I shoved loose strands from my face. “I know you promised me that moving back to this town would set me up for the future. But it doesn’t seem that way. You’ve been acting weird. We never talk anymore. You’re secretive. And half the time you’re gone.”
Her shoulders drooped, weariness creeping in as if it physically hurt her to carry this. “You thought we moved back because the job was too good to pass up, right?”
“Didn’t we?”
She laughed once, bitter and low. “Yeah, that was kinda the plan. But plans don’t mean shit when the savings dry up faster than you expect. Rent here—even in this dump—is outrageous. That used car for you wiped us out. Independence isn’t free. Tuition at Blackwood Academy?” Her voice tightened. “It’s brutal. The discount helps. And the principal?” Her mouth twisted. “He’s not dangerous. There’s no real risk there. He knows the score. He’s not a complete idiot.”
Her voice cracked. “I’ve been holding everything together. The past year was rough. We burned through our savings. Bookkeeping at the gym—it didn’t pay much.”
“Rent was free because you—because of Edwardo.” The words slipped out on their own. My skin heated beneath herstare. There was history between those two. We’d stayed with him before, when I was younger. Mom never really got into it much, and I’d let her get away with it because I liked him. He was good people.
She winced. “We needed a place to stay.”
Then her face shuttered, and for a moment, I saw my own future in here—the same hardness, only older. I didn’t know how to change the trajectory of my life.
“You know the deal. Stop pretending you don’t know what I do for our survival, to make a better life for us.”
But I did know. She didn’t always like the guys she was with. Mom was smart; she had to be to do the bookkeeping gigs she easily got. The problem was, she had me at seventeen, never got to go to college, and her religious family kicked her out as soon as they found out she was pregnant with me, and whoever my dad was didn’t stick by her. She’d been hustling ever since to provide for us.
I had to look away; the dig at her was eating me alive. The silence pressed in so loud I could hear my own heartbeat.
“You’re getting opportunities I never had.”
I flinched. She was right. She was there for me in so many ways, the past few weeks aside. The truth was, I missed her. She wasn’t just my mom; we were friends. I wanted to collapse. I willed away the tears that pricked behind my eyes. “Nothing’s been the same since we got back. That’s what I’m upset about, not the principal.”
She glanced away, her shoulders curving in. “I’m trying, Mila. This place isn’t the easiest for me either, but you’ll get into any school you want with scholarships if we can tough it out. I want you to have more than I ever did.”
“And I’m tired.” My voice broke. I should apologize, but I was so damn tired of whatever was going on with her, with this town, with Luke… I just needed a break. “I’m tired of wondering whereyou are, what’s going on, and if we’re going to have to leave in the middle of the night again.”
It wasn’t just the fight with her. It was him. Luke. The way we stood there by the lake, barely breathing, one moment from falling into old patterns. His lips had been too close. I should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve turned my back and walked, but everything in me tilted toward him anyway. Instead, I’d lingered as if I wanted it. That almost-kiss? It gutted me worse than if he’d followed through. Because almost meant we still could. And I wasn’t sure I could survive that again.
Mom turned back toward me, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “Please—don’t make this about leaving. We need to make the best of things, no matter what. I’m doing what I can, and… I’ll try to be around more.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I whispered, over the conversation and the wreckage that lay between us. I stepped around her to the hallway.
My room looked the same. Impersonal. Clean. Nothing on the walls, no photos on the shelves. Just a slate bedspread, clothes stacked in the closet, and my art supplies hidden like contraband. If I so much as sketched near Mom, she got twitchy—as though my craving for something uncertain made her skin itch. She was talented once. I remembered watching her draw when I was small. But she shelved it. Traded charcoal for spreadsheets. Said numbers made sense. Said they paid the bills.
I got it—why she hated it. Why she wanted something safer for me. But art fed a part of me nothing else could touch. Since coming back, I hadn’t stepped foot inside the boardwalk studio. Couldn’t. The place would still smell of turpentine and salt air, and if I let myself think too long, I could feel the grainy texture of the canvas under my fingers. I’d left pieces there—an oil portrait of a girl with rain in her eyes, charcoal renderings of the pier from memory, one sketch of Luke I’d never admit was him. Notsure if any of it still hung. Not sure I wanted to know. I hadn’t dared bring them home. My chest tightened just thinking about it. I would go back. I knew that much. Sooner than I wanted. Sooner than I was ready for.
I collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My head throbbed, a relentless drumbeat, every thump a reminder of Luke’s words echoing in my skull.
I still want you. His confession pulsed in my veins:I don’t trust you… but I still want you.
A riptide of emotions seized me—relief, dread, longing, fury. I realized I was more broken than I thought.
And it wasn’t just because he still wanted me—or even because I wanted him. It was because despite everything—my mom’s issues, the rumors still swirling—I might let him in again. Might fall all over, knowing full well the cost.
I exhaled sharply. I mulled it over, heart heavy with everything I couldn’t undo—and everything I couldn’t let go. The night stretched ahead, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUKE
Flames leapt higher as someone tossed on another log, sparks spiraling into the night. Jax, Chase, and I lounged in a secluded section of the grounds. A few guys hovered nearby, but no one crossed into our corner. Tonight, the east side of the fire was ours.
Jax had brought a case of beer from the house for us, his parents off in Europe for a week or so. I sipped what was only my second, and last, beer of the evening. My gaze was fixed on the flames, but my mind was tracking where I’d seen Mila slip into the shadows, how easily she moved through the crowd only to disappear along the trail that led to the street. I’d barely stopped myself from going after her—again. The pull I felt toward her was nearly impossible to resist.
Movement drew my attention just as Theo emerged from the trees, shirt clinging, hair mussed in a way that said Tori had been there. He dropped next to me, breathing hard.
