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My head snapped up, and my breath caught in my lungs.

Standing there, looking utterly shocked to see me, was a former dear friend of mine.

Jules Westwood—Liam’s younger sister.

2

LIAM

TWELVE YEARS AGO

It wasodd to be back on the school bus only twenty minutes after I arrived at school, just to head to a place that was like a second home to me.

As it turned out, we were going on a field trip. Suffice it to say, I always enjoyed taking field trips with my class. While I wasn’t necessarily a bad student, I certainly wasn’t the kind of kid who preferred to be sitting at a desk with an open textbook while attempting to learn. Class trips always gave us a break from that monotony and a more hands-on, visual approach to learning, which was right up my alley.

Although I was still excited for a day away from school, I wasn’t quite sure I’d learn much during today’s trip. Because we were visiting Westwood’s, or more formally known as, The Westwood Company. And it was a place owned by my family.

Westwood’s was a 115-acre campus in Landing, Pennsylvania that had been home to the world’s most renowned chocolate-making factory. The business was opened a couple of generations ago, and it had started out as just being that small chocolate factory. Over the years, through continuous expansion, we were a full-fledged confectioner, producing more than just chocolate—though that remained the largest chunk of the business’s revenue. And beyond the sweet treats, Westwood’s had put Landing on the map.

Folks came from all over the world just to visit our campus. We had a museum, a chocolate factory tour, the hotel, and the amusement park.

School trips were not uncommon, but this year would be the first year that my class was visiting. We’d have to get in the educational part of the trip this morning, but after a stroll through the museum and through the chocolate factory, I’d be able to join my friends and classmates for some fun in the amusement park. I had not a single doubt that everyone was looking forward to that part of the trip.

Once we arrived and got off the buses, we were split into two groups, where half would start in the chocolate factory while the others were in the museum. We’d switch before we were all let loose in the park.

While I recognized some of the faces of the employees, I wasn’t on a first-name basis with most of them. Not when it came to the school tours, anyway.

And though I wasn’t necessarily upset that my family owned The Westwood Company, I was desperatelyhoping I wouldn’t see any of my brothers here today.

I was fifteen, the second youngest of six children, and the only boy in the family who hadn’t yet graduated from high school. I had one younger sister, Jules, and one older sister, Ivy, who were the only two who hadn’t graduated yet, either. But Wyatt, Cooper, and Tate had all graduated—in that order—and now worked here in the official capacity. If they saw me here with my class, I wouldn’t have put it past them to try to find a way to embarrass me.

The group I was in started in the museum before heading to the chocolate factory. Everyone seemed far more interested in the tour through the factory, but that could have been because we were all promised some chocolate at the end of it.

Following the tours and a quick break for lunch, we were given permission to roam free in the park until it was time to meet up to get back on the buses to head back to school.

Now, it was my time to shine.

My friends and classmates all approached me, asking where to go to find specific rides throughout the park. I directed everyone as best I could, and before I knew it, I was left standing with my three closest friends.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked them.

“The roller coasters,” they answered in unison.

I grinned before I took a step beyond the group and waved them along behind me. “Come on.”

For the next thirty minutes or so, my friends and I made our way around the park. We were able to get onquite a few rides during that time, since it was mid-week in late October. There were people other than the students and faculty here, but nowhere near as much as we saw in the summer months when everyone was off from school and took summer vacations together.

We had made our way over to one of my favorite roller coasters in the entire park when I happened to spot one of my classmates sitting on one of the benches, just watching everyone else as they strolled by.

I slowed to a stop, my brows pulling together. Unless a group of students stopped together to eat something or wait for others to get off a ride, nobody sat on the benches. Especially not alone.

“Liam, are you coming?”

That question came from one of my friends, Ethan, as the rest of them looked at me with confusion in the expressions.

I shook my head. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”

“I thought you said this was your favorite.”