Chapter 1
ONE
TEN YEARS AGO
Madeline
I turn on my blinker and steer into the crowded high school parking lot, slowing to a crawl as students weave in and out of the spaces between cars.
I just got my license over the summer, and I’m already more than a little nervous about driving.
Nobody seems to be watching where they’re going as they cross the asphalt, calling to each other, greeting their friends they may not have seen over summer break.
For the hundredth time since my mom packed up and moved our family to this town, I wish I were back on Sandy Harbor Island greeting the kids I’ve known since elementary school, excited for the start of my senior year.
Instead, I’m terrified that I won’t make any friends, I’ll hate it here, and what is supposed to be the best year of my life will be the absolute worst.
Oh, and now I have to worry about running someone over, too. Nobody seems to look where they’re going in Maple Ridge, Pennsylvania. At least not in the high school parking lot.
I wish Josie were here so I didn’t have to go into the building all alone, but my older sister graduated last year.
She got to finish high school on Sandy Harbor before our mom unexpectedly sold our little beach house with no explanation and enrolled me in high school in this middle-of-nowhere town.
I’ll never understand why we couldn’t have stayed one more year so I could graduate on Sandy Harbor, too.
But as much as I pleaded and cried, she held firm, and I had no choice but to go along with her plan.
I watch a cluster of girls cross the parking lot, and my heart tugs at the way their heads tilt together in easy conversation, highlighted hair bobbing as they laugh.
Will I ever have friends like that again?
Senior year is supposed to be the best part of high school, but it’s the absolute worst time to be the new kid at school.
My friends and I had so much we wanted to do together before we all went our separate ways to college.
I texted them this past weekend, and they all sent sweet notes about how much they miss me, but they were back-to-school shopping on the mainland, so they didn’t have time to talk.
I almost wish I hadn’t reached out. Somehow, the loneliness is even more painful when you know everyone is having fun without you.
I coast along the parking lot aisle, looking for a spot, and I’m momentarily distracted by another group of girls taking a selfie.
I sense movement to my left and turn my head just in time to see a car pulling out of a spot right in front of me.
It’s too late to slam on my brakes, so I jerk the steering wheel to the right to avoid careening into the car’s passenger door.
“Hey!” a voice calls out. I swing my gaze toward the sound, and through the windshield, I spot a guy towering in my path. I gasp and shove my foot on the brake, stopping the car inches from where he’s standing. His blue eyes connect with mine, and something flips in my chest.
It’s the shock of almost hitting a person, I’m sure that’s why my heart is pounding.
The guy steps aside, sweeping his arm across the path of my car as if I’m the queen driving by in my chariot.
As I lift my foot from the brake and slowly ease past, he gives me a wink.
If I weren’t so shaken up by nearly killing him, and the way I can’t seem to stop staring at those eyes, I might have managed to smile.
Instead, my cheeks heat, and I call out a weak apology through the open window.
I keep my eyes firmly affixed in front of me until I find an open spot and shift the car into park.
As I grab my bag and exit the car I mutter, “Please let the rest of the day go more smoothly than this,” and slam the door behind me.
I turn to head toward the school and immediately jump backward.
Someone is standing right next to my car, blocking my path.
He towers over me, at least eight inches taller than my five-foot-five frame.
A vintage band T-shirt hugs the muscles on his arms and chest, and faded jeans hang low on his hips.
My gaze drifts upward, to brown hair so dark it borders on black and blue eyes like the sky where it meets the horizon on a cloudless summer day.
With a start, I realize those eyes are familiar.
Oh, no.
It’s the guy I almost killed. My stomach clenches, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m worried that he’s come to tell me off in front of everyone, or because that thought has me stumbling backward to where I have a better view of the full force of his smile.
I feel my cheeks warm, always a slight consequence for someone with my pale, freckled skin and strawberry-blond hair.
But in this guy’s presence, I’m pretty sure it’s flamed right past charming blush and landed directly on lobster red .
“You must be having a really bad day if you’re already giving yourself a pep talk at eight in the morning.” He casually slides his hands in his pockets and rocks backward in his battered black Vans. “But hopefully it’s not any worse than my day. I almost got hit by a car back there.”
