After that night, Dakota had helped Rachel and me get our belongings sorted out in our temporary spaces, and we hung out together often. We watched movies, opened bottles of wine and reminisced—always skating along the surface, never delving too deep into who we’d become.

And before tonight, I hadn’t touched her since.

I headed toward Shane’s house to take a leak. Nudging past a few people in the kitchen and then a couple of dudes who high-fived me, I made my way to the guest bathroom located on the first floor. Shane’s mom always used some sort of strong lavender air freshener in here and it brought me right back to our high school days and all the drunken weekend bashes.

It was probably wrong of me to have sought out Rachel at this party. To have wanted contact with her. Call it homesickness or nostalgia or whatever the hell you want, but I swear, she was like a goddamn remedy or cure or something. Still, she had no clue how I felt about her. She’d never know. Behind the weed, the piercings, the girls, and the I-don’t-give-two-fucks attitude, I hid it well.

If she found out I’d fallen for her during her recovery, she’d freak. Her heart had been broken and she’d lost the substance of her former self. A huge wall of grief surrounded her on all sides. I’d gone day after day as her friend. I held her hand when she cried, her hair back when the contents of her stomach wouldn’t cooperate with her medications, read her books, and watched countless hours of television with her.

So tonight, when I’d pulled her into my chest like a brother would do to antagonize a kid sister, she never suspected that I’d just wanted to smell her. To push aside her hair and taste the skin just below her ear. My elbow rested just above her breasts and I couldn’t help noticing how they’d filled out, along with her shapely hips, since her recovery. She looked healthy and gorgeous and irresistible.

And most surprising was that she didn’t push me away like she normally did. She didn’t tell me I smelled like weed or that I was too rough or whatever excuse she’d usually give to get away. Tonight I felt her settle against my chest like she was relishing it. Like maybe she missed me, too. Even though it could never be as much as I’d missed her.

But then I made the stupid-ass move of finding her scar. What a douche bag. It probably reminded her of how broken she once was, when all I wanted to do was help her remember that we were connected. Shit.

I needed to find her and apologize. Tell her I didn’t mean anything by it. That I didn’t want her to run away from me. I was probably still such a fuckup in her eyes. I was the guy who’d gotten kicked out of my internship in Amsterdam after Johan’s too-young-for-him girlfriend came on to me. Returning to my father’s disapproving gaze sucked big time, but finding out Rachel had returned as well almost made the whole thing worth it.

I headed back outside and heard the low rumble of a hot rod pulling up to the field in back. I looked over my shoulder at the sweet blue ride with gleaming silver tail pipes. My gaze slid to the driver’s side and my whole body tensed. And just like that, I knew I was meant to be Rachel’s friend tonight more than anything else. She was going to need me.

Because Miles had fucking wrecked her and now he was here to screw with her again.

I stormed through the crowd, pushing past people to search for her. Julia tried to reach for my arm, but I shrugged her off. I was pretty sure she only wanted to drag me into the woods to hook up for old times’ sake.

I rounded the bonfire and slowed my steps as I spotted Rachel near the wooden fence in the back of the lot. With her jaw set and her fists clenched tight, she looked fierce. Determined. On fire.

I realized that she’d done pretty well without me the past few years.

Maybe she didn’t need me to protect her anymore. Not when it came to him.

She could probably kick his ass all on her own. And maybe mine, too.

Chapter Three Rachel

There was a squealing of tires as a muscle car pulled up and got the attention of everyone at the party. It was hard to see who was behind the wheel through the tinted side window. But then a couple of the guys whistled, knuckles rapped the bumper of the car, and I heard the nickname I hadn’t heard in years. One that I hadn’t become immune to—yet.

“Big M, I was hoping you’d make it!” shouted a voice above the din of the crowd.

Big M, also known as M, also known as Miles, my ex-boyfriend. The boy I hadn’t laid eyes on in years. The same boyfriend who’d told me my recovery was too much for him to handle, who’d never even questioned what had happened to the promise ring he’d given me a couple of months before the accident. The person who’d vanished from my life and never visited me in the hospital again.

And I got it. Damn, I got it. We were young. He was on his way to college on a basketball scholarship. Still, his desertion cut deep. Because after his phone calls and visits stopped, I’d felt so alone. Hollow. Gutted.

Sure, I had my parents. And Dakota. And Kai.

Kai—the guy who spent hours playing cards and wheeling me back and forth to physical and occupational therapy. Who held my hand when I could barely grasp his back. Who stayed in my room until I fell asleep with tears dried in the corners of my eyes from crying so damn hard over Miles.

Those nights in the hospital changed me. Toughened me up. Even more than the physical accident caused me to get stronger. More than the two surgeries reduced the swelling and pieced the fragments of my skull back together.

Now Kai gripped my shoulder in another show of support. Or maybe it was to hold himself back from pouncing on Miles. He’d already done that once after the accident, and I made him promise to never do it again. Even though Miles had deserved it.

But I wasn’t the same girl who needed Kai’s support back then. I hardened to the point of not needing anyone anymore. At least I didn’t want to need anyone. And I’d proven that I could take care of myself during these last three years.

So when I shrugged Kai off, I felt his hand skate down my back and fall away. Like it was a last-ditch effort to hang on to the girl I had once been.

I felt a warm hand on my arm again and figured Kai was trying to mess with me, but when I looked back it was Dakota instead. Her eyes were widened in surprise. “Shoot, I’d heard he was back in town, but I didn’t think he’d show up here. Let’s have Shane kick him out.”

I steadied my breath. “No, it’s cool. I don’t want him to think I can’t handle being at the same party with him.”

At this point almost everyone’s gaze was shifting back and forth between Miles and me, even though he hadn’t even spotted me yet. Kai had stepped away and now stood across from me, as if to shield me from Miles’s view. I had to look away from him because I knew his gaze would cut deep. He knew how hard it’d been for me those days after the accident. He knew so damn well. My knees practically buckled at the thought.

The crowd parted to let Miles through and as the realization of my presence dawned on him, his jaw became slack and his steps slowed to a halt. He gave me the once-over, like he was seeing a damn ghost or something.

He was all lean muscles from playing ball twenty-four seven for Cleveland State University. I’d forgotten how smooth his tan skin had felt or how long his powerful legs had been. He was so tall, in fact, that I barely reached his chest. But I’d loved that about him—how he could lift me up with one scoop of his arm or raise my mouth to his lips. Rumor had it that he had a good chance of being picked in the NBA draft this summer. I knew that was his dream, so in a strange way, I was glad for him. But that happiness was padded by a thick wall of sorrow, even to this day. Because there were so many things unresolved between us.