashetipsback

thebottleforanotherdrinkandstumbles.“Becauseyou’renotdealingwiththeshitI’ve
beendealingwith.”

“Whichiswhat?”heshouts,hisvoiceloudenoughtomakemejump.“Youstillhaven’t

toldmeshit.You’vebarelytalkedtomeformonths,forfuck’ssake.Ithoughtyouwere
goingtobreakupwithme,Samantha.Doyouhaveanyideahowhorriblethatfelt?Tobe
thousandsofmilesawayandfeelyouslippingawayfrommeandnothaveanyfucking
waytogetyouback?”

“Idon’tcare,”Ishoutbetweenthesobsgrippingmychest.“Idon’tcare!Getthefuck

overit!Therearebiggerproblemsintheworldthanthewayyou—”

MywordsendinastartledsquealasDannyhurlsthewinebottleacrosstheroom.It

shattersintotwoheavypiecesagainstthewall,andtheremainingwinesplattersacrossthe
whitepaintbeforerollingdownthewalllikebloodfromawound.

“Fuckyou,”hesays,voiceshakingwithangerashespinstofaceme.“Thereisno

biggerprobleminmyworld,becauseyouaremyworld,youselfishbitch.”

IsuckinashockedbreathasIbackawayfromhim,stumblingacrosstheroomuntilmy

feethitthewall.Itfeelslikehe’sslappedme.

Dannyhasnevercalledmenames.Never.

Werarelyfight,andwhenwedo,raisedvoicesaretheextentofit.Wedon’tcalleach

othernames,wedon’tsaythewordsweknowwillhurtthemost.Whensomeonehas
trustedyouenoughtohandovereverytoolyouwouldneedtotearthemapart,youhonor
thattrustbynevergettinganywherenearthosetools.

ButitseemsDanny’sdecidedhe’sdoneplayingnice.

“Eversincewewerekids,yourproblemshavealwaysbeentheimportantproblems,”he

says,thewordsemerginginalow,menacingtonethatraisesthehaironthebackofmy
neck.“Yourparents’divorce,yourdramawiththenewstepmom,yourissueswithyour
momflakingandallthenewboyfriends.AndIlistenedandlistenedandtriedtomakeyou
feelbetter.”

Ahardsmilecreaksacrosshisfaceashemovesslowlytowardme.“Meanwhile,my

alcoholicpieceofshitfatherdied.AndIhatedhim,butthatdidn’tmeanIwasn’tfucking
tornupandscared,too.Andthenmysister’sboyfriendcamebackfromthefuckingdead
andIhadtomovetoanewcountryandlearnanewlanguageanditfeltlikeforeverbefore
Imadefriends.Iwassolonely,andscaredournewlifewasgoingtofallapartallover
again,butyouneveraskedaboutthat.”

Hestopsinfrontofme,closeenoughthatIcansmellthesour,fermentedsmellrising

fromhisskin.“Sam’sproblemshavealwaysbeenthemostimportantproblems.”

Heliftshisarms,bracinghishandsonthewalloneithersideofmyface.“Butforsome

reasonIneverthoughtyouwereselfishuntiltonight.Whyisthat?”

Iswallow,fightingtheurgetoduckunderhisarmandrun.He’sdrunk,buthe’sstill

Danny,andIcanseethathewantsarealanswer.

“Becauseyouloveme,”Ifinallywhisper.

Henods,andhiseyesbegintoshine.“Ido.Butit’smorethanthat.”Hestaresdownat

meforalongmoment,whilemyheartcontinuestopound.“IguessdeepdownIdidn’t
feelworthy,youknow.ItwasfineformyshittocomesecondbecauseIwasjustsome
ghettoruntwhodidn’tdeserveyou.”

“Danny,Inever—”

“Butthatgirlfromyourschooldeservesjustice,”hepusheson,wordsslurringworse

thantheywerebefore.“Shedeservesthebestofyouandyou’regivinghershit.It’smore
thanselfishness,Sam.It’scriminal.Isthatyouwanttobe?Acriminal?”

Ahystericallaughburblesupfromsomewhereinsideme.“Youhavenoideawhat

you’retalkingabout.”

“Right,right,”hedrawls,eyesslidingclosedasheswallowshard.“Youknow

everything.Youalwaysknow…”

Heturnsandlurchestowardthebed,barelymakingittotheedgeofthemattressbefore

hecollapsesbackontotherumpledsheets.

“Samalwaysknows,”hemutterstotheceilingashiseyesdriftclose.“AndIknow…

shit.”

Iwait,watchinghisbodyforsomesignoflife.Afewsecondslater,hepullsinabreath

thatemergesasasoftsnore.

He’spassedout.It’sover…fornow.

Mykneescollapse.Islidedownthewalltositonthecarpet,mythoughtsracing.

Danny’swordshurt,buthe’sright.

WhatI’mdoingiscriminal.Ican’tdraghimdownwithme,andthat’swhatwillhappen

ifIstay.Hemightwakeuptomorrow,regretdrinkingtoomuch,andapologizeforthe
thingshesaid.Wemightfindourfootingandbeokayforawhile,butitwillonlybea
matteroftimebeforewestumbleandfallagain.Danny’salwaysbeenmyrock,but
apparentlyhe’sonlyabletobethatrockwhenhe’swithsomeoneworthyofhisfierce
devotion.I’vetumbledoffmypedestalandwhatusedtoworkforusdoesn’tanymore.

Ineveraskedtobeputonapedestal—GodknowsI’mnotperfect—butforDanny,Iwill

trytoclimbbackupthere.Ican’tdestroyanyoneelse,especiallynotthepersonIlove
mostintheworld.Iwouldn’thavegonebacktoL.A.forDeidre’sfamilyorAlec.I
wouldn’thavesatinthatcourtroomtomaintaintieswithmyparents,salvagewhat’sleft
ofmyoldlife,ortrytobringascrapofjusticetoanunjustworld.Idon’tbelieveinjustice
anymore,butIbelieveinDanny.

Sothere’sonlyonechoiceIcanmake.

Igathermythings,writeDannythehardestletterI’veeverwritten,andalltoosoonI’m

readytogo.Istandatthefootofthebedforafewminutes,watchinghimsleep,

memorizingthewaythelightfromthebathroomplaysacrosshishandsomefaceandhis
bighandslookchildlikecurledinsleep.

Finally,Ileandownandkisshisforeheadsoftly.

“Iloveyou,”Iwhisper,myheartfeelinglikeit’scrumblingtoashinsidemychest.“I’m

sorry.”

Idon’tknowwhatI’mapologizingforexactly—dragginghimthousandsofmilesfrom

homeonlytoleavehim,ortheselfishthirteenyearoldIwasthatyearIcomplainedabout
myownproblemswhilehisentireworldwasturnedupsidedown—IonlyknowthatI
wishsomuchthatthingscouldbedifferent.IwishIcouldsparehimthepainthat’s
coming,butthatpainistheonlythingthatcanconvincehimI’mstillthegirlheloves.

Maybe,afterit’sallover,we’llbeabletofindourwaybacktoeachother,butasIcross

theroomandletmyselfoutintothesharpwinterair,Ican’thelpfeelinglikethiswasthe
lasttimeI’lleverseeDannyCooney.

Thefeelingisenoughtochillmetothebonelongbeforetherainbeginstofall,turning

theroadtoaslickblackribbonasIdrivetowardAuckland.

ChapterSeventeen

Danny

“Iamasheswhereonce

Iwasfire.”

-LordByron

Iwakeupintheprisonofmyrancidbodyandrollover,lyingonmysideastheroom

spins.IhavetimetoscantheroomandseethatI’malone,thefireisout,andthere’sa
winestainonthewallandabrokenbottleonthecarpetbeforemystomachheaves.

