Raven
Samuel didn’t text me back, and he always texts back. Sometimes it’s only one word, sometimes it’s a half-asleep “home safe” that makes my chest feel stupidly warm. But he always answers.
Except he didn’t. Not last night. Not this morning.
I stare at my phone for the millionth time, thumb hovering over his thread like I can will a reply into existence.
Nothing.
An ache twists beneath my ribs. I tell myself I’m overreacting, that he just crashed early, or he’s elbow-deep in an engine and ignoring the world like he does when he’s stressed. But the fear sitting in my stomach doesn’t care about logic.
The second I hear footsteps in the hallway, I swipe out of my messages and start scrolling through social media like I haven't spent the last twenty minutes staring at my phone.
Knox appears in the kitchen a second later, pulling his cut over his hoodie, his hair damp from the shower.
He looks tired. Not unusual for him.
“You’re up early,” he says, reaching for a mug. “Thought you’d sleep in.”
“I couldn’t.” I keep my voice light. “Too much on my mind.”
He mutters under his breath and pours coffee like that's the end of it.
It isn’t.
I watch him over the rim of my cup, pretending not to. “You were out late last night.”
“Club stuff.” He takes a drink, jaw tight.
That tone tells me everything and nothing.
“Is everyone okay?” I ask carefully, stirring my coffee even though I didn’t add anything to it.
Knox’s eyes flick to mine. “Yeah. Why?”
My throat goes dry. Because Samuel didn’t answer, and a knot of dread has settled in my stomach.
Instead, I shrug. “I heard some of the guys talking at dinner. Things sounded intense.”
“When are things never not intense?” He moves to grab his keys, but every instinct I have screams to try again before he walks out that door.
So, I force steadiness into my voice. “Was Samuel with you last night?”
“Wolf?” Knox’s brows lift as if the question surprises him. “Why do you ask?”
I try to smile. Fail. Try again. “I was just wondering. He seemed off at dinner.”
Knox pauses, keys dangling from his fingertips. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I noticed that, too.”
“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep it breezy, like I’m just making conversation and not interrogating my own brother about the man I’ve been secretly sleeping with for months.
Knox leans a shoulder against the counter. “He’s probably distracted by whatever flavor-of-the-week he’s tangled up with.”
A sharp, cold sting hits the center of my chest.
I keep my face neutral, at least, I hope I do, because if I react even a little, Knox will see it. “Oh,” I say, aiming for casual. “I didn’t realize he was seeing someone.”
Knox rolls his eyes. “Wolf isn’t exactly the relationship type. He fucks, he leaves. End of story.”
The words land like a punch I didn’t see coming, and my heartbeat stumbles. I grip my coffee mug too hard, knuckles whitening against the ceramic. Heat crawls up my neck, blooming beneath my skin, but I force my expression to stay neutral.
Knox studies me for a beat too long. Finally, he shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about, baby bird.”
The endearment softens the blow, but not the fear. I force a small smile and take another sip of coffee, pretending his answer settles something inside me. It doesn't.
Knox sets his mug down and steps toward me, brushing a kiss to the top of my head. “Be good today,” he says gruffly.
“I’m always good,” I murmur.
He huffs a laugh and leaves, the front door closing with a low thud.
As soon as his bike pulls away, I swipe out of social media and pull up my messages. Samuel's name sits at the top of the screen—still nothing.
My stomach knots, and I stare at our conversation for a second before typing another message.
ME: Are you seriously going to ignore me?
I hit send. Then I toss the phone onto the counter and force myself to finish making a second cup of coffee. The second it buzzes, I nearly spill the creamer.
SAMUEL: You make that impossible.
A stupid grin tugs at my mouth before I can stop it.
SAMUEL: Can you meet me?
ME: Yes. Where?
SAMUEL: Our usual place. Twenty minutes.
Our usual place is the old Miller’s barn. Everyone in Ashbourne knows it’s abandoned. It’s too far from town for anyone to wander by, which is what makes it the perfect place for us to meet.
I grab my keys off the counter and make a beeline for the door, hoping to slip out before anyone notices.
I should know better.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Dad asks.
I freeze for half a second before turning around. He’s leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, expression steady but sharp—Dad’s version of a spotlight.
“Katie and I are going shopping,” I say, aiming for casual.
