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Past: Two Years Before the Accident—Eighteen Years Old

I stare at the cursor blinking on my opened document in my laptop.

It’s mocking me.

Three paragraphs in two hours.

Of course it’s mocking you.

Closing my eyes, I try manifesting the answers to everything plaguing me these days.

Positive energy and mojo, give and you shall receive.

I know what I’m doing with my life.

I have my shit together.

I know what I want to study in college.

I’m going to ace this project, even though I don’t know how to begin this thing.

For now, Lexy. You don’t know…

for now.

A deep breath later, I open my eyes.

I’m supposed to create a project plan to identify and fund scholarships for gifted students from underserved backgrounds.

My business class teacher calls the assignment “Growing Future World Leaders.”

It’s an awful class.

A snooze fest. A fancy business class in a fancy prep school where your coolness is measured by the dollar signs attached to your name.

But this project is meaningful.

The proposals are submitted to non-profits in the city.

And I’m a Vaughn, the family owning the internationally renowned Bank of Columbia.

My name will be attached to this submission.

People expect things from a Vaughn.

Good, brilliant things .

They always forget the Vaughns have a less than genius youngest daughter.

Me.

I can’t make us look bad.

But what do I know about gifted students and future world leaders?

I’m the literal opposite of that statement.

I growl at the screen as my phone pings.

Quickly, I look around the rare text archival floor in my newest favorite place on earth—the Ravenswood Library.

It’s housed in a five-story gothic building near Riverside Park, tucked among the limestone and brick structures on the Upper West Side.

After a visit to the nearby Columbia University, I stumbled upon this place.

The library was built two hundred years ago by Sebastian Ravenswood as a gift to his wife, who loved books.

But unfortunately, she passed away before the construction was done.

Love hit me with the precision of a cupid’s arrow.

The romance. The darkened stone walls and intricate stained glass windows.

The gargoyles perched on the rooftops, guarding the books secured within the building.

The beautiful, quiet back gardens with soaring archways which looked like they’d seen plenty of love stories being written over the centuries.

You fall in love far too easily, Firefly.

Those daydreams aren’t real.

Trust me, men are idiots.

You don’t want any of us.

That’s what Liam says, but what does he know?

My tattooed, leather jacket wearing older brother gets on my nerves most days.

Our love language as siblings is fighting with each other.

According to him, he and his best friend from college, Ethan, leave behind a string of broken hearts, melting panties with their charm and good looks.

I’m not looking for a guy like him or his best friend—who I’ve never met.

I don’t need heartbreakers.

Nor do I need someone like Charles, our oldest brother, who dotes on me and is the paragon of success, but a certified workaholic.

My phone pings again.

Seeing no one looking my way, I swipe at the screen.

Summer

You, me, a night of drinks and hot guys?

I’ve got our brand spankin’ new fake IDs!

I grin, imagining my golden-haired friend from Broadbent Academy, dolling it up in a sexy minidress even though there’s a blizzard outside.

She’s a riot, and the two of us are nicknamed The Storm of Broadbent, blowing by and wreaking havoc.

Summer

Maybe you’ll meet someone who deserves to pop your cherry!

*wink wink* Make sure to use protection—don’t get knocked up!

God knows I don’t want any kids—they cramp your lifestyle.

The smile slips off my face and my chest pinches.

A guy I want to give my virginity to.

Someone special. I used to think it’d be my current boyfriend, Dayton Holden, but it just doesn’t feel right.

And I don’t want to regret my first time.

Alexis

You suck. If I’m not doing it with Dayton, I’m not doing it with some rando at a club.

You worry about using protection yourself.

The bright laptop screen snags my attention, as if reminding me of my responsibilities.

Focus, Lexy. If there’s a time to focus, it’s now.

Alexis

And I can’t go tonight.

The project, remember?

I’m so screwed, Sum.

I’m going to fail this class and be the first Vaughn to get rejected by Columbia.

Summer

Chill, girl.

You have like ten lives.

You’ll get it done. All-nighter, last minute, but you always do.

If she only knew I’m currently failing the class.

My phone pings again, and this time, it’s Liam.

Liam

Firefly, where are you?

I swung by the mansion and you weren’t there.

