“My tough, silent bodyguard,” I needle Ren. “Do you like chocolate? What’s your favorite food? Color? If we’re spending so much time together, we should get to know each other, don’t you think?”
He snorts and shakes his head, his lips moving silently.
“What are you mouthing? I can’t read lips. Are you saying I’m your ray of sunshine? That you’re overcome with a need to tell me everything so I can get out of your hair?”
A smile tugs at my lips as I watch him heave an exasperated sigh, his pace quickening as we weave through the crowds toward our destination.
I take in the quaint storefronts, their awnings thick with snow. Construction noise from the next block over interrupts the quiet.
It’s bittersweet, being back here so many years later after Kian disappeared.
Some things have changed—the new shops, the hip condos popping up—but a lot has stayed the same. There’s still an air of melancholy, a vibe of historic decay in the neighborhood, like it has seen too many losses.
Twenty years ago, a devastating fire burned down half of Saints Hollow.
It was also when my relationship with Kian abruptly ended.
I had returned to New York because Dad had come down with pneumonia. Kian and I were long distance, but I planned to go to college in Chicago to be near him.
Panic seized my chest when I saw the news about the fire. I emailed Kian because he didn’t have a cell phone. He never replied. I scoured newspapers online for weeks afterward, pored over obituaries, called hospitals after cheer practice, desperate for news of him and his family.
Then I finally saw, among the list of casualties, his parents’ and baby sister’s names.
My heart shattered. I was inconsolable. Dad and my brothers even asked their contacts in the city to locate Kian or Sofia.
Nothing.
Those were dark times—tears were my constant companion at night after I played the role of a dutiful daughter during the day.
I missed the boy with a beautiful face, bleached blond hair, and warm green eyes.
Until one day, I got an emerald pendant in the mail.
Theemerald pendant.
He was alive.
But there was no note, no explanation. It was a farewell.
Over the years, the same questions haunted me.
What happened to him? Why did he disappear without a trace?
I thought he loved me.
Eventually, I tried to move on. I dated guys here and there, but those relationships never lasted more than a few months. Tanner, the guy I was with the longest—four whopping long months—ghosted me the summer of my junior year in college. Everyone else was more or less the same. Excuses about being too busy. About being intimidated by my brothers.
No one would stay. They’d all vanish. Sometimes, late at night, when the city sounds quieted and my apartment felt all too lonely, I’d wonder.
Is it me? Am I not good enough to make them stay?
A car swerves in my direction, shocking me out of my thoughts.
Tires screech and burning rubber permeates the air. A scream shoots up my throat.
Ren curses. He grabs my waist and shoves me against the brick wall. The impact jolts the air out of my lungs. Pain explodes across my back. Daylight swirls in my vision.
A black car speeds away, gawking onlookers pointing at it.
