CHAPTER ONE
Nova
FOUR MONTHS LATER
THE WIND LIFTED MY HAIR, SWIRLING THE DARK-brOWN strands in front of my face as I stared out at the water below. Soon, it would be too cold for anyone to consider this endeavor sane. Who was I kidding? People already thought that ship had sailed when it came to me.
I’d heard the muttered “crazy.” Or the tsking and “Poor dear. She’ll never be the same.”
They weren’t wrong. I wouldn’t be the same. But I was okay with that.
I eased out of my sneakers, tossed them down the cliff to the lakeshore below, and slipped out of my shorts and tee. I’d leave those up here. With my luck, they’d land in the water if I dropped them.
Taking a step forward, I inhaled deeply, the straps of my swimsuit cutting into my shoulders. The scents of pine and lake water swirled as I placed my palm directly over my heart, not opening my eyes. The steady beat against my hand was just another reassurance I desperately needed.
Blood roared in my ears, and it felt like my muscles might tear free of the skin encasing them. Everything was so loud: the voices, the concerns, the whispered worries.
“You’re alive,” I croaked. “You’re breathing.”
And then, I jumped.
I didn’t look. My body had already memorized exactly what it needed to do: Hurl myself out over the rocks and wait for the miracle.
The wind whipped against my body, colder now that we were in late September. And then it hit. Pain and sheer pleasure all at once. The water smacked against my skin—the kind of slap that assured me I was most definitely alive.
The shock hit me like a freight train, but I welcomed it. I let my body go down, down, down, without trying to swim for the surface. Instead, I tipped my head back and stared up.
The water was a dark, blueish-green haze. The sun sparkled through the surface, and I watched it all—the way it felt like I’d watched so much during my coming back, being on the outside looking in. But unlike all those other moments, this was the one place the world went quiet.
My lungs burned, but I held on for one more moment, needing more of the silence.
My chest raged, ribs squeezing painfully, and I finally kicked for the surface.
It was harder. Everything was. I’d lost too much muscle and bone density while in captivity.
But I’d gained fight. And I knew how to use it.
I broke the surface, sucking air into my lungs. It was pain and relief all at once, and I knew in that moment that I was still here. There was no doubt in my mind—no waking from a nightmare, wondering if I was dead or still locked away. I was alive, and I was breathing.
I took in a few more lungsful of air and then flipped to my back, floating.
The sun was so bright that I had to shut my eyes.
Something about the lack of light and vitamin D while I’d been locked away had injured my eyes.
The doctor told me they’d likely heal with time, but for now, sunglasses were my best friend.
Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They could hide the things my eyes revealed.
I floated for a few more minutes until the cold seeped into my bones. I never let it fully set in. That brought snippets of memory: shivering on the thin mattress on the floor, the stale air.
I shoved those memories back down to where I’d locked them away.
There’d been nothing but sweet relief when I woke in the hospital, unable to remember the details of my capture or confinement. But the numbness hadn’t lasted. I was starting to get brief snatches of things.
But based on the little information I had about my time in captivity, there was no way to know if they were truly my memories or something my imagination had conjured up. It was a hell of a thing, not being able to trust your own mind.
Flipping over to my stomach, I swam toward the shore.
By the time I reached the beach, my muscles ached and my arms felt like they weighed a ton each.
It didn’t matter how hard I tried to ease myself back into working out or how diligently I followed the plan the nutritionist had laid out for me, the strength always seemed just out of reach.
“You’re alive. You’re breathing.”
His voice—the one that always seemed to keep me going—echoed in my head. The voice of a man whose life had ended up inextricably linked to mine. Someone who had no idea that he drowned out the sound of my monsters.
I held on to those words. It was one thing my memory hadn’t let go of during my seventy-two hours in a coma.
I could still hear those words as if Kol Archer were standing right next to me and making the command all over again.
Climbing out of the water, my skin pebbled as I headed up the beach. I didn’t let the cold settle in as I slipped on my shoes. “You’re alive.”
I needed that reminder even more today.
I climbed the steep path to the top of the cliff in nothing but my bathing suit and sneakers.
My limbs trembled with the effort, but I kept right on pushing.