Grab dinner tonight?

Alexis

Studying at the library.

Not everyone is a tech genius like you.

Alexis

I can’t. I also have ballet practice tonight.

Liam

Why are you doing that, anyway?

It’s not like you’re going to be a professional ballerina.

Alexis

I like ballet.

And maybe because Mom did it?

Liam

You got to stop doing this to yourself.

I’m sorry, I know she’s our mom, but what kind of woman leaves her kids alone 360 days of the year?

A familiar heaviness blankets me.

I don’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

Peter and Martha Vaughn are the textbook definition of absentee and neglectful parents, completely in love with each other and their partying lifestyle, but forgetting everyone else.

We spent our childhoods with nannies and tutors, strangers who were paid to take care of us .

But on the rare days when Mom was around, our large, empty house would sizzle with energy.

There’d be dancing, movie marathons, and makeovers.

She’d ask me about the guys at school and tell me about her adventures abroad—seeing polar bears in Alaska, lounging on a yacht in the south of France, learning opera from the best soprano in Venice.

She’s exciting. You can’t help but be drawn to her.

I know that’s why Dad is addicted to her.

The highs would be beautiful until it’d inevitably collapse.

Slamming doors, screaming matches, hurling curse words at each other, their ugly spats showing up on the front headlines of newspapers and magazines.

But Dad, the man who never cared about anything, not the family business or his responsibilities, would always go back to Mom.

The cycle would repeat itself and they’d jet off on some new exotic adventure, leaving the three of us to our own devices again.

Mom would forget me, just like five years ago, and two years ago, when I asked her to come to my ballet showcases.

She’d say yes, but I’d never find her among the crowd.

I stopped asking.

And yet, I’m still that stupid little girl who hopes I can shine brighter, fly higher, so I can finally catch…

and hold her attention.

Sure, Grandma and Uncle Ian, Dad’s younger brother, tried their best to fill the void—visiting us a few times a month when they were around, but it wasn’t the same.

Alexis

She sent me a card and a limited edition Gucci for Christmas.

She didn’t forget about us.

Liam

I can buy that shit for you.

Wake up, Lexy.

My stomach sours.

I don’t want to chat anymore.

Alexis

I have to go.

Dayton is picking me up in ten minutes and I’m meeting Lil’ Tay at the studio.

The girl has potential, mark my words.

She’s going places.

Taylor Peyton, a fourteen-year-old protégé at IBA, our ballet studio, has a sweet soul and is oh, so gifted.

While I’m reaching the end of my ballet career, hers has just begun.

And she’s taken to me like I’m her older sister.

Liam

Whatever. Dump the asshole, Lexy.

You deserve better. If he makes you cry again, I swear I’ll hack his computer and delete his existence from the internet.

I snort. Liam would do it.

Both he and Charles are overprotective.

It drives me nuts, but I’m grateful I have them in my life.

My phone vibrates. This time, the sound earns a few sharp glares from nearby patrons.

Grimacing, I answer, “Dayton? You here yet?”

“Be there in two. Traffic’s insane, Lexy. It’s a shit show out here.” His voice is clipped.

I glance out the window, seeing nothing but a blanket of white coating the glass panes.

A shiver moves through me.

It’ll be so cold outside.

“Okay. Packing up now.”

“Hurry, okay? I can’t park long. I passed a cop headed this way. Don’t want any trouble.”

I frown.

“What trouble? You’re picking me up, not fleeing a bank robbery.”

Silence fills the line.

“Dayton? You there? ”

He clears his throat.

“Yeah, babe. Trying to merge. Anyway, hurry, hot stuff.”

He hangs up before I can respond.

I stare at the phone, my stomach knotting.

Something is off. He doesn’t talk like he used to—not to me, anyway.

He asked me for money a few months ago for an investment and it’s been hushed phone calls and all work and no play for him since then.

He wants to prove himself.

His family is well-off but they have their sights on becoming a big name in finance.

Maybe things changed because he’s in college and I’m a senior in high school.

I sigh and look at my open laptop again.

Dammit. I got nothing accomplished today.

Fuck it.

Closing my laptop, I suddenly remember a lesson I’d learned painfully two years ago.