IbarelymakeittothebathroomandI’minthereforagoodthirtyminutes,beingso

violentlyillit’slikemydigestivesystemistryingtoturnitselfinsideout.Butneverinthat
timedoImakeanysufferingnoises.Iholditallin.

Idon’tdeserveeventhesmallreliefofmoaningandgroaningasIlosemysoulintothe

toiletbowl.

Idon’trememberexactlywhatIsaidtoSam,butIrememberfightingandherlookingup

atmewithtearsinhereyes.Iremembertryingsohardtoreachherandfailingandgetting
sofrustratedIwantedtohitsomething.Iremembermyfingersonherwrist,andfeeling
likeamonsterwhenshepulledawayandtheskinaboveherhandwasbrightred.

God,whatifIhurther?

WhatifIknockedheraroundthewaymydadusedtodowhenhewasdrunk?

Isqueezemyeyesshutanddigmyfistsintomyachingeyesockets,hatingmyself.

BackwhenIwasakidandDadwouldcomestumblingintothehousewastedand

lookingforareasontothrowapunch,I’dbacktalkonpurpose,determinedtobetheone
totakethecufftotheheadortheshoveintothewall.IknewIwastougherthanmysisters
andbrothers.Icouldtakeitandcomebackswinging.

TheonetimeDadhitRay,mybrotherslunkaroundlikeawhippeddogforaweek,andI

knewwhatkindofdamageChuckcoulddoifhehitoneofthelittleones.Emmiealready
haddevelopmentaldelaysandspeechproblems.Thepoorkiddidn’tneedtobeashaken
babyontopofit.

Besides,takingabeatingmademefeellikeahero,likeIwastougherthanDad.He

mightbebiggerandstrongerandabletoknockmeflat,butIhadthecoordinationand

control.Ididn’tlumberaroundthehouseslurringwordsandslammingmyfistsintoshit.I
wastight,toned,fast—notweaklikehim.Iwasgoingtogrowupandshowmydadwhat
amancoulddowithhisbodywhenhetreateditright.Iwasnevergoingtothrowmy
healthandlifeawayforabeerbellyandabartabdownatthelocaldive.

That’swhyIquitcoldturkeywhenIwaseighteen.

EverytimeIdrank,Idranktoomuch.AndIdidn’tdrinktoenjoythetasteorloosenup;

Idranktogetunconscious.NomatterhowmanytimesIwokeupfeelinglikeshit,I
couldn’tgetahandleonhowmuchtohavethenexttime.Icouldn’tcontrolit,soIquit.

ItoldmyrealfriendsIwasonthewagonandletmybeerweatherfriendsdriftaway.

ButfrommyfirstvodkasodaataCroatianbarwhenIwassixteen,tomylastbeerwith

BjornwhenIwaseighteen,IneverletSamseemethatway.IneverimaginedI’dhurther,
butIcouldn’tstandforhertoseemeoutofcontrol.ThesecondtimeI’dgottenwasted,
I’dpissedmyselfsittinginachaironmyfriend’sporch.Icouldn’thandlethethoughtof
doingsomethinglikethatinfrontofSam.Ionlywantedhertoseethebestme,theperson
Isawreflectedinhereyes,themanwhocouldtakeontheworldbecauseonegirlbelieved
hecould.

AndnowImighthavehurther.

Itdoesn’tmatterthatsheletmedown.Itdoesn’tmatterthatIwashurtandachildish

partofmewantedtoshowherwhathappenswhenpeoplestoptryingtobetheheroesof
theirownlives.Ishouldneverhavepickedupabottle.Ionlymadethingsworse.Iputher
indangerandIfuckinghatemyselfforit.

Istandonunsteadylegsandshuffletothesink.Ibrushmyteethandwashmyfaceand

thinkaboutshaving,butdecideIcan’tsparethetime.Ineedtogetsomebreadandwater
inmystomachandgetoutandlookforSam.Itdoesn’tmatterthatIcanbarelystand
upright.Icandragmyselfdowntothemainlodgeandgetsometoast.MaybeI’llget
luckyandSamwillbedowntherehavingbreakfast,waitingformysorryasstosoberup
andcomeapologize.

IjusthopeIdon’thaveanythingworsethanwhatIrememberdoingtoapologizefor.If

thereareanybruisesonher,andIknowI’mtheonewhoputthemthere…

Thethoughtisenoughtosendmebacktothetoiletagain.

Finally,Imanagetogetmystomachtostoprevoltinglongenoughtodownaglassof

waterandafewTums.Ibrushmyteethagain,pullonafreshshirt,andamonmywayout
thedoortostartlookingforSamwhenIseethepaperlyingbesidethedoorwithmyname
onit.

Irecognizeherhandwritingandcrouchdown,prayingit’sjustashortnotetellingme

whereshewentandwhattimeshe’llbeback.ButthenIopenthefoldedpaperandbegin
toread—

DearDanny,

Veryfirstofall,IwantyoutoknowthatIforgiveyou.Iwasn’tthereforyou,andyou

reachedforthewrongkindofcomfort.Iknowthat’sasmuchmyfaultasyours,andI
knowyou’regoingtowakeupandgetbackontracktothekindoflifeyouwanttolive.I
alsowanttosayI’msorryforhowselfishI’vebeensometimes.You’reright,Ionly
thoughtaboutmyownpain,especiallythefirstyearafterthedivorce,andthatwaswrong.
Myonlydefenseisthatyoumadelovingmeseemsoeasy.Ineverrealizedhowmuchwork
wentintothatseeminglyeffortlesslove.

I’msorryforthattoo.

“Fuck,”Icurse,fightingthestingingsensationpushingatthebacksofmyeyes.

IhavenoideawhatIsaidtoher,butitmusthavebeenugly.

Andalie.

Idon’treallythinkSamisselfish.Untilafewmonthsago,shewasalwaystherewhenI

neededtotalk,evenifitwasthreeinthemorninghertime.Surelyshehastorealizethat
wasthealcoholandthehurttalkinglastnight,notwhatIreallythinkorfeel.

Iturnbacktotheletter,hopingthesecondhalfofitwilloffersomehope.

Aftertonight,Irealizeyou’reright.I’mchoosingthewrongroad,andifIstayedhere,I

wouldberuiningtwolives.Irefusetodothattoyou.Itrulyloveyoumorethananything
elseintheworld,andtoproveit,I’mgoingbacktoL.A.todotherightthing.

AllIaskisthatyoudon’tfollowme.ThisissomethingIshoulddoalone.It’sgoingtobe

hardenoughwithoutyouthereinthecourtroomwatching.Iknowyou’regoingtofindout
whathappenedsoonerorlater,butI’dratheryounothavetoseemetestify.

KnowthatIloveyouandthatIhopethisisn’ttheendforus.Iwantustofindourway

backtoeachother,butitisn’tfairtoaskyoutopullmeoutofthisdarkplace.Ihaveto
findmywayoutonmyown.

I’vebookedyourflightbacktoMauiforthreedaysfromnow.Ifyouwanttoleave

sooner,justcatchthebustotheairportandtalktothebookingagent.Onceagain,I’m
sorry.Ihopeyoucanforgiveme.

Allmyloveforever,

Sam

Icurseagainandthrowtheletterintothecenteroftheroombeforewrenchingopenthe

doorandhalffallingdownthestairs.

Theworldisstilltiltingunsteadilyonitsaxis,butIcan’tstoptobesick.Ihavetocatch

Sambeforesheleavestheparkinglot.Maybesheonlyleftafewminutesago.Maybe
she’sstillcheckingoutorloadingherbackpackintothetrunk.

