Page 1 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Olivia

“ L uke, let me go!” I shout angrily, failing to wiggle myself free from his arms.

It’s the night of our high school graduation, and, as is tradition, the senior class is gathered by the beachy area of Lake Covewood.

Everyone is huddled together around a blazing bonfire, its orange flames licking up at the night sky, casting long, flickering shadows over the sand.

Half the senior class is here, laughing too loud, dancing barefoot.

There is this sense of reckless freedom that only comes when you know everything is about to change.

It’s supposed to be a night of celebration, of making final memories with our classmates, but within the last hour, things within my friend group have utterly fallen apart.

Not only did Luke show up with a freshly blackened eye and a thirst for whiskey, but our other two best friends, Raine and Ryland, broke up with each other, which is why Luke is currently dragging me away in an attempt to keep me from punching Ryland in the face for breaking Raine’s heart.

As I watch my friends, the last thing I see is Ryland turning and walking away from Raine.

Her shoulders slump in defeat before she runs toward the row of parked cars.

Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to rush to her, but my petite body fails me because I’m unable to budge out of Luke’s grasp.

I kick my legs, shimmy my shoulders, and throw my head back, slamming into his chin. My attacks do absolutely nothing.

“Get your Hulk arms off of me!” I hiss, squirming one last time, even though it’s hopeless.

“Not a chance,” he grunts into my ear, sending a warm surge of rage rushing through my veins.

“We can’t just sit back and let this happen! Ryland isn’t thinking clearly, and Raine?—”

“No, Liv, we can’t get in the middle of this.” He stops walking backward and twists my body around so I’m facing him.

His steady but gentle hands are warm against my arms, like he knows exactly how much pressure to use to get me to stop and listen to him.

I study the bruise under his left eye, appearing angrier and more swollen now, a blotch of deep purple fading into sickly yellow at the edges.

It’s the kind of bruise that makes most people flinch when they look at it, but not me.

There is something sharp and protective that has my chest twisting at the sight of it. I want to reach up and touch the bruise, as if that might undo whatever pain he’s feeling right now. Instead, I look at him—really look at him.

His dark hair is a windswept mess. His dark-chocolate eyes meet mine, silently trying to say what he hasn’t yet spoken.

He’s wearing that old black T-shirt that always fits him unfairly well.

It clings just enough to show the way his shoulders taper down to his waist, and I catch myself watching the rise and fall of his chest as if it’s something new to me.

As if I haven’t known him most of my life.

My eyes begin to trail down his torso before I snap myself out of it, and remind myself that we’re just friends.

Friends who have hundreds of almost-moments we never talk about.

Standing here, with his hands still on me and his jaw clenched like he's holding back words he doesn't trust himself to say, something seems to shift. The air between us tightens. Our unspoken rules start to blur at the edges, and I hate that I notice it.

I try to pull away, desperate for some space, needing to breathe before I say or feel something I can't take back, but Luke is quicker. He lets go only to cup my face in his hand, turning me back toward him before I can fully shake free.

“This isn’t our problem to fix. Not this time,” he says.

I stop moving and blink up at him, confused. What does he mean it’s not our problem to fix? Ever since middle school, that’s what we do. We always work together to solve our problems and make sure we’re there for each other. I’d do anything for my friends, and he knows that.

“I don’t care what the problem is. I have to help.”

Luke huffs in frustration before finishing the beer he has surprisingly held onto the whole time he’s detained me.

He doesn’t pull his gaze away from mine, causing warmth to coil low in my stomach and spread to the tips of my fingers.

I stare back at him, an arch lifting my brow, an invitation to a challenge.

“Since you won't let me focus on that problem, let's focus on this one." I wave at him. "Why do you have a black eye?"

Every line of his body tenses. He doesn’t have to tell me who punched him, because I can see the answer written in every angle of his face. I reach up to touch his cheek, and he flinches slightly, like the motion is triggering to him, before he realizes it’s just me.

