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Five, ten…fifty? More?

Damn it. I needed to stop this ridiculousness.

Maybe speeding up my cleaning would slow down my thoughts. So I opened the bedroom closet, which was a mess of stuff thrown over the bar and haphazardly hung up, and started ripping things out. The top shelf had piles of sweaters and sweatshirts that had probably once been folded but were now a disheveled mess. I pushed up on my tippy toes and scooped out an armful at a time. On my third reach, I went for the last stack and my hand hit something hard.

A shoebox.

A lump formed in my throat as I shook it and confirmed there definitely weren’t shoes inside. I stood with it in my hands, telling myself I wasn’t going to open it. Wasn’t going to snoop. Wasn’t going to be one of those women. But who was I kidding? There wasn’t enough duct tape in the world to stop me from opening it.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and slid the top off.

Rafe smiled up at me from a glossy photo.

He was younger, tanned, and wearing a pair of his signature jeans with rips and holes and no shirt. His arm was slung around a brunette in a tiny dress. I should’ve put the photo right back and pulled the knife out of my heart while it was still beating. But instead, I reached for another photo.

Rafe and a blonde wearing a bikini top.

Rafe on a motorcycle with two girls on the back.

Rafe at a party with a beer in one hand and a redhead in the other. His smile was so carefree and happy.

The knot in my stomach tightened as I kept going. Different women. Different nights. Same smiling Rafe.

Of course he was popular. Look at him. He was a triple threat: handsome, charming, and confident. And then there was the whole passionate artist thing. I remembered the first time I’d gone to see him do his show, the way the women had circled, closing in around him and whispering as they watched.

And now he was in Vegas.

Alone.

Twenty-five hundred miles away.

But Rafe wouldn’t cheat. He wasn’t like that.

Then again…neither was I. If I could cheat, anyone could. If I was capable of blowing up lives, of hurting a man who had been nothing but good to me… I’m sure Rafe wouldn’t do it intentionally. Lord knows I hadn’t, right?

I dropped the photos back into the box and shoved it up on the shelf. Then I quickly folded a pile of sweaters and put them on top so I couldn’t see it anymore. The rest of the contents of the closet went back in place in record time, and I returned to cleaning for another hour, the grimy work this time. Bathroom tiles, the toilet, the tiny spaces around the faucet. I scrubbed the grout on the floor on all fours until my knees ached. But no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t rid myself of the pain in my chest.

The hallway had a bookshelf crammed with hardcovers. I picked up each one, dusted it, and reorganized them by size. The bottom shelf had a hodgepodge of textbooks, the photo albums Rafe and I had gone through, a box of art supplies, and a yearbook.

Without thinking, I flipped it open. The inside cover and first few pages were covered in notes from his friends. Somehow, I managed not to read them, even though a quick scan told me there were more messages from girls than boys.

I carried it to the couch and smiled at some of the comments he’d written over the teachers’ photos.

Gave me a B+ in art because he’s jealous I’m better than him.

Legend says he’s still waiting for my homework to be turned in.

Most likely to start a story with “Back in my day…”

100% owns a sword.

I laughed at the last one, feeling lighter than I had in hours.

Then I turned the page.

And my eyes met a picture of Rafe and Calder. They were standing arm in arm, both shirtless with letters painted on their bodies—an A and an O—and smiling from ear to ear.

My throat grew tight. I swallowed and flipped the page, anxious to put the photo behind me, but soon I found another of the two of them together. On the senior trip, arms raised as they sat next to each other on a rollercoaster at some amusement park. Then another with Calder dressed as a woman, frowning, while Rafe stood next to him with a grin so big it looked like his face might split. Them standing together in tuxedoes, smiling at each other instead of their prom dates.