Ihavetocatchher;Ican’tbetoolate.

ButwhenIreachtheparkinglot,thelittleredcarisgone,andwhenItrudgeupthestairs

tothemainlodge,themanatthedesksaysSamcheckedoutlastnight.

“Shepaidthebillandleftaone-hundreddollarcredit,”theoldermanwiththepink

cheeksandwidesmilesayscheerfully.“That’senoughforanothernightatthereduced
rate.WouldyouliketostaywithustonightMr.Cooney?”

Ishakemyhead.“Nothanks,IhavetogettoAuckland.Mygirlfriendsaidtherewasa

bus?”

Thecheerfulmannodsvigorouslyashepullsablueschedulefrombehindthecounter.

“Thereis.Itleavesfromthepostofficedowntown,everymorningbutSunday.You’ve
missedtoday,butIcancallandgetyoubookedfortomorrow.”

Ibitemylip,fightingtheurgetocurse.“Isthereanywaytogettheresooner?Acabor

something?OrmaybeIcouldrentanothercarfromsomeplaceintown?”

Theman’sbrowsdrawtogether.“Ataxiwouldn’ttakeyouallthewaytoAuckland,butI

mightbeabletobookarentalcar.Wouldyoulikemetomakesomecalls?”

“Yes,please,”Isay,nervouslytappingmyfingersonthedesk.

“Whydon’tyougrabacupofcoffeeandcomebackinafew,”CheerfulMansayswitha

pointed,butcheerful,lookatmyfingers.“Ishouldknowabitmorethen.”

Inodandmakemywaytotherestaurant,whereIordertoastandcoffeetogoandtrynot

tolookatthetablewhereIatewithSamtheothernight,orthinkabouthowwemadelove
after.Eventhen,whenweseemedtobegettingbackinsync,thingsweren’tthesame.I
shouldhaveknownshewasdealingwithsomethingheavy.AndIshouldhaveheldmy
shittogetherlastnightinsteadofrunningawayintoabottlelikeafuckingcoward.

Idon’tcarewhatshesaid,I’mgettingmyflightdestinationchanged.I’mgoingtoL.A.

andI’mgoingtofindherandapologizeinperson.AndthenI’mgoingtostandbyherthe
wayIpromisedIwould.

Ireturntothefrontdeskandsipmycoffee,sopreoccupiedIdon’trealizeCheerfulMan

iscallingformeuntilhesaysmynameloudenoughtomakemejump.

“Mr.Cooney!”Iglanceupandhemotionsformetocomebehindthedesk.“There’san

urgentcallforyou.Yourbrother-in-law.ItoldhimtostayonthelineandI’dfindyou
insteadofputtingthecallthroughtothemessagingservice.”

Coffeeandsackoftoastforgotten,Icirclearoundthedesk,steppingoverapileofcoats

notvisiblefromtheguestsidetotakethephone.“Thankyou,”Isaytotheclerkbefore
puttingthephonetomyear.“Gabe?Iseverythingokay?SorryIdidn’tcalllastnight,I—”

“Youhavetocomehome,Danny,”Gabesays.Iknowsomethingisterriblywrongbythe

timehesaystheword“home.”Gabeisoneofthosealmosttoo-slickguyswhomakes
beingclassylookeasy.I’veneverheardhimsoundsooff-center,orsocompletely
miserable.“It’s…bad.”

TheroomspinsandIsitdownhardonthefloorbehindthedesk,knowingI’mgoingto

besickagainifIdon’t.“OhmyGod.Isitthebaby?Didshelosethebaby?”

“No,thebaby’sfine.Shewasbornlastnight.She’sbeautiful.”Gabepullsinabreath,

andIsuddenlyrealizehe’scrying.“It’sCaitlin.Shestartedbleedingafter.Therewasso
muchblood.”

“Shit,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Butshe’sokay.She’salive,she’sgoingtobeokay.”

Gabe’ssilentforalongmomentduringwhicheveryorganinmybodythreatensto

liquefywithfear.“Theydon’tknow.She’sinacomaandthey’vehadtroublekeepingher
stable.”

Icurseandsqueezemyeyesshut.

“Theycouldn’tgetthebleedingtostopsotheytookherintosurgeryanddidan

emergencyhysterectomy,”hesays,hisvoicebreakinginthatshatteredwaythatissonot
Gabe.“IwasworriedhowIwasgoingtotellherwecan’thavemorechildren.Inever
thought—”

HebreaksoffandallIheararesoftsobs.Ineedtosaysomethingtocomforthim,butI

don’tknowwhat.Ionlyknowthatmybigsister,theonlypersonwhohasneverletme
down,whoIlovelikeamotherandasisterandaveteranofthesamewarIlivedthrough
growingup,mightbedyingandI’msohungoverIdon’tknowifI’mgoingtobeableto
driveacartotheairporttocatchaplane.

“Idon’tknowwhattodo,”Gabecontinues.“Emmie’scryinginthewaitingroomandI

don’tknowhowtogetthroughthis.Idon’tknowwhattodowithouther.”

“I’llbethereassoonasIcan,”Isay,sittingupstraighter,willingstrengthbackintomy

alcohol-poisonedmuscles.“Justhangon,andI’llgetthere.I’lltakecareofthekidsand
everythingatthehouse.YoucanjuststaywithCaitlinandthebabyatthehospitalso
you’llbetherethesecondshewakesup.”

GabepullsinabreathandIcantellhe’stryingtoregaincontrol.“Thanks,Danny.”

“It’sgoingtobeokay,”Ilie,prayingitwillbecomethetruth.“Youknowhowtoughshe

is.Thereareahundredandtensamuraiwarriorstrappedinthatlittlebody.”

“Iknow.”Gabe’slaughalmostimmediatelyturnsintoasob.“Ijustlovehersomuch.I

needtotellher,atleastonemoretime.”

TearsfillmyeyesandIdon’teventrytostopthem.“Iloveyou,man.I’mgoingtobe

thereassoonasIcan.I’llcallassoonasIknowtheflightinformation.Telleveryoneelse
I’mcoming.”

WehangupandIturntofindCheerfulManstandingbehindmeinacoatandhat,

holdingupapairofcarkeys.“Let’sgrabyourthings,Mr.Cooney.I’mtakingyoutothe
airport.I’vealreadycleareditwithmysupervisor.”

“Thankssomuch.”Iwanttohugtheguy,butsettleforaclapontheshoulderastears

spilldownmyface.

IgrabmyshitasfastasIcanandCheerfulGuy—Henry,IlearnonthewaytoAuckland

—andIhittheroad.

Hedoesmostofthetalking,seemingtorealizeI’minnoshapeforconversation.Hetells

meaboutthedifferentsiteswepassbyandabouthisfamily.Hegrewuponasheepfarm
andwasthefirstkidinthefamilytogotocollege,buthestillwenthomeeveryweekend
tovisithismomandsister,whodiedofcomplicationsfromacongenitalheartdefectwhen
shewasforty-two.

“Wethoughtwe’dhaveherforlonger,”Henrysays.“Butwetreasuredeverydaywe

had.Shewassuchabeautifulsoul.”

“Mysister,too,”Isay,fightingtheurgetostartcryingagain.We’realmostattheairport

andIneedtoholdittogetherlongenoughtogetmybookingarrangementssortedout.
“Thankyouagain,Henry.Iappreciateit.”

“Happytohelpamantakecareofthepeopleheloves.”

HenryandIshakehandsandIgrabmybackpackfromthetrunkbeforeheadinginside

theairport,buthiswordshauntme.

