Mine to Fear (The Heart Remembers #1)

Chapter 1

THREE YEARS AGO…

The champagne bubbles tickled my 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.

“There she is,” Kieran said when we reached him. He flashed that effortless, gorgeous smile, and his voice stirred something in me that had no business stirring.. “The college graduate. How does it feel?”

“Terrifying,” I admitted, because honesty was always easier with Kieran than with anyone else. “Like I’m supposed to be an adult now, but it still feels like I’m playing dress-up.”

His mouth curved into that half-smile that had undone me for years. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

The way he said it, like he actually believed in me, made something flutter low in my stomach. But this was dangerous territory. Off-limits territory.

Kieran Cross was my brother’s best friend since they were both seventeen and living in the same group home.

He ate at our table more nights than I could count, fell asleep on our couch, and helped me with calculus homework when Jude worked late.

Now Jude and Kieran were building something together, a tech startup that was finally starting to take off.

He’d always been family. Except family didn’t make you feel like your skin was too tight and your heart was trying to escape through your throat.

“We should celebrate,” Jude said, loosening his tie. He wore his only good suit that night. The navy one with the small stain on the sleeve he thought no one noticed.

“The startup’s finally profitable, Willa just graduated, and I’m thinking about—” He paused, glancing at Kieran. “Well, we’ll talk about my news later. Tonight’s about you. Kieran, you coming with us?”

“Of course.” Kieran smiled at me. I smiled back, warmth spreading through my chest.

We ended up at a small Italian place just off campus, the kind with low lighting and mismatched chairs that felt more intimate than celebratory. Jude insisted on paying, despite my protests, sliding his card across the table like this was something he’d been looking forward to for years.

“To Willa,” he said, lifting his glass. “For surviving everything that tried to take her out before she ever got here.”

Kieran raised his glass too, his expression soft, his eyes on me with admiration.

“To Willa,” he echoed. “For finishing what she started.”

I laughed, a little embarrassed, a little overwhelmed.

“You made it sound so dramatic.”

“It was,” Jude said simply. “You don’t get to downplay this.”

Dinner unfolded easily after that. Jude talked about the startup, about meetings that ran too long and clients who expected miracles.

Then he mentioned, almost in passing, how he’d been thinking more and more about joining the military.

I wasn’t surprised. That desire to protect—so instinctive, so steady—had always run deep in him.

Kieran listened more than he spoke, nodding at the right moments, occasionally offering a dry comment that made Jude snort into his drink. It felt normal in the best way—familiar, safe, like a version of family I never stopped needing.

Every so often, I caught Kieran watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Not staring, but attentive, something like he was taking inventory of who I’d become. When our eyes met, he’d look away first, jaw tightening, as if reminding himself of rules he’d written long before tonight.

When dessert arrived, Jude excused himself to take a call outside, leaving Kieran and me alone at the table. The space between us felt louder without Jude there, charged in a way I couldn’t quite name.

“You should be proud of yourself,” Kieran said quietly. “College isn’t easy. Not with everything you’ve carried.”

“Neither was growing up,” I said. “But we did that too.”

Something flickered across his face—pride, regret, maybe both. He smiled faintly, like he was remembering something only he and I knew. “Yeah,” he said. “We did.”

Jude returned sooner than expected, cheerful but a little distracted by some news, and insisted we head home. I got to my feet, but part of me still wanted to stay, like the conversation between us wasn’t finished yet.

The night air hit us as we stepped outside, cooler now, calmer, the campus lights glowing like small constellations around us.

“Hey, man, why don’t you come by our place for a bit?” Jude said, glancing between us.

Kieran hesitated, his dark eyes finding mine across the space between us. There was something in his expression that made my breath catch, something that looked almost like longing before he blinked it away.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head home,” he said, but his gaze didn’t leave my face.

That should have been the end of it. That should have been where we all went our separate ways, like we did a thousand times before. But something shifted in the air between us that night, something electric and dangerous that made me feel reckless.

“I’ll walk with you,” I heard myself say. “I need to clear my head before tomorrow.”