Summer

By Tara Sosa

He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.

One devastating lie. One epic betrayal. One cataclysmic choice that changed what could have been. What should have been. Reed Brooks annihilated every single cell of my being. He single-handedly ended my existence. I once was head-over-heels and believed in starry-eyed dreams and fairytales. I had a future mapped out with him. A forever. And then I had nothing. I was nothing. It took me a long time to put myself back together into the woman I am now. I wasn’t the girl he knew back then. I was someone else. Someone stronger, smarter, forged of steel. Someone who would never, ever forget...or forgive. Reed had his chance with me once-upon-a-time. He wasn’t getting another.

I broke her down to nothing. And by doing so, I broke me.

She was mine. Always has been. Always will be. For years I searched for her after I completely destroyed her and our future, our perfect life. But I always came up empty. I was empty. Together forever. Happily-ever-after. It was supposed to exist. But I told lies, I betrayed. I did a lot worse so our always and forever could exist. But it didn’t matter. I lost her anyway. And I lost myself too. But now she’s back and I finally have the chance to make things right. It won’t be easy. Because Emma Jameson doesn’t exist anymore. Emma Shaw does. And she’s not the girl who went running. This girl? This woman? She’s absolutely everything I’ve always wanted. Even with her jagged edges and broken pieces she’s more mine now than she was then, because underneath all the tears, frays, shards and bitter words? I see the truth. The girl who loved me is still inside of her trying to break free. She might’ve changed her name, and her soft edges might’ve become razor sharp, but a love like ours doesn’t disappear overnight. Or a decade.

There’s nothing standing in our way this time. Especially not her. I won’t allow it.
Emma is mine. Always has been. Always will be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tara Sosa
• Release date: Sep 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215027776

Tara Sosa

Tara Sosa grew up in New Jersey, went to a few of its colleges and earned her degree with honors, as well as her teaching credentials, along the way. Though she is technically a High School English teacher, she finds it much more enjoyable to read and write all day without restrictions, which is why she is literally without a classroom and students.From a very early age she knew she was in love with books and always would be, and though she tries to get everyone to love them too, she is constantly disappointed to find out that not everyone does. She absolutely loves her family, including her husband and two babies – of the four-legged variety. One day soon she hopes to add a few of the two-legged kind to her total, where she hopes at least one of them has the good sense to love reading and writing as much as she does.Right now she is currently living her dream as a writer.

Book preview

Dear Readers,

If you’ve read the first two books in this series, you’ll see some overlapping of scenes that have already happened between Reed, Emma, Jax, Sky, Jenks, and Liv. This time for obvious reasons it will be told in the POV of Emma and Reed. While not many occasions arise, some scenes were critical to include to get this book started, and some were detrimental to getting to the end.

If you have not read Winter (Jax & Sky’s story) or Spring (Jenks & Livvie’s story) it is recommended that you do so, especially Winter. Winter introduces the backstory of Reed and Emma, and it also has the first appearances of both characters. Their story, though minor in comparison to Winter, continues in Spring. And it definitely gets complicated and combustible—in the best possible way—here in Summer.

It is up to you what you want to do—what you want to read.

Either way, I hope you love Reed & Emma’s story…and the rest of the entire Inked Crew!

For Rosemarie J. Fedor, my grandmother.

1935-2020

A woman who lived her happily-ever-after with her husband for over 65 years.

A woman who loved her husband longer than that, and who will love him into eternity.

A woman who loved her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren, and God.

A military and shift-worker’s wife. A devoted mother. A worker in the education system. A friend.

Unwavering in her faith.

Entangled and proud of her roots.

Believer of second chances, dreams, wishes, earning and obtaining them.

And romance.

A woman who was treasured, cherished, adored, and loved.

A woman who will be remembered always, forever, and beyond.

We love you: Gram, Mom, Hon, Rose, … and Schmoo.

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For Freddie.

2020-2021

I didn’t realize at the time how much I loved you or needed you in my life.

How much of a presence, a constant, a light.

Joy. Beauty. Fun. Friendly. Fearless.

