Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“I’m talking about the relationship between you and your stepsister.”
“What?” I turn to face him.
“It’s obvious as hell,” he says. “I mean, maybe not to anyone who doesn’t know you like I do, but…”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say. “I think she’s breaking up with me.”
“How do you know?”
I know her better than she knows herself. I chase the thought with vodka.
“Ask me about something else, anything else…”
27A
COLE
Ireturn to my suite around midnight, long after the guests have toasted their final well-wishes.
As I remove my shoes, I spot a turquoise envelope under my door. I assume it’s yet another event invitation for this never-ending weekend, but the Please read me is in Emily’s curly handwriting.
I hesitate before opening it, pulling out my phone instead.
You know I don’t like surprises, Emily.
What’s in this envelope?
Just read it.
Come over and read it to me in my bed…
I can’t.
Can’t or won’t?
Both.
Sighing, I crack open a beer and tear open the flap.
There’s no “Dear Cole” or a letter.
It’s one of her poems…
You gave me a warning the night that we met—
A look full of fire and quiet regret.
I should’ve known it was doomed from the start—
Two borrowed names, one reckless heart.
Strangers then, now bound by blood,
A flame that flickered through the flood.
We had no shelter, no place to stand—
Just trembling hope and trembling hands.
The spotlight’s rising—it cuts like a knife.
And I’m so close to reclaiming my life.
We’d need new ways just to hide our truth,
But why keep chasing a stolen youth?
I want a love that can stand in the light,
Not something buried, blurred by night.
And truthfully, we barely began—
Just heat and ache and a fragile plan.
I won’t betray the one who bore me,
Even if she no longer knows me.
She’s all I have—and I’m her spine.
Some debts are paid in blood, not time.
So I’m asking you—please let me go,
As I let go of what we’ll never know.
If it was real, then let it rest.
If not, then wish me all the best.
If you love me, don’t call. Don’t try.
Just let this be our last goodbye.
—Emily
27B
COLE
It takes Matt and me four hours to pack up everything in my room.
I’ve arranged to move into my new place early. To start my next chapter sooner than planned.
I can’t stand to breathe the same air or share any space with Emily if I can’t have her.
And I love her enough to give her what she wants.
For now.
I lock the balcony door. Then the door to my room—for the last time.
And with that, I leave the Hamptons behind.
Hopefully for good.
PART 5
Don’t light yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.
Burn everything in sight, so they can feel your pain, too.
28
EMILY
Months later
There’s something surreal about pulling up the hill to Lothrop Hall. The sun catches the glass of the hospital nearby, throwing gold streaks over the city skyline. The trees around the University of Pittsburgh feel greener, taller—like they’ve grown up with the students who’ve come and gone.
And now I’m one of them.
Lothrop’s the only dorm with single rooms, and I couldn’t be more grateful. My lucky streak of never having to share a space with anyone is still going strong. The only things we share are the bathrooms. Just like at home.
I try not to think about home.
My mom’s here. So is Aidan. And I’m more than ready to escape them both. The past few weeks have been unbearable—their constant wedding glow, their loud planning sessions for a future I was never invited into. I’ve never felt more alone. Not with Cole.
Especially not with Cole.
I’ve cried myself to sleep too many nights to count. My notebooks are filled with words I’ll never say, filled with things I’ll never let him read. But deep down, I keep telling myself I did the right thing.
At least…I hope I did.
While Aidan poses in the hallway—signing autographs and taking selfies with swooning fans—my mom helps me tape up photos along the wall like nothing’s wrong. Like she hasn’t shattered a hundred small things and called it motherhood.
“I’ll send you pictures of our real house for whenever you’re on fall break,” she says.
I don’t respond.
I’m not going home for fall break.
I make a mental note to look up part-time jobs and sublets—anywhere I can go for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Anywhere but there.
“I’ll be back out in a second,” Aidan calls to the girls in the hallway. “Just need to grab a new Sharpie.” He steps inside and closes the door gently behind him, then glances at me. “You got one by chance, Emily?”
“Yeah.” I open my desk drawer and hand him one.
He lingers by the wall, pointing at a row of photos from the Steinbeck Retreat. “I like how this wall’s coming together,” he says. “I’ll have to tell my friend it was worth it to skip you to the front of the line since you enjoyed it so much. Shame some girl got bumped for it, but hey, that’s how connections work, right?”