AsIwalktotheticketcounterandheadtowardtheinternationaldeparturearea,Isearch

thecrowdforaglimpseofcurlybrownhair.SamsaidshewasgoingtoL.A.andshe’s
probablyflyingouttoday.Ikeephopingforamiracle,forachancetosetthingsright
betweenusbeforeIflytoonesideoftheworldandhertotheother,butapparentlythere
arenomiraclesonmyplatetoday.

AllIcanhopeforisthatGodortheUniverseorwhateverforceisouttherethat

sometimeslowersitselftointerveneinhumanaffairswillmakeamiraclehappenfor
CaitlinandGabeandmakesuremyniecedoesn’tgrowupwithoutamother.

ChapterEighteen

Danny

“Nowhatredisbyfarthelongestpleasure;

Menloveinhaste,buttheydetestatleisure.”

-LordByron

Theysaythingsalwayslookbetterinthemorningandthateverythinghappensfora

reason.

Theysaythatlovemakesallthingspossibleandgoodthingscometothosewhowait.

Well,Icallbullshitonallofthat.

IgetofftheplaneattheairportinCroatiafeelinglikeI’vebeenrunoverbyatruckand

kickedinthegutafewtimesforgoodmeasureandheadstraighttothehospitalinPorec,
arrivingjustintimetowatchmysisterflatlineasherheartstopsbeating.Nursesrushin,
followedbydoctorsandaburlyguywhosesolejobseemstobetoshoveeveryonewho
lovesCaitlinoutofherroom.

Gabe,Ray,Sean,Emmie,andIarepushedoutintothehallandgrantedaglimpseof

Caitlin’sgownbeingwrenchedopenastheysqueezejellyontoherchestbeforethedoor
slamsinourfaces.Gabe,whoisoutofhismindwithgriefandlackofsleep,lungesfor
thedoorandRayandIhavetoholdhimback.Hedoeshisbesttokickourasseswhile
cryingsohardhisentirebodyisheaving,butRayandImanagetodraghimbackdown
thehalltothewaitingroom.

EmmieandSeanfollow,bothofthemcryingandEmmiechanting“please,please,

please”overandoveragainuntilI’mworriedmynieceisonthevergeofsomekindof
mentalbreak.

Iwouldn’tblameher.It’stoomuch.It’salltoofuckingmuch.

Wesitinamiserablehuddleinthecornerofthewaitingroomfortenlongminuteswhile

allthepeoplepassingthroughdotheirbesttoavoideyecontactandkeepfromcatching
theplagueofgriefhanginginathickcloudaroundourheads.Finally,anursecomesout
totellusthattheygotCaitlin’sheartstartedagainandshe’sstabilized.

Emmiestartschanting“thankyou,thankyou,thankyou,”Seanrunstothebathroom

likehe’sgoingtobesick,andGabejumpstohisfeet,insistingthatheneedstoseeCaitlin
rightaway.

“I’msorry,sir,”thenursewiththemassivebunperchedontopofherheadlikeaburnt

cinnamonrollsays.“Mrs.Alexanderwon’tbeallowedvisitorsforatleasttwenty-four
hours.”

“She’smywife,”Gabeinsists,voicecracking.“Ineedtobethere.She’llknowI’m

there,evenifshe’snotawake.”

“I’msorry.”Thenurseholdsupherhands.“Hospitalpolicy—”

“Idon’tgiveashitabouthospitalpolicy,”Gabesays.“Ineedtoseeher.”

Gabeisstillarguingwiththenursefiveminuteslater,whenanothernursecomesinto

tellusthatJuliet,mynewniece,wentintorespiratorydistressandisbeingmovedtothe
NICU.Mypoorbrother-in-lawstopstalkingmid-sentenceanddropshisfaceintohis
hands,obviouslyaboutonemorepieceofbadnewsawayfromtakingaguntohishead.

“Ray,takeeveryonedowntogetlunchatthecaféacrossthestreet,”Isay,pushingsome

moneyintomybrother’shands.“I’llcomegetyouinanhourorsoanddriveeveryone
hometogetsomerest.”

RaynodsbeforehistiredeyesshifttoGabe.“Okay,butdon’tlethimbealonerightnow,

okay?I’mworried.”

Inod.“Iwon’t.I’vegotthis.JustseeifyoucangetEmmietocalmdown.Gethersome

hotcocoaorsomething.”

“I’msogladyou’reback,”Raysays,soundingwayolderthaneighteenandsosadthatI

havetopullhiminforahug.RayandIhaveneverbeensuperclose—I’mallactionand
he’sallforethought—butthewayhisarmswraptightaroundmemakeitclearheneededa
hugasmuchasEmmiedidwhenIfirstshowedupatthehospitaltwentyminutesago.

Myniecehadhungontomynecksolongmyspinehadstartedtoache,butIwasn’t

abouttolethergo.I’mnotgoingtoletanyofthepeopleIlovego.Everyoneisgoingto
getbetterandstayalive.I’mnotgoingtoburymysisterorherbaby.Ifuckingrefusetolet
ithappen.

Theysaywherethere’sawill,there’saway,butthetruthisallthewillandprayerand

hopeintheworldcan’tmakeallthewrongthingsrightorhealpeoplewhoaretoobroken
togetbetter.

Forthenextweek,theAlexander-Cooneyfamilyhunkersdownandhopesandprays

whileCaitlincontinuestoclingtolifebyherfingertipsandthebabylosespreciousounces
asshelaborsforeverybreath.MybrothersandIsleepinshiftsandmakesureoneofusis
alwaysatthehospitalwithGabe.We’reafraidwhathemightdoifCaitlindiesandhe’s
alone.Wedon’tspeakthefearaloud,butallofusarethinkingthesamething.

IknowdeepdownGabedoesn’twanttomakehisdaughteranorphan,buthe’snot

thinkingclearly.He’slostinhispainandgriefandsomethinginmyguttellsmehe’snot

comingbackfromthatdarkplacewithoutCaitlinbyhisside.

Ondaysix,IbringGabeasandwichfromacrossthestreetandstepoutontothebalcony

outsidethewaitingroomtocallSam’sdadforthetwelfthtimesincetheplanelanded.I
don’texpecthimtoanswermycall—I’vegottenthehintthatI’mbeingfrozenoutfor
somereason—sowhenhepicksuponthesecondring,I’msosurprisedIstammermy
hello.

“H-hiMr.Collins.It’sDanny.Iwashopingyou’veheardfromSam.”

“I’minL.A.withherrightnow,”hesaysinathickvoice.“She’sinwiththeprosecuting

attorney,preparingforthetrial.”

“Soshe’sokay?”Iask.“Imean,she’sholdingup?Andshe’snotintroublewiththe

police?”

“No,”Mr.Collinssayssoftly.“She’snotintrouble.Ithinkeveryoneunderstoodwhyshe

didn’twanttoputherselfthroughthis.”

“DoyouthinkIcantalktoher?”Iask,achingforSam,wishingIcouldbeintwoplaces

atonce.“DoesshehaveanewcellIcouldcall?”

“Shedoes,butsheaskedmenottogiveyouthenumber,Danny.”

Isqueezemyeyesshutasmyheartwrithesmiserablyinmychest.“Please,Mr.Collins.I

knowIwasanassholetoSamthelastnightweweretogether,butIjustwanttoapologize.
MysisterisreallysicksoIhadtogobackhometohelpout,butIwanttobetherefor
Sam.IplantocomeassoonasthingsareokaywithCaitlinandthebaby.”

Ifthingsareeverokay,ifIdon’tendupstayingheretoraiseanewbornafterCaitlindies

andGabefallsapart.

Mr.Collinssighs,awoundedsoundthatechoesthewayIfeel.“Son,Idon’tthinkthat’s

agoodidea.Samdoesn’twantyouhereand…I’mhonestlynotsureyoucouldhandleit.
It’salmostkillingmeandI…”Hepullsinanotherbreathandwhenhespeaksagain,his
voiceisshaking.“I’mjustthedad.”

