ONE LAST WISH

by Reynolds, Aurora Rose

  Table of Contents

  ONE LAST WISH

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  OTHER BOOKS BY AURORA ROSE REYNOLDS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright © 2018 Aurora Rose Reynolds E-Book and Print Edition

  Cover Image Wander Photography

  Cover design by Sara Eirew

  DesignsFormatted by CP Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  Selma and Sejla this is for you

  Prologue

  _______________

  Aubrey

  Age 17

  I PEEK THROUGH MY LASHES to look across the table. My stomach dips and my heart beats funny, like it always does when a pair of golden hazel eyes meet mine. Since I can remember, Denver Clayton has had the same effect on me. He makes me nervous, so nervous it feels like I might come out of my skin when I’m around him. And I’m around him a lot, because his family and mine are close and we go to school together.

  “You don’t have to sit here with us, honey,” Shelby says, and I look across the table to her. “If you’re done, you can go hang with the boys.” Shelby is my dad’s wife, my stepmom, who’s actually more of a mom to me than my mom has ever been. I love her; we’re close—really close.

  “I…” I start. I don’t really want to go hang with my brothers, meaning my twin brother Steven and my stepbrother Hunter. Don’t get me wrong, I like them most of the time, but they are still annoying.

  “We can go hang outside,” Denver says, and my hands start to become damp as he pushes back from the table and stands to wait for me.

  Oh, God. What do I do? I look around at everyone. My dad looks annoyed, Shelby and Joe—Denver’s mom—are both smiling, and Paul—Denver’s dad—is looking at the ceiling with his lips twitching like he finds something funny.

  “Uh… okay.” I slide out of my seat then look at Joe. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She winks.

  I bite my lip, nod once, and then tuck my hands into the front pocket of my overlarge hoodie. I keep my head ducked and follow Denver outside, and he leads us across the lawn to an old tire swing. I take a seat on the rubber tire, watching him lean back against the tree and cross his arms over his chest. I push off the ground with the tips of my toes and study his handsome face, remembering what Shelby said a year ago when he turned seventeen. “Aubrey, that boy seems to only get better looking with age.”

  She was right. When I was thirteen and Denver fourteen, he was a cute boy. But Denver at eighteen is handsome. His jaw no longer has a softness to it. It’s now strong with sharp angles that give a glimpse of what he might look like in a few years when he fully settles into adulthood. His eyes haven’t changed, though the hazel color still reminds me of the aurora borealis you can sometimes catch a glimpse of on a clear night in Alaska where we live. The greens and yellows mix together perfectly and stand out spectacularly against his dark hair and lashes.

  My eyes land on his full lips, I quickly look away when I feel my cheeks warm. I think I’ve imagined kissing him a million times, what his lips would feel like against mine, how he’d taste, how it would feel. A part of me knows that one touch would send me floating away. One kiss would change everything, my whole world.

  “So what’s going on with you and Gabe?” he asks suddenly, and my head flies up meeting his intense gaze.

  “Gabe?” I touch my toes to the ground to stop swinging.

  “Yeah, you two are together all the time. Is he your boyfriend?”

  My cheeks heat further and I drop my eyes to the ground. “He’s my friend,” I reply quietly. Gabe moved to town a few years ago, and since then we’ve become good friends. He’s sweet. I like being around him, because he makes it easy. I don’t feel any pressure to talk or fit in, and being around him, I can just be me.

  “Just friends?” he questions, and I focus on him once more, wondering why he’s asking.

  “Yeah, we’re just friends.” I push off and start swinging once more.

  “Bre, we’re heading home,” Dad calls, and I turn to find him and Shel saying goodbye to Paul and Joe on the front porch.

  “Coming!” I yell back, and then I look toward Denver’s shoulder, mumbling, “See you at school Monday.”

  I don’t see him take a step toward me, but I feel his fingers wrap around mine to stop me before I can walk away. My breath catches as I look up into his eyes—way up, because he’s already at least a foot taller than me.

  “Are you going to the party tonight?”

  “What?” I ask in a daze, my focus on the feel of his warm, slightly rough fingers wrapped around mine.

  “Party… at Lincoln’s house tonight. Are you going?”

  Lincoln is Denver’s best friend; they’ve been best friends forever. I know Lincoln’s parents are cool with him throwing parties at their house, since everyone talks about it—including my dad, who’s the sheriff. Lincoln’s parents say they’d rather have their son under their roof drunk than wasted somewhere unknown. I can understand their logic, since a bunch of teenagers hanging out drunk out on the road where kids like to party or in the woods could end up in disaster. Has ended up in disaster in the past.

  “Are you coming?” he repeats, giving my fingers he’s still holding a gentle squeeze.

  “I… I don’t know.” Parties aren’t really my thing. Even growing up with the kids I go to school with, I still feel out of place whenever I’m around them.