“Back up. Back up. The USB’s your friend,” I mutter, opening my laptop again and shoving my new USB pen drive into the computer.

My old one is full and after one disastrous accident involving my old laptop and a pitcher of iced tea, resulting in me losing an English essay and a science report, I’ve always backed everything up.

After the flash drive does its thing, I slip the laptop into my bag, my fingers brushing the dark leather volume nestled inside.

The journal!

Grinning, I pull out my most prized possession—a thick, hand-bound leather journal Grandma gave me a month ago.

It’s special because of what I’m going to do with it.

Lifting it up to my nose, I inhale the rich scent of aged leather, paper, and ink with a hint of lavender from the perfume I spritzed on the pages this morning.

I head to the bookshelves housing texts on ancient Greece, one of my favorite time periods to read about.

Then, I kiss the cover and slip the journal between two Greek mythology books.

My heart thumps wildly as I take a few steps back .

Go. Find your soulmate.

There’s a reader for every book, including mine.

After blowing out a deep breath, I traipse down the wrought-iron spiral staircase, past the main floor with soaring vaulted ceilings, old-fashioned three-tiered chandeliers, and rows and rows of dark mahogany shelves.

My phone buzzes in my pocket again as I approach the exit.

Dayton . I answer the call and push open the heavy metal door at the same time.

A soul sucking gust of frigid air blasts on my face.

“Dayton, coming out right now. I got sidetracked—”

I slam into a brick wall.

That is, if the brick wall is made of a towering hunk of masculine muscle.

A deep, raspy oomph reaches my ear.

My things scatter on the ground.

My boot-clad foot slips on the icy pavement.

I propel backward, swinging my arms out, trying to grab onto anything before I land on my ass and make a fool out of myself.

A powerful arm curls around my back and hoists me up.

The next thing I know, I’m smashed against a hard chest, and the alluring scent of leather and amber reaches my nose.

“Easy there.” A gravelly whisper reaches my ears, followed by a chuckle.

I shiver and look up.

The most beautiful pair of slate-gray eyes stare down at me.

Eyes belonging to a masculine face—all sharp lines and hard angles—stare down at me just below the dark brown hair effortlessly tousled like he just rolled out of bed.

Mystery guy’s lips tilt up in one corner, the smirk transforming his face from hot to smoldering with just the right amount of bad boy charm.

Trust me, men are idiots.

You don’t want any of us.

Liam’s words barge into my mind.

The mystery guy is who I’d imagine as Ares, the god of war from Greek mythology.

Ares, in a dark leather jacket on a break from killing his enemies, transported to the modern world.

I must have slammed my head too hard and am hallucinating.

I blink a few times.

Nope, he’s still here.

Ares murmurs, “You okay? Cat got your tongue?”

He lets go of me and kneels down, picks up my laptop and papers, his eyebrow arching when he sees my textbooks.

He stuffs them into my bag and hands it to me.

“Probably the only useful class I’ve ever taken.” He nods toward the finance book, Financial Literacy for Future Leaders.

“Good luck.”

Mystery guy winks and steps through the library door.

I shake myself. Manners!

“Thank you!” I holler after him.

He pauses mid stride and turns around.

This time, he unleashes a smile that causes my stomach to flip.

I look away, feeling guilty.

I have a boyfriend…probably not for long, but still.

Mystery guy laughs, the husky sound sending another flutter in my gut.

“All good…Sunbeam.”

Sunbeam.

My eyes snap up, but he’s already disappeared.

A smile tugs at my lips.

People usually call me red because of my hair.

But Sunbeam? That’s something new.

I wonder why he calls me that.

Snap out of it, Lexy.

A hot guy is a dime a dozen in New York City.

Probably all idiots, as Liam would say.

A car honks and I turn around.

Dayton waves, his blond hair a disheveled mess like he’s been tugging at it.

“Need to go, babe.”

He pokes his head out the window and looks behind him like he’s searching for something .

Frowning, I glance around and see nothing out of the ordinary.

Just white and gray, the skies hurling down snow like it’s taking over for the god of war on vacation.

“Sorry!” I hurry toward him.

But before I get into the car, I turn back and stare at the closed library door, wondering what the god of war is doing in the library in the middle of a snowstorm.