The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep (Rubble Ridge #1)

Prologue

MARKING THE SPOT

Isaw Tate first. Hard not to, really. The guy was, at least, a whole three years older than me. And he was shirtless.

The sound of the mower chewing through grass was the thing that caught my attention. But it was the boy-man pecs of a sixteen-year-old boy on the cusp of seventeen, with shaggy golden hair and a barely-there smirk on full lips that whispered of things I’d not yet experienced, that kept it.

Even from all the way across the street, I could see that his eyes were green.

Not the vibrant green of the fresh cut grass or even the deep blue-green of the evergreens that speared from the Rocky Mountains surrounding this sleepy little town.

They were the green of the sea-glass in Victoria.

Beautiful, and mystical, and, in my opinion, prettier than diamonds.

I can’t count the number of mornings I’d hunted for that rare jade glass that seemed to feast on the early morning fog that hovered over a calm water, filling its glassy belly with the ethereal mysteries of the sea.

His eyes were like that. A foggy, sea-glass green, set in a face of hard lines and boy-man integrity. The kind of integrity Mom said was hard to find.

I was caught, like a fish on a hook. I couldn’t look away. Could hardly breathe.

I’d had crushes on boys, but never something so quick as this. A strike, like lightening. A crash, like thunder. I was shook.

That’s when it happened. The moment of change.

The trench between sidewalk and lawn snagged hold of my bike tire, and my world tipped. Literally.

I hit the pavement hard, my knee skidding, flesh tearing. The change Mom gave me hit the ground like a cowbell, calling the attention of everyone.

Tears sprung to my eyes as red-hot heat stained my face the color of a burning coal. Humiliation threatened to cleave me in two.

I didn’t dare look at the shirtless boy-man.

“Damn, girl. You fall hard.” A blue jean-covered knee hit the ground in front of me, and a boy my age filled the frame of my blurred vision. He cocked a confident grin, dark chocolate eyes spearing mine deeply. His voice speared even deeper.

Or maybe that was his next words—because what? “Bet I’m going to make you fall harder.”

I blinked. My lips parted. His eyes dropped, and my breath caught.

We were stuck like that, boy and girl ensnared in big new feelings.

I’m not sure I breathed for a whole minute.

He let out a big breath though, and a low chuckle clung to the tail of it.

His eyes dropped again. This time to my knee, scraped and raw.

“Aww.” His hand came out to hook me around the side of my knee, thumb carefully sliding around my wound. His touch was like fire. In the best way. “You’re hurt.”

Even hurt, tingles exploded under my skin.

“It’s not so bad.” I somehow found it in me to reply, though my voice shook. I’d never had a boy hold me like this, his open palm on my leg, like it was meant to be there. Like he had a right to touch me like this.

Maybe that was why I loved it like I did. There was something forbidden in that touch.

No, forbidden wasn’t the right word. New. Exciting.

Yes. It was exciting, the way this boy touched me so innocently and yet—not.

My entire body responded to that touch. Set aflame by the warmth of his earthy eyes. The darker brown lines darted from his pupils like veins in tree bark, flecked with fresh coffee beans and cut with shards of obsidian.

The boy dipped his head forward, and I swear I forgot how to breathe as his lips connected with my skin. Air simply stalled in my lungs, caught in a prism of shock. I was electrified by the touch of his lips there on the raw skin of my scraped knee.

It was the first time I’d ever been kissed by a boy.

I should have known as he sat back on his haunches, his grin stretched wide, that this boy, with his face crafted by gods to break hearts would, before long, take all my firsts.

That I would give every one of them willingly, and eagerly, to him.

“All better.” He winked, plucked the loose change from the sidewalk, and held it out for me. As he dropped the change into my open palm, he said, “I’m Holt.”

Holt. God, but I was going to fall for Holt.

“Faye.”

“Pretty name.” He winked again. I blushed…again. He pulled me to stand with him, radiating confidence. “Now, where were you off to before you decided to throw yourself at me like a pretty little damsel?”

My mouth dropped. The need to defend myself tipped hotly from my tongue. “I didn’t—I didn’t throw myself at you.”

“I know.” He looked more serious now, more sober. “You were checking out my brother. Lucky I was watching, or I would have run over you with my bike.”

Hot flames of hellfire engulfed me in horror. I stuttered, “I—I wasn’t checking out a-anyone.”

“You were.” He shrugged, flashing me that smile again. The one that would become the grin to slay women everywhere. Slicing through panties and dreams in his quest to steal hearts he had no intention of keeping. “But I’m here to tell you, you don’t want to do that.”

I laughed—even through the horror of hellfire. I’d never met a boy quite like him. So alive. “I don’t?”

“No.”

I tipped my head back. Holt was taller than me by, like, a lot. “Why not?”

“Because you’re going to be my girl.”

“Oh, really?” Honestly, I was in trouble.

“Really.” He lifted my bike for me, waiting for me to take it before he lifted his own. Climbing on, he jutted his chin forward in the direction I’d been riding before the whole crash landing and hellfire bit. “Where were you headed?”

“The store.”

“What for?”

“Sour cream. Mom’s making tacos.”

“She’s cooking on move-in day?” He shook his head and laughed.

I loved the sound, even then.

“Mom always cooks.”

“Well, come on, pretty girl.” He gestured in the direction I’d been going before I’d been caught in the net of sea-glass green eyes, and bronze skin.

Even as I peddled away, I couldn’t resist stealing just one last glance at the boy across the street. The mower was quiet and when my eyes slid that way, I saw that he was watching me with Holt.

There was something in those soft eyes, something almost dark. Maybe a little sad.

I looked away quickly, and peddled faster until I caught up to the boy who kissed my skinned knee. The boy who was already reeling in the heart I thought I left back in Victoria. The same heart that narrowly escaped getting caught in the knots of a net surrounded by sea-glass green.

“Yeah.” He threw me another wink, as though he knew, again, that I’d stolen a peek at his brother across the street. “You’re going to be mine. All mine.”

“I’m not easy, you know.” I told him, my nose wrinkling.

Dad told me that I should never give pieces of myself to someone who didn’t want to work for them. And this boy, handsome as he was, seemed to think I was a sure thing.

I was, but I didn’t want him to know that.

“For you, sweetheart, I’ll work. I’ll never stop working.” He flashed me another grin, and I swear, that was the moment he carved out the very first piece of my heart. Because he drew an X over his, marking the spot where his vow lay. “Promise.”