Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

PROLOGUE

The brisk rush of air works as an anxiety suppressant, lowering my body temperature and solidifying my state of alert. I’d still be going downhill if I stayed inside, suffocating in that sea of dancing bodies. The crazy lights swirling around the club are gone, and the deafening music is now muffled by the back exit of the building. It was getting too loud and overwhelming, too much for me to take.

I hate nights like this when the anxiety creeps in at the most inopportune moments. For the past few years, I’ve been nothing but focused on finishing my degree and starting work as a doctor. I knew staying busy was the only way to keep going, and it has worked so far. It’s like every time I treat myself with any kind of leisure, Karma comes knocking on my door to yell, “Not tonight, bitch!”

All I know at this point is that life is miserable. While I know my coping mechanisms throughout the years haven’t always been the healthiest, I had hoped that by now, things would be better. Besides being close to finishing my master’s degree and starting residency, I often ask myself, what am I even here for? Because nothing else makes sense.

Not without her.

I must be stupid to have thought tonight would be different from all other nights, where copious amounts of alcohol helped me take my mind off…her. Today would have been our eighth anniversary, and going through it sober is torture.

“Fuck, no,” I grit to the emptiness of the dimly lit alley. “No thinking about this. She doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

It’s no fun, though. School is different. The assignments I am completing throughout the beginning of the residency are giving me little to no time to wallow in my shit—thankfully. In a way, not having time to remember the past has made me feel better. Like she isn’t the centre of the universe anymore.

But nights like these…

It’s not the same. The loud music, thumping rhythms, and sweaty bodies are not strong enough to keep her out of my mind. And it’s frustrating as hell that the few moments I have some free time to have fun, she comes crawling back all over again. Not only that, she’s a plague on my brain, body, heart, and soul.

Fuck, it still hurts as much as that damn day. When she left with no word or explanation. Not even a fucking goodbye.

Sometimes, if I focus too hard, I can still smell her flowery scent. It used to calm my heart and rebellious soul. Her soft eyes are engraved in my mind, tearing at the pain even more. They used to be so full of love and affection, and it filled me up so much. But now? It just eats me alive.

Every now and then, when I wake up groggy from exhaustion or hangovers, I can still feel her silky chocolate waves against my face and hands from when we had fallen asleep after long study sessions. My heart still skips a beat if someone looks remotely similar to her. Even if, deep down, I know it won’t ever happen again.

She made the choice to disappear from my life without a word. I won’t be the one to search for her either. Notanymore.

All the time I wasted begging my parents for help, and all the times I chased Jacob around with the hopes of getting somewhere. A word, just a “she’s fine” or a “here, you can have her number.” But nothing.

Fucking nothing.

The whole family closed as tight as clams and shut me out, aiding her in the pain she caused. She not only broke my heart, she also had her family step on it until it withered away to ashes.

“Why are you here alone with such a cool party raging inside?” The sultry feminine voice that sounds behind me makes me turn around.

The first word that comes to mind: hot. Golden-tanned skin and subtly muscled legs and arms. She’s wearing a short sparkling-silver dress, giving me a decent view of her full cleavage. Her dark hair is locked behind her head in an updo, showing off her slender shoulders and long neck.

With hooded hazel eyes and plump lips, the girl is gorgeous. Not the sweet and gentle kind of beautiful she was. But still very attractive.

“Just needed a breather,” I tell her, keeping my armour intact.

I’ve given up on telling anybody what’s going on inside me. People never understand, especially because most have never found a love like this—one that’s strong and all-consuming.

It’s always the same old talk of “time heals everything” and the most common “you’ll get through it.” It’s all a fucking lie. After all of these years, I haven’t gotten over it—especially not over her. There hasn’t been anyone who caught my attention or made me forget her for more than a few crazy hours of hot sex.

She broke me for everyone else, and now I’m doomed to carry this pain all by myself. She’s out there somewhere—possibly having found another man to keep her happy, and she’ll have forgotten all about me.

“It’s a shame that such a handsome guy is out here, all alone…”

She trails off with a tilt of her head and arms crossed over her chest, pushing those tempting breasts up and making them pop. She’s beautiful, and even though I know she doesn’t stand a chance in the long run, maybe I could try and have some fun—get my mind off of her.

With a new goal set for tonight, I flash her one of my best dazzling smiles. I was never cocky about my looks, but over the years, I’ve noticed the effect I have on women. And with how misguided I have been ever since she left, I admit I’ve often used it to my advantage.

There’s no misleading here, though. I’ve been direct with every woman I’ve been with, making it clear about what I want, and there has never been a problem with it.

“Why don’t you keep me company, then?” I beckon her to me.