Itrytoswallow,butmythroatistootight.Allofasuddenthatghostofasuspicionthat’s

beendriftingbackandforthinmybrain,hauntingmysubconscious,beginstocrawlinto
myconsciousmind.ButIdon’twantthatsuspiciontobefounded.Iwanttobewrongso
badlyIcan’tevenbringmyselftoaskthequestion.

“I’vegottogo,”Mr.Collinssays.“Sam’sonherway.Justrespectherwishes,Danny.

Thelastthingmydaughterneedsrightnowismorestress.”

HehangsupbeforeIcansayanotherword.Istandstaringatthephone,sweatinginthe

increasinglywarmsummerday,feelinglikeI’mabouttohaveaheartattack.Every
muscleinmybodyisclenchedandmyribsaredoingtheirbesttocrushmyheartinto
juiceinsidemychest.MypulseisracingandmyhandsbegintoshakesohardIhaveto
trythreetimesbeforeIcantype“SterlingUniversityrapescandal”intothesearchwindow
withouthalfadozentypos.

Therehasn’tbeentimesinceIgotbacktojumponlineorwatchthenews.We’veall

beeninsurvivalmode,sofocusedonCaitlinandthebabythattherestoftheworldhas

fadedintothebackground.Butthatworldhasn’tstoppedmoving,andtherearesixnew
linkstoarticlesreportingdevelopmentsinthecase.Iopenthefirstoneandstarttoread.

Bythesecondparagraph,I’mslammingmyfistintothestonewallofthebalconyhard

enoughtoshatterthreebonesinmyhand,butit’snotthephysicalpainthatmakesmecry
outloudenoughtobringsecurityrushingoutontothebalcony.

TheysaythatGoddoesn’tgiveyoumorethanyoucanhandleandthatthebestthingsin

lifearefree.

Butsoaretheworstthings.Theycomeinthedoorwithoutpayingacovercharge,take

outamachinegun,andmowdowneverybeautifulthinginsight.

ItrytocallSam’sdadahundredtimesthatafternoonalone,buthedoesn’tpickup.I

sendSamanemailbegginghertoforgiveme,tellingherhowmuchIloveher,and
promisingI’llbethereassoonasIcan,buttheemailbouncesback.She’sclosedher
account.Ican’tgettoher.IhavenowaytotellherI’msosorry,nowaytotellherallI
wantistobewithherandhelpherthroughthis.

Ispendtherestoftheweekinhell,torturingmyselfbyreadingeveryarticleIcanfind

aboutthecase,imaginingwhatSammusthavegonethroughuntilImakemyself
physicallyill,thensoothingawaythepainbyimaginingwhatI’mgoingtodotothe
monsterswhohurther.IsitnexttoGabebyCaitlin’sbedsideandplotfourperfect
murdersandonedoseofpoeticjusticeforAlec,whoapparentlywasn’tanactive
participant,justoneofthemanyfratboyswhoturnedablindeyewhileagirlwasgang-
rapedontheirpooltable.

Whilemygirl,mySamwastreatedlikeafucktoyfortheiramusement,whilethey

savagedhersobrutallysheleftabloodtrailassheranfromthehouse.

Thepolicehadbeenconfusedastowhythebloodtypedidn’tmatchDeidreJones’s,but

onceSamcameforward,thatconfusionwasclearedaway.She’smakingtheirjobeasyfor
themnow.It’sgoingtobeashorttrialandthemaximumsentenceforeveryoneofthose
arrogantfucks.Thereishardevidence,andwitnesseswhosawSamrunacrossthequadto
hercarwearingnothingbutateeshirt.Andthereisthevideothatthemonstershacked
intothecampuswebsitetopostwhiletheywerestilldrunk.Youallegedlycan’tseeSam’s
faceclearly—justthebackofherhair,whichforonceshe’dstraightened—butsurelyit
willbecleartoanyonewho’swatchingthatthegirlinthosevideoswasn’tawilling
participant.

Itdoesn’tmatterthatSamwastheonewhostartedtherumorthatDeidrewasthegirlin

thevideo.IknowSamwellenoughtoknowsheblamesherselffortheothergirl’ssuicide,
butnojuryintheirrightmindwouldseethatasareasonnottobelieveSam’sstory.She
wastraumatized.Shewasthevictimofaviolentcrime.Shewasn’tinherrightmind.
Deidre’sblooddoesn’tbelongonSam’shands,itbelongsonthehandsofthemenwho
rapedher,andIhavenodoubtajurywillseethat.

TheonlythingIdoubtisifI’lleverseeSamagain,orifshe’sgoingtokeeprunning

frommeforever.

ButIforgetthatthingscanalwaysgetworseanditisn’talwaysdarkestrightbefore

dawn.

BythetimeCaitlinfinallystartstogetbetterandsheandthebabycomehomefromthe

hospitalthreeweekslater,thetrialhasalreadystarted.I’vebeenabletoreadallaboutthe
defense’sclaimsthatSamwasnotonlyawillingparticipant,buttheonewho’d
orchestratedthe“NewYear’sEveOrgy.”I’veheardnewsanchorssaythatphotosfrom
Sam’sroomshowingavarietyofsextoysspreadoutonherbedconfirmher“deviant
sexualtastes.”I’vewatchedthesmugmonsterswhodidthistomybestfriendwalkpast
thenewscameraslookinginnocentandvictimized,likethey’retheoneswhowere
attackedandthenforcedtostandinfrontofacourtroomandbegpeopletobelieve“sluts”
canstillbevictimsofrape.

They’vecalledthewomanIloveaslutandawhoreandbeforethatnight,theonlyman

she’deverbeenwithwasme.

It’ssowrong,Ican’tfathomhowanyrationalpersoncouldgoalongwiththedefense’s

accusations,butasthedaystickbyitbecomesmoreandmoreobviousthattheassholes
mightgetawaywithit.Theymightwalkfree,returntotheirfrathouse,andlivetodoit
againtoanothergirlnextNewYear’sEve.

ButCaitlinisstillsoweakshecanonlyholdthebabywhenshehaspillowspropped

underherarmsandGabehasn’tfullyreturnedtothelandoftheliving,either,spendingall
ofhistimehoveringnearCaitlin’sbedortakingthebabyoutforlongwalkswhileshe
sleeps.Meanwhile,Emmie’sseeingashrinkforanxiety,Seanstumbledhomedrunktwo
nightsago,andRayisn’tequippedtohandleitall.He’dsnapunderthepressureifIleft.I
can’tgotoSamyet,Istillhaven’tfoundawaytoreachher,andI’veneverfeltsohelpless
orfilledwithimpotentrageinmylife.

Still,IthinkI’mhidingitwellenoughuntilCaitlinreachesoutandtakesmyhandone

eveningwhenwe’resittingoutontheporch,watchingthefishingboatschugbacktothe
harbor.

“Iknowyouhavetoleavesoon,Danny,”shesaysinthathuskiervoiceshe’shadsince

shespentsomanydayswithatubedownherthroat.“Iwouldhavetoldyoutoheadouta
weekago,butI’mscaredtoletyougo.”

Ifoldmyfingersaroundhers.“Don’tbescared.You’regettingbettereverydayand

Julietisgoingtobeaporkerbeforeyouknowit.Youguysareoutofthewoods,Iknow
it.”

“I’mnotscaredformeorJuliet.”Herintenselookisevenmorepiercingwithhereyes

solargeinherpainfullythinface.“I’mscaredforyou.”