By the time I reached my clothes and the bike I’d snagged at a yard sale for fifteen bucks, my heart was hammering in my chest and my lungs ached.
Quickly drying off and pulling on my clothes, I reached for my sunglasses. Even with the sun not at its peak, I still did better with them on. Adjusting the frames, I jumped on my bike and headed for home.
Home.
That’s what Brae wanted it to be. My best friend had worked so damn hard to make it that for me. A room painted a deep purple—one of my favorite colors. My old bedding, photos, and other belongings, my favorite candle.
But none of it … fit.
Or maybe I didn’t fit. Because while a madman had kept me locked away, the rest of the world kept spinning.
Brae had started over here in Starlight Grove, and that had included falling in love. Dex Archer wasn’t what I would’ve expected for my best friend, yet he was completely perfect for her. And I was over the moon that she and her son, Owen, had found the love they deserved.
Yet it made me feel like I was on the outside looking in. The third wheel—or technically fourth I guessed—throwing their routine into chaotic disarray. But I didn’t know how to make it better.
I pulled my bike up to the three-bedroom cabin on Briarwood Lane.
It was so incredibly different than the small house we’d rented several hours south of here, in Oakland, California.
There were no honking horns or music drifting out of windows.
No crowded streets with an array of shops for anything you might need.
But, God, it was beautiful here in Starlight Grove.
The small town, a mere hour south of the Oregon border, held endless forests and meadows and a staggering mountain peak.
The babbling sound of the meandering Clover Creek, which lay behind the cabin, was calming.
And the air … I inhaled again, Kol’s words echoing in my mind. “You’re breathing.”
This air reminded me of that. No smog or trash. Just trees and freedom.
The screen door slapped against the frame, and my eyes flew open.
I was thankful for my sunglasses because I knew I winced at the look on Brae’s face as she stood on the front porch.
Waiting. Worry creased her brow, but there was a hint of annoyance I could only place because we’d known each other for practically our entire lives.
From the preschool sandbox to now—and everything in between.
When my family showed they were a complete waste of space, Brae made sure I was okay.
She shared her lunch with me when my mom forgot to send one.
She always invited me over after school so I had a safe place to do my homework.
And she picked up the pieces every time my parents broke my damn heart.
So when she needed me, I hadn’t even paused to think it through. The answer was always yes. I’d moved cross-country with her when she ended up pregnant at nineteen and the father proved he was a douche of epic proportions.
And we’d built Owen a beautiful home. I’d helped her with diaper changes and three-a.m. feedings. Had been there for his first steps and first words.
We were a family. But it suddenly felt like I no longer belonged.
“Hi,” I said dumbly as I got off the bike and headed for the front path.
Brae’s amber gaze swept over me, taking in my wet hair and damp clothes. “Swimming?”
That’s all I’d told her about my sporadic disappearing acts: that I liked to go swimming. I knew it confused her because I’d never been one for the activity before, but she’d gone for it.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “Beautiful morning for it.”
My so-called swimming trip had nothing to do with the sun or the morning and everything to do with the fact that I was starting a job after months of little contact with anyone but a handful of people. My nightmares and anxiety were raging like the creek after a thunderstorm.
Brae’s mouth thinned into a tense line. “It’s cold. I’m not sure it’s good for you to be doing it so late in the year. There’s a YMCA a couple of towns over. I could drive you and—”
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I’m not cold.”
The goose bumps on my skin said my words weren’t exactly truthful.
“I just don’t want you to get sick. You’re still getting your strength back,” Brae argued.
I tried not to recoil at her words, but it was as if she’d reached out and slapped me. I didn’t need the reminder of how far I’d come, how far I still had to go, or how precarious the doctor warned me things could be for a while.
“I’m good,” I ground out, sidestepping her and heading inside.
I hated myself for the frustration I felt, directed at the one person who truly loved me. The one who’d never given up on me.
When my parents and brother found out that I’d gone missing, they hadn’t done anything. I’d learned later that they hadn’t even bothered to leave Rhode Island to come out to California. They hadn’t called for updates on my case. They hadn’t even reached out when I turned up alive.
But they had taken $10,000 to do an interview on a prime-time news special.