They kissed again, clinging to each other. He lifted his head and studied her face. “You need to know I love Hudson, too.”

“That’s good, because he and I are a package deal.”

He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy. Hudson has missed you so much—he already adores you.” She giggled. “And Duke, of course.”

“Of course,” he laughed. He lifted her in his arms and swung her in a circle. “We’ll be one big happy family.”

Keep reading for an excerpt from Be Careful What You Wish For by Elizabeth Bevarly.

Be Careful What You Wish For

by Elizabeth Bevarly

PROLOGUE

“This is lame.”

“Says you. The food is awesome.”

“Holy crow, who paints a ceiling like that?”

Fifteen-year-old Chance Foley tugged at his necktie for the billionth time and gazed at his three companions sitting on the other side of the table at the Galaxy Ball. His brother, Logan, had naturally been the one to complain, because Logan, at nineteen, complained about everything and thought he was better than everyone else. Certainly better than the three fifteen-year-olds their mother had made him promise to keep an eye on tonight. Chance’s friend Felix Suarez was shoveling his dessert into his mouth like it was the last bite of food he’d ever get, even though he lived above his grandmother’s restaurant. And his other friend Max Travers, whose hand-me-down suit fitted him even worse than Logan’s hand-me-down fitted Chance, was staring at the high ceiling overhead, fascinated.

Chance looked up, too. Max had a point. Although the whole ballroom of Mrs. Pendleton Barclay’s estate was pretty gnarly, the ceiling was super trippy. Bright blue and dotted with stars, there was a giant sun and moon in the middle surrounded by cartoon renditions of all the planets. And streaking through the middle of them was a comet. Comet Bob. It actually had a more official handle, the name of the Eastern European scientist who had discovered him, but that name had more consonants than vowels and more syllables than anyone was comfortable with, so Comet Bob it was.

It was the whole reason for the party tonight. Mrs. Barclay’s Galaxy Ball was the final event of the monthlong Welcome Back Bob Comet Festival that the small southern Indiana town of Endicott hosted every fifteen years. Comet Bob came back to Earth every fifteen years, always during the third week of September, and he always made his closest pass to the planet at coordinates that were directly above Endicott. It was an anomaly scientists had been trying to explain for generations, but meanwhile the little town had come to claim it as their own.

“I think the ceiling’s dope,” Chance said. “It would be cool to live in a place like this.”