Chapter One
My father always said we were one step closer to God.
I never knew exactly what he meant by that, but it was the motto we lived by.
We did everything a good, southern, god-fearing catholic family should.
Attended mass every Sunday and the occasional Wednesday. Held potlucks in the parish hall and barbecues in the summer. Even our community garage sales had an air of piety, like we were absolving ourselves of consumerism by laying out half-used blenders and barely worn shoes under the Georgia sun.
There was a kind of performance to it all. A script I’d memorized long before I could think to question it.
Keep your voice low. Keep your knees together. Be brilliant, but don’t be loud about it.
I followed the rules because it was easier than facing the wrath of my father. He never hit us. That would be too obvious. Too uncivilized for a man of his stature. No, my father’s hands stayed clean while his words did all the bruising.
For the next few days, I’d stay in his good graces. After all, I’d just graduated from college with plans to attend Stanford Law in the fall.
He’d be the talk of the church for at least a month, him and my mother both. Parishioners would fawn over how they’d raised two perfect, God-fearing children. One was a successful surgeon, happily married with a baby on the way. And then there was me. The future lawyer.
The girl who’d spent all twenty-three years of her life chasing the title of perfect daughter.
“Kassidy, darling, come say hello to Mrs. Pryor.”
My mother’s voice sliced through the soft murmur of surrounding conversation, pulling me from the muddled pool of my thoughts.
She was beautiful. Everyone said I looked just like her. We shared the same ocean-blue eyes, the same long, auburn hair that always looked effortlessly soft, no matter the humidity.
She cut through a small group of guests, taking my hand with a graceful smile and steering me across the patio. String lights twinkled overhead. Jazz floated from the rented speakers. A banner stretched above the pool:Congratulations, Kassidy!
I hadn’t picked the font. Or the menu. Or the guest list.
“Loretta, surely you remember Kassidy,” my mother said brightly as we reached the small cluster gathered near the large white tent in our backyard.
Loretta was an older woman with soft silver hair that caught the golden light of the setting sun. Wrinkles fanned from the corners of her eyes, deepened by a smile that came easily as she pulled me into an unexpected hug. I plastered on my best fake smile and hugged her back.
When she pulled away, her eyes flicked briefly down the length of my body in a not-so-subtle assessment.
“Oh, Grace, she’s beautiful. She takes after her mama, that’s for sure.”
My mother beamed, soaking in the compliment. “Thank you, Loretta.”
Loretta turned back to me. “Congratulations, Kassidy. Stanford in the fall? Your parents must be over the moon. Accomplishing big things, just like your brother.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
My father, standing with his tumbler of scotch and an air of casual dominance, laid a hand on my shoulder. “We always knew she’d amount to something.”
“She’s always been focused,” my mother added, brushing my arm with subtle possession.
“She certainly carries herself with grace,” Loretta said, beaming at me once more. “You can always tell when a girl’s been raised right.”
My smile stayed fixed, even as my jaw ached from holding it in place.
Loretta waved a hand through the air. “Well, Kassidy, it was such a pleasure to see you. I won’t keep you. I’m sure there are plenty of others here who want a moment with the guest of honor.”
“The pleasure was mine, Mrs. Pryor. Thank you for coming.”
She nodded, her eyes warm with polite sincerity. “Of course, dear.” She reached for the small golden cross at her neck, kissed it gently, then took my hand in both of hers. “May God bless you.”
“And you as well.”
She gave me one last smile before I turned and slipped back into the crowd.
The party lasted only a few more hours, and I spent them standing between my parents, listening to variations of the same conversation.
You must be so proud.
Stanford? That’s incredible.
Just like your brother.
Each compliment added another layer of lacquer on a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.
By the time the night finally ended, my feet ached, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed, disappear beneath my thick, plush sheets, and lose myself in a book.
If one more person had asked about my summer plans, I was fairly certain I would’ve dropped dead on the spot, just for the drama of it.
I shut my bedroom door behind me with a soft click, reaching down to loosen the straps of my heels and sliding them off.
Across the room, piles of clothes lay sprawled along the bench at the foot of my bed, a suitcase lying wide open on the floor, filled with an uneven mix of swimsuits and sundresses.
My graduation present.
At least that’s what my parents referred to it as.
I’d only ever had one best friend throughout my life, Lucia Torelli. We met in the second grade, the day she moved to town. I’d been the only one kind enough to talk to her, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
Lucia’s world was vastly different from mine.
Her father was the CEO of a luxury real estate company based in Atlanta. She came from mansions and fast cars, from a life majority of people in my community would consider a life of sin.