I realize it all now—including how much I miss you.

Beyond words or measure—just like my love.

Not one day is the same.

It never will be again.

I hope you & Allie are together living your best lives as best friends.

Love you, buddy.

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And for Samantha. My Sam. My Silly Sammy.

2011-2023

My first fur-baby. My…baby.

This dedication was never supposed to be any time soon. Because it wasn’t your time.

One minute you were up and running and playing. The next, you weren’t.

One second you were here. The next, you were gone.

She was a lover of plush blankies, catnip sticks, toys with bells, hammocks and perches and tunnels, playing and running around after dinner, grass, naps, snuggles and rubbies, all things Halloween, sitting in the window and feeling the breeze, the opening of boxes, laying IN boxes, and in baskets, bowls, lasagna pans, her carrier, cardboard cat houses and tents, on warm towels and clothes right from the dryer, and very recently laying on her unborn little sister’s reading chair and rocker.

She was a lover of sneaking in swipes of sweets, any type of treats, hairbrushes and playing with running water, feathery wands and fuzzy balls that she’d carry around the house in her mouth making the cutest sounds, laying by my feet and in my spot or on my pillow, my good-morning pets and her daddy’s morning treats, laying on or with her daddy no matter the time, head booping him and sometimes me, walking and sitting on his keyboard, popping up for virtual meetings with his co-workers, being the center of both our attention, but completely and wholeheartedly being her daddy’s favorite. She was his number one and she knew it. We ALL knew it. He always said it.

She was and always will be HIS cat no matter how much I loved her too and tried to steal HER attention.

I love you so much Silly Sam. I always will. I’ll never, ever forget you.

There’s not one day that’ll go by that I won’t wish you were still here.

You were and always will be my first little girl.

Forever and beyond.

I hope you & Allie & Freddie and the others are together living your best lives as best friends.

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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.

-Maya Angelou

If you ever get a second chance in life for something, you’ve got to go all the way.

-Lance Armstrong

PROLOGUE

REED

18 Years Old

Bands. Best ever. Jax picked a new topic before shoving a fry into his face.

Dave Matthews Band, I said without hesitation. I knew it wasn’t going to be a popular opinion and I was right.

No way. They’re trash, Jax said. I’m going with Nirvana.

Linkin Park or Green Day. And Jax is right, Brooks. They suck, Ryan chimed in.

Screw you guys. Just you watch. Decades from now people will still be singing ‘Crash Into Me.’ Or—

I hate that song. It’s played out. And it’s one song. Also, I’m adding Metallica. And Guns N’ Roses.

R.E.M.

How about old school?

The Stones. The Who. The Eagles.

How about solo artist? Liam asked, but we all shook our heads. He got here late so he already missed that round. Fine. Maroon 5. We all groaned at that.

What? That asshole over there— Jax pointed at me —picked Dave Matthews Band. Don’t give me any shit.

Talk about played out …and lame. I shook my head at the guys like they were peasants. But it was true. They didn’t know shit about music. Their choices weren’t bad—I knew some of them were good like The Stones, The Who, Metallica, Nirvana. Some of those bands would go down in history as legendary. But mine? Top tier. Screw them and their hating.

I ate some more while Jax, Ryan and Liam went back-and-forth. I didn’t offer my opinions while complete stupidity came out of their mouths. They didn’t get music like I did. They listened to it just for the hell of it while driving in their cars, getting ready for games, background noise while getting laid.

But me?

It was all I had most of the time. It was my outlet. I grew up with everything I could ever want, but nothing that I truly needed. Music was one of my only escapes from my fucked up life.

No way in hell was I getting into that shit with them. Sharing my feelings. They’d call me a pussy and then rag on me for the rest of my life.

Assholes.

I looked at the time on my cell and knew I had a bit more time with my friends before I had to be home. If I didn’t get home on time—I didn’t want to think about the consequences. I was having a good time with the guys, eating burgers and fries, shooting the shit. Taking jabs, dishing out zingers, talking about girls, making plans for our senior year.

