Page 2

AVERY

I watch Damon walk away, his broad back and shoulders stiff as a board.

I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s grown since I last saw him.

As impossibly handsome as he was at eighteen, Damon is now heart-stopping.

His boyish features have sharpened. Lean muscle has turned to hard definition, and there’s a quiet intensity in his stride now, a gravity that says life has shaped him, chiseled away the softness of youth and left behind a man I feel like I barely know.

I wonder if this is how he felt the day I left?bereft, like with each stride, another piece of me is gone, like all it would take is a stiff wind to send him out to sea.

I don’t know what I expected when I made the decision to transfer to Ann Arbor without so much as a phone call or a text message to let him know.

Did I think he would greet me with open arms?

Be thrilled I’m here? Throw me a welcome-back party?

With the way I left things, I don’t blame him for wanting nothing to do with me.

One minute, we were madly in love and both enrolled at AAU, and the next, I was headed to Harvard and telling him I thought it was best if we went our separate ways.

In hindsight, there are a lot of things I’d do differently if I could. I’d go back and change . . . well, everything. I’d tell Damon the truth, let the cards fall where they may.

But there are no take backs in life, no do-overs. All we have are second chances, which is why I’m praying like hell he’ll give me one.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, stepping off the sidewalk and into the snow-covered grass, so I’m out of the way.

Blinking down at the screen, I see it’s my mother.

Everything inside of me wants to decline the call, ignore her a little longer, but I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to face the music.

I can’t avoid my parents forever. I already skipped out on our annual holiday Vale trip, choosing instead to spend Christmas packing my life up at Harvard, and New Year here, getting settled into my new dormitory.

If I don’t answer, Mom is likely to send someone to my door, or worse, show up on my doorstep herself to demand answers and bring me home.

I shudder at the thought and lift the phone to my ear, wondering how pissed they are that I haven’t returned to Harvard for the spring semester. “Hey, Mom.”

“What the hell, Avery?”

I wince at the bite in her tone. I knew I’d have to explain myself, but I hadn’t put much thought into how.

“Um, I’m not sure I know how to answer that,” I say in a desperate bid to buy myself time.

“First, you don’t come home for Christmas or New Year, and then I have to hear from the McGinnises that you never returned to Harvard and instead, transferred to Ann Arbor without a single word to me or your father?

Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve made a life for yourself . . .”

I flinch at the frantic pitch of her voice, holding the phone away from my ear while she rants into the void.

Several students pass, staring as they do.

One girl gives me a commiserating look before I sigh and press the phone back to my ear.

I may have kept my transfer request a secret, but I knew this day would come.

Telling my parents the truth was inevitable.

“. . . I swear to God, Avery, if this is about that boy?”

“Damon, Mom,” I say with a flicker of irritation. “His name is Damon. Stop acting like he’s a one-night stand I met at a bar.”

“I just don’t understand why you would throw away the life you had in Boston. I thought you were happy. You were getting great marks. You had friends, a social life, a beautiful apartment, and a membership at The Club, everything you could ever want there.”

But I didn’t have him.

“You’re right. And it sounds great on paper. But I wanted more.”

“What could you possibly . . .” She trails off before she sucks in a breath. “So, this is about him? Please tell me you didn’t transfer to Ann Arbor for that boy.”

I grind my teeth, trying really hard to keep my cool.

“I thought you decided you were better off at Harvard like we planned. That your future was brighter without him. I thought?”

“No, Mom,” I snap. “You and Dad decided I was better off without him. You decided my future was brighter without him. Or should I say Dad’s future.

So stop pretending like my breaking up with him was my idea.

You wanted me to move on. You wanted me to go to Harvard.

That was never the life I wanted for myself.

Or is your memory so poor that you’ve somehow forgotten? ”

Silence. Of course.

I shake my head and turn, staring in the direction where Damon had gone, and thinking once again of how I never should’ve left him.

“You can’t be with him. Avery, you know this. It’s not an option. It’s not safe for any of us.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until I draw blood. “Maybe I don’t care anymore.”

