The Chance of You (Sapphire Creek #3)

Prologue

NATE

Ten years ago…

The crickets chirp with a soft prelude as the old metal gate squeaks open and then closes behind me. The scent of fresh-cut grass fills every jagged breath.

Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I retrace the countless steps I’ve taken along the same path over the years. This might just be another old high school football field to some, but this place has always brought me peace.

Except now.

Tonight, it does nothing to ease the brewing storm in my chest.

The weight of leaving tomorrow settles on my shoulders, dragging down my muscles worse than any workout I’ve endured. I’ve tried to fight it for weeks, but my time is up.

The only person that offers even an ounce of reprieve lies flat on her back at the top of the bleachers ahead. She’s staring at the evening sky. A few stars are visible beyond the pastel strokes of yellows and pinks as the sun descends beyond the faraway horizon.

That section of the bleachers has always been her favorite spot in town. Only during my games did she sit in the front, her ass on the edge of the seat while I hustled across the field, my pads and uniform heavy.

But when I’d find her in the stands, I’d instantly feel like I was floating.

I climb the cement stairs two at a time, and my frown slowly curls upward into a smile for the first time all day.

Maren Clayton has the unique ability to instill peace in my soul, and she doesn’t even have to say a word. It’s been her superpower since we were seven, and I helped her save a baby turtle crossing the street in front of our houses.

That was the day we upgraded our relationship from mere neighbors to best friends. Then our freshman year, I asked her to the homecoming dance, where I confessed how ridiculously in love with her I am.

I was surprised when she said she loved me too. She’s told me she loves me every day since. What does she even see in me?

The top bleacher creaks under my sneaker, but Maren doesn’t stir.

She remains lying still, like she’s asleep, her long chestnut hair flowing on either side of her head.

Her cutoff jean shorts rise high on her slender thighs, and her faded T-shirt is wrinkled in one corner, likely from having it tucked into the waistband. It’s how she normally wears it.

Her smooth skin is sun kissed from our days at the river, lying on the roof of my Jeep, and working part-time at the snow cone stand in the park. It’s been a summer wrapped in each other.

I lean down and secure my lips over hers, our heads upside down from each other. Her velvet lips tip into a grin against mine, and she cups my cheeks in her small hands to keep me there, as if I want to be anywhere else.

The fact that these moments have to end—at least temporarily—claws at my throat in protest. I wish like hell that things were different.

“Do I have to go to your goodbye party?” she whispers against my mouth. “We could stay here and make out, instead.”

After one more peck, I sink onto the bleacher and guide her head into my lap, idly playing with the strands of her hair. “You don’t have to, but my mom did bake her special chocolate earthquake cake just for you. So, in a way, it’s your party too.”

This earns me a giggle—bingo. It’s what I was going for.

“She’s too good to me.” Maren’s eyelids flutter up at me, and a fraction of the discomfort in my throat subsides. “I’m glad she’ll be right next door this year. It’s not the same as having you here, but it’ll help.”

“Just think, by this time next year, you’ll be joining me in LA.”

Quiet and contemplative, she toys with the hem of her T-shirt, where she works a tiny hole into the seam.

This is a conversation we’ve had many times over the last few months.

I hate that she still feels guilty, like it’s her fault that financial aid screwed her over.

If it would’ve come through, the goodbye party my parents are throwing would actually be for the both of us, and we’d be jetting off to the west coast together.

I let my head fall back, and I study the darkening sky. More stars are visible now, blinking with promises. Maren and I both stare at them, as we often have, dreaming and fantasizing of a life outside of Sapphire Creek, Georgia.

Going to school in LA.

Getting jobs at a big magazine, me as a photographer and her as a writer.

Buying a condo, where we’ll plant a small garden on the roof.

Two people, happy and forever in love.

Maren’s the first to break our silence. “Aria will be the name of the new Prius I’ll buy with my first year’s salary as a writer.” She makes C-shapes with her hands and connects them into the shape of a heart over her face, peering through the opening at the stars like she would with binoculars.

It’s a game we started playing long ago. We came up with it when she shared with me a quote by Vincent Van Gogh that she liked—“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

“Brighton will be the name of our first dog,” I play along.

