Past the Stars

Chapter One

Remember when you were a little girl, innocently swinging outside, furiously pumping your legs back and forth whilst mindlessly daydreaming about what your life might be like when you grew up?

You’d daydream about the friends you’d have, the adventures you’d get to go on, and the boys you’d date—maybe you’d even kiss some of them—but mostly you’d daydream about the perfect one.

The one who would change everything, the one who would never stop giving you butterflies, but most importantly, the one who would always protect you.

Eventually, there’d be a day when he got down on one knee—it’d be just the two of you—and he’d ask you to marry him.

He wouldn’t even be finished asking and you’d have already said yes.

You’d spend months planning the most perfect yet lowkey wedding, right down to the very last detail.

And then the two of you would run off into the sunset.

You’d spend a few years traveling the globe before deciding to settle down and have some babies.

A couple of tiny humans would fill your big house on a few acres out in the country; they’d have your smile and his eyes, and they’d spend their days running barefoot and their nights catching lightning bugs.

You’d have everything you needed right next to you, and it would be perfect.

But that was just the thing, as a na?ve little girl, you didn’t truly comprehend that life never went how it was supposed to, and most of the time, nothing was perfect.

Things got messy. They got chaotic. Things happened when they weren’t supposed to.

And some things never happened at all. Then, somewhere along the way, little by little, the daydreaming stopped and you realized life didn’t give a shit about your daydreams.

Take it from someone like me.

My life never seemed to go the way I planned, and unfortunately that proved to be true in more ways than one.

“I don’t,” he breathed, his words severing the strings of my heart, forcing it to plummet to the base of my stomach in a single millisecond.

“I’m sorry, Scar. I just—I just can’t.” He hung his head low as his hands slipped from my grasp.

Without a thread of hesitation, his body moved swiftly away from mine and headed toward the back of the church.

Everything around me felt like it was moving in slow motion. Zane’s tall silhouette faded from view, taking our relationship with it.

Just like that.

The heat from my belly rushed to my cheeks as hundreds of eyes glared back at me. The silence consumed me while everyone held their breath, waiting for my next move. The attention was enough to crush me into a million pieces; I needed to get the hell out of this church and out of this damn dress.

I had the smothering feeling that everyone here knew something I didn’t, and they all just watched me find out in real time.

I couldn’t find any air.

Scarlett, breathe.

You have to breathe or you’re going to pass out. Find the door. Get to the door. Don’t look at a single person and get the hell out of here.

I did that. For the most part.

Stepping down from the altar, I glanced at Maggie, my maid of honor and best friend. Her big brown eyes glistened with sadness.

She mouthed, Want me to come?

I shook my head but turned before my tears could mimic hers.

Grabbing the obnoxious scratchy tulle resting against my legs, I landed on the monstrous wooden front door as my quickest escape route and made a beeline toward it.

I forced my way outside and was immediately met with the Tennessee spring rain, pelting me like little bullets from the sky.

It was suffocating.