“I’mfine,”Isay,slippingmyhandfromhersasIturntolookoutattheboats.“It’sSam

youshouldbeworriedabout.”

“Iam.I’mworriedshe’sgoingtoenduptryingtorecoverfromallthisalonebecausethe

manshelovesisservingalifesentenceinprison.”

Ipressmylipstogetherforalongmoment,butdon’tlookatCaitlinanddon’tanswer.

“Youwillbetheveryfirstpersontheygolookingforifoneofthosemonstershasan

unfortunateaccident,letaloneallfiveofthem,”Caitlincontinuesinacalmvoice,proving
shecanstillreadmydamnedmind.“YouandSam’sdad.Andyou’rewaytooupsetto
planaperfectcrimerightnow.”

“I’mfine,”Isnap.

“Youbrokeyourhandhittingawall,Danny,”Caitlinsays.“Youwouldendupmakinga

mistakeandyouandSamwouldenduplosingeverythingthatmatters.”

Iglanceatheroutofthecornerofmyeye.“ButIdon’thearyoutellingmeit’swrong.”

“Youknowmebetterthanthat,”shesayssoftly,soundingtiredafteronlyafewminutes

ofconversation.“Butyoucan’ttakethelawintoyourhandsrightnow.Youwouldget
caught.Allthecardsarestackedagainstyou.AndIloveyouandSamtoomuchtoletyou
leaveherewithoutspeakingmymind.Whetheryoulistenornotisuptoyou.”

Iswallowhard,fightingthetearsthatsimmerasclosetothesurfacethesedaysasmy

rage.“ThenwhatdoIdo?Ican’tletthemgetawaywithit.Theycan’tdothattoherand
walkfree.Itwillkillme,just…eatmealive.Justthinkingaboutitisenoughtomakeme
fuckingcrazy,Caitlin.”

“Soyouwaituntilyou’renotcrazyanymore,”Caitlinsays,leaningincloseand

droppinghervoicetoawhisper.“YougotoSam,andwhileyou’rehealingandloving
yourwayoutofthehellyou’vebothbeenthrough,youplaneverysingledetailin
advance.Takeatleastayear,longerifyoucan.Givethemtimetostoplookingovertheir
shouldersandmakesureyouhaveanairtightalibi.Then,ifyoustillneedthis…”

Iholdhereyes.“You’reserious?”Iask,eventhoughIalreadyknowtheanswer.

“Aslongasyoucandoitwithoutexchangingonethingthatwilleatyoualivefor

another.”Shetakesmyhandagain,makingmeawareofhowcoldherskinis.“Anddon’t
letitchangeyou.You’reagoodman,Danny.Iwouldn’twantyoutolosethat,orstop
believingthatyoudeservehappiness.”

“Itdoesn’tmatterwhatIdeserve,”Iwhisper.“Wedon’tgetwhatwedeserve.”

“Andthankgoodnesssometimesforthat.”Caitlinsmilessadly.“I’msosorryforallof

thisDanny,butIbelieveinyouandSam.Youwillgetthroughthistogether,Ireally
believeyouwill.”

Theysaytimehealsallwoundsandit’sbettertohavelovedandlostthantoneverhave

lovedatall.

ButwhenIfinallyflyintoL.A.—gettingtothecourthousehoursafterthenotguilty

verdicthasbeenannounced,thankstoadelayinChicago—IknowIwillneverbehealed.
IwillneverstopwantingvengeanceforthegirlIlove.

IsearchforSamatherapartmentandattheextendedstayhotelwhereherroommate

saysSamandherparentswerestayingduringthetrial.ButtheCollinsescheckedoutthis

morningandSamisnowheretobefound.

IcallMr.Collins,butallhe’lltellmeisthatSamdroveoffwhileheandhisex-wife

werecheckingoutofthehotelandhasn’tbeenansweringherphone.Thetersetoneinhis
voiceinfersthatsomehowthat’smyfault.HehangsupbeforeIcantellhimhowsorryI
amthatthingsendedupthewaytheydidandrefusestoanswermycallsforthenextfew
days.

IstayinLosAngelesforalmosttwoweeks,hauntingthecampus,herapartment,thetest

prepplacewheresheusedtotutorkidsafterschool,lookingforanysignofher,butshe’s
vanishedintothinair.IputanadonLosAngelesCraig’sListaskingSamtocallme,then
cross-postittoeverymajorcityonthewestcoast.ThenextnightIexpandthesearchto
theheartlandandtheeastcoast.Ikeeptheadsrotatingeveryforty-eighthoursuntilmy
inboxisfullofweirdmessagesfromcreepyguysandafewdesperate-soundingwomen
andIfinallyrealizeit’spointless.

I’mnotgoingtobeabletofindSamunlessshewantstobefound.

Finally,aftertwoweeksofcrashingatahostelinHollywood,sleepinginaweirdpod

bedthatmakesmefeellikeI’mwakingupinacoffineverymorning,Petecallssaying
Teviaisquittingattheendoftheweekandhecan’tgetanotherguidetrainedonsuch
shortnotice.IfIdon’tcomebacktostepin,he’sgoingtohavetocancelfifteentoursand
thechancesofstayingintheblackthismonthwillbeslimtonone.

Idon’twanttogobackorgiveuponSam,butdeepdownIknowI’mnotaccomplishing

anythinghereexceptdrivingmyselfcrazy.

Iflyhome.Igobacktowork.

IcrashatCaitlinandGabe’sandspendthesummerteachingEmmiehowtosurfand

doingmyresearchonTodd,Jeremy,J.D.andScott.Inthefall,RayandSeangobackto
theAmericanschoolinthecity,EmmiestartshomeschoolwithCaitlin,andGabereturns
toworkdoingwhateverrichguythinghedoeswithpropertiesandinvestments.Ispend
themorningswithJulietstrappedontomychestinhersling,walkingthepicturesque
ancientromanstreetsofPorecwhileCaitlinandEmmiestudy,plottinghowI’llmakethe
monsterswhohurtSampay.Intheafternoons,Ileadrockclimbingexpeditionsupthe
faceofthecliffsoutsidetown,andatnight,Icontinuemyresearchaloneinmyroom.

Caitlindoesn’ttalktomeabouthurtingpeopleagain,butshedoesn’ttrytodrawmeinto

familydinnersoreveningsailsonGabe’sboatmorethanonceortwiceaweek.Shegives
memyspaceandletsmeobsess,almostasifsheknowsplanninghowI’mgoingtoget
myrevengeistheonlythingthatgetsmeoutofbedinthemorning.

WithoutSam,withoutbeingabletoloveher,withoutevenknowingifshe’sokay,it’s

likethebestpartofmehasgonemissing.Hatehelpsnumbthepainoflosingher,keeping
memovingaroundandfunctioninginsteadofwalkingintotheoceanacrossthestreetand
lettingthewatercarrymeaway.

TheholidayscomeandgoandJulietstartstocrawlalloverthehouse,butSam’sdad

stillrefusestoanswermycalls.SpringrainsfloodthestreetsofPorec,andCaitlinand
GabestarttalkingaboutgettingonalisttoadoptanotherbabywhenJulietistwo.

Andthen,it’salmostsummeragainandRayisgraduatingfromhighschooland

planningaEuropeantourwithhiscrazygirlfriend,Seanisconvincingmetohirehimasa
guideeventhoughhewon’tbeseventeenforafewmoreweeks,andthesummertripI’ve
beenpreparingforallyearlongissuddenlyonlyafewdaysaway.

Theysayrevengeisadishbestservedcold,andofalltheplatitudesI’veheardinthe

yearsinceIlostthegirlIlove,it’stheonlyonethatmakessense.

