If only I could forget just how easily Lincoln Riscoff can drag me under his spell.

One

Whitney

Ten years ago

I rode to the hospital with Aunt Jackie, shivering in my rain-soaked clothes as my stomach twisted into tighter and tighter knots. She wouldn’t tell me anything other than there had been an accident involving my parents and Lincoln’s father.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Lincoln’s headlights shining behind us. As soon as Jackie had given us the news, part of me had wanted to run to him, to give and seek comfort, but what had happened earlier tonight had changed everything between us. Although, the closer we got to the hospital, the less some stupid fight and angry words seemed to matter.

There’s nothing like a possible tragedy to force you to wake up and realize what matters. Life is precious. Tomorrow carries no guarantee.

“What happened?” I felt like I’d asked the question a thousand times, but Jackie had only given me the bare minimum in details.

My aunt glanced over at me for a second before training her eyes back on the road. The windshield wipers worked overtime on their highest setting, but she still had to squint to see through the downpour.

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me much over the phone.”

The knot in my stomach yanked tighter again, and I wrapped my arms around my middle as I shivered. “Why did they call you and not me?”

“I called you the entire way to your house, and it went straight to voice mail every time. They probably couldn’t get through to you either.”

“Oh my God. My phone was off,” I whispered. “Because . . .”

Jackie’s gaze cut to me again, but she didn’t say anything.

Guilt savaged me. I turned my phone off, and my parents were . . .

I shook harder. “I would know if something really, really bad happened, wouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I feel something? Know something? They have to be okay, don’t they?”

“Keep it together, Whit. We’re almost there.” Jackie’s voice, normally so strong and confident, sounded as ragged as mine.

I checked the sideview mirror again because it gave me something to do. Anything was better than dwelling on the horrible possibilities flipping through my brain.

I forced myself to focus on the headlights behind us. Lincoln’s headlights. He’d come to my house, even after he’d thrown me out of the cabin, and I didn’t know why. I thought he’d said everything he needed to say.

Not that any of it matters now. Because my parents and his father were in some kind of accident. Together.

Jackie guided the car into the parking lot of the Riscoff Memorial Hospital and took a spot about a hundred yards from the emergency entrance. Lincoln drove right up to the ER doors and jumped out. He stood beside his truck, staring in my direction.

As soon as Jackie shifted into park, I bolted out of the car and ran. Rain drenched my clothes, but I didn’t care.