My thumb brushes against the lower part of the bruise and along his cheekbone. I hate that someone as wonderful as Luke has a father that hurts him, and I despise it even more that his father gets away with it. Anger flares through me as I scan his body for more signs of Davis’ hands.

“I’m fine.” His words are scratchy, and my nose scrunches at the scent of alcohol on his breath.

“Why do you have a black eye?” I repeat, letting my hand drop to my side with a loud smack.

Luke studies me, his lips pressed into a thin line. Twin half-moons form in the space between his brows. I have the urge to smooth them out with the pad of my thumb but shake the thought away. We don’t go there, Olivia , I remind myself.

Something changes in his eyes, as if he read my thoughts, and I catch the moment he decides to give up his restraint and let his walls down.

As Luke exhales, he opens his eyes, and stares toward the nearby bonfire.

The orange and yellow flames reflect in his irises, as if revealing the burning he also feels inside.

“You can’t fix this one either.” He huffs, tossing his empty beer bottle. I watch as it lands near the bonfire with a clank.

I place a hand on his arm before whispering, “Tell me. Please.”

Luke peers over his shoulder at me, shakes his head, and looks away before continuing.

“My dad came over after graduation and demanded that I come with him and help him with a job . He said something about needing my help to make sure it got done quickly. When I refused, he tried to convince me in another way.” He enunciates each word of that last sentence, his jaw tight.

He keeps his eyes trained on the bonfire as a few silent moments pass between us.

Behind him, the lake stretches out like black glass, the moonlight rippling across its surface in silver streaks.

Laughter carries across the water, rising above the crackle of the fire and the low thump of music in the distance.

Our classmates are scattered in loose, glowing clusters: some are dancing together, others are draped over lawn chairs or tangled together on old blankets, lost in stories they’ll swear to remember but probably won’t.

I wait patiently for Luke to continue.

“My dad will never change. He’ll never leave us alone.”

My lips part to protest, but the part of me that knows he’s right keeps the words trapped inside of my throat.

“That’s why she needs to leave.” His voice breaks, and the sound squeezes against my heart.

“Who?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know who he’s talking about.

His head swings toward me, and when our eyes meet, there's a warmth in his gaze. It feels like standing dangerously close to the fire, and I know I should step away to protect myself, but I can't.

“Raine.” Luke shrugs, but as he takes a step toward me, he trips and almost falls. I catch him, keeping him steady by placing my hands on his broad shoulders.

“What about you, then?” I add, my voice sounding colder than I mean it to as I let go of him.

The last thing I want is for my friends to leave.

As badly as I want to be upset right now, I also understand that leaving might be the only way for Luke and Raine to end the suffering Davis causes them both.

If Luke wants Raine to leave, wouldn’t he want that for himself too?

I turn and face him. “Don’t you want to leave with her? ”

“Do you want me to?” he asks, the heat returning in his gaze.

I decide to answer him truthfully. “No. I don’t, but if it’s what’s best for you, then I guess I’d have to be okay with it. I care about you, Luke. Selfishly, I want you to stay, but you deserve to be happy and safe.”

His face falls, seeming more boyish than it has in months. He stays quiet for a moment, pondering on something for a second, before he shakes the thought away and says, “It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t leave.”

“Why can’t you? What’s keeping you here?”

“Well, for starters, my mom is here,” he says, and I’m ashamed for not thinking about her. Luke would do anything for his mom, including never leaving her side.

His chest lifts in a deep breath before he takes a step toward me, lowering his gaze to mine. “And you.”

Each one of my muscles tenses. “Me?” I say, more like a question, and watch him take another step until our chests are only inches apart.

“Of course you .” He reaches his hands up and cradles my face in them. “I could never be away from you.”

There’s something different in the way he’s staring at me.

The line between friendship and more is being crossed with this sort of look.

Warning bells go off inside of my head, yet as he inches closer, my heart does one of those flip motions, taking my breath away.

My brain is screaming for me to back away, but my heart is pulling me toward him.

“We can still be friends, even with distance between us,” I whisper. Why am I whispering?

“I don’t want any distance between us at all .”