"Come on," Jentry said softly, but firmly.

I stood to leave, and after gently removing my hand from Declan's, brushed the tips of my fingers over his arm. "I'll be back," I a.s.sured him as I turned, but stopped abruptly at his confused tone.

"I apparently missed a few weeks, but what else did I miss that you're just gonna leave without kissing me?"

My wide eyes snapped up to Jentry's, but he gave nothing away with his expression. After a few seconds, he looked over my head toward Declan, then turned and walked out of the room.

I turned back to Declan, and guilt ate at me when I met his clear green eyes as I approached him and placed my hand against his warm cheek. "There is so much we have to talk about, and I swear we'll go through all of it the next time I'm here." I pressed my lips to his forehead and whispered, "I'm so glad you came back."

Before he could respond, I turned and left the room.

I found Jentry walking slowly down the hall with his hands intertwined on the top of his head. I hurried to catch up with him, but didn't look at him once I did.

"Don't-"

"I only kissed his forehead," I said, cutting him off.

He released a harsh breath, as if relieved, but continued walking for a few seconds in silence. "It doesn't matter."

My body jerked in surprise and my head snapped up to look at him, but he remained facing forward. "It doesn't matter? What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

Jentry turned suddenly and crowded me in the small hallway. "Because he loves you. My brother is in love with you, Aurora. Because he thinks you're his G.o.dd.a.m.n fiancee. Because I still hate myself for doing this to him. Even more now than before!" He hissed, then stepped away and settled against the opposite wall.

"Do you think I've somehow missed all of that? Do you think I somehow stopped hating myself?" I asked. "And yet, I am the one who is left having to break Declan's heart . . . again."

"I can't be the one to tell him that you aren't engaged. That has to be you. If you go through with it, then I will gladly do the rest for you."

"Why do you say it like that? What do you mean if I go through with it? And why is it that lately it seems as if you're hoping I won't?"

"Because-" He cut off quickly, and pressed his fist against his mouth, as if it would help keep his words from escaping. When he spoke again, they were nearly inaudible. "Because a part of me is still praying that you'll be smart enough to leave."

And I knew . . . I knew who he meant. I knew that after all this time, after all our heartache, after all our hard decisions, he was still giving me chances to leave him.

I searched his dark eyes. "Why do you do this? Why can't you-G.o.d, Jentry, why can't you see you the way I do?"

When he removed his hand, his face was blank. "Let's not talk about this now."

"Right," I said sarcastically, "because it's something you'll have to explain later. Something that will help me understand you, something that I so desperately need. But that later will never come! Will it?"

"Aurora . . ."

"No, don't," I said through clenched teeth, and closed the distance between us. Pressing my hand roughly to his chest, I said, "I hurt, you hurt . . . right? Right?" I gritted out.

"Aurora, you don't-"

"Then can't you feel what you're doing to me?" Not waiting for his response, I turned and left the hospital.

Jentry

I dropped my head back against the wall and stared blankly up at the ceiling until the fluorescent lights became too much to handle. I pushed from my spot on the wall and took a step in the direction that Aurora had just left, then froze.

That girl clouded every one of my senses to the outside world, while heightening their receptiveness to her. Everything dulled around me until all I knew was her, what she made me feel, and what I needed and wanted from her. Nothing else mattered when Aurora was near. Nothing else existed.

I had learned far too well how little I noticed of our surroundings during our time together at the beach, and was reminded of it that weekend when I hadn't realized that Jess was in the apartment with us. I should have reminded myself to pay more attention today.

My stomach fell as I turned back to look at the two people I had caught a glimpse of, but didn't have to wonder long about what all they had heard. Their shocked expressions said more than enough.

For the first time in all the years I had known her, Mom was speechless.

She lifted a finger and started to point it at me, then stopped and dropped her hand.

Seconds ticked by, and all that pa.s.sed between us were confused or disappointed looks, and a few head shakes from my dad.

"How could you?" Mom finally said, her voice just above a whisper. "How could-what have you done? And with that . . . that-"

"Don't," I said in warning, cutting her off. "Whatever you're about to say, don't." When neither of them said anything else, I asked the question I didn't want the answer to. "How long were you there?"