IboardtheplaneforCostaRicainboardshortsandaweatheredblueteeshirt,looking

likeIdon’thaveacareintheworld.I’malaidbacksurferonmywaytocatchsome
waves,notacoldsonofabitchwithablockoficeandhatewheremyheartusedtobe.

Ihaven’tdecidedwhethertokillTodd,Jeremy,J.D.,andScottwhilethey’relivingitup

inCostaRicafortheirseniortrip,orjustmakethemwishtheyweredead,butIknowone
thing—whateverIdecide,nooneisgoingtosuspectI’mtheoneresponsible.

EventhoughIhaveeverydetailmemorized,Igothroughtheplanagainduringthe

flight.It’sbecomearitualmorecomfortingthananyrosaryIwasforcedtosaybackwhen
mymomstillgotaroundtodraggingmyasstochurch.

Soon,thiswillbeover,andI’mnotsurewhatI’llclingtoforcomfortthen,butIsuppose

itwon’treallymatter.IwillhavedonewhatwasrightbySam.MaybeI’llbeabletomove
onwithmylifeafter,maybenot,butIhopeI’llatleasthaveputsomeoftheregretsthat
hauntmetorest.

Igetofftheplaneatsixo’clockinthemorningCostaRicatime,afterared-eyeflight

duringwhichIsleptlessthantwentyminutestotal.AllI’mthinkingaboutisgettingtoa
cabandgettingafullday’ssleepbeforeIstartbuildingmyalibi.I’mnotthinkingabout
loveorlossorbeautifulgirlswithbigblueeyes,butthemomentIseetheefficientsway
ofthewoman’ships,Iknowit’sSamwalkingthroughtheairportinfrontofme.

Herhairisbleachedadarkshadeofgoldandhangsinasinglebraiddownherback.

She’sheavierthanshewaslastsummer,withpowerfulmusclesevidentbeneathherblack
tanktopandmorestrong,tonedfleshemergingfromherkhakishorts,butIknowit’sher.

IknowitlikeIknowmyownnameandtheconstellationsoffrecklesonhertanned

arms.

Theysaygreatmindsthinkalike,andasItailSamthroughcustoms,payingmycab

driverextratostayatthecurbuntilhercabpullsout,andthentofollowtheothercar
throughthebusystreets,Iwonderifitmightbetrue.

MaybeSamhascomehereforthesamereasonIhave.

Andmaybe,justmaybe,there’sachancewe’llbeheadingintohell—andbackoutagain

—together.

Tobecontinued…

FIGHTFORYOU

theconclusiontoDannyandSam’sstory

isavailablenow.

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TellLiliyourfavoritepart…

DearReader,

IhopeyouenjoyedRUNWITHME.DannyandSam’sstoryisdeartomyheartandone
ofthehardest,sweeteststoriesI’veevertold.

Ifyouenjoyedthereadandcantakeamomenttoleaveareview—justasentenceortwo
lettingotherreadersknowwhatyoulikedbestaboutthestory—Iwouldbedeeply
grateful.Reviewscanmakeallthedifferencetootherreaderslookingforanew-to-them-
authortoenjoyandyourvoicematters.

Thankyouforyourtimeandthechancetotellyoustories.

Lili

AbouttheAuthor

LiliValentehassleptunderthestarsinGreece,eatendinneratmidnightwithFrenchmen
whocouldn’tbetrustedtokeeptheirmouthsontheirfood,andwalkedalonethrough
Munich’sredlightdistrictafterdarkandlivedtotellthetale.

Thesedaysyoucanfindherwritinginatentbesidethesea,drinkingcoconutwaterand
thinkingdelightfullydirtythoughts.

Lililovestohearfromherreaders.Youcanreachherviaemailat
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AlsoByLiliValente

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TheUnderHisCommandSeries:

ControllingHerPleasure

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TheBoughtbytheBillionaireSeries:

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TheKidnappedbytheBillionaireSeries:

DirtyTwistedLove

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TheBadBoy’sTemptation

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SneakpeekofFIGHTFORYOU

AbouttheBook

Warning:Adark,sexy,boundary-pushingreadfeaturinganalphamalewhowilldo
whateverittakestoavengehisgirl.

TheydestroyedthewomanIlove.NowI’mgoingtomakethemwishtheyhadneverbeen
born.

ThefratboyswhohurtSamwillpaythepriceforwhattheydid.Andthepriceis
everything.Iwillhavetheirpain,theirsuffering,andthentheirlives.

TheydroveSamawayfromme.Iamamanwithoutaheart,amanwhowithnothingleft
tolose.

AndthenIseeher,walkingthroughtheairportinCostaRica.

Sam.She’saliveandhereforthesamereasonIam—totakevengeance.

Itdoesn’ttakelongtofigureoutwe’reasperfecttogetheraswe’vealwaysbeen.Nowwe
justhavetodecide—carrythroughwithourdarkplans,orgetoutbeforeit’stoolate.

READERALERT:ThisisthesecondhalfofDannyandSam’sstoryandshouldberead
afterRunWithMe.Thisbookcontainsadultthemes,violence,murder,andpossible
triggersforsexualassaultvictims.

Excerpt

CHAPTERONE

Samantha

“Wedonothavetovisitamadhousetofinddisorderedminds;

ourplanetisthementalinstitutionoftheuniverse.”

-Goethe

Thepastneverleavesus.

Thepastisapartofwhoweare,asmuchasourskinandboneandthelieswe’vetold

thatwecannevertakeback.

Thechoiceswe’vemadeandthethingswe’vesufferedtakeeverystepwithus,always

presentthoughnotalwaysseen.

Mydadisageologistbyprofession,butanall-aroundsciencenerdfortheloveofagood

mystery.WhenIwaslittle,ourfamilywouldspendourweekendsexploringhiddenisland
beaches,hikingupmist-shroudedmountains,orpawingthroughthevolcanicsoilatop
Maui’sdormantvolcano.

Oneverytrip,Dad’svoicewasthesoundtrackforadventure.Beforethedivorce,Mom

usedtojokethatshefeltlikeshewaslivinginanaturedocumentary.IcouldtellDad’s
constantchatterannoyedhersometimes,buttomethestorieshetoldwerereasonfor
wonder.Itmademerealizetheworldwasfullofmystery.Everyplantoranimalwe
passedonatrailhadasecretstorytotell,anentirehiddenworldwaitingtounfoldtothose
whotookthetimetostop,observe,andasktherightquestions.

ItwasDadwhotaughtmethatpalmtreesaren’treallytreesatall.They’remoreclosely

relatedtothegrassfamilyanddon’tgeneratenewcellsthewaytreesdo.Cutthroughan
oak’sbarkandyou’llseegrowthringsthattellthestoryofeachyearofthetree’slife.Cut
intoapalm’strunkandyou’lljustleaveagashinthethick,spongymaterialoftheplant.

Andunliketheoak,whoseyearlyringgrowthwilleventuallyhealoverthecut,

protectingtheplantfromdisease,thepalmtreewillbearanopenwoundfortherestofits
life.Everyinsectanddangerousbacteriathatfloatsbyonanislandbreezewillbeableto
burrowstraightintotheheartofthepalmandstartdevouringtheplantfromtheinsideout.

AsIgrewup,Istartedtothinkthatpeoplewerealotlikebothplants.

Sometimes,we’relikeanoak,growingpastanoldhurt,buryingitunderlayersofnew

growth,movingforwardandgettingstrongerdespitethescarburiedbeneaththehealthy
outershell.Butsometimes,ourwoundsrefusetoheal.Sometimes,theystayopenand
ugly,remindinguseverytimewelookinthemirrorthatwewillneverbethesame.

Thehurtwastoobig,thecuttoodeep.