“It’s awfully early for you to be going out shopping.”
“She has to work later,” I reply with a shrug. “Otherwise I’d still be in bed.”
Dad doesn’t buy it. I can see the shift. The subtle sharpening in his gaze.
He studies me carefully. Dad’s like a human lie detector. One wrong blink, and I’m done for.
“Shopping, huh?” he says slowly. “Interesting timing, right after you were asking Knox about Wolf.”
My stomach drops, but I keep my expression neutral. “I was just asking how he was doing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dad’s eyes soften, but not in a way that makes this easier. He’s reading me like a book that was never meant to be opened.
“You sure that’s all it was?” he asks. “A little friendly concern?”
I force a small, easy laugh. “Yeah. I mean, Sam looked pretty roughed up. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t dying in a ditch somewhere.”
“Raven,” Dad says as he steps closer. “If something’s going on, you can tell me.”
Panic flares—sharp, bright, unmistakable.
I curl my fingers tighter around my keys so he won’t see them shake.
“Nothing’s going on,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the panic under it. “I’m meeting Katie for some retail therapy. That’s all.”
A long pause. Too long.
Finally, he nods, though the doubt doesn’t leave his eyes. “Alright. Just be careful.”
“I will.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my forehead, the way he always does when he’s worried but pretending not to show it. It makes my chest ache.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says.
“I will,” I promise.
Then I slip out the door before he can ask anything else, or read the truth straight off my face.
The Miller barn sits crooked in the field behind the old orchard, its red paint weathered down to bare gray planks. One door hangs half off its hinge, swaying with every cool gust. It looks haunted.
It feels haunted.
Samuel’s bike is parked behind it, hidden from the road.
With a long groan of old wood, the barn door slides open.
Inside, dust motes drift through broken beams of sunlight. The smell of old hay and time lingers in every corner.
Samuel stands near the loft ladder, hood down, his hands braced on his hips. He looks like he hasn’t slept. Like the whole world sat on his chest last night and hasn’t bothered to move.
His eyes lift when I step inside. And everything in me breaks.
“Sam,” I whisper.
He swallows hard. “Thanks for coming.”
His voice is different. Wrong.
I move closer. “You didn’t answer me last night.”
“I know.” His voice cracks on the second word. “I’m sorry.”
Tension fills the space between us. Heavy. Expectant.
“Raven.” His jaw flexes. “We can’t keep seeing each other.”
The words hit me like someone knocked the breath out of my lungs.
“What?” The word barely comes out.
He looks at the ground, then at the wall, at anything that isn't me.
“I don't like sneaking around. I hate it, actually. This isn't fair to you. Stolen nights in the bed of my truck or this damn barn. Looking over our shoulders every time we're together. Acting like we're doing something wrong when all I want is to be with you.”
He blows out a breath.
“You should be able to hold someone's hand in public. Go out to dinner. Build something real without worrying who's going to find out.” His voice roughens. “I just don't know how to give you that, Raven.”
My chest tightens until it hurts.
“I don’t care about any of that,” I say, stepping closer. “I care about you. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”
He shakes his head like he hates himself for how much he wants to believe me.
“You should care about more.”
“I don’t.” My voice shakes. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
His eyes shut like that's the one thing he can't handle.
“You're only nineteen,” he says quietly.
“So?”
A humorless laugh escapes him.
“So you've barely lived yet, Raven.”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going.
“You should be out having fun. Dating. Figuring out who you are. Not hiding in an old barn with a guy who's spent half his life getting into fights and making bad decisions.”
“Samuel—”
“No.” He drags a hand across his jaw. “You haven't seen enough of the world to know there's better out there.”
“Maybe there isn't.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “There is.”
The conviction in his voice almost makes me laugh.
“You don't get to decide that for me.”
Something flickers across his face.
Pain.
Regret.
Love.
“Maybe not,” he says quietly. “But I should've been smart enough to decide it for myself.” He looks away. “I should never have touched you in the first place.”
A gust of wind rattles the barn doors, sending dust swirling around us.
“Wolf.” My voice softens. “Look at me.”
He does. God, he does. And the look in his eyes nearly brings me to my knees.
“I don’t care about how complicated it is,” I say. “I don’t care about where we meet or how often or who finds out. I just want you.”
