The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  “Don’t you want to get this?” I ask, my brow furrowed. “How many times will we see something like this?”

  He keeps his eyes on the horizon as the sky becomes vibrant shades of pink and red.

  “Exactly,” he says. “Why not just enjoy the moment?”

  I frown, considering his words, and peek over my camera at the vista before me. For the first time since the sun started to rise, I lower my camera. I let go, letting it hang from the neck strap, just as he’s doing.

  My breath catches as I watch the sky change from moment to moment. I rarely let myself enjoy a beautiful view for what it is. I usually need to capture the scene as best as I can while the wonderful, inspiring, shocking action is happening.

  Is this what it means to live in the moment? My heart is racing.

  26

  Jonathan

  The sky is changing by the second and I don’t want to blink.

  Slowly, I sit, carefully holding my camera. Kiara is as blown away as I am. She takes a seat next to me and we watch the sun rise in a comfortable silence.

  “It’s the golden hour,” she says, her voice low and happy.

  Golden hour? I’m about to ask when she reads my mind.

  “It’s the time right after sunrise. See? The light is softer and warmer, and the shadows don’t seem as harsh. It’s just calm, happy, peaceful.”

  I tear my eyes from the horizon to look at her. I’m captivated. She’s beautiful. Her dark hair frames her face and her eyes are filled with wonder. She takes one last photo and then lets the camera hang in front of her. I don’t want to look away, but I know that I’m staring.

  The golden hour washes over us. For all of my early morning workouts, I’ve never taken the time to appreciate the sunrise. I did a lot of my morning training sessions inside, or if we were outside, I was usually too distracted by my coach to pay attention to my surroundings.

  “One of my first memories is of the sunrise,” I say without thinking. “I was with my parents.”

  Kiara is so close her knee is touching mine. The words come easily, without thought. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, seeing as I usually have to monitor my every breath.

  “We were traveling together when I was a kid. We used to do these insane road trips over to California or Texas or Florida — we’d just get in the car and drive.”

  I smile and my breath catches. “I remember one morning, back when I was 4, my dad got us up early. He wanted to beat the crowds to one of the beaches in California. I was sleeping in the back seat, but I opened my eyes right as the sun was rising. The sky was so colorful, I’d never seen anything like it. My parents were holding hands in the front. It felt like the world stopped. It was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

  I remember it all. The colors in the sky, the flat road ahead of us, the quiet in the car. It’s a still image in my mind, the place I return to anytime I’m stressed or unhappy. I’ve been visiting the memory more and more over recent years.

  And then, my smile fades. “The next year, my parents started putting me into every soccer camp in Edendale. I joined league after league to eventually become the ‘star midfielder’ of the Eagles.” My fingers form quotation marks around the words. “That sunrise feels like the last thing I really enjoyed before they started expecting so much. Before they wanted me to become a big-time soccer player with a full-ride scholarship.”

  Back then, my parents were happy and carefree. Now, they frown when I come into the room. Soccer weighs on them as much as it weighs on me. It’s the prison we’re all trapped inside.

  To my surprise, Kiara’s soft hand reaches for mine, giving it a squeeze.

  “What about photography?” she asks.

  I laugh bitterly as a much less pleasant memory comes back to me. “They would be horrified to hear that I want to pursue photography. They never wanted this for me. In fact—”

  How much can I say? How much should I tell her? I glance over and Kiara’s looking at me with a question in her eyes. Her gaze is soft and kind.

  “It was a photo you took that got me into trouble.”

  Her brow furrows and a fire lights in her eyes.

  Did I say too much? I instantly regret not phrasing my words better. But, in a matter of seconds, her face relaxes and her mouth pops open.

  “Oh. That photo?” she asks.

  I nod silently, thinking back to the image that plastered the front of our school’s newspaper last fall — the photo that had created waves with so many of my friends and family. It’s a beautiful photo, there’s no doubt. It’s well-shot and I could hardly believe the person in the picture was me.

  “It didn’t take long for Coach to recognize me.” My voice is quiet, like the golden hour has hushed everything in its glow. “Then my teammates and friends, and finally my parents. I almost got kicked off of the Eagles because of it. It took a very long time to convince Coach to let me stay on the team and to make it up to my teammates. My parents still bring it up with me whenever we get into arguments.”

  I shrug, remembering the months of work it took to make reparations. It’s part of the reason I shoved my camera into the back of my closet for so long. Now, I wouldn’t dare even say the words “photo” or “camera” around my closest friends and family.

  “I’m sorry, Jonathan.” Kiara says, her voice sincere. “I didn’t know.”

  Her words feel like a balm, and I realize how much of my dislike for her has been grounded in that one action from last fall. The very thing that separated us was a grudge I held without thought. I never considered that she might not know how much that photo had affected my life. Given that she would still make the occasional sassy remark to that point, I assumed she knew exactly what she was doing when she published the photo.

  “It’s okay,” I finally say, realizing that it’s true. A heavy weight is lifting off of me. “Honestly, it was about time my parents figured out how much I like photography.”