A few more days and we’d be living like kings. Though at our school with our last names, the teams we played on, and our looks, we already were. We were denied nothing and given everything. We were legends and treated like royalty. We were gods amongst boys.

Fuck, I hated my life. But some of it wasn’t so bad. My friends, my teammates, the girls.

Any more garbage bands you want to contribute, Reed?

I’d just opened my mouth to tell Ry to go screw himself sideways when a voice over my shoulder said, "DMB isn’t garbage. I’m not too sure about R.E.M. or Maroon 5, but Guns N’ Roses, Metallica, and Nirvana are decent picks. And so is Linkin Park. I could listen to them forever. Just not like DMB.

But as a number one? No way. That spot belongs to either The Stones, The Who, or Queen—hands down, no question. Honorable mention goes to U2, Pink Floyd, Zeppelin. Oh—The Beatles too. And CCR. How the hell could I forget them?

I looked over my shoulder and my eyes landed on our new waitress. Our usual server, Betty, said she’d be leaving in a few minutes when she dropped off our food, and that ‘the new girl’ would be by to check on us in a few.

And the new girl—she was beautiful. Gorgeous. A total knockout. 

I was used to beautiful. Being a Brooks, a team captain of our football and baseball teams, and having my looks—yeah, I said it again—looks—I was around beautiful girls all the time. But not like this. She wasn’t made-up beautiful in low-cut, skin-tight, painted-on.

She was wearing a pink waitress apron over a plain black tee, black jeans, and she had on black chucks that’d see way better days. She had her hair pulled back in a messy bun and barely any makeup on other than some shit on her lips that I’d bet a thousand dollars was Chapstick. And not even the cherry kind. She was authentic, real, and rare. She was like no one I’d ever seen before. She was all eyes and lips and curves and hair—hair that I wanted to see tumbled down her back so I could sketch the color and texture the right way.

She was more than sketch worthy though. She was made for canvases, sculptures, and statues.

She evoked sassy and sweet, and she obviously didn’t give a shit that she just told Liam Sullivan, Ryan Flannery, or Jax Raines to pretty much go pound sand. Or that she was looking at me, Reed Brooks—football god and sometimes God’s gift to women—in a way that no girl ever had before. She wasn’t saying something just to get me to notice her. She wasn’t agreeing with me just to get on my good side. She wasn’t giving me those eyes so I’d give her the time of her life. The way she was looking at me—goddamn, I loved the way she was looking at me.

I also loved the way she smelled. Like toasted marshmallows underneath the grease and batter. I was used to girls wearing expensive things—clothes, accessories, perfume. But her? She knocked me off my axis with a bare face, dirty sneakers, gooey marshmallows, and string-bracelets.

I needed to know more about her. It felt essential. Vital.

I turned away from her even though I didn’t want to—because I knew I had to do it fast. Because I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing. Possibly feeling the same way.

I quickly looked at each of my friends and gave them the signal.

Yeah, we were the douchebags people talk about who had a signal to call dibs. Fucking dibs. I know it’s messed up, but Ryan and Jax started it after they both found out they screwed the same girl. Being guys, you’d think it wouldn’t matter. But it did for us. So, the douchebaggery signal. And I was using it. Because right now, I didn’t give a shit how it made me look. Or how screwed up we were in starting that stupid signal in the first place. I wanted her. Or at least the chance to get to know her and see where things went. They all needed to back off. I’d never done this shit to them before. Never once. But I knew the signal just in case. And once I did it…they all looked at me…stunned.

Which is sort of how I felt when I looked at the girl and felt the electric pull between us. It was like in summer when the air feels charged, and you know it’s going to storm. But not just any storm. It’s a storm that produces all this energy and electricity, all these elemental things that should make sense because there is a scientific reason that it happens, but it makes no sense at all because it seems miraculous, otherworldly, beyond any and every explanation. Things that cause lighting to splinter and unleash and thunder to crash and warn.

It’s amazing and scary all rolled into one. The beauty. The danger. The promise. It’s a storm that makes you want to stand outside and watch the performance—the majesty of it all—even though you know it’s dumb and you might die.

