The following story contains mature themes, strong language and explicit scenes, and is intended for mature readers.

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Prologue

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You were everything to me, and then you broke my heart.

But I think that part was inevitable. We were destined to love each other. That's fair, isn't it, Hayden? At least that's the way it was for me. I don't think I ever had a choice, really, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, all those years ago.

Sure, I didn't know it back then, but that doesn't make my love any less real. The truth is, you've fascinated me since I was ten years old.

I once told you that, remember? And you smiled at me with those amber eyes of yours and asked if I meant fascinating, like how a weird bug is fascinating, and my heart ached at wanting to make you understand just how much I loved you. How much you meant to me.

How much I still love you.

Things could have been so different, Hayden, if you would have just let me in when I asked the first time.

If you had given us a chance.

If you hadn't left after the accident.

Maybe, just maybe, you'll let me in this time around. We're older and wiser. Things have happened that even the best of intentions can't erase. But some things haven't changed. Our hearts still understand one another. The distance and the silence hasn't changed that.

Some love stories are simple.

But ours never was.

Hayden

Hayden, 11

It's hard to forget the day you're saved.

I remember it like it was yesterday; the wind howling in the trees, the sound of heavy rainfall against the tin roof of my uncle's shabby car.

"They've offered me a job," he had told me. "We'll get a place to stay, too."

But the house at the end of the driveway isn't like any house I've ever seen. It's a mansion. A white, sprawling porch wraps around the front, visible even in the darkness.

"We're going to live there?"

"No, there's a house down by the beach where we'll live."

"They have their own beach house?"

I can hear the weariness in my uncle's voice. "Yes. Don't make this difficult."

I shrug and turn away from him. I've been nothing but easy. Five moves in the past two years, with five different schools, too. I was the poster child for easy.

I haven't seen much of Paradise Shores so far, but one thing is clear-this is a rich place. People like us don't stay here, not for long.

"They have children," my uncle urges. "Mr. Marchand said he had sons. They should be about your age, I think."

"Uh-huh."

"This will be good. It'll give us some stability."

"Yeah."

Gary blows out a frustrated sigh. "I'm doing the best I can here, kid."

"I know." I bite out the following words, bitter in my mouth. "Thank you."

One day, I won't need to thank anyone. I'll be as rich and as famous as those stars on television, on social media, who could go anywhere and do anything. I'll own a house like this myself.

"Come on. We can't stay out here forever." Gary puts the car in drive and rolls up the wide driveway. His left knee is bouncing.

Gary isn't usually nervous. I lean forward and try to get a good look at the house. It's at least three stories with white, wooden paneling. It has blue double-doors and the porch is flanked by well-maintained flower beds. It looks like a house from a commercial, the ones with golden retrievers and blond children with happy smiles.

"Are you really sure this is it?"

Gary scoffs. "Yes, I'm sure, kid."

The front door opens. A tall man stands silhouetted against the light, a child standing to his right. He has a hand on her head.

"Gary?" he calls. "Is that you?"

My uncle swears and pulls his jacket up around his ears. He's buzzing with nervous energy.

"Stay here," he tells me and steps out into the rain. It wets his thin bomber jacket and makes his brown hair stick to his head. It's so different from my ink-black hair, the color from my father's side. It's the only feature I share with him, although he hasn't been around lately for me to double-check.

I watch as he talks with the man, this Mr. Marchand. The girl at his side is peering out into the rain. She can't see me, not through this darkness and the rain. Besides, Gary always tints his car windows.