  Kiara has that cute half-smile again, but her eyes are sympathetic. The glow of the sunlight on her face makes her look ethereal. Her eyes meet mine and it’s like the golden hour is shining from within her.

  Her photo got me in so much trouble, but why do I feel grateful for it now?

  27

  Kiara

  I’ve stopped breathing. For once, I don’t force myself to look away from Jonathan’s eyes, and I let the moment engulf us. The sun feels warm on my cheeks already, and the stillness in the air feels like magic.

  Emotions roar through me. The photo that Jonathan is referring to is the same one that got me this year’s award with our newspaper.

  I took the photo last fall, during one of the first Eagles games of the season. I arrived late, as usual, and by the time I got to the field, the Eagles were 20 minutes into the first half. I stood off to the side, tucked in by the bleachers.

  As I made my way along the bleachers, however, I came across an unusual sight. A guy with a dark jacket and a beanie was standing just ahead of me with his own camera.

  From the back, I remember thinking the guy seemed attractive. He was leaning casually against the side of the bleachers, effortlessly confident, and he appeared artsy. He snapped a photo of the game as the Eagles were celebrating a goal.

  It was such an unusual moment that I took my own photo. The guy’s profile was clear — he had a chiseled jawline and blonde hair peeking out of the side of the beanie. It was a stark contrast to the dark outfit and the darker bleachers.

  The flash from my camera caught the guy’s attention, and he whirled around. The “artsy guy” was none other than Jonathan Wright — the Eagles’ star soccer player who should have been playing.

  My jaw dropped.

  His shock turned to rage, and he glared at me before running off.

  I stood still, barely able to register what had just happened. Why was Jonathan Wright taking photos of the game instead of playing it? I brushed off the question as “weird golden boy behavior” and continued taking photos for the n
ewspaper.

  A few days later, I was going through all the game photos with the editor and we came across the image.

  “Kiara, this photo is exceptional,” Abby said as she pulled up the image on her screen and enlarged it. I’m proud of most of my work, but I’ll admit that this photo was particularly good. The scene was moody, dark and real, contrasting perfectly with the celebrations on the field. “We need to publish this.”

  I frowned at her words. Given his rage when he saw me, I had the feeling that Jonathan was not supposed to be there on that day.

  “I don’t know, Abby,” I said, trying to take the spotlight off the photo. “It’s not really a proper photo of the game.”

  “So? Who cares?” Abby flailed her hands around.

  Was she joking? Abby may have been new to the editorial team, but she must’ve known this. “Literally the entire population of Edendale.”

  Abby sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. Still, this shot is a one-in-a-million for our paper.”

  I blushed, then scrambled for another excuse. “I just don’t think it’ll do well with the student population. They want to see the action, not some random guy taking photos of the action.”

  As I said the words, I knew they were true. The students at our school wouldn’t be interested in a well-shot image of a guy taking photos at a soccer game. If they knew that the guy was Jonathan, that might change…

  Despite my lingering anger with him for his false “nice guy” persona, I couldn’t fathom throwing him under the bus. I could always publish the image with another magazine or newspaper once we’d graduated.

  “No way,” Abby insisted as she played with cropping the photo onto the front page. “This needs to be in the next issue.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  Abby swiveled around on her chair to face me, her eyes wide and questioning over the tops of her round glasses. “Kiara, you want to be a photographer, yeah? You’ll want this photo in your portfolio, trust me. It’s fantastic. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  I frowned again, looking at the photo over her shoulder. It was hard to tell that it was Jonathan. The jawline and blonde hair were the only indications. The only reason I knew it was him was because he turned around and scowled at me.

  “Do you recognize the student, by any chance?” I said vaguely.

  Abby swiveled back around and leaned in towards the screen.

  “No.” She pushed her glasses up. “Does he go here?”

  That was all the verification I needed. I smiled and gave Abby the go ahead. If she couldn’t recognize the profile of Jonathan Wright, surely no one else would?

  I was wrong.

  The gossip flew once it got out that Jonathan had purposely skipped an important game to take photos. There were rumors that the coach would kick him off the team. There were rumors that his friend group had ousted him and that he had lost his chance for scholarships.

  But whenever I saw Jonathan, he was smiling and happy. He seemed unfazed by the rumors and gossip, which led me to believe that none of them were true. When his snarky comments and insults started ramping up, I figured it was because he hated the photo. It appears I was wrong about that too.

  And now, sitting here in a loaded silence, the golden hour upon us, I see his side of things. It’s unbelievable that one seemingly meaningless moment can change someone’s future.

  “I’m not sorry for the photo,” I whisper, not wanting to break the spell between us. “But I am sorry for how it affected your life.”

  He tilts his head, and I wonder if he’ll be upset. Unexpectedly, his face breaks into a smile and my heart skips a beat.

  “I’m not sorry for the photo either. Besides, you really captured my good side,” he says jokingly, a twinkle in his eye.

  Then his voice turns serious. “You know that you’re the only one who knows this about me? Knows why I’m here?”