I turned back around to look at the girl and it was still there. The feeling inside of me. It wasn’t unwanted. But it was definitely unexpected. The tightening and tingling in my gut and groin. A breathlessness, an ache. Also, an eagerness, an anticipation I’ve only felt during competition. She was more than beautiful. She was captivating. She had a mass of red hair and the lightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I’d say they were arctic, but that would imply they were cold, frigid, glacial, and nothing about her was that.

The lightest of blue skies on a warm summer day full of sunshine and endless hours of freedom and fun. Perfection. That was her.

I sucked in a breath and shook my head trying to clear it from these thoughts. They weren’t terrible or terrifying, but they also weren’t me. I was slick and smooth, and when I needed to be, I turned on the sexy and sinful. I might only be eighteen, but once again, I was a Brooks, a varsity captain, and part of a crew of guys just like me. I knew how to charm not only the young but the old to get what I wanted. I knew how to get girls.

I slipped between roles and worlds and thighs with ease.

But something told me with this girl, I couldn’t be any of what I was used to being for everyone else.

The Reed who lived and breathed music, the one who loved sketching and wanted tattoos and thought piercings were cool, the one who couldn’t wait to get the hell out of his parent’s house and out from under the last name Brooks and their thumb and boot, the one who wanted to live a normal life and not bury who and what he truly was—that’s who I needed to give her. The me I could sometimes be with my friends and my younger sister, Livvie. The me I could never be with Hiram and Angeline Brooks.     

I met Blue-Eyes’ gaze and held out my hand, using a bit of that suave and charm. But when she looked down at my hand and then back into my eyes, she looked at me like I was thirty instead of barely legal. And my friends fucking laughed. The dicks. But in for a penny and all that.

Hey. I’m Reed Brooks, I said, all casual and shit when inside I felt anything but.

Blue-Eyes raised a brow and her lips and then she put her hand in mine and said, Emma Jameson.

Emma.

My Blue-Eyes.

My?

Yeah. She’d be mine.

And I didn’t say that as a Brooks, a football and baseball god, or the big man on campus.

It was just me as I am right now saying that. Knowing it. Wanting it. I wanted Emma. Fuck, but I wanted her.

What I was about to do was either going to be the best thing I’ve ever done, or it was going to be the absolute worst.

How crazy was it that this all started because of music?

Music, ink, and random hookups were kind of my thing.

Sports and my friends—they’re things I like. My sister—something I love, without question, always have and will. But Emma? A few minutes in her orbit and I had a feeling that she’d end up being something I could be in love with. And something I couldn’t live without. A real passion. A true love. An always love. A forever love. My everything.

And I was right.

Emma got underneath my skin. She got right to the heart of me. She got my heart.

I fell in love with Emma Jameson, and she fell in love with me.

It wasn’t lust at first sight. It wasn’t puppy-love. It was full-blown. It was undeniable and true. It was also reckless and unabandoned. We were a force, we were fierce, our love was fiery.

And then because of me and my decisions we combusted. All that remained of us was cinder and ash. No love was returned. No second chances were given. No truths to banish the lies were heard. And no Emma.

Emma disappeared from my life for over a decade. She ruined me…but I ruined her first.

Once-upon-a-time, Emma Jameson was my most favorite thing, my most cherished thing in the entire fucking world. Every single thing about her was vital to my being. She was the absolute true love of my life. But she left and it crushed my soul to the point where I changed completely.

Some people say you can’t change. But I did. Undeniably. I changed for her, then because of her, and I’d give anything to change for her once again. Be anything and everything for her if given the chance.

It took me one minute to realize that Emma was it for me all those years ago. It took a few weeks for her to realize the same thing—after a lot of convincing—but she did. And over the next few months that followed we became everything to and for each other.

We were going to finish high school and go to college together far away from my fucked-up family. We were going to build a life together. We were going to get married, have kids, and live happily-ever-after. We were going to have it all. The fairytale. It was our future. I made Emma my number one and made sure everyone knew it. I told her I loved her every chance that I got and made sure she had no doubts. I put a ring on her finger and told her I was going to marry her someday. I made love to her the way I was in love with her.

