"You're here, you're here, oh my God?—"
"Missed you too, Gracie."
She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, and looks at me with those pale blue eyes that haven't changed since we were eleven and she was the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn't alone in this town.
Gracelynn Ashford. Still beautiful. Still kind. Still the closest thing to a sister I've ever had.
Which makes her brother that much harder to understand.
Don't think about him.
"You look amazing." She swipes at her tears with the back of her hand. "I mean, tired. And you've definitely lost weight. But there's this?—"
"Gracie."
"What? I'm complimenting you!" Her grin breaks through the tears, and for a second we're twelve again. Sneaking out to the quarry. Stealing her mom's wine coolers at sixteen. Promising we'd be best friends until we died.
Some promises, you keep.
"Tell meeverything." She grabs my hands. "How was the flight? How long are you staying? Say forever. Please say forever."
"I don't know yet." The weight of it presses down on my chest. "I need a job. An apartment. Need to figure out what civilian life looks like."
"Okay, first of all, you're not staying in some apartment." She says it like the word is an insult. "You're staying with me."
"Gracie—"
"The guest house. On the estate." She steamrolls right over me. "It's empty. Two bedrooms, full kitchen, totally private. You won't have to see anyone if you don't want to."
The words hit me like ice water.
The guest house.
On the estate.
Onhisproperty.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Her brow furrows, genuinely confused. "It's perfect. Close to your parents. Close to me. No rent while you figure things out."
The downside stands six-two with pale blue eyes and a smile that never reaches them.
The downside iswhyI joined the Army in the first place.
"I should find my own place."
"The guest houseisyour own place." She squeezes my hands, and her face does the thing it's been doing since we were eleven. The pleading. The hope. The absolute certainty that I'll say yes because I always say yes.
"Libby. I haven't seen you in two years. I've barely seen you in eight. I need my best friend back. Please."
My chest aches.
I want to tell her.
Want to explain why the thought of sleeping on Ashford land makes my skin crawl, why her brother's name feels like a hand closing around my throat.
But how do you tell your best friend that her brother is the reason you fled?