A breathy gasp falls over the line, and I can picture my mother, hand over her heart, forehead creased with worry as she tries to think of a way to manipulate me into doing what she wants.

“You can’t be that selfish. You know what the repercussions will be.

It’s not as simple as what you want. This isn’t just about you.

Sometimes in life, we have to make choices for the greater good of our family.

Sacrifices because we care more about others than ourselves. ”

I swallow her words like jagged little pills. At one time, I agreed. It’s the reason I wound up at this stage of my life in the first place?miserable and desperately in love with a man I dumped two and a half years ago.

Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but the time I’ve spent apart from Damon has been torture, and it seems unfair that I should have to sacrifice the one thing I really want?him?while they change nothing.

My father made a mistake, and now I’m paying for it. Where’s his sacrifice? When is it his turn to be selfless? Why am I paying for his sins?

Instead of saying this, I clear my throat, hoping to make her see reason.

“Chances are nothing will happen. Damon’s college football career is thriving.

He’s little more than a year away from graduating, and once he gets drafted next April?and I have no doubt he will?nothing else will matter.

He’ll have made it. He’ll have his shiny NFL career, so who he’s dating will be a nonissue. ”

My mother scoffs. “And if it’s not? If the press takes an interest in the fact he’s dating an Astor, daughter of one of the largest hoteliers in the country, and they start digging, then what?”

“Even if they did, it’s not like they would find anything.”

A tired laugh crackles over the line. “Would you bet your father’s career on it? His life? Everything that we have? Your sister’s future? Because that’s what you’re doing, you know.”

My heart throbs at the mention of my sister. Katie’s my whole world, and the idea of her getting caught in the crosshairs hurts.

“Vinny Huhn worked for your father at the time of the accident. He was one of the lead builders, who just so happened to start asking a lot of questions after.”

I inhale, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

“You’re just being paranoid. You and Dad might have been able to intimidate me at eighteen, but you can’t now.

I’ve grown a lot since I started college, and I won’t let you scare me into staying away from him for even a minute longer.

” I pull my coat tighter around me to ward off the cold. “I should go.”

“Avery, we’re not done talking about this. Trust me when I say it’s in your best interest to stay away from that boy.”

I choke out a laugh at her referring to Damon as a boy for what feels like the millionth time since picking up. If she saw him now, she’d see he’s all man.

With a sigh, I shake my head. Arguing is pointless. Mom will never see my side.

“My best interest, or yours, Mom?” I ask.

“All of ours,” she says, and the answer is so predictable it doesn’t even faze me.

“What about what I want? This is my life?”

God, I feel like a broken record.

“Oh, honey. You have to trust me on this. You’re better off without him.

There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you, but you can still have an incredible life.

I think the question you need to ask yourself is whether loving Damon Huhn is really a risk you’re willing to take if it means hurting your family. Hurting Katie.”

I swallow over the guilt Katie’s name evokes. It’s not the first time she’s used my little sister as a weapon, and it certainly won’t be the last.

My eyes grow damp at the thought of my sister. She’s the best one of us—pure and sweet and perfect in her imperfections. “Is Katie there?” I ask.

“She’s here,” Mom says, her tone brightening with the leverage.

“Put her on.”

There’s a pause, some muffled movement, and then a quieter voice comes on the line, soft and breathy. “Avery?”

The ache in my chest sharpens instantly. “Hey, Lady Katie.”

A delighted giggle. “Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Well, that’s because nobody else knows how cool you really are.”

She laughs again, and I can almost hear her smile through the phone. “I missed you. Christmas was boring without you. Mom made that weird casserole again.”

I sit down on a bench near the snow-dusted path, my eyes burning. “Ugh, not the mushroom one?”

“With the crunchy onions on top. It was gross. I tried to feed it to Bramble under the table, but he ran away.”

“Smart dog,” I murmur, a quiet laugh escaping. “I missed you too, Katie. So much.”

There’s a beat of silence on her end, and then her voice softens. “Why didn’t you come home?”

My throat tightens, and I glance down at my boots as I push snow around with my toe. “It’s complicated, sweetheart.”