Everything that we shared together was pure, raw, magic.

But then I made the biggest mistake of my life.

I lied to her. To protect her, I lied.

The only lies I’d ever told her were to shield her. But it was also the lies that ended up destroying her. Me. Us. I thought it’d be a few minutes of pain to get to the pleasure of the rest of our lives. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I knew what was right.

But a few minutes after the destruction, I was left in the wake of my creation. Alone. And I knew I was so very fucking wrong.

That’s all it took for Emma to walk out of my life and to never be seen again. Minutes. A handful of minutes.

That’s also what it took for her to make my life complete and shatter it once again when she walked back into my life a decade later.

Once-upon-a-time, I broke Emma’s heart by giving her lies.

And now, Emma was breaking mine with the truth.

CHAPTER ONE

EMMA

For weeks all my best friend talked about was the photoshoot the crew at Inked was doing for a well-known magazine. All of them—including Reed—would be interviewed and photographed for the front cover and a few-page spread.

When I saw it at the airport, I told myself not to do it.

Don’t buy it, don’t open it, don’t read it.

Don’t do a lot of things.

All things I ignored.

Reed Brooks looked like a cover model. Like it was his job instead of giving people tattoos, breaking hearts, and telling lies.

"I hate that he looks like Stephen James."

I also hated that he looks so much better now than he did at eighteen. So different. If I didn’t know who it was staring back at me, I never would’ve guessed that Reed Brooks turned into…that.

I slammed the magazine shut and shoved it into my bag to resist the temptation of flipping through the pages again. For the nine-thousandth time. That was the problem with Reed. He always led me into temptation. Too bad he didn’t deliver me from evil. He was the evil. He stole my heart and broke it along with my hopes, dreams, and his promises. He broke all his promises to me. He hurt me and sent me running. He did things I could never forgive and sure as hell could never forget.

I would not be distracted by his tattoos and piercings, or the broody, edgy, and undeniably sexy man he turned into. He wasn’t the whole package no matter what the interviewer said. She only saw surface. I was well acquainted with the true Reed that was hidden underneath the facade. It didn’t matter that I haven’t seen him in ten years or that what happened between us was when we were in our teens. I still hated him. I always would. I thought I’d be able to avoid him for the rest of my life, but then my best friend had to fall in love with his.

Sky.

The reason I was going home. The reason I could no longer avoid Reed. And our past.

When Sky called me last night and said she needed me, sobbing, hysterical, and completely heartbroken, I knew there wasn’t a choice. After ten years I’d be heading back to the one place I never intended to step foot again. A place where I’d undoubtedly run into the one person I never wanted to see again.

A plea from a best friend.

A decade’s worth of my trauma unleashed.

When I sent Sky to my hometown after a nasty breakup of her own to regroup and heal, I didn’t think she’d end up at Inked, or falling in love with Jackson Raines and becoming friends with the guy who sent me running and reeling. Never in a million years, otherwise I never would’ve mentioned Baltimore. But here we are.

I leaned my head back against the seat and looked out the window while my Uber driver unknowingly drove me down memory lane. Ever since I got Sky’s call it was like opening Pandora’s Box. The lid was cracked once Sky moved and met Jax and started talking about him and Reed and the rest of the crew. She had no idea that I knew either of them; I didn’t want to bring it up because I knew there’d be questions I didn’t want to answer. Sky had no idea that every time she mentioned Reed’s name it was a dagger to my soul. And when she mentioned Rina—a face I could now put next to a name because of the magazine—and some of the other women in his life—that dagger dug in a bit more, it twisted. She told me a lot of things about him and his life I didn’t want to hear or know. She also brought up a lot of things I didn’t want to remember about the past. But it was nothing compared to seeing his face on the cover of a magazine.

Or remembering the first time we met at the diner we just passed.

