“Tate, let’s go!” Corbin yells from the far end of the lobby. I catch up with them to show them the way to my car.

It takes three trips to get all my things up, not two.

Three entire trips where Miles doesn’t speak another word to me.

Chapter four

MILES

Six years earlier

Dad: “Where are you?”

Me: “Ian’s house.”

Dad: “We need to talk.”

Me: “Can it wait until tomorrow? I’ll be home late.”

Dad: “No. I need you home now. I’ve been waiting for you since school let out.”

Me: “Fine. On my way.”

That was the conversation that led to this moment. Me, sitting in front of my dad on the couch. My dad, telling me something I don’t care to hear.

“I would have told you sooner, Miles. I just—”

“Felt guilty?” I interrupt. “Like you’re doing something wrong?”

His eyes meet mine, and I begin to feel bad for saying what I said, but I push the feeling down and keep going.

“She’s been dead less than a year.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to throw up.

He doesn’t like being judged, especially by me. He’s used to my supporting his decisions. Hell, I’mused to supporting his decisions. Until now, I always thought he made good ones.

“Look, I know this is hard for you to accept, but I need your support. You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to move on since she died.”

“Hard?” I’m standing. I’m raising my voice. I’m acting like I give a shit for some reason, when I really don’t. I could care less that he’s already dating again. He can see whoever he wants. He can screw whoever he wants.

I think the only reason I’m reacting this way is because she can’t. It’s hard to defend your marriage when you’re dead. That’s why I’m doing it for her.

“It’s obviously not very hard for you at all, Dad.”

I walk to the opposite end of the living room.

I walk back.

The house is too damn small to fit all of my frustration and disappointment.

I look at him again, recognizing that it’s not so much the fact that he’s seeing someone already. It’s the look he gets in his eyes when he talks about her that I hate. I never saw him look at my mother that way, so whoever she is, I know it’s not a casual thing. She’s about to seep into our lives, intertwining around and through and between my relationship with my father like she’s poison ivy. It’ll no longer be just my father and me. It’ll be me, my father, and Lisa. It doesn’t feel right, considering my mother’s presence is still everywhere in this house.

He’s sitting with his hands folded in front of him, clasped together. He’s looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but I want to give it a shot. Lisa makes me happy. Sometimes moving on is … the only way to move on.”

I open my mouth to respond to him, but my words are cut off by the doorbell. He looks up at me, hesitantly coming to a stand. He seems smaller. Less heroic.

“I’m not asking you to like her. I’m not asking you to spend time with her. I just want you to be nice to her.” His eyes are pleading with me, and it makes me feel guilty for being so resistant.

I nod. “I will, Dad. You know I will.”

He hugs me, and it feels good andbad. It doesn’t feel like I just hugged the man I’ve had on a pedestal for seventeen years. It feels as though I just hugged my peer.

He asks me to get the door while he heads back to the kitchen to finish dinner, so I do. I close my eyes and let my mom know that I’m going to be nice to Lisa, but she’ll always just be Lisato me, no matter what happens between her and Dad. I open the door.

“Miles?”

I look at her face, and it’s completely opposite from my mother’s face. This makes me feel good. She’s a lot shorter than my mother. She’s not as pretty as my mother, either. There’s nothing about her that can be compared to my mother, so I don’t even try. I accept her for what she is: our dinner guest.

I nod and open the door wider to let her in. “You must be Lisa. Good to meet you.” I point behind me. “My father is in the kitchen.”

Lisa leans forward and gives me a hug—one that I successfully make awkward after it takes me several seconds to hug her back.

My eyes meet the eyes of the girl standing behind her.

The eyes of the girl standing behind her meet mine.

You’re

gonna

fall

in

love

with

me,

Rachel.

“Miles?” she says in a broken whisper.

Rachel sounds a little bit like her mother, but sadder.

Lisa looks back and forth between us. “You know each other?”

Rachel doesn’t nod.

Neither do I.

Our disappointment melts to the floor and combines in a

puddle of premature tears at our feet.

“He, um, … he …”

Rachel is stuttering, so I help her finish her words. “I go to

school with Rachel,” I blurt out. I regret saying that, because

what I really want to say is, Rachel is the next girl I’m gonna fall

in love with.

I can’t say that, though, because it’s obvious what’s bound to

happen. Rachel isn’t the next girl I’ll fall in love with, because

Rachel is the girl who will more than likely become my new

stepsister.

For the second time tonight, I feel sick.

Lisa smiles and clasps her hands together. “That’s great,” she

says. “I’m so relieved.”

My father walks into the room. He hugs Lisa. He says hi to

Rachel and tells her it’s good to see her again.

My father already knows Rachel.

Rachel already knows my father.

My father is Lisa’s new boyfriend.

My father visits Phoenix a lot.

My father has been visiting Phoenix a lot since before my

mother died.

My father is a bastard.

“Rachel and Miles already know each other,” Lisa says to my

father.

He smiles, and relief floods his face. “Good. Good,” he says,

repeating the word twice as if it could make things better.

No.

Bad. Bad.

“That’ll make tonight a lot less awkward,” he says with a laugh.

I look back at Rachel.

Rachel looks at me.

I can’t fall in love with you, Rachel.

Her eyes are sad.

