1WILLA
THREE YEARS AGO…
The champagne bubbles tickledmy nose as I tipped back the plastic cup, giggling at how sophisticated I was trying to look with my graduation cap sitting crooked on my head. The college auditorium buzzed with the energy of five hundred newly minted graduates and their families, but all I could focus on was Kieran Cross, visible through the open doors as he leaned against the brick wall outside, his dark suit jacket slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Will, you’re staring,” Jude said, nudging my ribs with his elbow. “And drooling a little.”
“Shut up.” I elbowed him back, but I was laughing. “I wasn’t staring. I was…observing.”
“Right. Observing.” My brother grinned, that crooked smile that made him look younger than his twenty-four years. “The same way you’d been ‘observing’ him since you were seventeen?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I have not?—”
“Willa Winslow, I may be your brother, but I’m not blind.” Jude tugged my graduation cap down over my eyes, the way he did since we were kids in the system. “You’ve had it bad for my best friend for years.”
Jude always knew—he could read people, just like my dad. And he even looked like him. He had the same tall frame, the ash-brown hair that never stayed put no matter how often it was trimmed, and those same deep green eyes I remembered from old photographs. There was almost nothing I could hide from someone who had spent a lifetime watching me reach for things I pretended I didn’t want.
I pushed the cap back up, trying to look dignified even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “Can we please focus on the fact that I just graduated from college? You know, the thing we never thought would happen when we were bouncing between foster homes?”
His expression softened immediately.
“Hey.” He pulled me into one of his bear hugs, the kind that made me feel safe when I was fifteen and the world had just fallen apart. “Mom and Dad would have been so proud of you tonight. You know that, right?”
The familiar ache settled in my chest at the mention of our parents, gone seven years now in a car accident that still felt surreal. But that night, surrounded by celebration and possibility, the pain felt more like a gentle bruise than a gaping wound.
“They would have been proud of you too,” I whispered against his shoulder. “Taking care of me all these years, making sure I didn’t drop out when things got hard.”
“That’s what family does.” He pulled back to look at me, his blue eyes serious. “We take care of each other. Always.”
I nodded because it was true. After our parents died, Jude could have let social services split us up. He could have focused on his own life instead of fighting to keep custody of his teenage sister, and he had every right to walk away. But he didn’t. He worked two jobs and took night classes, making sure I had everything I needed to finish my studies
He was my protector, my constant, my anchor through foster homes and teenage rebellion and late-night study sessions.
Jude reached into his pocket and handed me a key.
“Keep this safe for me, Will,” he said, his expression more serious than I ever saw it. The key rested in my palm, old brass dulled with age, its weight heavier than it looked. “Guard it with your life. Promise me.”
“What’s it for?” I asked, though I knew. I always knew.
“Everything that proved we were more than what happened to us. Everything that said we came from love, even if we lost it too soon. Everything that should remind you of the family you always have.”
My tears stung my eyes as I held the key close to my heart, wishing it could carry my hug all the way up to my parents above. Then, reverently, I slid it into the pocket of my dress, keeping it as near to me as possible.
Jude glanced over my shoulder toward the wall where Kieran was waiting, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Speaking of family,” Jude said with a half-grin, “our honorary family member looks like he’s getting impatient.”
I turned to look, and my breath caught.
Kieran pushed himself off the brick wall with that fluid grace that made other guys our age look like they were still figuring out how their limbs worked. At twenty-four, he carried himself with a confidence that seemed impossible for someone who grew up the way we did.
Maybe that was exactly why he moved through the world like he owned it. Maybe growing up with nothing made you hungrier for everything.
“We should head over,” I said, trying to sound casual. “He’s been waiting for us.”
“He’s been waiting for you,” Jude said. “Pretty sure I’m just his excuse to be here.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that, Jude was already walking toward Kieran, leaving me to follow. My heels clicked against the concrete as I hurried to catch up, and I was suddenly hyper aware of everything—the way my dress moved against my legs, the cool evening air on my bare shoulders, the sound of laughter and conversation echoing off the campus buildings around us.
