The guard clears his throat. “You can’t go with him, Miss.”

My lips tremble as Seth turns away without another word and walks out the door. “I love you, Seth,” I cry, right before the door closes.

My knees give, and I crumple to the floor, sobbing. This isn’t over, I silently vow. I’m not giving up on us.

If Seth won’t let me visit him in prison, then I’ll find another way to keep in contact and let him know how much I care. I won’t let his change in attitude toward me drive us apart.

All I have to do is remember who Seth really is. Who he’s been since we were children. Who he’s been since he first told me he loved me.

Wiping my tears away, I stand and then grab my purse. When I leave Western Prison, it’s with a sense of purpose.

I’ll get Seth back, no matter what.

Seth

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

“Another letter, O’Connor.”

I take the letter and place it on my bed. For a minute, I almost give in to the temptation of opening it. Every week, without fail, for the past twenty-eight weeks, Rowan has sent me a care package and a letter. The care package, I open, because I’m not stupid.

But the letters are another story. I don’t want to read them. I don’t want my heart to soften toward her. All I want to do is finish out the next two months and join the Marines. I want to go far away from this place, from my old life, and never look back.

The hatred that lives inside of me now fuels me. I eat, sleep, and dream about taking my revenge, about actually killing Tony with my bare hands—at least I’d have a reason for being here. Not my bullshit luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time while letting love rule my brain.

But really¸ can I blame her? She didn’t force me to stay. She didn’t sit on top of my chest and pin me to the ground until I cried uncle.

I run my hand through my short hair, then pick up the letter and smell it, imagining that it’s her perfume lingering on it. That, instead of piss and vomit and the bleach that never quite cleans it all up, the scent that surrounds me is Rowan’s.

Images flash through my mind of our last time together, down by the lake, her golden hair spread out on the blanket, her breasts tipped upward, displaying her hard nipples. Rowan is beautiful with creamy skin and long-ass legs. One thing I always found sexy is how damn tall she is. How I didn’t have to bend very far to kiss her. How I could take her standing up, once we figured out the mechanics of it.

How she laughed, how she smiled, how she wrinkled her freckled nose; she made every day brighter.

“Come home to me,” dream-Rowan breathes. She holds out her arms, but remains out of my reach.

Shaking my head, I force the fantasy away, but then I do something I never do. I open the envelope.

“Fine. I get it. We’re over.”

My gut caves in, like I’ve been repeatedly punched. My throat gets tight, and my vision blurs.

This is what you wanted, I remind myself.

God, but I didn’t think it would hurt so damn bad.

Tucking the letter back into the envelope, I walk to the other side of my cell—all four steps—and carefully place it on top of all the other ones. Then I take the pile and shove it under my mattress.

Chapter 1

Rowan

SEVEN YEARS LATER

Nothing but death could make Seth O’Connor come home and face the girl he left behind. He had made that completely clear with seven months of ignored letters and care packages I sent him. But that wasn’t what hurt the most—oh, no.

The deepest cut came a year and a half later, when he’d returned to the States from a deployment and arranged for his grandmother to visit him in Jacksonville, North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune instead of coming home to Forrestville. Naively, I had thought that time in the Marines would make him see what he missed; that even though he’d hurt me, I couldn’t completely cut him out of my life. I don’t think my heart ever stopped racing at news reports of fallen Marines.

But in the end, and once again, none of that mattered. When he got home from yet another mission, he finally came to town, visited his grandmother…and left before I knew it, like some kind of asshole ninja.

So, I let him go. Again.

Instead of pining over Seth, I forced myself to go out with a couple of guys, and although I had fun, it wasn’t special. But I’m living my life. I’ve been making a life without him.

Over the years, I convinced myself that I was over him. That I didn’t need him. That this hole in my heart could be filled with other things. It worked.

Liar, liar, a voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it.

A part of me wants to thank Seth for what he did. He reminded me of something I had forgotten, that no matter how much a man said he loved you, in the end, he would abandon you. Just like my dad. Just like my brother.

Although it’s not exactly fair to put Jase in the same category. Prison makes it impossible for my brother to have a normal relationship with anyone.

The only person I’ve ever been able to count on is Miss Myrtle, and now she’s gone, too. But now that Seth’s back, I feel as though time has stopped and rewound. I’m sixteen all over again, and in love with Seth O’Connor while hoping like hell he feels the same way about me.

I sniff, but I refuse to cry—I’m not sixteen anymore or hoping for anything from him. My heart aches like hell and it feels as though someone’s rammed me in the stomach a million times, but I refuse to let the hurt show. I can’t let him see me weak, but missing a woman like Miss Myrtle isn’t easy to hide. She was fun, caring, smart, and made her house a home for me.

I lift my eyes, and my gaze collides with Seth’s. The sight of raw pain residing in those dark depths makes me suck in a breath. He’s hurting, just like me. Maybe worse, since he wasn’t here when his grandmother passed.

He’d missed seeing her alive by seven hours. I hadn’t been at the hospital at the time, but from the gossip, Seth had nearly gone insane when he finally arrived. Then he’d left before I returned—just like always.

I allow myself a longer look. This is the first time in years I’ve seen him in person. He’s wearing black head to toe. His hair is cut short and his shoulders are broader than ever. When he left Forrestville, he hadn’t been so tall and wide shouldered. He hadn’t been so…manly looking.

His full lips flatten into a thin line, like he’s displeased at me staring at him.

Ha! Fat chance I’ll stop now.

Boldly, I let my gaze travel over his sexy face. At this moment, my pride and anger are overshadowing my grief, so I could give a damn what anyone would think about me checking him out at his grandmother’s funeral.

He looks older and harder than in the pictures he’d mailed Miss Myrtle. The man in the picture smiled and sometimes posed with a dog in his lap, all the while wearing a uniform and a gun strapped to his thigh. Other times, he would be playfully serious, with his battle buddy and brothers as he called them in his letters to her. But the man standing across from me looks ready to destroy anyone in his path.

Including me.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” the preacher murmurs as he closes the Bible. He glances up at the mourners, his expression serene. Calm. Just like you’d expect a pastor to be. But I don’t feel serene or calm. I’m a jittery mess inside. “The Gardner family would like to thank you for coming today.” The crowd begins to thin out, whispering condolences to Seth and me as they go.