A thrill surges through me as the car picks up speed. “Holy shit. I’m driving.”

“Damn right you are.”

It takes everything in me not to cry, because I’m seriously fucking doing it.

With shaky fingers, I clutch my necklace.

If only Liam was here to see me.

And just like that, my heart is crumbling.

I slam on the brake, throw the car in park, and get out, fighting back tears.

Oakley’s hot on my heels. “Whoa. What happened?”

“He’s not here,” I choke out, gripping my pendant. “He wanted me to conquer my fear so bad…and now that I finally am…he’s not here to witness it.”

Because he left me.

Just like she did.

Oakley’s face falls, but unlike everyone else in my life—he doesn’t offer me bullshit words of encouragement or tell me Liam’s watching over me.

He simply takes my hand. “Come on.”

The secluded beach isn’t large, but the golden sand along with the giant stones and boulders grazing the shoreline make it a perfect spot to unwind in peace.

I follow Oakley to an oversized rock and plop down next to him, drawing my knees to my chest.

The sun is starting to go down, bathing the sky in a pretty pink sunset.

Seagulls fly endlessly above us, and the crisp smell of the ocean fills my nostrils as I inhale a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” I whisper because I don’t want him to think I’m not grateful for what he did today.

He studies my face for what feels like an eternity before pulling a small tin can out of the pocket of his jeans. “There’s plenty of shit people should apologize for in this world…but feelings should never be one of them.”

I think about this for a moment, and realize he has a point. Everyone is entitled to their feelings…whatever they are.

Most people would try to change the subject because death—especially suicide—makes them uncomfortable, but Oakley seems perfectly content letting me disclose whatever’s on my mind.

It’s refreshing.

“Sometimes I miss him so much it physically hurts.”

Miss them both.

Nodding, he brings a joint to his lips and lights it. “I get that.”

Bringing my head down, I brush my lips against my knee as the scent of marijuana surrounds me like a fog. “Other times I’m so angry—so fucking livid with them for being quitters and abandoning me—I hate them.”

He takes a deep drag, speaking through a cloud of smoke. “I get that too.”

It’s only then I realize what I said.

Them.

If Oakley caught on to my blunder, he doesn’t press me about it.

For some strange reason that only makes me want to tell him even more.

But I don’t…because I can’t.

I vowed to take her secret to my grave.

Wordlessly, I seize the joint from him and inhale, letting the smoke infiltrate my lungs.

A cough escapes me on an exhale, but he doesn’t tease me about it.

Feeling audacious, I take another puff, my head feeling lighter and my body feeling more relaxed.

So relaxed I decide to bring up something else that’s been on my mind.

“Hayley’s been lying to you.”

I expect him to defend her…just like he always does, but to my astonishment, he doesn’t.

“I know,” he says softly, prying the joint from me.

It’s music to my ears…until I see the distraught expression on his face.

Bringing it to his lips, he takes another deep drag. “I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” He laughs, but there’s no humor. “Every woman I give a shit about ends up betraying me sooner or later.”

Something sharp squeezes my chest. Oakley isn’t wrong.

His mother abandoned him.

Crystal used him.

And Hayley lied to him.

“I’ll never do that to you,” I tell him honestly. “You might hate me but—”

“I don’t hate you,” he says, cutting me off. “You frustrate me. Huge difference.”

Safe to say his declaration throws me. “I frustrate you?”

Another nod. “Yup.”

It’s hard not to feel offended. “Why the hell do I frustrate you?”

He snuffs out his joint. “We should head back.”

He starts to move, but I tug on his arm. “Tell me why I frustrate you.”

He zeroes in on where my hand is locked around his bicep. “Let go.”

Like hell I will. “Not until you tell me.”

Those blue eyes pin me with a look so severe it steals my breath. “You know why.”

With that, he wrenches his arm away and stalks off.

However, I’m not finished yet.

Correction, we’re not finished.

“I frustrate you because you feel something for me,” I call out after him. “Something genuine and raw…and for some reason that scares the hell out of you.”

But he doesn’t have to be scared…because unlike the rest of the women in his life, I’ll never hurt him.

I care about him too much.

He halts in his tracks. “The other night—”

“Was incredible.”

I’ve never felt so close to someone—so unguarded and vulnerable—in my whole life.

I didn’t need to wear a shield or a mask in front of him…because Oakley has a way of seeing right through it.

He turns to face me. “It was a mistake.”

It would hurt less if he slapped me.

My eyes drift to the sand because it tangibly pains me to look at him. “Oh.”

I feel like a fool. A stupid, helpless, lovesick fool.

Taking a step forward, he presses a hand to my cheek, then tilts my chin up to look at him. “It was a mistake because I should have known better. I had no business messing—”

“Why?” My heart beats erratically against my chest, threatening to jump right out into his hands. “Why do you keep insisting we’re wrong when everything in me keeps screaming that it feels right?”

I’ve never met anyone like Oakley.

I feel like I can tell him anything in the whole wide world and he’ll never judge me.

And the safe feeling I get whenever he’s near—the one that tells me he’ll always protect me, no matter how much I may frustrate him—I’ve never felt that with anyone else.

Just him.

Only ever him.

His hold on me tightens. “I know you think you have feelings for me, but it’s only because you’re young and inexperienced. You need to find someone on your playing field, Bianca. A nice, respectable guy who—”

“I don’t want a nice, respectable guy,” I interject. “I want you.”

Closing his eyes, he presses his lips to my forehead. “It will pass, baby girl.”

He makes it seem like my feelings for him are nothing more than a temporary storm cloud.

But he’s wrong.

They’re a typhoon.

One that’s headed straight for him.

The sound of frantic pounding on my door jolts me out of my sleep.

Or rather, flashback.

Groggy, I make my way to the door, debating whether or not I should have grabbed the can of pepper spray Jace and Cole insisted I keep in my drawer.