  “You should come,” he says, and my stomach fills with butterflies and dances with excitement, because he sounds like he really wants me to go.

  “I’ll ask my dad,” I finally get out, and his lips tip up into a small smile.

  “If he says yes, let me know if you need a ride.”

  A ride. Holy cow, my knees shake at the idea of riding in his truck with him.

  “Sure.” I grin, trying to keep myself from jumping up and down like a total loon and making a fool out of myself.

  “Hopefully you’ll come.” His hold on me tightens ever so slightly before he lets me go.

  I don’t say anything else, because I’m not sure I can talk. Instead, I turn and rush to say goodbye to his parents before getting in my dad’s truck, where Shel and I spend the drive home convincing my dad to let me go to the party.

  _______________

  Looking around the crowded living room, I wonder why I came and why I can’t seem to be like the rest of the people here. My classmates all seem relaxed, and judging by the laughing and joking, they’re having a good time. Then there’s me
, hanging in the darkest corner of the room in an attempt to be invisible. I lean back against the wall behind me and hold the beer I was given when I made it here closer to my stomach. It’s still full. I tried to drink it when it was handed to me, but the second the taste hit my tongue, I wanted to spit it out on the floor. I never had a drink until tonight, not even a sip of my dad’s beer or Shelby’s wine. I now know that beer is gross—actually, really gross. Maybe if it wasn’t warm it wouldn’t be so bad, but that’s doubtful.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe, who I asked to come with me, questions, coming up to my side.

  I turn my head and look at him. “Yeah.”

  “Liar.” He knocks his shoulder into mine and I press my lips together to keep from smiling. I roll my eyes at him when he grins. Gabe is taller than me, but not by much, and lean from swimming everyday at the local indoor swimming pool. He’s cute with blond hair that has a hint of red in it, and blue eyes that are always smiling. Unlike me, Gabe doesn’t have an issue with talking to people and making friends. Still, he never pressures me to hang out with anyone else, because he knows it makes me feel awkward. When he leans back against the wall next to me, I scan the room, wondering if I should just call Shelby to come pick me up, since I haven’t seen Denver since I got here.

  I turn to tell Gabe that I’m going to leave, but stop when my stomach starts to dance. I turn my head in the opposite direction, and when I do, my heart starts to speed up. “Hey,” Denver greets me with a small smile.

  “Hi.” I smile back, and his eyes soften, making the butterflies in my stomach dance and flip.

  He looks over at Gabe and lifts his chin in that cool way guys do before his eyes come back to me. “I’m glad you came.”

  I swear I feel his fingers brush mine against my stomach and my heart thumps even harder.

  “Denver, get your ass over here!” someone shouts, and he looks in the direction of the kitchen, his jaw going hard.

  “Christ, they’re already wasted.” He looks back at me and shakes his head, seeming annoyed. “Will you be here for a while?” he asks as the group of people in the kitchen start chanting for him to join them.

  “Probably.” I shift from foot to foot. I really don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stick around, not with how out of place I feel.

  “Don’t leave before we can talk.”

  “I—”

  “Please,” he adds, and hearing the softness in his tone, I nod. “Good.”

  This time I know I feel his fingers skim gently across mine before he gives Gabe another chin lift and turns to walk across the room toward the kitchen. My stomach feels funny as I watch his friends greet him with hoots and body jolting pounds on the back. Unlike me, he fits in; he always has.

  Why am I here? Why did he want me to come, and what does he want to talk to me about?

  “Do you want to go hang outside?” Gabe asks, and I pull my eyes from Denver to look at him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on.” He takes my hand in his and leads me through the crowded house to the back door. “Better?” he questions once we’re standing outside on the back wooden deck under the star-filled night.

  “I wish I wasn’t so awkward,” I admit, setting my beer on the railing so I can tuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

  “It’s cute,” he smiles, tugging the end of my hair.

  Giggling, I shake my head. “It’s not.” I turn away from him and my eyes catch on the window that looks into the kitchen—a window I can see Denver kissing Pamela through. I pull my eyes off them, feeling my heart in my stomach.

  Pamela’s a senior who’s so pretty she’s actually had modeling jobs for a couple of well-known designers. I’ve overheard her say that after graduation she’s moving to New York to work full time as a model. I have no doubt she’ll do well if she does go. Then again, maybe she won’t go; maybe she’ll stick around for Denver, or maybe he’ll go with her.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Gabe says, and I try to focus on him and not the way my heart feels like it’s being crushed inside my chest and my stomach is turning with nausea.

  “Hmm?” I look over at him, noticing he looks tense. Actually studying him he looks nervous.

  “I was wondering if you’d want to…” He pulls my hand out of my sweatshirt, grounding me with his touch. “I was wondering if you’d want to be my girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend,” I repeat on a quiet breath, dropping my eyes to his hand wrapped around mine.