It’s ironic that the first time I saw him in years—not in my memories or nightmares—it’d be on the cover of a magazine promoting their tattoo studio like they were a rock band posing for Rolling Stone. The first time I saw Reed and his friends they were arguing about the best bands in history.

Of course, I couldn’t help but to add a few of my own.

I had no idea at the time what I willingly walked into. Even when I thought I knew Reed and his world, I had no idea. I’m not sure I ever really knew him or what he and the others were capable of.

When I walked up to their table, I knew what kind of guys they were—popular, cocky, entitled. They were that and so much more. He was so much more. I didn’t know that by the end of us I’d be adding cold, callous, and cruel. But it wasn’t always like that. Which is why I will always hate him forever. He made me fall in love with him, he had me thinking he was in love with me, that we’d be together forever based on his promises.

Everything was nothing but a pack of lies.

I still can’t believe how naïve I’d been. How starry-eyed, love-drunk, and unbelievably stupid.

From the very beginning until the bitter end.

The very first time I laid eyes on Reed I had no idea he’d change my life forever. He looked at me over his broad shoulder, his black hair peeking out from underneath his backwards ballcap, his blue eyes stormy as they took me in. I knew I wasn’t much to look at, but him? He was gorgeous. And so much more than a face. I planned on cocky, but somehow, I got charming. He held out his hand and introduced himself, and when I placed my hand in his, so much smaller and softer than his own, the tingle in my hand and up my arm was immediate, as was the churning in my belly and the racing of my heart.

It only got worse from there.

Over the next few weeks, there wasn’t an hour of the day where I didn’t talk to him unless we were sleeping. He left me his number the night we met after securing mine and we texted, spoke on the phone, he met me at the diner during my shifts, we went out a few times before the schoolyear began.

Me, Emma Jameson, with Reed Brooks.

He was…him.

And I was…me.

It was the talk of the school. He warned me it would be. He told me there’d be gossip, rumors, jealousies. I told him I could handle it—I could handle anything to be with him. Reed was so much more than I thought that first day. He was athletic and artistic, he loved music and movies and sketching, he was smart and sensitive and sweet, a closeted semi-nerd who wrote me letters and drew me pictures, who had hopes and dreams and plans for the future that would’ve shocked everyone if they knew.

He was a legend. Their legend. He was their hero, the golden boy, the playboy. Their God. He was Reed Brooks. In all caps or italicized. Never normal. Except with me. It should’ve bothered me how different he was with everyone else. How much of an act he had to put on, but it didn’t. It secretly thrilled me. It was exhilarating. All the guys wanted to be like him, and all the girls wanted to date him. And all Reed wanted was me.

I knew without a doubt I was his number one. But it did take some convincing. Like that first day at school.

You weren’t wrong. I did hear a lot about you today. The infamous Reed Brooks, I wiggled my eyebrows at him to show him I was teasing, but I could tell it bothered him.

Christ. What’d you hear? He grabbed the back of his neck—his agitated tell.

That you slept with pretty much everyone. All the girls. Some of the teachers. I even heard some guy say—

No guys. No teachers. And not the entire goddamn female population for fucks sake. Em—

Reed, stop it. It’s okay. I know.

Fuck, I knew this would be hard.

Not as hard as it was for me. But there was one thing I needed to know. There was something I heard…

What?

About you and some girl named Piper. Apparently, you and—

There is no me and her. Never has been, never will be. Whatever you heard was a lie. She’s been trying—but no. Just no. I exhaled a sigh of relief because Piper Larson was someone to worry about.

You need to do something for me, Em.

Okay?

You need to promise me that you’ll always come to me if you ever hear anything about me that you don’t like. Come to me and ask me if it’s true. I’ll never lie to you. If it’s something you don’t like and it’s true, I’ll explain. If it’s a lie, I’ll squash that shit around here so that way it never comes up again. I didn’t care before about all the fucked-up shit people said about me. Me and my friends knew the truth. But with you? For you? I care. I care a fucking lot. So, promise me, Em.

Okay. I promise.

Just like that?

Just like that.

I need you to know something else.

