Most of the homes are two-story brick houses that flaunt amateur landscaping. It’s better than her uncle’s but lower scale than where I live. Overall it’s nice, pleasant and very suburban.

“Stop.” There’s a longing in her voice that pricks at my chest. Haley presses her hand against the window; condensation forms an outline along her fingers. “That’s my house.”

I shift the car into Park. It’s a lot like the others: two stories, a chimney, but this one has a front porch, blue shutters, rosebushes and a for sale sign with the word sold.

“Mom would force Kaden and me home from the gym because she wanted us to eat dinner together. On Sundays, we’d order pizza and watch a movie in the living room. And that’s my bedroom. The corner one with two windows. There was always a lot of light in my room. I miss that—having a lot of light.”

Having no idea how to steal her pain, I gently stroke her hair one lock at a time. Rachel asked if I had a girlfriend—if I was Haley’s boyfriend. If I was, I would know how to make her better. I would have the words or the actions, but I only own silence.

I’ve never felt so much over a girl before. The emotions are unknown and confusing.

“I had a yellow lab,” she says. “She slept in my room and died a little over a year ago. Did you know...” And Haley stops and her breathing hitches. It’s like being slashed open with a knife. “Did you know she’s buried in the backyard?”

“No.” Because I wouldn’t know, but somehow it feels like I should. I think of me and Ethan at ten and nine dressed in our best suits to help Rachel bury her hamster in a shoebox in the backyard. It was my idea to hold the service when Mom was locked in her room, crying over a long-lost daughter, and Dad, once again, was busy with business.

Rachel sobbed and sobbed as Ethan held her. I dug the hole and I repacked the dirt. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my brother and sister.

“Do you know what I miss the most?” Haley whispers.

“What?” I ask, terrified of her answer.

“The feeling that no matter what happened or what I did, there was someplace safe to fall.” Haley looks at me and my insides wither at the moisture in her eyes. “What’s it like to go home? I fantasized about it and I’m sure you did, too. What was it like?”

I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I don’t know how to make you better. I’m in love with you and I shouldn’t be. I’m in love with you and once you figure out who I am, you’re not going to love me. I’m in love with you and I seem to f**k up the ones who love me back.

“Do you want to go there?” Each uttered word is cut against my heart. Once she sees where I live, once she knows I’m a Young, whatever it is going on between us will be done.

Haley nods and as I U-turn it out of her old neighborhood, I lace my fingers with hers. I hold on to her and what kills me and warms me at the exact same time is how desperately she clutches me. Like the two of us are drowning and the only way to stay afloat is to never let go. I’ve got minutes left with Haley and I want the memory of her skin touching mine burned into my brain for eternity.

Chapter 45

Haley

My fingers trace the split of my lips as I stare at the sprawling house from the passenger side of West’s SUV. I’m not sure if my fingers are there to keep the words in or to help them out. I think of those sci-fi movies where a character sets his gun to stun. I’m stunned. This—speechless, frozen, numb—this is what being “stunned” feels like.

“There’s a five-car garage around back.” West’s keys clank together as he circles them on his finger. “I can show you that if you’d like or we can head inside.”

My chest moves as I inhale, then exhale. Never would have I imagined that this is where he lives. “It’s a mansion.”

“It is.”

“They threw you out?” Aren’t people with money supposed to be better than...well...everyone? The way his hands clutch his keys tells me how terribly wrong I am.

“Yeah.” A pause. “I’m not like you—I’m not a good person. My dad had valid reasons for throwing me out. In fact, it’s amazing he didn’t throw my ass out sooner.”

West focuses on his lap and I have to force myself out of my stupor. Words. Words would be good right about now. But I don’t know what to say. He lives in a mansion.

But mansion or not, I hate the pain on his face. I bite my bottom lip and reach out to West, just like he reached out to me in the parking lot with Matt a few feet away. I rest my fingers on his shoulder and brush my thumb against the material of his shirt.

When he doesn’t respond, my heart flutters at the thought of becoming bold. My mouth dries out and I swallow. I’m not a bold person, not when it comes to intimacy—to touching. I inch closer, and, like I’ve dreamed of a thousand times, I caress the hair on his head, sliding my fingers into the golden-blond strands, then retucking it behind his ear.

West finally allows his deep blue eyes to meet mine.

“Will you take me inside?” I ask. “Will you show me your home?”

We’re out of the car in a heartbeat, and, with our fingers knotted tightly together, West leads me up the white stone stairs as if he’s terrified I’ll change my mind or he’ll change his. He shoves the floor-to-ceiling door open and the air rushes out of my lungs.

And I thought it looked huge on the outside. “My God.”