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. . .

Falling for Hawke Sheppard two years ago had not been in my plans.

He had always been the untouchable golden boy from the opposite side of town.

The one with more money than I would even know what to do with and who lived and breathed football.

He used to shine under those lights on Friday nights.

For as long as I have known him, he’s been the town’s star quarterback and hero, bringing them to state championships and making his high school well known in the league.

It doesn’t hurt that he is also devastatingly handsome or that his voice is smooth like caramel but gritty from the strain of calling plays and yelling encouragement to his teammates.

When certain words cross his lips, his slight southern drawl is still heavy, even after transplanting to the Midwest. You can take the boy out of the south, but when he would murmur sugar in my ear, it never failed to send shivers across my skin.

I shouldn’t have wanted him back then. I never should have thought I could have him.

He was meant for the people, the crowd, the future his family wanted so desperately for him.

Hawke’s dream was to play professional football.

And I made the mistake of thinking he was serious when he said he wanted me to be there with him.

That he loved me. He lied. The minute he was offered a better opportunity to play football for a high school back in Georgia, he dropped this town and walked away from me without looking back.

“I’m confused,” my heart tightens, processing his words. “What do you mean you’re at the airport?”

He sighs, like it's a chore to explain to me, the girl he’s been dating for over a year, who he said he loved that he’s leaving. “It's what I said, Emma. Look, my family has been trying hard to get me into a school in Georgia to finish my senior year. It finally happened and I have to go.”

I swallow down the tears that are threatening to spill, hoping my voice is steady. “Okay. That's amazing, Hawke, I’m so happy for you. We can do long distance and —-”

“No, Em,” His voice cuts me off, and I freeze, not used to the cold way he says my name. “Look, I won’t be back in Crimson Bay. I have no plans or reasons to stay there. My future is in Texas. I need to concentrate on that. It's best if we break up.”

“But, what about us? That means nothing to you?”

He groans and it sounds like he’s running his hands over his face. My body recoils from it, and I pull the phone away from my ear, steadying my breath.

“It was high school fun, Emma. It's over now. Let it go.”

The conversation still haunts me a year later.

When Hawke ended the phone call, I tried calling him back.

I figured if I tried hard enough, if I made a plan to make things work then he would reconsider.

Even while dating, his grandfather had been hard on him to focus on football.

It didn’t matter to the old man that Hawke was already brilliant, that half the town went to games on Friday nights just to see him play.

He held the school record for most completed passes and rushing yards for a QB.

That never mattered to Gerald Sheppard though.

He wanted complete control over Hawke, of the narrative that people, reporters especially, had of him.

My plan was to detail specifically how long distance could work, the statistics, I even looked up flights and tickets where I could fly to see him.

I would still go to the University of Texas too, like we talked about and we could be together sooner.

Each message went unanswered. I spent days trying to reach him. I even reached out to his younger brother, who responded that I should not contact him. I felt so embarrassed and low because even after that Hawke never responded to anything.

Hawke had been the first boy ever to look at me and really get to know me.

He was my first kiss, and he was my first love.

The first time he said he loved me was in the winter, and we went skating on the lake behind his house.

I still remembered how the snowflakes fell over his hair and how he brushed them from my cheeks before he said it.

I couldn’t understand how he lost those feelings so fast or what I did to make him stop loving me.

He didn’t even want to try. It was so easy for him to give up, to get over me.

I started to believe that the differences between us, that fact that he was a Saint and that I was a Pirate meant he had never really cared at all.

He called us high school fun. It felt like a betrayal of our time together and I became angry.

One month went by and then another. I barely ate.

School became unbearable. Things were changing with my friends too, each of us having our own relationship issues, so much so that I felt like I had no one to talk to.

I couldn’t burden them with my own issues.

All I focused on was hockey to the point it became an obsession being on the ice.

I stayed too late at practices that my coach warned me to stop or she’d bench me.

I went to the weight room and almost hurt myself lifting, because I hadn't eaten that day. My life felt like it was falling apart and the one person I needed wasn’t here anymore.

Finally, after four months of not hearing from Hawke, I tried calling him one more time. I promised myself just once more and if he didn't answer, I would never try again. His phone didn't even ring. It didn’t go to voicemail either. He had blocked me.

It didn’t matter to him that we had been dating for over a year, that we had made plans for the future together, or that I would have followed him wherever he wanted to go.

In fact, as soon as I graduated, a year after him, I was planning to move to a college near him.

The worst part was that Hawke had encouraged it.

We had spent days looking at schools together in Texas, where he wanted to play ball and where I could be close to him.

He was getting an apartment off-campus and I would live with him.

I was blinded by Hawke wanting me. I loved him to the point he had been my whole world and all I got was a phone call from him while he was at the airport telling me we were done and he was leaving.

So the fact that I’m now staring into his cool green eyes while he leans against my school’s brick building, watching me, irritates me more than I can say.

My gaze wanders over him, taking in the black suit and tie, and I’m even more confused.

Our eyes lock, and his lips part. I can’t move.

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to keep walking, to ignore him, except I can’t make myself leave.

Making the decision for us, Hawke pushes off the wall and walks toward me.

One of his hands shoves through his hair, that seems to be longer on top now than when I knew him, while the other hand stays in the pocket of his suit pants.

Every step he takes is consistent with my heart beating in my rib cage.

My breathing is ragged and my cheeks are heated by the time he’s finally in front of me.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move over my face, and I watch as he takes in the pale pink dress I’m wearing down to the tips of the heels that Sam had insisted I get to go with the dress. “You look beautiful, Em.”

My eyes slam shut while his silky voice falls over me.

I can still hear his laughter, his voice when he’d tell me goodnight on the phone, or the husky way he would say he loved me back then.

He’s familiar yet different. My heart responds to him even though he let me go and threw away everything we had like it meant nothing.

“Why are you here, Hawke?”

He steps closer and I feel his fingers touch the tip of my chin. I raise my eyes to his once again and feel my chest squeeze painfully. He’s watching me closely, and his own pain and remorse is etched on his face. “I promised I would take you.”

I scoff, and my arms instantly cross over my chest, trying to shield my bruised heart from him. “You promised me a lot of things. I don’t want you here.”

His shoulders fall a little and I swear I see a flash of something, disappointment maybe, in his eyes before they blaze with fire.

“Can we talk then? I want to explain what happened. I didn’t want to leave you, Sweet.”

It was bad enough when he called me Emmarys, but sweet, sweetheart, sugar, those were the names that hurt, that broke me and kept me up at night feeling like a fool. “Don’t call me that. You’ve had a year to explain what happened, Hawke. I don’t owe you a minute of my time.”

“You’re right. You don’t owe me anything, but I owe you an explanation and I’ve been waiting a year to give it to you. Please, Emmarys. Let me take you to your prom, dance with you, hold you, and I’ll tell you everything. Then you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

My heartbeat spikes at his words, and the cracks that held the miserable organ together threaten to give way.

His voice sends shivers over my skin; he’s standing close enough that I can smell his mouth-watering, sandalwood scent, and the sheen in his eyes is proof of the emotions he is feeling.

My mind, my body and my heart war with each other.

“Goodbye, Hawke,” I force myself to mutter before I shut down completely.

I have been doing so well tonight, ready to have fun with my friends.

I want to forget about the pain Hawke put me through and only concentrate on this night.

Spinning on my heels, I march away, willing my knees not to give out. I just have to make it inside.