And then, there was Gemma. I’m not sure when my feelings for her changed from affection to something … more. Although I was loath to admit it, it became harder to remain immune to her bright smile and tempting curves. I knew she had a crush on me—I would’ve had to have been blind not to notice the adoration and innocent curiosity in her eyes when she looked at me.
Even if she wasn’t my best friend’s sister, there was no way I’d ever be good enough for Gemma Stone. She came from a wealthy family with a religious background, and I … didn’t.
It always surprised me that Mr. and Mrs. Stone tolerated my presence in their beloved son’s life. It was no secret that Callum was their golden boy. Their preferential treatment of him over Gem was painfully obvious. I never understood it, and neither did Callum.
Maybe it was because Gem was outgoing and adventurous, whereas Callum was placid and content to stay in the lane his parents had prepared for him. Gem was a tomboy, always getting into scrapes and situations that made her parents huff and despair of ever molding her into their perfect image of what a young lady should be.
But the personality traits that annoyed her parents were the very ones that drew me to her. Her bubbly disposition and joy of life sprinkled sunshine through my gray existence. Although I tried to hide it, I basked in her presence.
When Gem stumbled across my drawings, she saw something worthwhile. She understood me and my sketches—the light, the dark, the pain, and the beauty—and she wasn’t afraid, disgusted, or pitying.
She was the only person who told me my art was worth pursuing. The only person who slipped me sketchbooks and charcoals—extra supplies she harbored from her secret stash.
She wanted to design pretty things, fashion maybe, or jewelry, and would tinker away, coming up with some new, whimsical design.
But her parents told her it was an impractical, impossible dream that would lead her nowhere.
I know what it must have cost her to approach me that night—the night of the party. What she doesn’t know is what it cost me to turn her away. She looked so beautiful, with her usually wild chestnut curls swept into some sleek hairdo and her subtle makeup emphasizing her hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips.
It’s an image I’ve memorized over the years and sketched a hundred times, trying to recapture that moment. But nothing compares to the real thing. Seeing Gem in the flesh again almost brought me to my knees.
My cell phone rings, tugging me from my thoughts. I pull it from my pocket, smiling when I see the caller ID.
“What the fuck, Skip?” Callum demands, using the nickname he gave me when we were eight, on account of me skipping school all the time. “Nothing like giving your best friend a heads-up that you’re back in town! I’ve just had Gem on the phone tearing me a new one for not telling her.”
“Sorry, Cal. It all happened so quickly, and it’s only temporary,” I say ruefully.
“Not good enough. You owe me a beer. Damson’s Bar, twenty minutes,” Cal instructs, naming the bar we used to drink at back in the day. He hangs up before I have a chance to reply.
Looks like I’m returning to Garland after all.
Twenty minutes later,I’m chugging beer with Callum as we catch up. We’ve kept in touch during my time in Denver, and he’s been to visit a few times, but it feels odd being back in our hometown together after so long.
“So, what brings you back?” Cal asks as he takes a swig of his beer.
“Needed a change of scenery,” I reply with a careless shrug.
My friend’s eyes narrow on me. “Don’t give me that shit. We’ve known each other our whole lives. I know you better than anyone. What gives?”
He’s wrong. He doesn’t know me better than anyone. That would be Gem.
“The city was becoming too … claustrophobic. A teaching opportunity came up at the university, so I took it. No hidden agenda,” I tell him coolly.
“The university next to the town where you grew up?” Cal purses his lips thoughtfully. “The town you left so you wouldn’t be tempted by what you couldn’t have?”
My eyes snap to his. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Something we should have talked about years ago,” Cal says calmly. “We all know why you left. You, Gem, me. We know what really happened that night, and not a day goes by when I don’t feel guilty about it.”
I shake my head. I wasn’t expecting this when Cal invited me for a beer. I guess being back here is lifting the rusty lid on old truths. “It was a long time ago, Cal. Let’s leave the past where it is.”
“I would, only it’s not in the past, is it? Not for you. Or Gem. She still has feelings for you, and unless I’ve missed the mark, what you felt for her never went away either.”
I deliberately take a long swig of beer before answering. Cal’s words shock me. I never told another soul how I felt about Gem, particularly not my best friend, who likely would’ve beat my ass. He was as protective of Gem as I was.
“That obvious, huh?” I finally say.
Cal cracks a smile. “I’d have to be blind not to notice how you looked at each other.” He holds up a hand to stall me as I open my mouth to reply. “I get it. My parents aren’t the most accepting of people.” He pauses, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “Hell, that’s probably the understatement of the century. And then there was your damn moral code stopping you from pursuing anything with Gem, not to mention the accident—”