Fourteen
Theo
“ I can’t believe you still haven’t told Isla you know about us!” Asher shakes his head and laughs. “Or, rather, the lack of us .”
I don’t answer, focusing instead on clasping a bundle of sunflower seeds to a low-hanging branch in front of me.
The entire family is out here under Mom’s strict orders, decking out the trees in the woods behind our house with edible ornaments. Some are shaped like stars or hearts; others resemble mini wreaths. All are made from organic, animal-safe treats—dried berries, seeds, and nuts.
Mom calls it nurturing nature . It’s her way of making amends for the clearcut in the next town over that displaced a whole mass of furry creatures.
It’s part environmental rehab, part family bonding holiday tradition.
And right now? It’s a convenient distraction from letting yesterday’s outing with Isla play on a loop in my head.
Despite having spent the entire night tossing and turning, making sure Bambi and friends have enough to eat isn’t the worst way to pass a sleep-deprived morning.
My brother isn’t working hard enough because he finds ample time to gossip. “Didn’t you spend a good chunk of the scavenger hunt with her?”
“I did,” I reply.
“ And …?”
“It was fine.” So very fine.
“But nothing came up?” he presses.
I shrug one shoulder. “Nope.”
Well, that’s a lie. Something definitely came up. More times than I care to admit.
It’s not like I had any control over my reaction. Each accidental brush of our bodies wound me up so tight I was seconds from combusting.
My biggest mistake? Putting my fingers on the soft, plump flesh of Isla’s bottom lip.
Twice .
I’d crossed a line. Bulldozed straight through it—by choice. A reckless, deliberate move I’d make again and again for a chance to have more of her.
All of her. Her touch. Her scent. Every single one of her smiles.
Feeding her that cupcake and watching her savor it, feeling the heat of her mouth, listening to her satisfied moans— fuck , I couldn’t stop thinking about tearing down all those boundaries I’ve erected over the years.
I even offered to kiss her, and not for a chance at a trophy .
“Why haven’t you told Isla that I know?” I ask Asher, my voice laced with mild annoyance.
“Oh, there’s no way I’m making this easy on you.” His smirk makes me want to throw him into a bear den. “I’ve been edged by your relationship for over six years!”
Mid-affixing an ornament, my hand halts and my face twists into a grimace. “That particular sentence should’ve never seen the light of day.”
Asher crosses his arms and leans against a thick trunk of a maple, relishing my discomfort. “Did you know I still have all your messages on one of my hard drives? I’m planning on playing them at your wedding. Like a time capsule.”
I frown. “What messages?”
“All. Of. Them.” He lets out a cackle worthy of a cartoon villain when recognition flashes across my face. “Since Isla began her gap year. Of course, calling it a gap year is a stretch, considering she was mourning instead of frolicking across Europe.”
“True. The frolicking was your job.” Hence the need for voice notes in the first place.
Right after high school, Asher was accepted into a year-long, prestigious photography internship with Continental Chronicles . Being the youngest recipient ever—his portfolio was that impressive—he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. And that’s when I got sucked into the caretaking role.
“I have voice notes detailing the entire time you spent with her,” he says.
“The earlier ones are obviously angry.” He drops his voice, mimicking my cadence.
“ Are you out of your damn mind, Ash? You expect me to commute home every weekend to babysit your little friend? She doesn’t even want me anywhere near her place!
She chucked a —” He pauses, pointing to me.
“What did she throw at your head again?”
“A toaster.” I touch my shoulder as the memory resurfaces. “Thankfully, her aim was off.”
“Right.” My brother nods, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m sure you did something to deserve it.”
“I’m sure I did,” I reply dryly. “I wasn’t exactly the warm, fuzzy follow-up to you, of all people.”
He hangs his head. “I left her at the worst possible time. I should’ve delayed my start date and stuck around to help her pack up the house.”
“You had no choice,” I tell him. “Mom, Graham, Willow, and I had it covered.”
Well, I helped once Isla finally allowed me inside.
Emptying all those rooms, sifting through her parents’ personal belongings—it almost broke me. I can’t even imagine the insurmountable pain she’d endured.
Back in the early days, I didn’t care to ask.
I was still trying to convince Asher I was the wrong choice of mentor for his friend.
There were much healthier—more stable—members of our family who could’ve done a better job.
