Seeing all her success made me feel all twisted up. I was proud, sure, but there was also something uglier underneath. I think it may have been a sense of regret or longing. Both, probably. Always thinking about what life could’ve been if things had gone differently.
There was so much I never got the chance to tell her, and I’ll probably never get the chance to. I’ve spent the last decade pretending like I was fine with her being gone. Pretending I don’t still dream about the way her lips taste or the sound of her laugh. Pretending every damn woman who’s ever crossed my path doesn’t get compared to Emiliana Diaz and comes up short every single time.
I run a hand down my face, feeling the rough scrape of mypalm against the day’s stubble. Letting out a long sigh, I finally climb out of the truck and head inside. The silence hits me like a wall. The quiet used to be comforting. It used to be something I could sink into after a long night at the bar or after being outside all day helping Leo take care of the animals. But tonight, the silence is heavy. It smothers me and I feel like I’m gasping for air.
The thud of my boots hitting the wood floor echoes through the empty house. I head straight for the fridge, grab a beer and twist the cap off, knocking half of its contents back before even closing the door. I don’t consider myself much of a drinker, despite working at and owning a bar for so many years, but some nights call for something to take the edge off. Tonight is one of those nights.
The cold bottle sweats in my hand as I head to the bedroom, dropping it onto the dresser with a dull clink. I immediately strip the clothes off my body and fall back onto the mattress. Closing my eyes, I see nothing but her brown eyes. Those angry brown eyes, like molten pools of amber, full of every ounce of hate I deserve, burning into me like a punishment. She’s right to be pissed. Hell, she’s right to still hate me after all this time. And to make matters worse, I went and ruined any possibility of a truce in under ten minutes of seeing her.
Impressive, even for me.
Our argument in the truck keeps replaying in my head. The way her lip quivered slightly as she told me that loving me wasn’t enough to make her stay. As if she believed love was supposed to fix every bad thing, and mine never did.
I know I shouldn't have pushed her, especially not on her first night back in town. But the last ten years folded in on themselves. Anger, heartbreak, the goddamn ache that’s been living behind my ribs since the day she left, it burns hotter than it has in years.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. I should’ve kept my mouthshut and played nice, but instead, I went in at full throttle. I don’t know how to do anything else with her.
We didn’t give each other pieces, we let ourselves go in head first.
Opening my eyes, I watch the ceiling fan spin in lazy, lopsided circles.
God, I’m so fucked.
I may as well be twenty-one again, standing in her parent’s driveway, watching her drive away, because here I am, ten years later, still standing in the ashes of it, still waiting for another shot.
I just don’t know if it’s too late.
5
EMMA
I watch through the window until the taillights disappear down the dirt road. I’d known seeing Alex again would feel like getting punched in the throat by my own teenage mistakes, butactuallyseeing him was somehow much worse.
Clenching my hands into fists, I stuff them into my jacket pockets in the hopes of stopping them from shaking, but it somehow makes it worse. I’m about two seconds away from coming completely undone in this dusty old house.
The house groans around me as if the old bones are settling. The floorboards let out a moan under my feet, like no one has walked on them in years, and they probably haven’t. The air is thick and stale as the clouds of dust spin circles in the soft porch light filtering through the front window. A chill takes over my body, making me wonder if this place has ever known warmth.
I fumble for the lightswitch, flicking it on to reveal a small, cluttered foyer with moving boxes stacked haphazardly, forming an obstacle course for me to navigate through.
I’d considered leaving all my belongings in storage in New York, telling myself that this situation was only temporary and I would be returning in a couple months. But denial only lastedso long. The move back to Windhaven is no longer a fleeting detour. It’s my reality, no matter what I try to tell myself.
I know there’s a possibility that I will never return to my old life in the city. That I will eventuallydiehere, in Windhaven.
Life always goes full circle.
With that lovely realization, I’d sold most of my belongings and had all my non-negotiables shipped to Windhaven before I’d arrived. Now I’m here, staring at my very own personal haunted house, wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. My thoughts betray me, circling back to Alex. The look he gave me tonight was the same look the boyish version of him I knew years ago always had. One that says he sees straight through the walls I’ve spent the last decade—even my entire life—reinforcing.
Alex and I have history, and lots of it.
He’s always been around, always been close to my brothers. He’s been Cam’s best friend for longer than I can remember. He’s helped Leo with the house and land ever since Mom passed. When Frankie was apprenticing at a tattoo shop, Alex gave him a job at the bar so he could make some extra cash.
I didn’t always hate him, though.
Sure, he was the bane of my existence when we were kids. He was the boy who would tug on my ponytails and make fun of my too-big-for-my-face glasses. He lived to irritate me, and I spent an embarrassing amount of time plotting ways to get back at him. Cam, of course, thought that his best friend tormenting his little sister was hilarious.
I wasn’t oblivious to his perfect face or how his body filled out faster than all the other boys in our high school. I also wasn’t oblivious to how every single girl would start blushing and giggling if Alex even looked in their direction.
