I fumbled with the keys when I reached the door, dropping them before I could fit the key into the lock. And then he was there, stopping the door with his hand before I could open it.
“Wait,” Chase said.
With one word, my heart went from a sluggish beating to a thunderous pounding. His breathing was uneven—he’d run after me.
I turned to look up at him. “Wait?”
He didn’t answer, just kept breathing more rapidly than his sprint across the parking lot warranted. He was right in front of me, his chest rising and falling as fast as mine. “All he wanted to do was protect his dad, and leaving is the only way he thinks he can do it. I don’t agree with him, but it’s his choice. You can’t ever ask him for more. Dana, you have to promise me.”
That brief hope flared and died. “I promise.”
Chase shook his head, half bending down before straightening. “What am I supposed to say to you?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned toward me, and I flicked my gaze over him, frowning at the seeming incongruity between his words and his actions. “I can see it now, the questions you asked, how interested you always were in my family. I told you so much, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
I had no defense, so I made none. “Chase.” I breathed his name. “I’m so sorry for all of it.”
More staring and breathing. “You did hurt me. You hurt someone I care about more than myself.”
I tried to press back farther into the car. “I know.” I was staring at his neck, unable to lift my eyes higher. I lowered them to where his open hand still held my door closed. “Then let me go.” It was starting to hurt more standing there with him than it would to leave.
The tendons in his forearm shook. His voice lowered, and it sounded painful. “I can’t.”
The keys slipped through my fingers and hit the ground again. My gaze rose to his and held.
“I usually know what I want,” he said. “I decide, and that’s it. I don’t look back.”
“I’m not asking you to.” I wasn’t, not anymore. “I knew the first time we went out that I was making a choice. Just because it was the wrong choice doesn’t mean I get to undo it.”
“Tonight...” He stopped and started again. It was the first display of nerves I’d ever seen from him. “Tonight wasn’t about us. That’s not why I came—”
“You came for Brandon.”
“All week I’ve been thinking about it, talking to Brandon and telling him about you. I thought it would make walking away easier if I could see you through his eyes.” Impossibly, he was closer. “But he ended up seeing you through mine.”
It was like my heart cracked wide open, this lump in my chest that had been slowly petrifying from all the lies and secrets I’d pumped through it. Freed, but hardly daring to beat.
“And what I see is a girl who made a lot of mistakes in an impossible situation. A girl who tried to stay away from me even as I tried everything I could not to let her. A girl who got me off a couch and helped me have the first honest conversation I’ve had with my mom in years. A girl who tonight gave my cousin hope for something he never let himself want. A girl who I started to fall for the second she handed me a bat to break a window, and a girl I did fall for when she showed me that I could play a piano I wouldn’t have wanted to look at before her.” Chase glanced down, not because he needed to break eye contact, but so that he could find my hand with his. “You told me that the day we met, I offered you something you couldn’t walk away from, and now I’m saying it to you. It’s not neat or easy, the way I feel, but watching you walk away—no. I don’t want that.”
I looked up, my eyes swimming with tears. “But Brandon—”
“Yeah, Brandon,” Chase said, his head lifting to lock eyes with me. “That’s not neat or easy either, but he’ll be all the way on the other side of the country. Uncle Bran too.” His other hand slipped into mine. “You and your family—especially your mom—showed him people can love something even as it hurts them. And I think, maybe sooner than Brandon will admit to himself, he’ll want to talk to his dad about all of this. And when that day comes, I know my uncle will want to meet his son’s sisters.”
My heart hardly dared to beat in my chest. It was too much, thinking we might have more, my whole family. And Chase was still holding my hand.
“So...say it one more time.”
My emotions were so close to the surface that I couldn’t hide them if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to hide anything from Chase ever again. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled, one side of his mouth lifting. “Okay, that. You can say that, but I meant the other. Dana...” I would never get tired of hearing him say my name, especially when it sounded like he felt the same way. “Tell me it’s real. And then stay, see what we’re like when it’s not about him at all.”
I didn’t tell him it was real, I showed him. As soon as I rose up and pressed my lips to his, it was like surfacing from deep underwater and drawing in that long-denied breath of air, of Chase, and knowing that, this time, I could keep him. His arms encircled me, pulling my body against his until I could feel his heartbeat thumping against my chest. My hand slid up to twine around his neck. There was no sting to bitter the sweetness of that kiss, no guilt to mar the gladness. There was just us, and every part of me tingled back to life.
Nothing was neat or easy. I wasn’t, and because of Brandon, Chase and I would never be. But that night, as the stars were beginning to pierce the darkening sky around us and the last of the sun glowed amber across the field, I thought maybe we all deserved a second chance.
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
I can’t believe I’m getting to do this for the second time. Nobody pinch me if I’m dreaming.
I poured myself into another book and it wouldn’t have happened without the help and support of all these amazing people:
My literary agent, Kim Lionetti. Signing with you continues to be the best decision I’ve ever made as an author.
My editor, Tashya Wilson. Thank you for pushing me to dig deep again, and then deeper still. I couldn’t ask for a better editor.
The whole team at Harlequin TEEN, including Lauren Smulski, Siena Koncsol, Shara Alexander, Amy Jones, Bryn Collier, Evan Brown, Aurora Ruiz, Olivia Gissing, Linette Kim, Erin Craig, Gigi Lau and Kristin Errico.
The fantastic HarperCollins children’s sales team.
My brother, Sam Johnson. Your coaching and baseball/softball knowledge are staggering. Thanks for not letting me say Hit! Anything that sounds off is 100 percent your fault.
My sisters, Mary Groen and Rachel Decker. Mary, thanks for loving this book before it was even a book, and for loving me even when we were kids sharing a bed and you woke up with my gum in your hair. More than once. Rachel, thanks for all the stories from when you worked at “Jungle Juice,” and for all the emoji-filled texts because you live stupid far away.
Thank you to my parents, Gary and Suzanne Johnson. Dad, thanks for the idea behind this book and for passing out my bookmarks to just about every person you meet. Mom, thanks for being the biggest fan of my life. I have no idea how I keep writing these dysfunctional families when I grew up with the complete opposite.
Thank you to Ken Johnson, Rick and Jeri Crawford, and the Depews—the “fame” hasn’t changed me yet, Dan, but check back after the next book. Thank you for your unfailing love and encouragement.
To Sadie, Ainsley and Ivy. None of your other aunts named book characters after you. Just saying.
To Grady, Rory, Gideon and Dexter. Your names will be in future books. Promise.
Thank you to the best critique partners a girl could have, Sarah Guilory and Kate Goodwin. Love you both!
Thanks to all the amazing authors from the AZ YA writers group, especially Stephanie Elliot,
Kate Watson and Kelly deVos. What would I do without you guys?
Thank you to Susan Moore and your Greek mythology class. I wouldn’t have started writing without you.
Thank you to Aprilynne Pike for everything.
Thank you to Gabriella Morales and Christina Medrano for reading early versions of this book and offering invaluable feedback. Any mistakes are my own.
And thanks to YOU, whoever and wherever you are reading this book. I have no words for how grateful I am.
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ISBN-13: 9781488028120
The First to Know
Copyright © 2017 by Abigail Johnson
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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The First to Know Page 25