  “I know we’re friends, but I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

  I stare into his eyes and my heart lodges itself in my throat as I think about my answer. With Gabe, things have always been easy. He doesn’t make me nervous or anxious. With one smile or touch, he doesn’t make me feel like I’m out at sea searching for an anchor to keep me tethered so I don’t float away. He makes me feel like I’m safe. I need safe.

  “Yes,” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his, and he smiles. I want to smile back, but I don’t, because in my heart I know I don’t actually want safe.

  _______________

  Denver

  Age 21

  I lift the bottle in my hand and drink deep, closing my eyes as alcohol burns down my throat and warms my stomach. I’ve been drinking for a month straight, since the day I came back into town. Since the day I found out Aubrey and Gabe are getting married. No one told me about the impending wedding. Even my parents kept the news from me.

  “Drinking isn’t going to stop tomorrow from happening,” Lincoln says from my side, and I turn to glare at him. “Fuck, man.” He jerks his fingers through his dark hair. “I know—”

  “You don’t know shit,” I growl, standing and taking the bottle with me as I walk across the room.

  “Dude, this shit is fucking jacked.” He’s right; it is jacked. Being in love with a woman who is marrying someone else is completely fucking jacked. “I understand why you’re—”

  “Don’t. Do not fucking go there.” I point at him with one finger, and he shakes his head. I lift the bottle and take another pull, willing myself to fucking black out already.

  “You need to stop.” He gets in my face, pressing his chest against mine.

  “Back the fuck up.” My hand balls into a fist and adrenalin rushes through me. I’m ready for a fight, been ready for a fight for days, months—no fucking years.

  “If you want to stop the wedding, I’ll be there with you, cheering you the fuck on. But I won’t watch you slowly kill yourself using a bottle to do it.”

  I close my eyes, my chest aching with every breath I take. “She was supposed to be mine,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “She was supposed to be mine!” I roar, letting the bottle fly and watching it shatter against the wall on impact, the gold liquid exploding everywhere.

  “I know.” He grabs the back of my neck, pulling my forehead to his. “I know.”

  “She was supposed to be mine,” I repeat once more, my voice hoarse.

  _______________

  Denver

  Six years later

  Feeling my cell vibrate in my back pocket, I drop the rope in my hand to the wood deck of my boat and wipe the sweat from my face with the underside of my tee. I have three hours before I need to leave port and it’s already dark, making it hard to get shit done—meaning I shouldn’t be taking a call right now. I should be getting my ass in gear. Pulling out my cell, I don’t look at the screen before putting it to my ear.

  “Yeah,” I answer, walking to the edge of the deck near the dock, untying the rope there, tossing it behind me, and hearing it land with a loud thud.

  “Denver, it’s Gabe.”

  “Gabe?” My brows draw together tightly. I only know one Gabe, and I have no idea why he’d call me. We’re not friends; have never been friends. The only thing he and I have in common is Aubrey.

  “Yeah.” He clears his throat.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask as worry fills the pit of my stomach
.

  “Yeah... no.”

  I listen to him take a deep breath, and my body coils tight like the universe is telling me that whatever he’s about to say is going to turn my world upside down.

  “Is Bre okay?” I question when he doesn’t say more.

  “I’m dying, man.” As his words register, my breath leaves on a silent whoosh and my stomach turns. “I’ve got a couple months at best. The doctors don’t have an exact time period, obviously, but it’s inevitable.”

  “Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry,” I whisper, looking into the dark water at the edge of my boat.

  “Yeah,” he murmurs back, and I grab the back of my neck, holding tight. “I need a favor.”

  “Anything,” I reply, instantly squeezing my eyes closed.

  “When I’m gone, look after Aubrey for me.”

  Fuck.

  “She loves you, and I know you feel the same about her.” His statement feels like a knife to the chest.

  Fuck.

  “Gabe—”

  “She and I have had a good run,” he says quietly, and I squeeze my neck tighter, trying to cut off the pain his words are causing, that knife in my chest twisting deeper. “I’ve always known she was meant to be yours.”

  “Gabe,” I repeat, having not one goddamn clue what to say to him.

  “Just promise you’ll look after her.”

  Hearing the defeat in his tone and feeling my throat close up, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to push out two words. “I will.” As soon as my answer takes flight on the wind, the phone goes dead in my hand.

  “Fuck.” I lean my head back and look up at the night sky just in time to catch a star shoot across the dark. I don’t even think as I close my eyes and make a wish.

  I have no idea that hundreds of miles away, someone else is making a wish on that same exact star.

  _______________

  Aubrey

  One month later

  I lean against my kitchen counter and watch my dad tie up the garbage to take it out, trying to remember when the last time was I took out the trash myself. It’s been a long time, too long. I probably should have taken it out every now and then over the last few years. Then again, I probably should have done a lot of stuff I didn’t do over the last few years.