His breath shudders. “You’re killing me.”
“Then die with me,” I breathe. “If this burns, then let it burn.”
He closes the distance in two steps, grabbing my face in both hands, his forehead pressing against mine like he’s trying to hold himself together.
“Sweetheart.” His voice breaks. “You’re the only thing in this world I want.”
His lips crash into mine, raw, desperate, trembling, and every piece of fear inside me dissolves.
The world is dangerous. But when Samuel kisses me? I believe we can survive anything.
A sharp crack sounds from somewhere outside the barn. His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.
Samuel’s head turns toward the open slats, his whole body going alert in an instant. It’s broad daylight, sun spilling in through the gaps in the boards, but the noise hits with enough force to send my pulse racing.
It's probably nothing. The barn is old, and the woods are full of animals. Not every sound has to mean something, I try to tell myself. But what if this one does?
“Sam,” I breathe.
“I’ve got you.” His voice is low, steady, but his grip on my waist tightens. He angles himself in front of me, broad shoulders blocking my view of the door, his body braced to shield me from whatever might come next.
We wait.
A beat.
Another.
And then nothing.
Just the faint rustle of leaves and the whisper of wind slipping through the broken boards.
Samuel exhales, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his body. His thumb strokes my hip, slow and grounding, like he’s trying to calm the fear he won’t put words to.
“It's probably just a deer,” I say, though my pulse is still beating a little too fast.
“Raven,” he murmurs against my hair. “One of these days, our luck’s going to run out.”
My hands slide up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms. “Stop pretending you want to walk away.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. His eyes darken with something raw, something close to surrender. “I don’t,” he admits. “God, sweetheart, I don’t. I try, and then I see you and—” His breath shivers out. “I’m done for.”
“I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care if it’s reckless,” I whisper. “We’re meant to be together.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, as if the truth he holds physically hurts. A beat passes, one breath, then another. Finally, something in him shatters.
His hands frame my face, thumbs trembling where they brush my cheeks. His chest rises and falls like he’s fighting for air. When he speaks, his voice is nothing but broken honesty.
“Raven,” he whispers, and it sounds like a prayer and a curse in one. “I can’t keep pretending this is something I can walk away from.”
My heart stutters. “Sam—”
“No.” His voice breaks, rough and honest. “You need to hear this. Because it’s killing me.”
Everything around us fades away, the sunlight filtering through the slats and the warm air humming against the boards, until there’s nothing but him. His voice. His truth.
“I love you,” he says like he’s confessing to a crime. “I’ve been trying not to. I’ve been trying so damn hard to stay away, to do the right thing. For Knox, for your dad, for the club. For you.”
His breath trembles against my lips.
“But I love you,” he repeats, quieter now. “And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
The world tilts. I feel his words everywhere. All the way through me.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, gentle and reverent, his thumb stroking my pulse.
“I know it’s reckless,” he murmurs. “I know it could ruin everything and everyone around us. But I’m done lying. To them. To myself.” He swallows hard. “And especially to you.”
I can’t speak.
I can’t breathe.
I can only feel—every word, every tremor in his voice, every inch of his body pressed against mine like he needs me to stay upright.
Sam’s amber eyes lock on mine. They’re fierce and terrified. “I love you, sweetheart. And I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”
A tremor moves through me, quiet but consuming as his words root themselves deep inside me.
I touch his face, my thumb brushing the stubble on his cheek.
“I’d never tell you to go,” I whisper.
A soft, ragged laugh escapes him, more relief than humor. He pulls me into his arms, holding me like I’m the only solid thing in his world.
Outside, the wind rattles the loose boards.
A reminder.
A warning.
A whisper of the storm that’s coming.
But right here, in the hollow quiet of this broken barn?
It’s just us.
And now there’s no going back.
Sam holds me for a long moment. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, voice rough, “whatever happens next, don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt this.”
“I won’t.”
For a second, it's easy to forget everything standing between us.
The secrets.
The lies.
The people we'd hurt if the truth ever came out.
Outside, a bird calls once. It feels like a warning.
“We should go,” he whispers.
But neither of us moves.
Not yet.
Not while this moment still belongs to us.
Because that’s how every tragedy starts, isn’t it?
With two people believing they have more time than they do.