Page 2

Who Did This to You

I rub my hands together nervously, and that’s when I realize…I shouldn’t be nervous.

It’s that damn twintuition at work again.

This is my twin brother Tanner’s deal, not mine. He’s about to propose to his girl tonight on our thirtieth birthday.

Maybe I’m nervous about turning thirty. The whiskey hasn’t really helped calm that nerve. There’s something in my chest that feels off, but I’m chalking it up to Tanner.

I pull him aside. “When are you going to do it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I think I’m ready.”

I’m about to congratulate him when the buzz of my watch tells me someone’s calling. I glance at it and see it’s Sophie. I flash my phone at my brother before I answer. “Soph?”

“Miller?”

I can hardly hear her since the music is blaring at this club, so I hold a hand over my ear.

“Where are you?” she asks, her voice loud and clear…and hoarse, as if she’s been crying.

“I’m in Vegas. ”

She lets out a small sob. “Okay. I’ll, uh—” She interrupts herself with another sob.

“Who did this to you?” I demand.

“I broke up with Tyler, and—”

“I’ll be right there,” I say, cutting her off and ending the call.

This is an important night for Tanner, of course. It’s my thirtieth birthday, too.

And there’s no one I’d rather spend my thirtieth birthday with than the girl I’ve loved since I was fourteen.

Sophie Summers.

“I need to go,” I say to Tanner.

“Where?” he asks.

“Phoenix.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

I shrug, and I glance around the room because we didn’t get far enough into the conversation for me to know what’s going on. All I know is that she called, so I will drop everything to be there for her.

“I don’t know. Happy birthday, bro.” I slap his shoulder, and then I lean in so Cassie doesn’t hear me. “Good luck tonight. We’ll celebrate when we’re back in San Diego,” I promise, and then I head out.

My phone starts to ring again, and I see it’s her calling again.

“Soph?” I answer.

“Oh my God, it’s your birthday. I’m so sorry. Happy birthday,” she says. She sniffles.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Don’t come all the way here, Miller. I didn’t mean to interrupt your night out celebrating.”

“It’s fine. I’m already en route to my hotel to grab my suitcase, and then I’ll hop on the first flight. It’ll be a quick trip from Vegas, and it’s been too long since I’ve seen you anyway.”

“It has,” she agrees .

Not seeing her was both one of the drawbacks and benefits of moving to San Diego.

She’s been with that douchebag for two years now, and seeing her with anyone is tough, but seeing her with someone who never deserved her was excruciating.

“It’s not just any birthday, you know,” I say casually.

“Your thirtieth,” she says flatly—probably because it means that one month from tomorrow is her thirtieth birthday, and I’m not sure either one of us was really ready to face that number just yet.

I wonder if she remembers the promise we made over fifteen years ago. She probably didn’t mean it. I did.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Tyler?” I ask as I walk back to the Bellagio rather than asking if she remembers.

“We’ve just been growing apart for a while now, so I ended things.”

“And?” I ask. Sophie is a badass. She’s not the type to sit around crying, which tells me that he did something.

Something bad.

“And, uh…it’s a long story.”

“But you called me,” I point out.

“Yeah. Are you really coming to Phoenix?”

“I’m walking into my hotel to grab my suitcase right now,” I say.

“I’m so sorry for ruining your trip. For ruining your birthday.”

“You’re not,” I say softly. If anything, getting to see her is the only gift I could ask for this year. You know…aside from learning she ended things with that asshole.

“Let me know when you land. I’ll pick you up.”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I ask since that’s the reason she’s not in Vegas celebrating with me tonight .

Apparently that was the wrong question. She bursts into tears, and I realize I need to get a move on.

I rush through the hotel to the elevator. “Fuck, Soph. What did I say? I’m sorry. Let me book a flight, and I’ll call you right back.”

She sobs out some reply, and what the hell am I walking into?

I don’t have any idea.

I pull up flights on the elevator. I book the first one I find.

It leaves in a half hour, so I bust my ass packing my shit and rushing out to the valet, where I offer a decent sum of money to get me to the airport quickly.

They offer me the hotel limo, and I get to the gate as they make the final call for boarding.

I realize in all the rushing that I didn’t call her back, but I slip into airplane mode, pay for the WiFi, and shoot her a text as the plane pulls back from the gate.