My mother was the strongest human I knew.
If anyone could drag themselves out of literal hell and help someone else do the same, it was her.
My sister, though only sixteen at the time, was closer to Isla’s age and had an easy way of connecting with people I never quite mastered.
Sure, I had experience with darkness. But guiding an eighteen-year-old through the wreckage of losing everything that mattered? I was wildly underqualified and unprepared.
Once her family home sold, Isla moved in with Mom and Graham, and suddenly, we were living under the same roof every weekend. With the demands of my job, Saturdays and Sundays were all I could give Asher—and her .
Those turned out to be some of our bleakest days. She barely spoke. Didn’t shed a single tear, either. Just clung to this unnerving stoicism as if even the slightest emotion might’ve shattered her into tiny, jagged pieces.
I eventually found out she was sneaking off to the springs to cry.
By then, winter was closing in, and the ground she sat on for hours was frozen solid.
My boss questioned my demand for two weeks off right after being tapped for a big promotion, but I didn’t care.
I spent every day of my leave sitting next to Isla on that bridge over the water.
Not uttering a single word. Just…being there.
Eventually, her tears stopped, and she began drawing.
“I have a lot of notes from your first Christmas together,” Asher says.
Isla obviously wasn’t in the mood to celebrate that year.
My whole family—minus Asher, who was in Tanzania—banded around her.
We watched cheesy horror movies and played violent video games.
Steered clear of anything that even hinted at family .
We skipped gifts on purpose, but once I found out she was obsessed with Hazel’s creations, I stocked the fridge to the brim with her favorite Winter Wonderland cupcakes.
Though she didn’t say much that week, she did eat every last one.
“Your messages got brighter in the new year.” Asher’s voice lifts. “You were so excited when she started creating again. I got spammed with pictures of her working. And of the work. I’m not sure anyone had ever been prouder of our girl than you during that period.”
“She deserved my admiration. It was a big step.” Hell, had I been in her shoes, I’m not sure I could’ve done it.
“You called it a Sunshine Renaissance .”
I nod. “It was around then that her smile started making a brief appearance. ”
And that smile—it was like a ray of sunshine breaking through heavy storm clouds. First soft, tentative, then so bright and beaming it was a direct hit to my heart.
“I was in Nepal when you were helping her with college applications.” His eyes turn glassy.
Distant. As if he’s traveling back through time and space in his mind.
“There was one moment when you wanted to suggest a school near your apartment in the city, remember? You figured you could continue the mentorship that way.”
Thankfully, I never followed through in sharing those selfish fantasies with Isla. That program would have been wasted on someone with her skills.
“She ended up going to the perfect school,” I say. One she’d been eyeing since well before I came into the picture. I’d just confirmed what she already knew. “It was the best decision for her.”
“Ten months into your friendship, I was shooting in Patagonia when she told me she had a crush on you. I didn’t pass on the info, of course.” He winks, a sly grin tugging at his lips before adding, “Bestie-bestie confidentiality.”
“But you did threaten to cut off my dick if I so much as touched a hair on her head. Which, truthfully, was the right call.” Especially considering that, by then, I’d entertained a thought or two about touching a lot more than just her hair.
That August was brutal. The first anniversary of her parents’ death. Uprooting her life to move across the country for school. Facing everything on her own for the first time. And then—our goodbye. Necessary, and so fucking final.
“When I made it home for Christmas, the look in your eyes was that of a deprived man.”
“I think you mean depraved . ”
“That too.” Asher whistles, tossing an ornament in the air and catching it with one hand. “I can’t believe she didn’t pick up on just how gone you were.”
I watch him for a moment, my lungs tightening, before muttering, “Perhaps she did.”
Maybe that’s why she felt brave enough to share her feelings during the town’s annual Christmas Eve party on Starlight Summit. Only for me to—
Damn it .
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” The words carve their way out as my hands fist at my sides.
Asher doesn’t flinch, but his jaw tightens, palm closing around the treat he’s been fiddling with. “You broke her heart. But ultimately, you did a good thing. You made her stronger.”
“No. She did that on her own. Despite my bullshit.”
Isla Ever Greene is one of the strongest people and most brilliant artists I’ve ever known. Competent. Independent. Creative.
Sheer fucking perfection.