Nothing. His hand went limp.
My tears came harder as I shook Jase’s hand. “Forever and a day.”
My voice broke, and the sobs came. No matter how hard I squeezed Jase’s hand, no matter how many times I said our words, he never said anything back.
“Laiken, hold on,” Hayes said as he kept a grip on my other hand.
I held them both. One so full of life and strength. The other growing cold in my grasp.
“Jase…”
“I know. But you gotta hang on for me. Breathe. You’re gonna hyperventilate.”
I didn’t want to hang on. I didn’t want to breathe. I wanted to follow Jase wherever he had gone. Forever and a day.
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PROLOGUE
WREN
PAST
My eyes narrowed as I took in my nemesis. My head lowered as if I were dipping my hat in one of those old Westerns. I swore the beast was mocking me. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t burn.”
The chicken and vegetables in the roasting pan didn’t respond. They never did. They made their displeasure known by blackening to a crisp, no matter what I tried.
I’d been practicing for weeks. Every time I showed up at the meat market again, Sal would give me a sympathetic smile and move to the back to get me another chicken. He’d tried time and time again to give me tips. He’d even printed out recipes and removed the giblets for me.
I was getting better. But the results, while edible, still didn’t taste all that good. Whispering a barely audible prayer, I opened the oven and slid the roasting pan inside. I closed the door and pressed my hand to it as I shut my eyes. “Please, please, please.”
Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes were Holt’s favorite meal. When I’d asked his mom for the recipe, she’d given me a soft smile, her eyes glowing. “It’s a family recipe. Passed down from my great-grandmother. But I know it’ll be in good hands with you.”
I worried the side of my lip as I stared at the oven. The familiar squeeze around my lungs took root. I wanted so badly to get it right. Perfect.
If Holt were here right now, he’d probably press his lips to the top of my head and tell me to breathe. That the intention behind the action was what mattered, not the outcome. Then he’d eat the worst blackened bird if it meant a smile stretching across my face.
As if I’d conjured him with my thoughts alone, my phone rang on the counter—a tone that was only his. It wasn’t as if I needed a special one for Holt. I could count on one hand the number of people who called me on a regular basis.
Holt. His sister, Grae. Two other friends from school. My grandma.
Certainly not my parents, who took off every chance they got, traveling to so many places I couldn’t keep track. As I reached for my phone, I tried to remember if it was a conference in Cincinnati or Chicago they’d gone off to this weekend.
My mouth curved as I lifted my phone. The photo that flashed on the screen was my favorite—Holt’s arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed to my temple, and his deep blue eyes shining. The cheesy grin on my face said it all: My happiest place was always in his arms.
I slid my thumb across the screen. “I hope you’re not calling because you had to rescue a kitten in a tree, and now you’re going to be late.”
Holt’s chuckle skated across the line. It was deeper than it had been when we’d gotten together two years ago. A sound that sent a pleasant shiver skating across my skin.
That was the gift of knowing someone all your life. You got to see every incarnation of them. I had a lifetime of chuckles to play over and over—from little boy to teenager to man. I got to hear the way age sank into that sound and made it husky.
“Not gonna be late, Cricket. I’m just calling to see if you needed me to pick up anything at the store on my way over.”
I scanned the kitchen. It was a wreck, but I had time to set it back to rights. “I think I’m good. Just need you.”
“That’s the way it’ll alw