Me: I’m on a plane. Landing at 11:45.

Sophie: I’ll be at the usual doors.

Me: Just be safe. No driving and crying.

Sophie: No promises.

I text her again when the plane touches down, and once the doors open, I run through the airport with the suitcase I carried on to get to her.

She’s waiting there where she said she’d be. Dependable as always.

She rushes around the car and practically attacks me with a hug, and I drop my suitcase and hold her tightly to me.

I lean down and draw in a deep breath, the warm scent of her shampoo wrapping around me and climbing into my chest the way it always does.

It’s a clean scent, fresh and a little fruity, like a summer garden.

It’s the same way she has smelled since the day I met her, and any time I catch a whiff of it, I’m immediately transported to this spot right here—no, not the airport, but a place with her in my arms.

She just…fits. She’s maybe eight inches shorter than me, and her body just seems to nestle right into mine as she leans her head against my chest, and I hold her in my arms where she belongs.

She draws in a deep breath, and I have the strongest urge to lean down and kiss her.

It’s the same urge I’ve fought for half my life now.

I met her when I was fourteen—our freshman year of high school. We were in the same English class, and we would laugh together every single day. Our friendship grew from there.

But that’s all it ever grew into.

Friendship.

I don’t know if I was friend-zoned or what, but I never made the move even though I always wanted to, and eventually it became what it is now. I’m too afraid to make a move because I’ll lose the best friend I’ve ever had aside from my brother.

We’ve always been there for each other through breakups, makeups, and hookups. Sometimes—oftentimes—she shares more details than I’d prefer to know, but I’ve learned to live with my lot in life.

I’d rather be her friend than not have her in my life at all.

She sniffles against me, and eventually she sighs again and backs up out of my arms. “Welcome home,” she says.

I give her a half smile. “Thanks. You doing okay?”

She shakes her head, and then she slips into the passenger seat of her own car without asking me to drive.

It’s a given that I’ll drive. I always do when we’re together, and it spans back to high school when we’d go to parties and I would opt out of drinking the night before a game, so I’d end up driving her home in her own car, and then I’d walk the few blocks to my house from there .

Her head is leaned back on the seat and her eyes are closed when I take the driver’s seat after depositing my suitcase in her trunk, and I have to adjust the seat to give myself a bit more legroom.

“Okay, Summers. Spill it. Why am I here?” I fire up the engine, and I’m about to ease into traffic when her reply comes.

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my job because of Tyler.”

I slam on the brakes and stare over at her. “What? How?”

She licks her lips and chews on the bottom one for just a beat as I resist the urge to reach over and pull her lip out from the clutches of her teeth. “He snuck onto my computer and posted about my books under my account on my student message board.”

My jaw drops. “What?”

She presses her lips together. “He always hated that I wrote. He’s not like you.”

She says that last part quietly.

I couldn’t be prouder of her for reaching for her dreams. She’s been quietly publishing books under a pen name for the last four years, and I’ll admit that I’ve bought every single one of them.

All eleven of them.

And I’ve read them.

All of them.

And when I’m finding myself in a moment of missing her, which is fairly often, I like to reread them just to listen to her beautiful voice through her words.

I’ve never told her that.

She writes about strong, badass women much like herself falling in love with billionaires, and her stories are the kind that are hard to put down because I want to know what happens next .

I love the way her mind works, and to hear that she was with someone who didn’t fully appreciate it is nothing short of totally infuriating.

“I’m so sorry, Soph. That was a dick move. What can you do to fix it?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Damage is done. You can go,” she says, looking at the empty road beside me.

She only adds more detail once I start driving.

“Only you and Tyler knew my pen name. I didn’t tell anyone else because I was afraid of my students finding out.

I love my job, and I love teaching, and my department chair called me to tell me I’m on administrative leave until further notice.

” She swipes at her cheek. “They’ll investigate, find out that my pen name is indeed Summer Love, and that’ll be the end of it.

It was my own fault for leaving my laptop where he could access it. ”

“You had no idea he would stoop that low,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t.” She reaches over and touches my arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I set my hand on top of hers for a second as I glance over at her. “Me, too.”

I just have no idea where we go from here.