What?

I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I cannot fucking lose you. Not over lies or other people’s jealousies. Nothing. I just can’t. Not when you’re starting to mean everything to me.

Reed… In that moment I wanted to kiss him. We’d shared a few kisses over the last few weeks, but never have I felt the need so urgently, desperately.

Just promise me, Em.

I promise.

Okay. So, moving along. What did the grapevine say about my sexual prowess’s again?

Your what now?

All these years later and I could almost feel the way my cheeks stretched tight and the way my belly and ribs ached mere seconds later, after he started to tickle me, making me laugh uncontrollably—after I told him I heard he sucked in bed.

He didn’t suck in bed.

He also lied.

It wasn’t until several months later that we finally had sex. On my eighteenth birthday. I turned eighteen on the eighteenth of April. And then two months later, everything was over.

But before then…the plans, the promises, the future, the forever.

I turned away from the window and looked at my bag. That damn magazine. And a shirtless Reed. In all his glossy glory I couldn’t miss the big, bold, red number eighteen over his heart. Eighteen on eighteen. It was the night I gave him my virginity. The night he slipped a poppy-colored ring on my finger and made vows.

I’m gonna marry you someday, Em. I’m gonna build us our dream house, I’m gonna give you as many kids as you want, and I’m gonna love you forever. Those fairytales you say you don’t believe in anymore, I’m gonna make you believe. Because we’re gonna live it. They’re gonna happen. For us. You and me. Everything. Always. Forever.

He slipped the ring on my finger and a few minutes later he slipped inside of me.

It’s never been like this before. It has to be because I love you. Because you matter.

At the time I believed it. I could see it. Feel it.

I thought I saw it, felt it.

That was the same night we ended up getting matching tattoos. A permanent reminder of our love inked into our skin.

I also had a permanent reminder of his betrayal branded into my soul for eternity.

Reed Brooks promised me fairytales.

He gave me nothing but heartbreak.

You thought you were endgame? You were just a game.

Those were the last words Reed ever said to me. While I was crying on the ground, him looming over me, all our friends and rivals looking on, listening, laughing, he told me I was just a game.

I collapsed to the ground after he told me he never loved me. That he lied. The same way he lied about Piper. He’d been screwing her all along. He never planned on going away with me to college. He didn’t want to live together, get married, have children. At least not with me. He was a Brooks, and I was nobody. I was nothing. He saw the innocence in me the first time he laid eyes on me. Something he’d never seen before, something he’d never experienced. He wanted to see what it was like. What I was like. He played the long game to get what he wanted. Me. He wanted me, just not like how he promised. Not like how I wanted him. He lied to me, he used me, he broke me. And even after all of that, after he said such vile things, as he stepped over me like trash, I reached out to him and held on. I held on until he shook me off like I was shit on his shoe. The trash that he called me.

The words. The actions.

In the moments before he ripped my world to shreds, I felt like a dandelion. Not the kind where you make wishes. The kind that’s in the eye of a hurricane. The kind that gets annihilated because it doesn’t know any better, it just stands there waiting for it to happen. Reed stood facing me, not looking at me like a catalyst to making his dreams and fantasies come true. He was looking at me like he couldn’t wait to send me reeling into a nightmare. Uprooting me and destroying me completely. He looked at me like I wasn’t his world. Like he was about to burn mine around me. And he did.

I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t see any of it coming. He let me go down a rabbit hole creating pipedreams that would never exist. He let me create a fantasy life while he was plotting and planning to tear apart the real one. I will never forgive him for that. Or forget. Like so many other things. I can remember verbatim everything Reed said to me—more things than I will allow myself to dredge up in this moment, because if I do, I will spiral and spin out of control, and I’ll never be able to help Sky when I get to her. But I remember.

How I wish that I could forget.

I remember some girl helping me off the ground, wrapping her arms around me and taking me to her car. She was one of the very few who wasn’t laughing at me or calling me names.

I remember saying… Why?

Why did he do this? Or why am I helping you?

I didn’t answer her. I just kept repeating the same thing. Why? Why? Why? But she answered me.