Mom huffed, the sound bordered on a shocked laugh.

Dad pointed behind them as if he didn't realize he was even moving. "We had been talking with the doctor. We knew Declan was about to have physical therapy, so we went to catch up with the two of you when we saw Rorie leave Declan's room. You have a lot to explain, but this isn't the place."

I nodded once, but still spoke. "This goes a lot deeper than what you just saw-and Declan knew. Before his accident, he knew."

Mom shut her eyes and held up her hand in a silent plea for me to stop talking. "Declan would have never done something like this to you. I can't-I just can't believe you would do this to him. And with her."

"Linda," Dad said softly, but his tone still rang with authority.

I opened my mouth to respond, but shut it and shook my head, knowing I would once again say things I might regret. Knowing they would follow, I turned and walked out of the hospital, and kept going into the parking lot.

"We need to talk about this, Jentry," Dad called out when I continued toward my car.

"We will, but I don't know how to talk about it when Mom already has it in her head to hate her for no reason, and then is using this to hate her even more when she doesn't even know what the h.e.l.l is going on!"

"She has ruined this family and is now trying to tear you and Declan apart," Mom nearly yelled now that we were out of the crowded hospital hallways. "What more do I need to know?"

"Everything, and nothing, because you don't deserve to know all of it!"

"Jentry," Dad barked.

I took a calming breath and ran a hand over my head and down my face. "I'm sorry, but I know that Mom won't believe any of what I say because she already hates her." Keeping my eyes on Dad, I explained, "I met her before Dec ever did. I fell for her before Dec ever knew she existed. Dad, I fell in love with her in a way I didn't think was possible. I'm in love with her."

"Oh, Jentry," Mom scoffed, and looked away, shaking her head with disappointment.

"If it was anyone else, and any other situation, I know you'd be reacting differently. Mom, try to look at it from my perspective. From Aurora's."

"Oh, is she Aurora now?"

"Mom . . ." I was begging with her to understand, to just listen. From the way her eyes were watering, I knew she wanted to but didn't know how with what she had seen and what she knew now. "Mom, think of it this way: I met and fell in love with a girl I thought I would never see again. I thought I was crazy to fall for her like that, but for nearly a year, she was all I thought about. Then Dec picks me up and takes me to the beach, and I'm about to meet his girlfriend he's talked nonstop about, and it ends up being the same girl. She only met Declan because she went back looking for me."

"So then she'll be with just anyone!" Mom cut in, frustration leaking through her tone. "Anyone who gives her the time of day. When one guy leaves, she looks for another!"

I could tell Dad thought the same thing.

"It wasn't like that. I-I thought that too at first, but it wasn't like that; you just have to trust me. I'm not going into the whole thing, but you have to know that she really does love Declan. We fought . . . we fought a lot about what was happening, about what we meant to each other, and about what we were going to do."

"What you were going to do." Dad's aggravation was obvious. "You should have stepped aside because Declan was with her."

"I f.u.c.king tried! She tried! But would you want her to stay with Declan even though he isn't who she wants? Would you want her to keep lying to him?"

"She's an immature girl who isn't ready for a commitment and goes with whatever is new at the time!" Mom said. I groaned in frustration.

"See, there's no point in even trying to tell you. You won't understand because you won't try to hear me out! You're making Aurora out to be someone like Madeline, and she's the furthest thing from that. This has been killing her. It destroyed her to try to choose one of us, but she eventually did. She had finally told Declan about us, the night of his accident. Her guilt over that night has been greater than anything you can imagine. But she still loves him, and I love him, and I hated knowing that I would take her from him because she is mine. And after telling him, he now doesn't remember any of it, so we're right back where we were! So while you stand there acting like she's doing this for fun, let me tell you this is the hardest thing we've ever f.u.c.king been through!"

I was met with silence and more disappointed looks after my outburst. After a minute of us all watching each other, Mom spoke. "Then I'll make it easy for you. . . ."

23.