The heat of my cheeks moves lower, and from past experience, I know it’s morphing into crimson splotches across my chest. Why did I wear a low-cut T-shirt today? But as his gaze dips to my neckline and then back up to meet mine, there’s nothing but appreciation reflected in his aquamarine eyes.
“I’m so sorry about earlier. I’m new at this.” I wave my hand out at the parking lot. “At driving, I mean. Although, I’m new at this school, too. It’s a lot to take in. But I should have been paying more attention. I’m sorry you were nearly a casualty.”
“Ah.” He nods like I’ve explained everything. “I didn’t think you looked familiar.” He cocks his head, an eyebrow lifting. “I definitely would have noticed you around here.”
I immediately feel my shoulders relax. He may be one of the best-looking guys I’ve seen in this town, but he’s obviously not averse to speaking in clichés. “Okay, I felt bad until you pulled out that line. Now I’m wishing I hit you with my car.”
His laugh is like warm honey, and as he tosses back his head, I notice that one of his bottom teeth is slightly crooked. That slight imperfection makes him even more handsome.
“Please don’t tell me I should join the track team because I’ve been running around in your dreams.” I wave my keys at him. “Because I’ll get in and finish the job.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He lifts his hands in surrender. “I regretted it the minute the words came out of my mouth. Let’s start over.” He holds out a palm. “I’m Adam.”
I hesitate for the briefest moment before sliding my hand into his. I’m not surprised when a warm current creeps up my arm, but I wasn’t expecting it to radiate down to my toes. “Madeline.” The word comes out breathier than I intended.
“Welcome to Maple Ridge High, Madeline,” Adam murmurs. My hand is still firmly in his, electricity still buzzing through me, when a car comes to a stop half in and half out of the spot where we’re standing. The driver waits for us to move.
I reluctantly let go of Adam and step into the patch of grass between the parking lot and the school building.
The thrill running through me a moment ago fizzles out, replaced by a cold dread.
For a second, I was able to focus on something other than the fact that I’m still the new kid here.
Josie told me to walk in with confidence, but that’s easy for her to say from her dorm room at Berkeley, where all the brand-new freshmen are in the same boat.
I take a deep, shaky breath. The bell is about to ring.
“Can I walk you in and help you find your class?” Adam tilts his head toward the high school, and I know he’s probably just being polite, but I want to hug him.
Now that it’s looming in front of me, I can see that this building must be about five times the size of my school on Sandy Harbor.
I’m suddenly aware of the very real possibility that I could get lost on my way to class and end up wandering the halls like a sad kitten while everyone stares at me.
“That would be great,” I say with a relieved sigh. “We moved here over the summer, and I didn’t have time to tour the school. I have literally no idea where I’m going.”
Adam falls into step beside me as we head across the grass.
I can’t help but notice how tall he is when my shoulder brushes his elbow.
He must be a senior like me. The boys on Sandy Harbor were all bony knees and elbows in their swim trunks until junior year, when they suddenly started showing up with muscles and awkward patches of chest hair.
Adam seems well past the awkward phase, and I can’t help but wonder how he’d look in a pair of swim trunks.
I steal a glance at the curve of his bicep beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt.
He’d probably look broad-shouldered and chiseled like the lifeguards my friends and I used to parade past in our bikinis in the hopes that they’d notice us.
“Where did you move from?” Adam gently takes my elbow and guides me out of the path of a group of younger boys jostling each other across the grass.
“Sandy Harbor Island, New Jersey.” I feel a tiny hint of disappointment when the boys pass and he lets go of my arm. “I grew up there. ”
“Oh, wow. This place must seem like a completely different world. Did you spend a lot of time on the beach?”
I feel a familiar rush of longing for my hometown.
Sandy Harbor is a close-knit community where the locals look out for each other.
The kids in my high school class were the same ones I went to preschool with.
When I went into the bookstore, the bakery, the grocery store, people knew my name, they were happy to see me.
It was safe and comfortable. It was home.