Page 1

Prologue

Cameron

Present day…

It’s like walking into a time capsule. While I was in high school, I swore I wouldn’t come to these stupid things. Nothing could ever make me want to come back to this place. Though there were things about school I enjoyed, it was suffocating for a million more reasons. One of them being a who rather than a what . A who that will most likely be here tonight. A who I am not looking forward to seeing. Yet, here I am…

“Hey, it’s Camden, right?” the girl at the door asks.

“Cameron,” I correct with zero attitude because I haven’t a clue what her name is. Could be Tiffany, could be Glenda.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She smiles fondly at me, tucking her shiny dark hair behind her ear. “Is your date here with you?” she asks, finger pressed underneath my name on the sheet of paper she’s looking at.

“No. Change of plan.” She smiles suggestively, taking me in and not being shy about it. I ignore her, the same way I ignore everyone else who looks at me that way. It comes with the territory and though most people let it get to their heads, I’m not that person. I never liked being in the spotlight, and have no idea why I chose a career that put me there.

“Here are your drink tickets.” She hands me two red tickets and gestures toward the door that leads to the gymnasium. “You can use them at either bar. There are plenty of people here already. Food will be served in about an hour. I should be done out here by then.”

I give her a polite smile, tucking the tickets into my shirt pocket as I walk by her and into the school gym turned disco.

You’d think they’d theme our ten year reunion to our own decade and not one from fifty years ago. Had they gone with a grunge theme, maybe I’d play along.

Flashing lights, shining glass balls, and awful music fill the expansive space. There are tables to the left and right, covered in white plastic clothes. There is a temporary stage at the far end, people dancing and singing in front of it like they’re in some kind of club. At least they’re happy to be here, I guess. Half of them are even dressed accordingly, in bell bottoms and platforms.

I shouldn’t have come.

But since I made it, I may as well have a drink—or five. Honestly, I have no idea why I’m here.

Okay, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m here. It’s because I’m a glutton for punishment. Because I broke my social media rule and saw a comment beneath the reunion post.

I’ll be there! , it said.

The profile picture was of him and his wife, looking happy as ever. Good for him. At least one of us got the life they so desperately wanted.

Yeah, I’m an idiot for coming here. I should fucking leave.

“Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?” the bartender asks, tossing a towel over his shoulder and smiling brightly.

Now he is more my type, and the way he’s smiling at me tells me maybe he thinks the same about me.

“What kind of whiskey do you have?” I ask.

“Knob Creek and Jameson.”

“Knob Creek it is,” I say.

He nods and adds, “Tickets don’t cover straight up liquor.”

“Of course they don’t.” I roll my eyes, shoving the tickets back into my pocket.

“But,” he begins, and I look up, catching the smirk in his eyes. “If you ordered it with, say, some cranberry juice or something.” He shrugs, the smirk reaching his lips.

“Cranberry juice?” I question.

“People have ordered worse.”

He offers his hand out, gesturing to my pocket.

“I can pay.”

“Just give me the ticket.”

With a sigh, I dig in my pocket and hand one over. A moment later, he’s giving me my drink.

“One Knob Creek and cranberry.” He says it like it disgusts him and I can’t help but laugh.

I hold it up in cheers before taking a sip, grateful there isn’t an ounce of cranberry in it.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.” He winks, then moves to the other end of the bar to take someone else’s order. He glances my way before I walk off. At least if tonight goes as badly as I think it will, there’s always the bartender. Casual hook-ups and one night stands are my specialty as of late. They’re easy.

As I make my way toward the tables, looking for an empty one, the lights come on and the music shuts off.

“Thank you, thank you!” someone says into the microphone too loudly. Their voice is high-pitched and something only a mother could love. They laugh, apologizing, then say, “We’re going to take a little breather from the music and dancing.” Some people moan and groan about this. “Oh, don’t be like that! It’ll be back on after we eat. For now, catch up with your fellow classmates! Food will be delivered in thirty minutes!”

I take my seat and watch as the people who were just dancing disperse. Some go to the bar while others form small groups to chat. Glad I’m safely at a table while that all happens. No one pays me any mind as they chat with willing participants. People who want to be here to catch up with past friends and not because they live to torture themselves.