Wewillnevermovepastit.Fromthisday,untilourlastday,thewoundwillmakeusan

easytarget,aweakenedanimalfallingbehindtherestoftheherd,waitingforanother
predatortostepinandfinishthejobthefirstonestarted.

AsIstumbledownthecourthousesteps,clingingtomydad’sarmwithmyheadtucked

tomychin,ignoringthequestionsthereportersshoutfromeithersideofmeaswepress
throughthecrowd,Iwonderwhatthecamerassee.

Dotheyseethehardened,selfish,sexuallydeviantmonsterthedefenseattorneymade

meouttobe?Ordotheyseethestinging,screaminggashfourboyscutthroughthe
middleofmyheart?

Notguilty.

Theywereallfoundnotguilty.

Attheendoftheday,thejurybelievedthatIinvitedfourboystotaketurnswithme,not

thatIfoughtandbledandcried.TheybelievedthatIspreadrumorsaboutDeidretokeep
newsofmysexualadventuresfrommyboyfriend,notbecauseIwastraumatizedafter
beingraped.Asfarasthelawandtheworldatlargearenowconcerned,Todd,Jeremy,
J.D.,andScottareinnocentandtherapeneverhappened.

Butitdid.

ItdidandnowIdon’tknowwhattodo.HowdoImoveonwhenI’vebeentoldthe

reasonformygriefdoesn’texist,andthatmyvoice,mytruth,meanslessthannothing?

Someoneshoutsmyname.IflinchandlookupbeforeIrememberthatI’msupposedto

keepmygazedownuntilIgettothecarwaitingbythecurb.

“Howdidyoufeelwhenyouheardtheverdict,Samantha?”Themaninthesuitshoving

amicrophoneinmyfacehassweatbeadingonhisupperlip.Istareatitforamoment,
feelingill,whilemyfatherspringstomydefense.

“Nocomment,”hegrowls,hisarmtighteningaroundme.

SweatyUpperLipsayssomethingelse,butIcan’tmakesenseofit.Myfocushas

shifted,hominginonToddandhisfather,standingintheshadeofthecoraltreesplanted
alongthesidewalk.OnceI’vespottedthem,Ican’tseemtopullmygazeaway.

Todd’sfatherisshakinghandswithapretty,stick-thinreporterandsmiling.Toddis

noddingearnestly,hisblueeyeswidewithgratitudeandhisshaggyblondhairwavingin
thegentlebreeze.Heisthepictureofinnocence,provinghe’safarbetteractorthanhisB-
listcelebrityfather.IfIdidn’tknowhewasaliarandamonster,Imightbetemptedto
believehim,too.

ButIwastherethenightTodd’shumanmaskfellawayandthedevilbeneathcameout

toplay.Ifeltthecrueltyinhistouch.IheardhimlaughwhileIcriedandbeggedthemto
stop.Iwatchedhimsmileashisfriendstookturnsuntiltheworldwasfullofpainand
bloodrandownmythighs,mixedwiththestickinessofotherthingsIcouldn’tbearto
thinkabout.

AndIrememberthelastwordsheshoutedaftermeasIhobbledawayfromthepool

tableandran,half-nakedandsobbing,acrossthefrathouse’sbacklawntowardthequad.

Youknowyoulovedit,doll.Comebackwhenyou’rereadyformore.Ormaybewe’ll

comefindyou,Sammy.

Thethreatwasthekillshot.

IhadnoideahowIwouldsurvivewhatthey’ddoneonce,letaloneiftheydiditagain.

Theterrorthethoughtinstilled,combinedwiththephysical,mental,andemotionalpainof
theattack,sweptthroughmelikeahurricane,shatteringthewallsofthefortress
protectingmymostprivate,secretself.AndthenJ.D.putthevideoofwhatthey’ddone
onthecampuswebsiteandshovedthenaked,innocentthingthey’dexposedoutintothe
drivingrain.

Itdidn’tmatterthatmyfacewasn’tvisibleinthethirtysecondsoffootageorthatitwas

onlyuponthesiteforafewhoursbeforetheadministrationshutitdown.Everyonehad

alreadyseen;everyonewasalreadywonderingwhothegirlmightbe.Hearingthehushed
speculationinthelibrarywaslikelivingthroughitalloveragain.Istartedtofearthatit
wouldneverbeover,thatIwouldkeeplivingthroughit,overandoveragain,everyday
untilthedayIdied.

IspentJanuaryinhell,ravagedbyrage,fear,andshame,forcedtopretendeverything

wasokaywhileIwaitedtofindoutifIwaspregnantorifthetestI’dtakenatalocalclinic
wouldcomebackpositiveforAIDS.

Idon’tremembertellingmygossipyroommatethatI’dhearditwasDeidreJonesinthe

video.Idon’tremembergoingtoclassesorgettingupformymorningrunorexactlywhat
Isaidtomystepbrother,Alec,theonetimeIworkedupthecouragetoaskhimwhyhe
hadn’tstoppedthem.

Whyhehadn’tsavedme.

ButIrememberthedayIlearnedthatDeidrehadhungherselfinherdormroomwith

crystalclarity,rightdowntothejeansIwaswearingandthepatternofthecoffeegrounds
floatinginmycupwhenIheardthenews.Itwasthedaythateverythingchanged,theday
IbegantohatemyselfasmuchasIhatedtheboyswhohadbrokenme.

BythetimeItookthestandinapackedLosAngelescourtroom,IthoughtIknewhate

insideandout.IthoughtIunderstooditinawayIhadunderstoodveryfewthingsinmy
twentyyearsoflife.

ButIwaswrong.

Todd’sgazemeetsmineacrossthecrowdedcourthousestepsandanuglygrincurveshis

fulllips,andatthatmoment,Irealizethathateisfathomless.Thereisnoendtoit.Icould
sinkdown,down,downthroughtheinkydepthsofmyhatredforToddWinslowforyears
andneverreachthebottom.Icoulddrinkandeatnothingbuthateandneverbefilled.And
Icouldspendtherestofmylifeapplyingbandagestothewoundheandhisfriendshave
rippedinmysoulanditwillneverheal.

Theysayloveandhateareoppositesidesofthesamecoin,thetwogreattransformative

forcesintheuniverse.Oneleadstolightandfreedom,theotherfeedingafirethatwill
consumeyouwhole.

Anyonewithsensewouldchoosetobefree.

Ihaveparentswholoveme,believeme,andsupportme.Ihaveaboyfriendwhowants

tobebymyside,helpingmepickupthepiecesofmyshatteredlife.Thetrialisoverand
I’vesparedDannyasmuchofthehorrorasIcan.Now,allIhavetodoispickupthe
phone.Iknowhewillmeetmeontheislandwherewefellinlove,holdmeaslongasI
needtobeheld,anddedicatehimselftolovingmeenoughtomakeupforallthepainand
injustice.

ButI’mnotsurethereisenoughloveintheworldforthat.Enoughlovetomakeupfor

Todd’ssmile.EnoughsandinthehourglasstomakemeforgetthatIwenttothematwith
evilandevilwon.

Buttheremightbeenoughhate.

Hateenoughtomakemestrong,hateenoughtoturnawoundintoaweapon.

IholdTodd’sgaze,memorizingtheexactcurveofhislips,silentlypromisingmyselfthat

oneday,nottoolongfromnow,Iwillwipethatgrinfromhisface.

Iwillshowhimwhatitfeelsliketohaveeveryscrapofdignity,safety,andhappiness

strippedawayandtobelefttwistinginthewindwhilethevulturesswoopdowntofeed.

FightforYouisAvailableNow

Document Outline

Table of Contents
Title Page
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
A Letter From the Author
About the Author
Sneak peek of FIGHT FOR YOU

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