The two men turn to face me, the one on the left wearing nothing but track pants and shaking his head in a “why-did-you-come-out-here” way, the one on the right full of shock and barely concealed rage.

“Never once.” Connor’s tone has evened again, but I don’t think it’s a sign of him calming. I think it’s a sign of him ready to blow. “How many times have there been, Livie? And for how long?”

Now that I’ve set the record straight—that what Ashton and I shared was not a crime scene—my anger has vanished, leaving me trembling and unable to speak once more.

“How long!” he repeats in a bark.

“Always!” I burst, wincing as the truth comes out. “Since the first second I met him. Before I met you.”

Connor turns to look at his roommate, his best friend, whose eyes haven’t left mine, an unreadable expression in them. “Un-fucking-believable. That night with the tattoo . . . You’ve been fucking her since then?”

“No!” The word flies out of our mouths in unison.

Connor is shaking his head dismissively. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Of all the whores you bring in and out of here . . . you had to turn her into one too.”

“Watch it.” Ashton’s body visibly stiffens and I see his hand clenching, but he stays still.

Connor doesn’t seem to care, though. Gritting his teeth, he studies the hardwood for a moment, shaking his head. When he finally looks at me again, I can see the impact of this on his face; his normally bright green eyes are now dull, as if the pilot light has finally been extinguished.

And I’m the one who put it out.

“What happened to taking it slow, Livie? What? You figured you’d jerk me around for a bit while you also screwed around with my best friend?” He turns to yell “My best friend!” with added emphasis.

I’m shaking my head frantically. “It wasn’t like that. It just . . . things have changed.”

“Oh really?” He steps forward. “What else has changed?”

“Everything!” I cry out, brushing away a sudden tear. “My future. The hospital. Princeton, maybe?” I hadn’t realized it until just now, but this place . . . it’s all that the catalogues, the websites, the hype promised, and yet it’s not what I want. It’s not home. It never will be. I want to be back in Miami, with my family. I’m not ready to leave them yet. The only thing that I do want at Princeton is standing silently, his arms crossed over his bare chest, as I spill my guts. “You and I . . . we don’t belong together.” Connor flinches as if I stuck him, but I keep going. “I’m in love in Ashton. He understands me. I understand him.” A quick glance over at Ashton finds his eyes now squeezed tight as if he’s in pain.

Something that looks like pity fills Connor’s face. “You think you understand him, Livie? Really? You think you know him?”

I swallow to keep my voice steady. “I don’t think. I know.”

“Do you know how many women he’s had in this room? In that bed?” His hand lifts to point toward it for effect. I force my chin up, trying to be strong. I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter. He’s with me now. “I hope you at least used condoms.”

Condoms.

I completely forget. It was just too intense.

The color draining from my face says it all.

Connor dips his head, shaking it with disappointment. “Jesus, Livie. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Ashton hasn’t said a word. Not a word to defend himself, or us. He stands quietly, watching this entire disaster with sad, resigned eyes.

The three of us stand facing each other in a misshapen triangle, the air between us choking thick and toxic, the lies swirling visibly on the outside while the truth of what Ashton and I have disappears into nothingness.

That’s how Dana finds us. “What’s going on?”

Honest fear contorts Ashton’s face for just a moment before vanishing, leaving his complexion three shades paler. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” she says, stepping into the room so carefully that you’d think the floor was riddled with land mines.

Connor crosses his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you tell her, Livie? Go on . . . tell her what you just told me.” Connor stares at me. Ashton stares at me. And when pretty, sweet Dana steps into the mix, her eyes wide with confusion and fear, she stares at me too, as she reaches up to clutch Ashton’s arm.

A sparkle catches my eye.

The solitaire diamond on Dana’s left hand. On her ring finger.

The gasp catches in my throat.

When did he propose?

Ashton knows I’ve seen it, because he closes his eyes and begins absently fumbling with the leather belt strap around his wrist.

It’s back on his wrist.

Ashton has put that shackle back on his wrist. Which means he’s given up the freedom that I gave him last night.

By the look of dismay on Connor’s face, he’s also seen the ring and now truly realizes the extent of this betrayal. “Tell her, Livie. Tell her what’s going on between you and her future husband, if you think you know him so well.”

I don’t need to say anything. Dana’s face pales. I watch as her eyes take me in from head to toe, then turn to look at the bed, then back to me. Almost recoiling from Ashton’s arm, she stumbles back three steps. “Ash?” Her voice trembles as she turns to look at him.

He bows his head, mumbling almost indecipherably, “I made a mistake. Just let me explain.”

Bursting into tears, she turns and runs out of the room. Ashton doesn’t hesitate for a second. He runs after her as her screams carry through the house.

Turning his back on me. On us. On whatever the hell we were. A mistake.

Connor’s words are quiet but piercing, soft but deadly, honest but so far from the truth. “You helped shatter two hearts today. You must be proud. Goodbye, Livie.” The bedroom door slams behind him.

And I know that there’s no reason for me to be here anymore. Not in this house, not in this school. Not in this life that is not my life.

I have to let go of everything.

And so I walk away.

I walk away from the voices, the shouts, the disappointment.

I walk away from my deceptions, my mistakes, my regrets.

I walk away from all that I am supposed to be and all that I cannot be.

For all of it is a lie.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Letting Go

I find them sitting at the kitchen table. Kacey is curled up on Trent’s lap with her fingers coiled in his hair, laughing as Dan pokes Storm’s swollen belly repeatedly, trying to make the baby respond. She’s due in two months now and she’s as beautiful as ever.

“Livie?” My sister’s watery blue eyes stare at me with a mix of surprise and worry. “I thought you weren’t coming home over your break.”

I swallow. “Neither did I, but . . . things changed.”

“I can see that.” She stares pointedly at my outfit. I never did go back to the dorm to change. I simply jumped in a cab to Newark and went on standby for the first available flight out to Miami. It took ten hours, but here I am.

Home.

Where I never should have left to begin with.

No one says a word, but I feel their eyes on my back as I walk over to the pantry. I pull out the bottle of tequila that Storm keeps on the top shelf. For emergencies, she says. “You were right, Kacey.” I grab two shot glasses. “You were right all along.”

“I missed the sound of seagulls,” I murmur.

“Wow, you really are fucked up.”

With a snort, I fling my hand in Kacey’s direction and end up slapping her in the cheek. Last night, with the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses in hand, I had silently walked out the patio door to the deck. Kacey followed me, pulling up a lounge chair next to mine. Without a word, she started pouring shots.