Her breath hitches right before my eyes, and her teeth press against her lower lip as she considers my offer. I can’t help but think of how sexy this expression looks on her, how big the urge is to release that lip and bite it myself.

The girl before me seems to have made up her mind as her long, toned legs finally move, slowly walking towards me with hips swaying rhythmically. I know, right here and now, I’ve got her.

Is it presumptuous of me? Yes. Am I ashamed of it? Maybe if this girl was her instead, I would. But right now, with this desperate need to get rid of this torment eating me alive, I don’t care. If I have to use my looks for an escape once more…I will.

I lean against the wall, and she mirrors my position against the railing in front of me.

“Now, what brought you out here to the point of having you curse to yourself?”

Wow.I guess she was here for longer than I realised. Still, I don’t let my mask waver.

“Nothing to be worried about.”

I give her a small smile, and she nods, understanding my unwillingness to talk.

Good, because there’s no way we’re talking about this.

“I’ve never seen you around. Are you from here?” Her bold hand rises and starts teasing the top buttons of my white shirt.

She is interested.

I let her play with them and smirk back, which she takes as a sign be even more forward, unbuttoning the top two and exposing a little bit of my chest. To be honest, it feels good to have her touch me and talk to me.

The perfect distraction.

“Not really,” I answer honestly with a shrug of my shoulders. “I moved here for college five years ago.”

Her eyes widen, and I use the moment to watch her intently. They are warm and inviting like melted caramel, and her skin is flawless. A light slap on my arm wakes me from my hazy session.

“What? No way,” she exclaims playfully. “I am starting college here, too. Which one do you go to?”

Starting? No wonder she looks younger than me.

“Porto’s Medicine Faculty,” I answer.

“Oh!” Her whole face lights up, and my stomach coils with her reaction. “That’s close to mine. I am taking translation and literature. What year are you?”

I need this, and I should want this, so why do I feel guilty for giving this girl the time of day? It has been like this with everyone else. I haven’t been able to feel the same—or more—ever since.

But if I don’t push against this, against the shadow of her, I will never move on.

So, I answer her question, “Entering the last year of my master’s degree. Currently finishing up my thesis while I start my residency.”

Curiosity is visible in her eyes and body language as she takes a step closer and asks, “Well, which speciality are you choosing after the residency?”

“Cardiology, I think.” I shrug my shoulder, still not exactly certain which way to go.

“So, you’re what, twenty-four?”

“No, I finished high school a year early, so twenty-three.” I try to contain the pride that threatens to drip off my voice. “You?”

“Nineteen, almost twenty.” She smiles seductively, not showing any signs of being intimidated by me being a little older.

“Quite bold of you to strike up a conversation with a stranger in a dark and empty rooftop,” I tease, my hand lifting slowly to grab a strand that fell free from her updo and lock it behind her ear.

“I had my eyes on you from the moment you walked into the building. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Yeah?” I breathe out, stepping even closer. “Seizing the moment, are we?”

She chuckles, and from up close, I can see the glistening skin of her chest rising with every breath. She looks slightly dishevelled but in a good way. Her hair has a few wild pieces sticking out. She must have been hot from dancing for a while. Without being able to control myself, my index finger shamelessly grazes along her collarbone towards her shoulder, where her dress strap has fallen to her arm. Carefully, I slide my finger under it and drag the fabric back up where it should be.

This captivating girl in front of me shivers but doesn’t attempt to move away from my touch. Instead, she gifts me a seductive smile, and I suddenly feel like I’ve had enough small talk.

“You’re smooth.” She chuckles. “At least tell me your name.”

“Liam,” I whisper, moving closer to her as my hand sits on her neck.

Her skin prickles under my touch as goosebumps spread across her skin, and a light blush settles on her cheeks. She’s not afraid to call me out on my shameless attitude. I know what I want, and I’ve never been afraid to show it. And yet, she responds immediately to every touch or word of mine.

Subtly, but I can see she wants this as much as I do.

Maybe for different reasons, but the goal is the same tonight.

“That’s a good name.”

“Right?” I grin while tilting her chin up. “And yours?”

“Johanna.”

“Hmm, Johanna,” I muse, my lips grazing hers.

She shudders under my hold, and the moment my free arm wraps around her waist, her body moulds into mine, hands splaying across my chest as if she magically has lost the strength in her legs.

“I like hearing you say my name,” she whispers back, her white teeth biting on those tempting lips again.

“How about we find out the different ways we can say each other’s names?”

“Sounds good to me,” she answers in a sensual tone.

It’s all the confirmation I need. As soon as the words roll off her tongue, I crash my mouth against hers.

Here’s to forgetting.