PROLOGUE
“Little June buggy, in the sand ...”
“Sing that once more and I’m going to come over there and fly kick you right in your pretty face,” I warn, raising a finger to my sister who is skipping around me singing her version of Dune buggy.
“Little blue June buggggy, in my hand ...”
I launch at her, arms circling her waist as I pull her to the ground, our laughter trailing through the living room. She squeals with delight as she wiggles out from my grip and runs around, proceeding to sing the song I absolutely loathe. She’s been doing it since the moment she could talk, and not a single day goes by where she doesn’t wake up and sing that song to me.
“Seriously, Aspen, stop.”
She skips off into the kitchen, her little voice trailing out as she continues with her song.
When you look back on those moments, the ones where you don’t know what’s going to come next, you find yourself wondering if there were signs. Did you have an indication something would happen? Did you know? Did anything happen that day that made you suspect your entire world would be turned upside down?
I know I didn’t.
I wish I could go back and call my sister back in, I wish I could take her hand and skip around the room with her like I used to when I was younger, singing that song at the top of my lungs as we laughed and danced. I would do anything to hear her voice fill our house with that song just one more time.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know that she would run outside, so wrapped up in her own little world that she wouldn’t see the drunk driver swerving down our street.
I didn’t know that she would collide with that car.
I didn’t know that her life —her short, beautiful life — would end right there.
I didn’t know.
If I had known, would I have changed that day?
Could I have changed it?
Or is that the whole purpose of life?
You can’t change a path that has already been mapped out.
You can only choose how you pave the rest of the way.
I’d do anything to change that day.
But I couldn’t.
No matter how hard I tried.
1
Years later
“Hey, lady, wake up.”
I open my eyes, the world spinning around me as I look up into what must be the entirety of my spank bank all wrapped into one, gorgeous piece of man. I mean, words can’t describe what I’m looking at right now, which makes me wonder if I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?
I don’t even know where I am.
Did he kidnap me? I can’t say I’d be sad if he did. Hell, I’d probably welcome it. Imagine being tortured by this fine specimen?
“Am I dead?” I ask, rubbing a hand over my face.
God, I’m drunk.
I’m so drunk.
I didn’t realize it at first, but now...oh now...my head is spinning, and my entire body feels foreign to me. I can’t feel my legs, which is both scaring and weird. What the ever-loving hell did I do?
“You’re not dead, but you will be if you stay out here any longer.”
Out here?
Where the hell is here?
I squint, looking up at Prince Charming again. “Care to tell me where here is?”
He looks a mixture of horrified and impressed as he stares at me, eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed. “Fuck me, how much did you drink?”
What a stupid question. “Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
He exhales, reaching down and carefully pulling me to my feet. It’s then I realize I was on the ground, in the dirt, out in the freezing cold. My head pounds as I get to my feet, and even though I try my hardest, my body does not want to do what I’m asking of it, and I find myself clinging to the hot stranger who is currently taking all my body weight.
“You’re at a retreat, remember?”
Oh.
Shit.
I remember alright.
We are on a month-long retreat, this one for mothers. There are eight of us, and we’re all quite different and mostly perfect strangers, but boy did we drink some wine on the trip here. I literally don’t remember a single thing after that. My memory is completely blank, and that’s more than a little terrifying.
I haven’t had that much to drink since I was a teenager and could handle the hangover the day after. I already know what this is going to do to me tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it.
At all.
“Right,” I murmur. “I guess we made it then.”
Hot rancher stares at me, his eyes narrowing as he looks down. “You don’t remember a fuckin’ thing, do you?”
This is the moment when you know what he’s about to say is going to horrify you and make you feel shame on a level so deep, you’ll wish you were buried in a hole.