With high school officially behind her, she was a few short months from reinventing herself. The fragile asthmatic. The weirdo synesthete. The trouble-making little sister. They all disappeared with one last ferry ride to the mainland in August.

Then her life would officially begin at art school—thank you, scholarships and financial aid. Sure, Detroit was still in Michigan. But it might as well be a separate country from idyllic Mackinac. She’d be close enough to home in case she flamed out in the first week or two, but she wanted the fresh start bad enough that she wouldn’t let that happen.

The art shop, her intended destination, beckoned the eye with windows full of color and order just begging to be messed up and rearranged. Brand new brushes pined for a swath of paint. Miles of blank canvas held its breath, waiting for someone to write their story across them.

Waiting for her to create a future.

“What are you doing, Remi?” He appeared in worn jeans and that gray t-shirt that fitted to his broad chest. Every time she got within a foot or two of the man, her skin buzzed with awareness. He wasn’t that many years ahead of her and her classmates, but Brick Callan was all man.

“Daydreaming. What are you doing, Brick?” she asked with a flirtatious smile.

“Making sure you don’t get into any trouble. Why don’t you go back to the party?”

She threw her arms wide and spun in a little circle. “Haven’t you heard? You can officially retire now.”

A smile played on his firm lips. “Just like that?”

She shrugged, annoyed that he wasn’t seeing the magic of her transformation. “I’m eighteen. An adult. A high school graduate. I’m leaving for college in August.”

The hint of smile disappeared. “I am aware,” he said.

She let the silence stretch on, testing him to see how long it would take for him to break it.

“I didn’t get you a graduation present yet,” he said finally.

“Did you get Spencer one?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She wasn’t quite grown-up enough to hide the triumphant flush.

“Are you still mad at him for the accident?”

He uncrossed his arms and pressed a palm into the stone above her head. His nearness disoriented her like one too many wine coolers. He made her feel small but safe. Treasured. Protected. And part of her craved it. But there was another piece that wanted to break free, to shed this life and its expectations.

Maybe then he’d see her for the woman she was instead of a collection of amusing anecdotes and memories.

“I am.”

His voice held the rough edges of anger. She winced. “I’m sorry about your truck.”

While other schools salivated over the chance to host their prom on the island, the senior class of Mackinac delighted in venturing to the mainland. Her platonic date Spencer, who’d been devastated when Audrey moved with her family, had been too busy rehashing his mother’s invitation to visit her in Vegas for the summer to realize the traffic light had turned red.