  I want to reach for his hand again. “And so what? If I tell your secret, you’ll have to kill me?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Why do you think I brought you to the top of a mountain?”

  I laugh. “Well, I know one way to protect myself.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Photo evidence.” I lean my head in so it’s almost on his shoulder and point my camera at us. “Say Legacy!”

  Click.

  I check the picture. We look almost natural together.

  Get a grip! I push that thought out of my head.

  “Let me see.” Jonathan takes the camera from my hands and grins. “Even when you’re not looking through the lens you’re better than I am.”

  I laugh and bump my shoulder against his.

  He chuckles. “It’s funny, I’ve been training for soccer tirelessly over the last few years—”

  “No. Shocking.”

  He makes a face and then turns serious. “Somehow, despite all that training, I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough for everyone around me.”

  Silence falls over us as I consider Jonathan’s words. Edendale’s golden boy — the star midfielder for the Eagles — doubts his abilities?

  “No… you do well, soccer.” I say awkwardly, tripping over my words. Phenomenal job, Kiara.

  Jonathan glances at me and bursts out laughing.

  “What I mean is,” I say, smiling, “I know nothing about soccer, but it seems like you know what you’re doing.”

  He chuckles as our eyes meet. “It’s nothing compared to your photos. You’ve got a genuine talent, Kiara. I’m honestly so impressed by what you can do. But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny, deny, deny.”

  Unmistakable butterflies fill my stomach. It feels like the entire world has turned upside down.

  A week ago, I believed that Jonathan Wright and I were opposites, destined to be rivals, my grandchildren would despise his grandchildren. But a week into my time at Legacy Inn, the only thing I was right about is that Jonathan does put up a front. Though it’s entirely different from the one I expected.

  “I hope you’re right,” I say, my voice sad.

  I hug my knees to my chest and relive what happened last week, right before I came to the Inn.

  Am I doing this? For some inexplicable reason, I want to tell him. His words struck a chord with me — I know exactly how he feels. Our little spot on this summit feels magical, like a room for secrets that will always be kept safe.

  “I was... rejected by a magazine. The Glacier Journal,” I say, staring flatly towards the bright horizon. The sun rises over the mountains. “They said that my photos weren’t good enough. I believe their exact words were ‘lifeless and dull’.”

  Frustrated tears sting my eyes and I squeeze my knees tighter to my chest. “Photography is all I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s all I can do. And on my first try, I’m called lifeless and dull.”

  Shame burns bright at the sting of the memory. I’ve been hiding my disappointment, but it’s lingering just below the surface.

  “The Inn is my chance to capture ‘lifelike’ photos for Glacier,” I say. “It’s the only way I can build up a good enough portfolio to get out of Edendale after graduation.”

  I sigh before continuing. “You say your parents care too much about where you are this summer. I can’t imagine what that’s like. My mom couldn’t care less. My dream has always been to leave for good and get out of her hair. I think it’s her dream too. My photos? They’re my best shot.”

  Just like I’d done for him, Jonathan reaches out and grabs my hand. His hand is big and warm, and his touch feels electrifying.

  The emotional storm inside ebbs as we gaze out towards the horizon, our hands clasped tight around the magic of our confessions.

  28

  Jonathan

  Kiara’s hand fits naturally in mine as we look towards the mountain peaks. We’ll have to return to the Inn soon, but I don’t want this moment to end.

  I never would have imagined that Kiara the Queen acted the way she did for a good reason. The nickname so
unds weak now.

  “I didn’t know,” I say, regretting all the times me and my teammates used the name.

  “Sure you did,” Kiara snaps, but her voice is sad.

  She takes her hand out of mine and places it back around her knees.

  “Don’t you remember?” She refuses to meet my eyes. Her face is a mask of angry determination.

  I rack my brains, digging into the past. We’ve had our squabbles and arguments over the years. I must’ve said something that crossed the line. What was it?

  I wave the white flag, admitting defeat. “I can’t remember.”

  Kiara exhales loudly and I wait for what she has to say. We have all day up here, if she wants it.

  “It was the first Eagles game.” Her voice wavers. “My first job as a photographer with the school’s newspaper.”

  She recounts the exact moment that I’ve tried hard to forget, to push deep into my memory. Never in my life have I acted so badly towards someone. Lucas’ comment and the laughter from the team still rings in my ears, and to this day, I’m deeply ashamed about what I did.

  Because of that moment, I attempt to stand up for anyone I notice is getting picked on. But it will never make up for what happened with Kiara when we were freshmen — the moment I was too chicken to stand up for her.

  “Kiara.” I struggle to find the right words. “I think about that moment almost every day.”

  She sits silent, still. She’s taken her sunglasses from her camera bag and they hide her eyes.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t stand up for you. You know Lucas, he always makes those stupid comments...” I trail off, realizing that I’m making an excuse.

  “I had just got on the team, I was trying to fit in. I made a bad call, I’ll be the first to admit it. Lucas has gotten worse over the years, and I barely talk to him anymore.”

  I roll my eyes thinking of my supposed “friend” and teammate. “I should have said something.”