Some guys are assholes. And women should help each other when one of those assholes breaks our heart, our spirit, our soul, our faith, our trust. When they ruin and destroy everything. We should pick each other up, brush each other off, give words of advice, encouragement, be each other’s guide, cheering section, wall or armor when needed, or the one who pushes the other off the ledge when it’s time to fly and a shove is necessary. You just dealt with an epic fucking asshole. Maybe the worst I’ve ever seen. You needed picked up, brushed off, and for right now, you need the wall and armor, the advice and encouragement.

What’s your advice? I asked after a while.

Cry. Scream. Hate him. Hate the entire world if you want. But just for a little while. Don’t let it consume you. Trust me. Take a minute and bask in it. The hate. The rage. All the ugly. From what you just went through, you earned it. Then let it go. And move on. You move on.

Before I knew it, I was home. I didn’t remember telling her my address or my name. I didn’t remember if I ever asked hers or if she gave it to me. If she did, I didn’t remember it now. It seems stupid in the grand scheme of what happened—but it really bothers me that I don’t know her name. However, I would always remember her act of kindness. She was my savior. My protector. When the one that had that title—the one I thought would have it for the rest of my life—was the one I needed protecting from.

I will never forget her and what she did for me, what she said to me. Which is why I am here now helping my best friend, in a place that is the setting of my deepest and darkest pain. She’s a woman who needs to be picked up and brushed off. She’s like a sister to me. I’d do anything and everything for her. And after we talk, I’ll have to figure out whether she needs the shield or the shove.

When it was me needing help, I needed all of it, especially the move. My parents took over the reins of being my protector until I was strong enough to protect myself. For ten years I’ve been protecting myself from that day. From him. From what might have been.

It’s so much worse than anyone knows.

As the car pulled to the curb, I said a silent thank you to the universe for not letting me get sucked into that abyss.

The weeks and months after Reed.

I grabbed my stuff, said a few words to my driver, and made my way to Emma’s door. I took a deep breath—knowing full well there was absolutely no returning from this—and started knocking on her door and didn’t stop until she opened it. When she saw me, she flung herself into my arms.

You’re here, she whispered the words into my shoulder.

You said you needed me. My words were simple when the situation was anything but.

I didn’t think you’d come.

You said you needed me, and I said ‘okay.’ I told you I’d be here as soon as I could. I’ve been calling and texting you all day to let you know what’s been going on. I didn’t hear one word from her in return, but I wasn’t too concerned about it. I remember my own aftermath all too well.

I didn’t want to talk.

I didn’t want to breathe.

My phone died right after I got home. It’s been on the charger ever since. I haven’t looked at it. I’m sorry. I know you said you’d come. It’s just—you said you’d never come back.

You needed me. You asked me to. And it was time, Sky.

It was time. And knowing it, acknowledging it, it was somewhat…freeing. Almost as much as it was nauseating. Sky let go of me and searched my eyes, trying to see if I spoke the truth. I let her see everything I was feeling.

Emma… I probably let her see too much.

Don’t. Don’t worry about me. Let’s worry about you. You didn’t sound good last night. And you don’t look so good right now. Sky was wearing a man’s faded, hole-riddled tee—most likely Jax’s—and sweats that have seen far better days. Her blue eyes were swollen and smudged, her blond hair was a rat’s nest, and she a nose that rivaled Rudolph’s. She really was a splotchy and snotty mess. And right now, she was my mess. A mess that needed fixing.

Okay. Now tell me what Jackson did.

Over the next several minutes, Sky told me everything that had gone on between her and Jax the night before. And Christ, it was bad. Really, really bad…for me. Because even though I wanted to slap Jax in the mouth for some of the things that came out of it, I was mostly on his side for this one. I listened to Sky, I really did, but I also read the article in the magazine that came out this morning. I read Jax’s words. I felt his words. I also felt and heard everything Sky said about him and their relationship the last few months. Maybe if she read the article—and maybe if she checked her goddamn phone—things would be a bit different. Because