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Present: Eight Years After the Accident—Thirty-Two Years Old

For over two hundred years, a rumor has loomed over my family—the Anderson men are cursed to be heartbroken and live a lonely life.

I don’t believe in curses, but I believe in heartbreak.

Eight years. I’ve been living with mine for eight years.

I stare outside the window of my private jet, watching workers load luggage into neighboring planes.

Memories of better days crush me, making it hard to breathe.

This was supposed to be our trip.

Now, it’s just mine.

“Mr. Anderson, sorry for the inconvenience. There’s a delay by air traffic control, but we’ll depart for Beijing soon, where we’ll refuel and go through customs before heading to Tibet. In the meantime, may I get you any refreshments?”

The flight attendant’s soft voice jolts me out of my thoughts and I swallow, failing to dislodge the lump in my throat.

My fingers graze the silver and black cuff link peeking out under my suit jacket.

“No. Please don’t disturb me on this flight.”

Her eyes widen, and I know she’s going to turn around and tell everyone about my pissed-ass mood.

She nods and disappears into the back of the jet.

I can’t muster a smile.

Especially not today.

Let them think I’m a cold bastard.

You are a cold bastard, Ethan .

Broken. Hardened. Unrecognizable.

It’d break her heart if she were here and saw you like this.

I stare at the cuff links—the black circular medallion carved in an intricate floral pattern, covering the secret underneath.

It’s the only pair I own and wear.

The pair Lexy gave me.

My Nova. The only woman who has ever made me feel alive.

Unbidden, one of my favorite memories of her floats to my consciousness, and I close my eyes, trying to relive it.

Again.

“You’re my north star, Ethan. You anchor me. With you, I’m never lost.” She had grinned, her sky-blue eyes sparkling with life.

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

Warmth rushed through me and I pulled back, just long enough to stare at her beautiful face—her strawberry blonde hair brightening up the gloomy January skies with a flash of copper, her creamy skin pinkened from the blistering cold of the snowstorm.

Just like the day we met.

“And you’re ridiculous,” I murmured, tightening my arms around her waist. “Who on earth voluntarily goes outside in the middle of a blizzard?”

“It’s the first snow of the new year! The sign of new beginnings and fresh starts. Don’t be such a grump, you old man. And need I remind you if I didn’t go out in a snowstorm, we wouldn’t have met?”

I bit back a smile.

I’d never forget how we met—two strangers becoming pen pals during a snowstorm much like this one.

This was before I learned her real identity.

I was forbidden to love her but did anyway.

“I’m twenty-four and only four years older than you, Nova. If I’m old, then you’re getting there too. You know, they say men’s shelf life is longer than women’s.”

She mock scowled and before I knew it, a sharp, icy sting exploded across my face .

“What the—”

“Shelf life, huh? Keep that up and you’ll have the shelf life of this snowball!” She cackled and hurled another snowball at me.

Despite it being cold as fuck that day, Lexy only had on PJs and a fluffy pink bathrobe before she dragged me out of the apartment I shared with her older brother and my best friend, Liam.

She grinned, clearly having the time of her life.

Abruptly, she ceased fire and spun around in circles, her arms outstretched like she was absorbing the elements.

The gnaw your bones off frigid elements.

She plopped herself on the thick blanket of snow, ignoring how we were in the middle of a New York City sidewalk as people scurried by to seek shelter.

My Nova. Always marching to her own tune and dazzling everyone around her without realizing it.

Then she waved her arms and legs to create a snow angel.

But the blistering winds changed tune, and the flurry of snow became thick clumps of ice and balls of—

Fuck.

Hail.

I threw my body on top of hers as the hard clusters pelted my back.

She trembled below me.

“Shit. You okay? Are you hurt?”

A few seconds of silence passed by.

Crap. Did I hurt her?

Alarm rang through me and I started pulling away when she suddenly snorted and busted out in laughter.

“Look at your face! All worried about me, aren’t you? Throwing yourself on top of me like a hero from the movies.”

Bracing my arms above her, I mock scowled at the woman who made me feel as though I was enough as I was—just being Ethan—not because I was an Anderson, the illustrious, old-money family who owned half of New York.

Lexy beamed and stuck her tongue out.

I chuckle at the memories.

I’m sure I sound ridiculous—laughing by myself in my luxury jet.

Grief hits us in the strangest ways.

I’d give anything to go back to that day.

We were so happy—we had the future in our hands.

I continue reminiscing about our day together .

I thought I had time.

A lifetime with her.

If only I knew.

“I don’t know how you do it,” I had whispered to her as we laid on the ground, hail still coming down in bullets.

I cradled her face with my hands.

“You inspire me to be so much more. I…I—”

I couldn’t find the words.

And I always had the words.

Lexy turned her head and pressed a kiss on my fingers.

“Be here and be bold. Don’t wait to live because…”

I smiled and finished for her.

“The clock keeps ticking.” Swallowing, I gazed into her eyes and murmured, “Are you going to give me your answer?”

“Do you have a ring on you?”

“You know I don’t. You dragged me out here before I even had breakfast. You’re lucky Liam isn’t coming back until later today. Your brother would skin me alive if he saw you dressed in a bathrobe in the middle of a snowstorm.”

“Ha. I think he’d kill you because you were with his little sister. Me in a snowstorm would be the least of your concerns.”

Damn it.

She was right. I’d been avoiding the conversation as long as I could, but I had to tell Liam.

