The door opens, and she steps inside. Eyes full of concern, she comes over to sit beside me on the bed. The comforting aroma of her familiar perfume hits my nose, instantly helping me to relax.
“I know this all comes as a shock,” she says softly. “But Rowan has been through so much. He needs us right now.”
“I get it,” I mutter, twisting my fist in my comforter. “I just... why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?”
Mom tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Logan only brought it to our attention last week, and we weren’t sure if it would even be possible. The international paperwork, becoming his legal guardians... We didn’t want to upset you if it fell through. We also didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”
I nod and stare out the window. “Does he even want to come back here? To live with us?”
“Logan says he does.” She pauses, studying my face. “Honey, I know you two had some kind of falling out before he left, but?—”
“It wasn’t a falling out,” I snap, immediately regretting my tone. “Sorry. It’s just... he cut himself off from me completely. Logan got phone calls and emails, but I got nothing.”
“Maybe this is a chance to clear the air? Ask him why hechose not to keep in contact with you?” Her eyes are full of hope, which makes me feel guilty and selfish for freaking out.
“Yeah, maybe.” I force a smile I don’t feel. “I should get back to my homework.”
She kisses my forehead. “Try to get some sleep too, honey. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
six
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
I don’t sleepa wink all night, tossing and turning until my sheets are twisted around my legs. By the time the sun is cracking over the horizon, I’ve given up.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed with my sketchbook, I furiously draw a series of dark, jagged lines that somehow form the shape of a face I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
The rumble of the car pulling into our driveway around four in the afternoon makes my stomach drop.
Slamming my sketchbook shut, I toss it under my bed and snatch a book from my nightstand instead. Maybe if I just ignore what’s going on downstairs, I can avoid this whole awkward reunion for a little while longer.
The front door slams with a bang, reverberating the floorboards.
My heart pounds when I hear voices downstairs. Dad’s deep, rumbling laugh, Logan’s excited chatter, followed by another baritone voice I don’t recognize.
Despite dreading this moment for the last twenty-fourhours, nothing could have prepared me for the reality of knowing Rowan is in my house, right downstairs.
“Hey, Lizzy! We’re back!” Logan’s voice calls up the stairs.
My heart stutters in my chest as I set my book aside. For a split second, I consider pretending I don’t hear them, but that would only delay the inevitable.
Taking a deep breath, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand on wobbly legs. The walk to my bedroom door feels like an eternity.
Each step feels heavier than the last. I can hear them talking in the living room, their voices growing louder with every step I take, gripping the railing like it’s the only thing that’ll keep me upright.
Finally, I round the corner.
Holy. Shit.
Unable to form words, much less any rational thought, I stand frozen as I take Rowan in from head to toe. The boy I once knew is gone. In his place stands a man who makes my mouth water.
Broad shoulders fill out his faded black T-shirt in a way that should be considered illegal. He looks like a model on the cover of a magazine with his perfectly worn jeans.
His arms—Jesus, where has he been working out? Planet ‘We Make Men Into Gods’ Fitness?—are stretching the sleeves of his shirt to capacity. His hair, still that same tousled caramel-brown, is purposefully styled in a casual, sexy mess.
When I finally drag my eyes back up to his face, he’s looking at me, full lips lifted in a cocky smirk. Hazel eyes, void of the spark I once knew, burn into mine, sending heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Hey, Iz.” His voice is like warm honey—deep, rich, and sexy as hell.