My thoughts are sadder.

And you can’t fall in love with me.

She slowly walks inside, avoiding my gaze as she watches her

feet with each step. They’re the saddest steps I’ve ever seen

taken.

I close the door.

It’s the saddest door I’ve ever had to close.

Chapter five

TATE

“Are you off for Thanksgiving?” my mother asks.

I switch my cell to my other ear and pull the apartment key out of my purse. “Yeah, but not Christmas. I only work weekends for now.”

“Good. Tell Corbin we’re not dead yet if he ever gets the urge to call us.”

I laugh. “I’ll tell him. Love you.”

I hang up and put my cell phone into the pocket of my scrub top. It’s only a part-time job, but it gets my foot in the door. Tonight was my last night of training before I start weekend rotations tomorrow night.

I like the job so far, and I was honestly shocked to land it after my first interview. It works out with my school schedule, too. I’m in school every weekday, doing either clinical or classroom hours, then I work second shift on the weekends over at the hospital. It’s been a seamless transition up to this point.

I also like San Francisco. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I could see myself staying here after graduation next spring rather than going back to San Diego.

Corbin and I have even been getting along, although he’s gone more than he’s home, so I’m sure that has everything to do with it.

I smile, finally feeling like I’ve found my place, and I open the door to the apartment. My smile fades as soon as it meets the eyes of three other guys—only two of whom I recognize. Miles is standing in the kitchen, and the married asshole from the elevator is sitting on the couch.

Why the hell is Miles here?

Why the hell are anyof them here?

I glare at Miles as I kick off my shoes and drop my purse on the counter. Corbin isn’t due back for two more days, and I was looking forward to the peace and quiet tonight so I could get some studying done.

“It’s Thursday,” Miles says when he sees the scowl on my face, like the day of the week is supposed to be some sort of explanation. He’s watching me from his position in the kitchen. He can see I’m not happy.

“So it is,” I reply. “And tomorrow is Friday.” I turn to the other two guys sitting on Corbin’s couch. “Why are you all in my apartment?”

The blond, lanky guy immediately stands up and walks over to me. He extends his hand. “Tate?” he asks. “I’m Ian. I grew up with Miles. I’m a friend of your brother’s.” He points to the elevator guy, who is still seated on the couch. “This is Dillon.”

Dillon gives me a nod but doesn’t bother speaking. He doesn’t have to. His shit-eating grin says enough about what he’s thinking right now.

Miles walks back into the living room and points to the television. “This is kind of a thing we do some Thursdays if either of us is home. Game night.”

I don’t care if it’s their thing. I have homework.

“Corbin isn’t even home tonight. Can’t you do this at your apartment? I need to study.”

Miles hands Dillon a beer and then looks back at me. “I don’t have cable.” Of course you don’t.“And Dillon’s wife doesn’t let us use his place.” Of course she doesn’t.

I roll my eyes and walk to my bedroom, slamming the door unintentionally.

I change out of my scrubs and pull on a pair of jeans. I grab the shirt I slept in last night and just get it over my head when someone knocks on the door. I swing it open almost as dramatically as I slammed it earlier.

He’s so tall.

I didn’t realize how tall he was, but now that he’s standing in my doorway—filling it—he seems really tall. If he were to wrap his arms around me right now, my ear would press against his heart. Then his cheek would rest comfortably on top of my head.

If he were to kiss me, I’d have to tilt my face up to meet his, but it would be nice, because he would probably wrap his arms around my lower back and pull me to him so that our mouths would come together like two pieces of a puzzle. Only they wouldn’t fit very well, because they are most definitely not two pieces from the samepuzzle.

Something strange is going on in my chest. A flutter, flutter kind of thing. I hate it, because I know what it means. It means my body is really starting to like Miles.

I just hope my brain never catches up.

“If you need quiet, you can go to my place,” he says.

I cringe at the way his offer works knots into my stomach. I shouldn’t be excited about the possibility of being inside his apartment, but I am.

“We’ll probably be here another two hours,” he adds.

There’s regret in his voice somewhere. It would more than likely take a search party to locate it, but it’s buried there somewhere, beneath all the sultriness.

I expel a quick, relinquishing breath. I’m being a bitch. This isn’t even my apartment. This is their thingthat they obviously do on a regular basis, and who am I to think I can just move in and put a stop to it?

“I’m just tired,” I say to him. “It’s fine. I’m sorry if I was rude to your friends.”

“Friend,” he says as clarification. “Dillon is notmy friend.”

I don’t ask him what he means by that. He glances into the living room, then looks back at me. He leans against the frame of the door, an indication that my relinquishing the apartment for their game wasn’t the end of our conversation. He swings his eyes to the scrubs strewn across my mattress. “You got a job?”

“Yeah,” I say, wondering why he’s suddenly up for conversation. “Registered nurse in an ER.”

A crease appears on his forehead, and I can’t tell if it’s a result of confusion or fascination. “Aren’t you still in nursing school? How can you already work as an RN?”

“I’m getting my master’s in nursing so I can work as a CRNA. I already have my RN license.”

His expression is obstinate, so I clarify.

“It allows me to administer anesthesia.”

He stares at me for a few seconds before standing up straight and pushing off the doorframe. “Good for you,” he says.