Wearing black skinny jeans and a tight blue tank-top that shows a good amount of cleavage, my hair is up in a high ponytail, long bangs framing my face. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen me with all of my tattoos yet, either. Both of my arms have a full sleeve of colorful ink, and I’ve filled out a lot since he last saw me. Whether he’s seen pictures of me via Logan or social media, I have no idea.
The flash of irritation that comes over Rowan’s face next is so quick, I almost miss it before he quickly masks it with his infamous, signature bright as fuck smile.
“Hey, Sunshine.”
My heart thuds to a stop. Narrowing my eyes, I press my lips together in an effort not to rip my brother a new one for this unexpected surprise.
Taking a deep audible breath in, I spin on my heel, calmly walk through the kitchen and out the back door.
SeeingRowan on the big screen is one thing, but seeing him in the flesh for the first time in fifteen years is throwing my head into a tailspin. Somehow I’d managed to convince myself that he wouldn’t look as good in person as he does in his movies.
Boy was I wrong. He looks even better. In fact, better doesn’t even begin to cut it.
The man is fucking delicious.
I need air. Space. Something to calm the hurricane of emotions whipping through every cell of my now overheated body.
The cool night breeze hits my face as I step outside, heartbeat thundering in my ears as I stride across the manicured lawn.
“Lizzy, wait!” Sasha calls after me, but I can’t find it in me to respond.
The path down to the lake is beautiful at night. Small solar lights embedded in the ground illuminate the way like a runway of stars. I follow them, my mind a jumbled mess of memories and shock.
Rowan.
The same boy who broke my heart when we were twelve, then again when we were eighteen. The same boy who grew into a man I barely recognize, standing in Jax’s living room looking like some kind of Greek god.
And he called me Sunshine. I haven’t heard that nickname in ages.
When I finally reach the shore, I kick off my boots and sink down onto the cool sand. The lake stretches out before me, a vast expanse of darkness under the light of the moon, its reflection rippling across the glassy surface.
Pulling my legs up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them, letting the gentle lap of water against the shore calm my racing heart.
A couple of minutes later, I hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching before Sasha and Noia each take a seat on either side of me.
“You okay?” Sasha asks gently.
Noia leans in slightly. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Are you sure?” I let out a long sigh, watching the moonlight dance on the water. “It’s a lot.”
“Of course we’re sure,” Sasha says firmly, bumping her shoulder against mine.
Before I know it, fifteen years of turmoil are pouring out of me. I tell them about the treehouse kiss, how Rowan’s parents died, and how he vanished from my life without a word.
“I was devastated,” I admit, cracking my knuckles.
I describe my goth phase, the fighting, the therapy—all the ways I tried to process my feelings of abandonment. Then I tell them about how Rowan came back halfway through our senior year.
“God, he was so different. Not really mean per se, but... cold, distant. Closed off. Nothing like the sweet boy I used to know. Not to mention hot as fuck, which only made it worse.”
I shake my head with a self-deprecating grin. “I had to stand by and watch as he spent most of the school year plowing his way through half the cheerleading squad before he finally picked one. Michelle Withers. I’m not sure what he saw in her. Then, on prom night, everything changed.”
“What happened?” Sasha asks, leaning back on her palms and crossing her ankles.
Resting my chin on my knees, I finish my story.
twelve