Present Day

Aurora

I finished unloading everything from my car into the apartment, and set the music channel on the TV as loud as I could stand it so it would drown out my thoughts.

Unfortunately, it was futile. My thoughts screamed louder.

I laid out the large poster paper, paints, and glitter to make a few remaining signs I had realized during the week would be useful in the cla.s.sroom for my students, then searched the apartment for a pencil. It wasn't until I was going from the kitchen to the living room again that I realized I was stomping.

It didn't matter. Anger was better than tears. All I did lately was cry, and I was so tired of crying.

I stopped short when that thought crossed my mind, and rolled the pencil between my fingers as I let the words coast through my head again.

A defeated laugh bubbled past my lips when I wondered how many times during this month I had told Taylor, or thought to myself, that I was tired of crying, yet continued to do just that.

I had never really thought of myself as an emotional person, but then again, I wasn't the kind of person who lacked emotions, either. It irritated me in books when the heroine was heartless just as much as it did when she was a sobbing mess, but at the moment, I would have given anything for a few days of nothing.

Just nothing. No pain, no confusion, no heartache. No guilt, no worry, just . . . nothing.

It sounded like heaven.

But my life was still turned on its side, as it had been for weeks, and everything and everyone were unknowns. And emotions tend to run wild when life is full of unknowns.

I made one last attempt to clear my mind of everything that had happened at the hospital and focused on nothing but the words of the songs flowing through the apartment, and the signs I needed to make as I settled onto the floor again.

Two signs later, and I was singing and swaying along to the music. I pulled the third and final piece of paper in front of me, and stopped to stretch my back and arms before bending back over the paper. I picked the paintbrush up and dipped it into the dirty, inky water, but my movements slowed as I moved to dip it into a color. Slowly, I straightened as I had when I'd stretched, and looked across the apartment.

There, in the corner and taking up most of the far wall, were huge shelves. Filling about a quarter of those shelves were books.

I sat on the floor with the paintbrush still in hand hovering over the black paint, just staring at the shelves as immeasurable time pa.s.sed by. I knew they hadn't been there when I'd left for work this morning, but at the same time, they looked as if they'd been there for so long.

I stood to go study the new furniture, and cursed when I knocked over the cup of dirty water. I grabbed for the cup to stop everything from pouring out, but a good amount of the inky water had already spilled out and spread across the last piece of poster paper until it was ruined.

If I hadn't just noticed the bookshelves, it probably would have bothered me. But at the moment, I didn't have time to care.

I steadied the half-filled cup, then walked slowly across the living room and into what was supposed to be the dining room-but I'd never cared to use it as such since we had the kitchen table. Instead, half was an office-type s.p.a.ce, and the other half I'd wanted to turn into a reading corner, complete with bookshelves.

I'd just told Jentry about what I'd originally wanted to do with it-but had never had the money for-the night that Declan had woken up while we'd eaten dinner.

Awe filled me as I lightly trailed my fingers across the shelves and along the perfect designs subtly carved into the wood. Swirls led into knots that were etched deep enough into the wood to catch your eye, but not enough to look gaudy or take away from the overall shelving or books.

It was exactly what I would have picked out for bookshelves: huge, st.u.r.dy, stained dark, and with an incredible amount of room for books.

I couldn't begin to imagine how much the entire set had cost or where Jentry had found it, and I couldn't figure out why he had done it at all.

I turned expectantly when I heard a key in the door, and just stared at him when he stepped into the apartment.

His dark eyes found mine instantly, but fell away as he walked toward the guest room without saying a word. In that brief second there had been so much pain he'd tried to hide, pain I couldn't begin to understand.

He was keeping something from me, I knew. Something I a.s.sumed he wanted to keep from me in order to make me leave. As it had for so long, it felt like he was tearing my soul in half.

After a moment's hesitation, I followed him into his room and shut the door behind me to quiet some of the loud music filling the apartment.

He stood with his back to me, his head hung low and hands clasped around the back of his neck. He looked more beaten down than I'd ever seen him, and considering Declan was awake and going to be fine, it didn't make sense.

"What's wrong?" I asked cautiously.