Chapters (55)
- Cover
- Praise for Novels by
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- PROLOGUE
- A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“I think you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know,” he said. “And I don’t want to see it broken because our parents are stubborn.” His mom could carry a grudge like a treasure chest. How could he prepare Louisa for that?
She frowned as if she hadn’t considered her plan would go any other way than the way she’d played it out in her head.
“Have you told her about us?” she asked.
He sighed. “Not yet.”
“You think she’ll be upset?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “But she’ll have to deal with it.” He grabbed her arm and gave her a tug toward him. “Because this is what I want.” He leaned in and kissed her, softly at first because she seemed preoccupied, but after a beat, she finally kissed him back as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And that was a beautiful thing.
He liked it better this way, in their little bubble where everything was new and exciting. As it was, that meant a lot of kissing—on the beach after a picnic packed with Bartlett’s Farm sandwiches, on her couch while ignoring the movie they were supposed to be watching, even on Seaside’s back deck, which had started to feel less like his old house and more like their special place. He would’ve invited her to his place, but it wasn’t presentable. And he didn’t want to waste time he could be spending with her to make it so. And he still had only one chair.
He loved that he was still discovering things about her. Like the fact that she regularly sang the wrong lyrics to well-known songs. And she talked to herself when she cooked. And she couldn’t drive by a yard sale without stopping to at least see if there was anything worth buying.
He wouldn’t deny his feelings for her—he couldn’t. She made him want to get up in the morning and be a better person. He loved her. He’d almost told her twice now, but it felt too soon—too vulnerable. Once he said it, he couldn’t take it back.
Last night after she met him at the station, they went for a walk, which led them to the memorial on the beach. It was surreal, standing there with her. His mind easily wandered back to the last time they were in that exact spot, twelve years ago. Somehow, as she reached down and took his hand, some of the pain of that night slipped silently away.
She leaned into him, and he felt the warmth from her body, noticed the way it filled him up, and he wondered if her love for him would be enough to calm the angry demons that still haunted him at times.