“What about our cat, Cheerio? Hoping a dog and a cat will get along seems ambitious.”

“You agreed to a dog, instead. You’re not even a cat person anymore, not since the Hendersons’ kitten scratched your ear last year.”

“I was pissed when I swore them off. It’s going to take a lot more than a scratch to scare me away.” A smile teases her lips, and I’m reminded for the millionth time why I’m so ass-backwards crazy about her.

“Brighton will be the name of our first rooftop plant, then.” I swipe the hair from her forehead, and her brown eyes twinkle under the glow of the setting sun, transforming them into golden shades of hazel.

“I like it,” she whispers, then slides herself into a seated position facing me. “Nate, we haven’t even written any of this down. How will we remember?”

I tap my temple. “I’m not going to forget our entire lives in a year, Lightning.”

She dips her chin to her chest, and her hair falls over her shoulder like a closing curtain. “You could start without me.”

“What’s the point of that? The list means nothing if we don’t do it together.” The thought of doing anything without her at my side fucking guts me. I pull her into my chest and kiss the top of her head. The scent of her lavender shampoo is nearly enough to untangle the knots in my stomach.

As if she can sense my torment, she fuses her mouth to mine again, her lips soft but firm. It’s a slow, reassuring kiss. She moans like she’s savoring my taste just as much as I’m savoring hers.

Ever since we found out she wouldn’t be joining me out west, I’ve been more and more aware of every kiss, touch, and embrace.

I’ve taken more pictures the last few months than I have in my whole life, just to have something tangible of her.

I need something to get me through the next year with my sanity intact.

When Maren pulls back, she runs her hand through my dark, wavy strands, then trails her fingertip down the side of my cheek, her eyes roaming all over my face. The heavy sigh she releases sounds like she’s been holding it in for the last month.

“We’re going to be late to the party,” she says.

“Then let’s be late,” I croak around the lump in my throat. “Besides, it’ll only take a couple of minutes to get there. Nothing compared to the traffic of LA. That’ll be a trip.”

“It’ll be so different.”

“That’s kind of the point.” I chuckle. “You know I love Sapphire Creek, but LA has so much more to offer. There’s a ton to see and do. And who knows where it’ll take us, Lightning. It’ll be only the beginning.”

“Wow. You haven’t even made it to LA yet, and you’re already planning to leave it.”

“I’m just dreaming. It’s what we do, right?” I nuzzle my nose into her neck, but the solace doesn’t last long.

Maren slips out of my hold and gives me a small smile. “Your dreams are always so grand.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes widen. “Not at all. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” She fingers the hole in the hem of her shirt again.

I place my hand over hers to still her jittery fingers. “You’re going to ruin your shirt,” I say softly.

She turns her hand over and threads our fingers together. “I’m just not so sure that grand dreams are for me. I’m not exactly LA material, am I?” She laughs, but it’s forced.

“Hey.” I tip her chin up and peer into her eyes. “You deserve the world.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Then believe me.” I dip forward and kiss her, my need for this connection stronger than ever.

“I don’t deserve you, Nate.”

Her words slice through my damn heart.

Maren leans her forehead to my chest, and I rub her back, my fingertips tracing the length of her spine and back up.

“It’s just nerves,” I whisper. “The distance between us is only temporary, though. Remember that.”

It’s as much for her benefit as it is mine.

“We should really get going.” She tears herself away, breaking our contact, her breaths unsteady, and the hair at the back of my neck rises.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s just…” Maren scratches the side of her head, glancing this way and that.

I scoot closer to her until our legs are touching. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

She finally meets my gaze, a light sheen of tears pooling over her eyes. “Earthquake cake waits for no one, you know?”

I rub my thumb over her knuckles and nod, a nagging thought deep in my chest that something else is on her mind.

What isn’t she telling me?

But all my thoughts fizzle when she slants her mouth over mine, her lean body flush against me. Her kiss is so fierce that I nearly forget my own name. It’s the kind of kiss that makes me want to say, “Screw it—I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

Maren and I have been inseparable since we were kids. Hard to imagine a life without her, but the good thing is that I don’t have to. Not for long, anyway.

She’ll be in LA with me soon.

And then we can start the rest of our lives together.