I sip my drink, happy to be alone. With each second that passes, the urge to leave gets stronger. I have no idea why I’m here.

Here at the reunion. Here in town. Here in this God forsaken state. I haven’t been back here once, since I left. There’s no one here that I want to see, no one that I want to talk to.

Yet, here I am…

This town is a sports town. A man’s town. It’s not the kind of town you get to be your true self in. It’s the kind of town that you become the worst version of yourself, putting on a show for people who don’t and never will fucking matter.

I played the game when I was younger, for longer than I’d like to admit. I told myself I never stopped being me on the inside and that’s all that mattered. Only, that isn’t true at all. It’s the lie everyone tells themself until they lose themselves to the act. I left before that happened. I thought he did too, but turns out I was very wrong about that.

The thing about these towns, though, is that these manly men who chop down trees and dig holes and build barns secretly like getting railed in the ass. And I know that because I was around long enough to do it. Being in a small town never stopped me from getting any, and at the time, it was exactly what I needed to keep my mind off the one thing, the only thing, I ever wanted.

“Cameron?”

I blink, glancing up instinctively at the sound of my name. I’m met with sharp blue eyes and a confused smile. A smile I was often on the other end of. A smile that I thought was just for me once upon a time. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t all a lie. I shouldn’t tell myself things like that; I shouldn't give myself hope. It’s dangerous.

“Austen,” I say as evenly as I can, fighting away the knot in my stomach. I drown it with a big swig of whiskey.

I can’t remember the last time I spoke his name. Probably the last day I saw him. The day of his wedding. The day he absolutely wrecked me. Betrayed me. Ruined my life. Ruined me .

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says, that same confused smile on his face.

I play chalant, as well as I can, and shrug before taking another sip.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

“When did you get into town?”

So he knows I wasn’t here.

How stupid am I? Of course he knows. I’ve been gone for seven years. When he showed up at my house, that one single time , my mother told him I was gone and she didn’t know where I’d gone. That was the truth. I didn’t tell her. What was the point? It’s not like she gave a shit what I was up to.

“This morning.”

“Are you staying?” he asks too quickly.

Like maybe he really wants to know. Is it because he wants me to stay or because he’s worried about it? No, he doesn’t want me to stay, and even if he did, it doesn’t matter. He destroyed me—us. Who we were once upon a time.

“Don’t know yet.”

“We should—”

“Snookums, there you are!”

The flash of blond hair has me gritting my teeth and gripping my glass so tight it may break. When it creaks, I realize it’s plastic, so I loosen up, not wanting to waste the precious liquid inside.

Austen’s wife, Savannah, comes up behind him, sliding her arm around his stomach and leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Hey, honey,” he answers with a smile.

My smile.

Her gaze trails over to me, and her eyes light with recognition.

“Oh my God, Cameron?” she practically screeches, causing heads to turn this way. She never was subtle. Always had to soak up the attention. I hated it. Thought he hated it too, but I was wrong, I guess. So fucking wrong. About him, about us, about her… about all of it.

I get to my feet, making sure my drink is tightly in my hand. “Nice to see you, Savannah,” I say before emptying my glass. “Uh, you too, Austen.”

Savannah is smiling brightly, but there’s something there in her eyes. Something like a haha, he’s mine .

I force a smile and turn, but when I do, my gaze catches on Austen’s wrist. Or more specifically, the watch on it. Frowning and without consciously thinking, my gaze darts to his. I know without a doubt there is a what the fuck? look on my face, but he isn’t looking at me to notice. His eyes are only for his wife. His perfect, beautiful, outgoing, blond female wife. So I turn and walk away, swearing I hear Austen call my name, but I don’t stop. I go right to the bar and put my cup down.

“Another?” the bartender asks with a raised brow.

I slap my card on the table. “Make it a double, and keep them coming.”

My first mistake tonight was coming here. My second was walking toward the bar and not toward the door. My third… Well, it hasn’t happened yet, but I’m pretty sure it’ll involve too much alcohol and this bartender in my hotel room.