I was desperately in love with his little sister.

I had broken the only cardinal rule he had set for me.

I quashed those thoughts into the background.

Everything could come after this woman answered my question.

“So, my answer?”

She arched her elegant brow, the mischievous glimmer back in her eyes.

“No ring, no answer. You’ll just have to wait until our curry date next week.”

Snorting, I shook my head as my heart skipped a beat.

I’m going to make this woman mine soon.

Then we’re telling our families, and if Liam, Dad, or my brothers have issues with this, they can go screw themselves.

“You’re ridiculous, Nova. And you got it wrong. I’m not your north star. You are my supernova, brightening up my dark skies.”

“My poet,” she had murmured, and I leaned down and captured her lips with mine, tasting her smile and love in our kiss .

The jet engine roars to life, the rumble further splintering the deep frissons inside my heart.

I didn’t realize back then we’d never have our curry date.

Time giveth and time taketh away.

And so, today, I’ll let myself grieve.

My chest tightens. I take out a piece of paper, uncap my fountain pen, and write the last poem I’ll ever compose.

I haven’t been able to write poems ever since what happened to her.

My poetry came to life because of her.

Without her, they’re meaningless.

Memories dance behind my eyelids as I go to sleep,

Visions of you, soaring high in my dreams.

Ribbons of fire twirling in the wind,

Your lavender scent lingers, a longing I cannot rescind.

Hearts, once on fire, now smolder in smoke,

Our love, bittersweet, broken as fate’s cruel stroke.

The world spins on, blissfully unaware,

My life, forever changed, hollow as the air.

My Nova, my star, bright in the sky,

Farewell, my hummingbird, my darling butterfly.

I told myself almost eight years ago, once I completed the last item on her bucket list, to tie a cloth at the Jokhang temple, the most sacred temple in Tibet, I’d stop waiting.

I’d move on because she’d want me to.

I’d say goodbye.

My eyes burn, my ragged breath lodging in my throat, and I close my eyes.

How do I say goodbye?

How can I say goodbye?

I try to imagine her voice, the sweet lilt at the end of her sentences, the raspy undertone of her laughter, the way she drawls her “R’s” like she’s from Texas instead of being a born and bred New Yorker .

But the memories are fuzzy now.

The sounds dulled by the years that have gone by as I waited…

and waited.

And waited.

Perhaps I lost her long before today.

How could I have forgotten the exact timbre of her voice?

The lump in my throat grows and I feel wetness on my cheek.

Get your shit together, Ethan.

You’re the impenetrable Anderson.

You don’t feel. Nothing can hurt you anymore.

Staring blankly into the ray of light peeking through the dim clouds, I make a wish.

If there’s a higher power, please give us a miracle.

I’d give up anything…

at any cost. Please—

What the fuck am I doing?

My cell phone buzzes on the table.

Quickly, I swipe the moisture away from my eyes and answer the call without looking at the caller ID.

“Anderson.”

“I worry about you,” a gravelly voice rasps on the line, followed by the familiar clicking of an antique lighter the man never uses.

“Elias.” I clear my throat.

“You’re nuts. Don’t you have better things to worry about or people to terrorize than being delusional?”

“Hm.” The clicking stops.

With Elias Kent, the king of the New York underworld, feared by the elite and the gangs alike, delusional is the least likely option.

A long time ago, my eldest brothers, Maxwell and Ryland, saved his life, and since then, he’s stuck to our family like duct-tape, solid, reliable, and a close friend.

“I don’t think so,” he murmurs.

“Maxwell told me you took off for Tibet, of all places. He’s worried because he’s your oldest brother. Liam also sniffed around, saying you were acting strange. I’m concerned because you’re my friend—unfortunately for me.”

I whistle and force out a chuckle.

“Damn. I should go to Vegas instead, huh? Probably will win a jackpot. The great Elias Kent calling me a friend. Aren’t you worried your enemies will think that’s a weakness? ”

He snorts.

“Leave the jackpot to people who need it. I know you, Ethan. Don’t hide shit from me. You’re a man of routine—five a.m. swimming laps, work fourteen hours crunching your fucking numbers at Fleur, eating boring turkey clubs for meals, rinse and repeat.”

He sighs and continues, “You have one trip a year and you already went somewhere last month. You don’t just up and leave the fucking country for no reason. And somewhere as remote as Tibet. Don’t bullshit me. What’s going on?”

“If I didn’t know your compulsion to collect the secrets of everyone around you, I’d think you have a crush on me. Fuck off. I’m fine. Can’t a man have a break?”

“A break in Tibet? You know tourists have altitude sickness there? Not exactly a walk in the park.”

My phone pings, and I glance at the screen.

Liam sweeping in to save the day.

Thank God or else Elias will ferret my secrets out of me.

The relentless asshole.

“I have to go. Urgent incoming call.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Ignoring him, I switch to the other line.

“Liam?”

Heavy exhales reach my ear and I sit up, my muscles coiled tightly.

“Liam? What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, man.” More ragged breaths.

A thick silence.

Sweat beads on my upper lip, and the beginnings of nausea swirl inside me.

Liam is the devil-may-care, nothing can faze me rebel.

Something is wrong. Something—

No.

Lexy.

“What happened? Is it Lexy?”

My heart batters against my rib cage.

I’m lightheaded, an urge to throw up soon to follow.

“Ethan…she…she’s awake.”

My phone clatters to the floor.