“Because of Mom and Dad?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Because of them. And because I had to make a choice. One that made sense to me. ”

She’s quiet for a long moment, then says, “I heard Mom yelling. Is it about Damon?”

Of course she heard. “Yeah. It is.”

“Do you still love him?”

My lips part at her bluntness, and a choked laugh slips out. “Yeah, Katie. I do. I never stopped.”

There’s a rustle, like she’s shifting in her chair. “Then I’m glad you didn’t go back to Harvard.”

My heart stutters. “You are?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she hums. “I remember how happy you were when you were with him. And how sad you were after. I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“Oh, Katie . . .” My voice cracks. “That means everything to me. You have no idea.”

“I do,” she says quietly. “Because I’m your little sister. And little sisters always know.”

A tear spills down my cheek. “How did you get so wise, huh?”

“I watch a lot of TV,” she says with a giggle. “And I listen. Even when Mom and Dad think I’m not.”

I press the phone to my forehead and breathe out slowly. “Can we FaceTime? I really want to see you.”

There’s a pause and then a muffled, “Mom, give me the iPad!”

A few seconds later, the screen lights up with a FaceTime notification. I accept and the screen shifts from black to a familiar face—big brown eyes and a mess of golden-brown curls that fall around her cheeks in soft waves.

She’s wearing her favorite lavender hoodie, the one with a faded peace sign on the front and sleeves that are slightly too long for her arms. She sits nestled in the deep purple cushions of her wheelchair, her small hands resting calmly on the tray in front of her, fingers curled slightly, and a smile bright enough to burn through the cold.

Some see Katie as anything but normal. They view her cerebral palsy as a handicap, a burden, but she’s anything but.

Instead, she’s the brightest star in the room with a heart of gold—sharp as a tack, impossibly kind, and disarmingly funny in that way that sneaks up on you.

She doesn’t need to walk to move people; with just a look or a few words, she reminds you what really matters.

“Hi,” she says shyly, giving a little wave with her bent wrist.

I bite down on a sob and wave back, my lips trembling with how much my heart misses her. Not for the first time, I question my decision not to go home over the holidays, to miss out on spending time with her. “Hi, Lady Katie.”

“Don’t cry,” she says, tilting her head. “Or I’ll cry too, and then we’ll both look ridiculous.”

I laugh, blinking through my tears. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

“So do you,” she whispers, eyes studying me. “Even though you look kind of tired.”

Sharp as a tack.

“Mom and Dad seem upset,” she adds, the lilt to her voice growing more prominent as she talks. “Is everything okay?”

I nod. “It will be. Seeing you helps a lot.”

She beams, her cheeks dimpling. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too. I’d do your hair, and we’d watch old movies and eat popcorn until you fall asleep on me like you always do.”

Katie laughs. “That only happened once.”

“Three times,” I correct.

“Okay, maybe three.”

We smile at each other for a second, just existing in the space between, and then she leans closer to the screen. “Are you really going to stay in Ann Arbor?”

“I think so.”

“And Damon . . . you still love him?”

My throat thickens again. “Yeah. I do.”

She nods like she understands something far bigger than most eleven-year-olds should. “Then I hope he remembers that.”

I blink fast, trying not to cry again. Trying not to think of how my actions might affect her. “I really love you, Katie.”

She presses her hand to the screen. “I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

She grins. “Totally is.”

Just then, I hear our mom’s voice calling her name in the background.

“I have to go,” she says, her expression dimming. “But you’ll call me again soon?”

“Every chance I get,” I promise.

“And Damon? Will he call me, too?”

My stomach clenches. Katie always loved Damon. Part of me thinks she harbored a little crush of her own. When she found out I broke up with him, she was crushed.

“If I can get him to give me another chance. Maybe next time, you can help me figure out how to win back the love of my life.”

“I’m eleven,” she says with a crooked grin, “not a m-m-miracle worker. But I’ll try.”

I laugh, a real one this time. “Deal. Bye, Lady Katie.”

“Bye, Sissy.”

The screen goes dark, but her face lingers in my mind like sunlight through clouds.

I might have come back for Damon.

I just hope Katie doesn’t pay the price.