Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
NOW
CHELSEA
Four years ago, when I came to Walker University, I finally felt like I was free.
Free to live my life as I wanted and free from my past. I could start over.
Make friends like a normal person. And I have.
I love the little bubble I’ve created for myself—away from the news reports, the whispers, the stares.
Away from the reminders of all that happened.
Oklahoma is far from home, and I like it that way.
I was a little awkward when I first stepped on campus, still shaking off the rebellious streak of high school—hair pink, a tattoo, the usual angsty choices from a kid with my kind of childhood. But deep down, I knew it was time for a fresh start.
Now, thirteen hundred miles away, I’m four years into my new life.
My roommate, Noelle James, is amazing. When we moved in together last year, she was fresh off a breakup, and I was itching to escape the dorms. We’d been friends since freshman year, but I never clicked with her old crowd—loud oversharers who lived for gossip and Instagram likes.
Noelle was the one person I stayed close to—and thank God for that.
Moving in together was the best decision.
Now we’re in our last year of undergrad, still sharing the same apartment as last year, and I have a whole new group of friends because of her, including half of the Walker football team. They’re all kind, generous, and a lot of fun to hang out with when I’m feeling social.
My major is prelaw, although it’s not really called that. I want to become a lawyer and advocate for children coming from circumstances similar to the one I grew up in. And I want to help be the voice for children who aren’t as fortunate as Torie and I were.
My sister and I got lucky with an estranged relative, but that isn’t the norm.
My dad had a younger sister, Laura, who we didn’t know about.
When the authorities contacted her when they were searching for our father, she was notified that Torie and I were on the premises during the crime.
She’d had no idea about us either, but she quickly became our hero and rescued us from a life in the system.
She gave us the love, stability, and structure we craved …
which is probably why my rebellion never went much further than pink hair and a little ink.
Still, I don’t regret leaving to come to Walker.
Between school, applying to law schools, and finding time to chill with friends, I tutor other students struggling with courses in language arts and psychology.
It’s a decent job, considering I’m studying at the library a lot anyway, and it’s only a few hours of my time each week.
I just got back from a meeting with my counselor to discuss how many students I could manage this semester with my course load.
We’ve decided that I can take on two this semester, and I’ve been assigned to the athletic department.
Which means I’ll be tutoring athletes who need to stay eligible in their sports.
I’m not going to pretend that I know much about any sport, but I am warming up to football.
Only because Noelle has dragged me to some games, and I consider some of them friends.
I pull into the apartment complex and into my parking spot.
Noelle isn’t home, based on her car not being in the spot next to mine.
We’re supposed to have dinner together tonight, but she must be running behind schedule.
She is student teaching at one of the elementary schools in town and occasionally has to stay late.
I grab my phone out of the cupholder, then pick up my backpack from the passenger seat and step out of the car. I shoot her a text.
Chelsea: Hey! What time do you think you’ll be home?
Noelle: Hey, Chels! I just got in my car and was getting ready to text you. Casey invited us over for dinner. Charlie is cooking tonight! If you would rather stay home, we totally can, but just wanted to put it out there.
I laugh. She’s sweet for the invite, but I know she wants to see her boyfriend, Casey.
Not that I don’t think she wants to hang out with me too.
It’s that I know she’ll end up at Casey’s at some point anyway because they’re wildly in love.
And I don’t mind going over there. His friends are fun, and his twin sister, Charlie, is a good cook, too, so it’s really a win all around.
Chelsea: Sure, no problem. Do you want me to meet you there? Do we need to bring anything?
Noelle: Yes, meet me there. We don’t need to bring anything, I think she has it covered. See you soon!
Chelsea: Okay, sounds good!
Unlocking the door to my apartment, I walk in and drop my bag, keys, and phone on the kitchen table. I change clothes and even spritz on some fresh perfume.
Not gonna lie; I like having the place to myself. The silence can be deafening to someone who can’t stand to sit in their own thoughts. For me, it’s a comfort. It means nothing bad is about to happen. No drama, no fights. No hurt and no heartbreak.
My room is organized and clutter-free. As a kid, my house was the opposite.
My parents were addicts, borderline hoarders, with piles of trash and empty bottles covering every surface.
Aunt Laura’s home was starkly different—minimalist and orderly.
At first, the lack of chaos made me uneasy, but eventually, I found peace in it.
I even crave it now. My psychology classes call it a trauma response—growing up in a house filled with garbage and gunfire rewired me to cling to control.
Every folded shirt and cleared counter is my way of building safety. It’s not just tidiness. It’s survival.
But survival isn’t the whole story. I’m not the awkward girl I was when I first got here. I’m confident, fun, and maybe a little too busy, but I like who I am.
I go to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, then back to the table and sit down. I want to get a few things marked off in my calendar. I have my schedule perfectly planned and my study notes color-coded. Before I leave, I need to send my boss an email with my availability.
Ten minutes later, my phone dings. It’s Noelle, asking when I’ll be there.
I make a stop in the bathroom to take care of business.
I wash my hands, then check myself in the mirror.
My hair is almost black, and my curls can be unruly at times, but they’re surprisingly in control today.
I don’t wear much makeup, if any, and today was a no-makeup day.
I splash some water on my face, then swipe some mascara on my long lashes.
I shake my head and roll my eyes at the fact that I’m putting in extra effort to look good tonight.
Yes, my past was chaotic, and I may have some minor OCD tendencies.
That said, I’m pretty confident and generally don’t give much thought to what other people think of me.
I’ve worked too hard to build my own confidence.
There’s one person who—against my better judgment—makes my heart race, and I might care a little about what he thinks of me.
And I’m one hundred percent sure he’ll be there tonight.