Her family owned a beach house in Southern California, tucked into one of those secluded cliffside communities that felt more like a dream than an actual place. They spent every summer there.
In all the years of our friendship, my parents had only allowed me to visit once, when we turned eighteen. And even then, it had taken weeks of convincing and a detailed itinerary.
This year, Lucia invited me to stay the entire summer. And by some God-given miracle, my parents actually said yes.
Which, honestly, was its own kind of problem.
Because at twenty-three, I shouldn’t still need their permission to live my life. But so long as I lived under their roof, they held onto the last frayed threads of control.
But I was determined to make this summer different.
❇ ✾ ❇ ✾
“Kassie, youhaveto pack at least one,” Lucia said, holding up a neon pink bikini like it was a sacred relic, dangling it in front of my face like I was a cat and it was a feather toy.
“No.” I swatted it away. “You know my parents are going to do a luggage check. I’m not even allowed to finish packing until my mom goes through everything first.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. “You have a weird-ass family.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up my throat.
“You’re twenty-three, not thirteen. This is your graduation trip, not vacation Bible school.”
I laughed again. “Believe me, I’m aware. And I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll buy a bikini when we get to California.”
Lucia perked up like a kid promised candy. “Promise?”
I rolled my eyes, but smiled anyway. “Promise.”
“Or I could just borrow one of yours,” I offered, folding my arms. “Why doIhave to pack it? Why don’tyoubring it?”
Lucia looked at me like I’d just split the atom. She leaned in and planted a dramatic kiss on my forehead.
“You’re a genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Future lawyer, remember?”
“Ah, yes, how could I forget?”
Lucia balled up the bikini and shoved it into her suitcase. Our flight was in two days, and unlike me, Lucia hadn’t evenstartedpacking. Clothes draped every visible surface—her bed, her desk chair, even the lampshade—while three open suitcases sprawled along her bedroom floor.
She was currently wearing a multicolored tube top and a leopard-print skirt, standing in front of her closet and tearing through it like she was on a timed fashion show. Every few minutes, she’d try something on, twirl, frown, and throw it onto the growing pile of “maybes.”
She’d recently gone through a breakup. They’d been together for two years—she was even hopeful a proposal was on the horizon until she found out he’d cheated on her.
It had happened early in the relationship, but we both agreed the timeline didn’t matter. A betrayal was a betrayal. So she ended it.
We spent that weekend curled up on her couch, eating ice cream straight from the carton, and watchingThe Notebookon repeat.
Spoiler: it doesn’t get less sad the more you watch it.
It was probably the most stereotypical way to get over a breakup, but it did the trick.
Lucia was now more than ready to flirt with any man who so much as made eye contact this summer.
And she was determined to preparemeto do the same.
Romance had never really fit into my life. Between school, family expectations, and a curfew that belonged in a Disney movie, there just hadn’t been space for it. That’s why I preferred to read about it, neatly contained, perfectly paced, always ending with someone choosing love over everything else.
My parents didn’t think relationships were necessary until college. Maybe grad school. My brother didn’t get married until he was twenty-nine, and now, at thirty-one, he was finally expecting his first child.
Right on schedule.
Attending a fully Catholic college didn’t help much in the romance department either, though it helped me lose my virginity.
Unfortunately, it was quite possibly the worst experience of my life.
I gave up after that.
“Do you think this color brings out my eyes?” Lucia’s voice broke the silence, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I turned my head. She stood in front of the mirror in a skin-tight red dress that hugged her every curve.
“Not necessarily,” I said, “but you still look hot.”
Lucia beamed, sliding the dress off and tossing it onto the growingyespile with a satisfied hum.
She pulled on an oversized T-shirt and padded across the room, flopping onto the edge of the bed across from me.
“You know what you need this summer?”
“Oh no,” I said, already bracing myself.
She ignored me. “A bad decision.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She grinned, completely unbothered. “Something reckless. Preferably something male.”
I snorted. “We’ll see.”
Lucia winked at me. “It’s the best kind of summer school.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” She said, then her voice softened. “You’ve lived your whole life so far, and what do you have to show for it? A degree.” She gave me a soft smile. “No offense, but I’d want my life to be bigger than the inside of a textbook.”
I laughed, giving her a soft smile. “I said we’ll see, but I might change my mind if you keep giving me inspirational speeches.”
Lucia laughed too, then stood and returned to the disaster zone that was her closet.
Her words replayed in my head.
A bad decision?
I didn’t know it yet, but his name was going to be Riley Wells.
