Then my mind redirects to how summer school starts in forty-eight hours—on Monday. I drove here with the intention of telling Lila that I was going to fix everything, but all I really wanted was to mend things between us. I rub a hand over my head. Is Lila right? Am I running from the real issues in my life?

“I’m not running,” I say one more time. Even I notice the doubt in my voice.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, exhaustion weighing down her words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because...” Because she’d be disappointed in me. Because I was disappointed in myself. Because her dreams became my dreams and I failed us both. Because I was chicken shit.

Two years ago, Lila began writing about the University of Florida. She talked about it enough that I checked out the school. Way before I fell for Lila, I fell for the dream of heading to another state for school. To possibly gain my degree in forest resource and conservation; to work around rock walls for a living.

How the hell could I lose sight of my future?

My right leg begins to tingle and all I can think about is getting up, walking around, heading back to the campsite, exploring the trails—even in the dark—and finding a rock wall. Then I glance down at the beauty cuddled close to me.

Her breathing becomes light and she flinches in her sleep. The baby does the same thing when he enters REM sleep. I tuck the blanket around her and permit myself to touch her hair one more time.

No, I’m not a runner. Not this time. She’ll have more hard questions, and I’m determined to answer them—standing right in front of her. It’s time I start facing the problems in my life instead of avoiding them. It’s time that I create a plan and follow it through. And hopefully, Lila will forgive me and be by my side as I go forward.

“I didn’t want you to hate me,” I whisper as I respond to her last question. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Lila

I thought of you when I climbed today. You should try it sometime. I think you’d enjoy the rush.

~ Lincoln

My entire body seizes at the sound of pounding. I jump, my hands flail, and then I finally crash onto the hardwood floor, a disheveled mess. That crack had to be my tailbone. “Ow.”

I blink several times as I nurse my lower back. What am I doing in the living room?

“You okay?” The gravelly, sleep-deprived voice causes my heart to thump hard once. My eyes dart above me to the couch. Lincoln stretches his arms over his head. Absolutely amazing. He slept sitting up, holding me, the entire night.

“Morning,” he says. His gorgeous eyes fall on me, and my cheeks warm when the corners of his mouth lift. Echo would make fun of me for the silly smile forming on my face.

Feeling suddenly shy and self-conscious, I comb my hair with my hand. Oh hell, tangles. Why, why, why do I always wake up resembling a troll? “Hi.”

The doorbell rings several times and the pounding resumes. Sunlight streams through the venetian blinds. The brightness definitely hints at more of a midday than a morning situation. “It’s probably Stephen,” I say.

Lincoln’s head jerks. “Your ex?”

I’ll admit it. I sort of like the alpha-male pissed-off stare he’s got going on. I scramble off the floor and for once heed my mother’s Post-it note advice by glancing through the peephole. Nope, not the ex. Which is good since Lincoln looks annoyed enough to chop the boy into deer steaks.

“Lila!” Grace yells. “Are you in there?”

“Yes!” I shout back to my ex-best friend. “Give me a sec, Grace.”

I turn to explain to Lincoln that it’s Grace and ram right into his chest. Both of his hands land on my shoulders to steady me. “I thought you two weren’t on speaking terms after what happened with Echo.”

“We aren’t. Which is why I need to answer. The world must have collapsed into a zombie apocalypse if she’s here.”

His grip on my shoulders changes into a massage that causes me to close my eyes. He could touch me like that for the rest of my life and I’d never move. “Then answer,” he says.

My stomach knots into a big ball of dread. Lincoln’s appearance screams that he just rolled out of bed and I’m in my pj’s and my parents are out of town and Grace is a huge gossip. “Crap!”

“I can hide,” he says as if reading my mind. His hands slide off my shoulders and I have to fight the urge to pout. “But you’d have to explain my car.”

I brighten for two point one seconds and then deflate. “I’m not that creative.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes alone with her. Maybe she won’t notice the car.” Lincoln starts down the hallway, then pauses to eye me in a way that suggests my clothes are riding up. “You look good right now. All rumpled and drowsy.”

The back of my neck explodes with heat, and I immediately focus on the muscles of his biceps. Lincoln flashes a flirtatious grin, grabs an extra pair of jeans from his backpack, which leans against the door to my room, and disappears into the bathroom. Good Lord, he’s hot.

Tangled thoughts of him and me muddle my groggy brain. He touches me and talks to me as if we’ve known each other forever. Is it possible he’s into me too? As more than friends?

Grace resumes her banging. I bat at the hair sticking on top of my head and open the front door. “Hey.”

In a cargo skirt that grazes her knees and a white lace tank, Grace hitches her thumb toward the car. “Have a guest?” She takes in my clothes. “An overnight one?”

Not interested in playing her games anymore, I say, “Yes.”

Shock and giddiness burst onto her face. “Really? Who?”

Once upon a time, I would have told her. She knew all of my secrets—including my writing relationship with Lincoln. That is, until she chose her new friends over Echo. Echo and I have always been a package deal. What sucks is that I miss Grace. “I’m guessing you want to come in.”

She does and practically pees her pants when she sees the pillow and blanket on the couch. “You had a guy overnight!” she squeals.

I shush her while waving my hands for her to keep it down. Embarrassment creeps along my skin. Lincoln must be laughing his ass off. “How do you know? It could be a girl.”

“Your girlfriends sleep in your room. So who is it?”

“It’s...” And I can’t think of anything believable, because the truth is unbelievable. “Lincoln. And you better keep it to yourself. This is private, Grace. I mean it.”

She grabs my hand, not missing a beat, acting as if our friendship didn’t disintegrate in a shower of flames months ago. “Lincoln? Pen pal Lincoln? Oh. My. God. That is so...so...is he hot?”

This is what I miss about Grace: her passion, her enthusiasm. And when she decided to, she could be a great friend. I clasp her hand back. “Smoking.”

And I have the urge to call Echo and Natalie and force the four of us to be what we used to be—inseparable.

“How long is he staying?” Grace asks.

My energy fades and I release her. “I don’t know.” Will Lincoln leave soon? Have I squandered the only time we may ever have together? Remembering last night’s late conversation, I remind myself that leaving would be Lincoln’s M.O.

Grace’s cell phone chimes to indicate a text. She reads it, then shoves the phone into her purse. “I’ve got to bolt, but I have something to tell you. Which is why I came.”

I circle my hand, motioning for her to continue.

“I overheard Stephen, Chad and Luke talking about how they’ve been showing up here at night, trying to scare you since your parents went on vacation.”

My mouth gapes and I go completely numb long enough to tense when the rush of anger pummels my bloodstream. “Excuse me?”

“I know. Stupid, right? Stephen thinks if you get scared, you’ll call him, and then you guys can work things out.” Grace glances at the blanket on the couch. “Guess he didn’t count on the dark horse pulling up late in the race.”