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Back The Companion Project Save as PDF
Chapters (89)
  1. Dedication
  2. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  3. ONE
  4. HENRY
  5. TWO
  6. EMMA
  7. THREE
  8. HENRY
  9. FOUR
  10. EMMA
  11. FIVE
  12. EMMA
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. HENRY
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. HENRY
  20. ELEVEN
  21. TWELVE
  22. EMMA
  23. THIRTEEN
  24. HENRY
  25. FOURTEEN
  26. HENRY
  27. FIFTEEN
  28. SIXTEEN
  29. EMMA
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. HENRY
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. HENRY
  34. NINETEEN
  35. HENRY
  36. TWENTY
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. EMMA
  39. TWENTY-TWO
  40. EMMA
  41. TWENTY-THREE
  42. HENRY
  43. TWENTY-FOUR
  44. EMMA
  45. TWENTY-FIVE
  46. EMMA
  47. TWENTY-SIX
  48. EMMA
  49. TWENTY-SEVEN
  50. HENRY
  51. TWENTY-EIGHT
  52. EMMA
  53. TWENTY-NINE
  54. HENRY
  55. THIRTY
  56. HENRY
  57. THIRTY-ONE
  58. HENRY
  59. THIRTY-TWO
  60. EMMA
  61. THIRTY-THREE
  62. HENRY
  63. THIRTY-FOUR
  64. EMMA
  65. THIRTY-FIVE
  66. EMMA
  67. THIRTY-SIX
  68. HENRY
  69. THIRTY-SEVEN
  70. EMMA
  71. THIRTY-EIGHT
  72. HENRY
  73. THIRTY-NINE
  74. HENRY
  75. FORTY
  76. EMMA
  77. FORTY-ONE
  78. HENRY
  79. FORTY-TWO
  80. FORTY-THREE
  81. EMMA
  82. FORTY-FOUR
  83. EMMA
  84. FORTY-FIVE
  85. HENRY
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

She fidgets, biting her lip, searching for courage. I lean forward, silently encouraging her, letting her know it’s okay to be honest. It’s okay to tell me. I see the second she gives up, not voicing what she’s really thinking. “We should head back to everyone.”

At the flip of a switch, I go from hopeful, optimism flooding my veins, to a popped balloon, deflating in an instant.

She’s not ready.

She might not ever be ready, these two identities unrelenting in confusing her. Pulling and tugging, no regard for what her heart might want.

I’ll give her time. I wasn’t lying when I told the guys I’d give her anything she wants. I’m not going anywhere, and she’s worth the wait.

“You’re right. Come on. Let’s get some food.”

We spend the rest of the night laughing with my family, playing games, and enjoying ourselves. It’s easy and fun; Emma is the perfect addition to our little cluster of people. More than a few times my gaze drifts over to her across the fire, observing her laugher, merriment on her face. When I reluctantly cut my eyes away, I catch my mother staring at me, wearing a knowing smile.

Even with the friendly and welcoming atmosphere, there’s a lingering, nagging voice whispering in my ear, barely loud enough to be heard over the crackle of embers and flowing conversations and wine. It’s determined to not let up, a headache blooming at the base of my neck and radiating up to my temples. As much as I try to refuse to acknowledge it, the whisper persists, building into a mocking, cruel, smirking apex that sounds like a dull roar.

Don’t get too attached, Henry, it laughs savagely.

This has an end date. One she’s going to adhere to.

You don’t stand a chance.

TWENTY-EIGHT

EMMA

When I wake up the morning after the dinner of burgers and hotdogs, I’m relieved to find I stayed on my side of the bed, not migrating over to harass my co-inhabitant. There’s a wide berth of space between us this time, the rumpled sheets forming a firm barrier. His hand rests in the middle of the bed, crossing the threshold we wordlessly established last night when we returned to his room after a fun time of backyard games and stories around the fire. His palm is face up, splayed open, as if he was just holding someone’s hand in his own or gripping an object tightly, fearful to let go.