Prologue
Prologue
2017
The boy couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, but the depth of his piercing aqua-blue eyes—and the worried crease between them—made him seem older. Shoulders hunched, hands jammed into his pockets, he stood at the front of our seventh-grade classroom like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Class, we have a new student. This is Becker Reeves,” Mrs. O’Rourke announced. “He’s been homeschooled until now, so please make him feel welcome.”
Silence stretched, heavy and awkward.
When no one responded, he lifted his chin, straightened his spine, and pasted on a smile that looked too practiced to be real.
The moment his lips curved, revealing his perfect teeth and adoring dimples, whispers rippled through the girls in the room—hushed but eager. Becker knew instantly he’d made an impression. He knew how to survive this.
I let myself join in the staring. It was easier than thinking about the emptiness waiting at home, about the hushed phone calls and casseroles that weren’t feeding anyone. Better to focus on him.
He wasn’t like the other boys. Taller, leaner, his skin unmarked where theirs was broken with acne. But it wasn’t his looks that pinned me in place—it was the contradiction. Those eyes: guarded, wounded, older than they should’ve been. That smile: polished, charming, a mask he wore with frightening skill.
He carried the attention easily as he walked to the empty desk beside mine. But I could tell—it cost him.
He slid into his seat, rummaging for a notebook and pen. I tried not to watch. Failed.
You can’t fool me, new kid. I know that mask. I wear one too.
And when he caught me staring, his gaze sharpened like he was testing me—measuring if I could see through him. He was right. I could. Becker Reeves reminded me of... me. Scared. Broken. Carrying too much.
A flicker of movement. He brushed dark hair from his face, and for a fraction of a second I saw it: a bruise beneath his right eye. Faded. Smudged with makeup, but still there. My chest tightened, my pulse quickening.
He glanced up, and just then his pen rolled off his desk, landing between us. We both bent to grab it. My fingers closed around it first.
Straightening, I offered it back.
He recoiled—so fast it startled me. Like my hand might burn him.
Fear. Anger. A smirk. All in the span of a heartbeat. My stomach knotted, unsettled. He smoothed it away just as quickly, pretending nothing had happened.
Still, I didn’t lower my hand. I held the pen steady until he finally reached for it. When his fingers brushed mine, a spark shot through me—unexpected, undeniable. His eyes widened. I forced myself to stay calm, offered him the faintest smile, then turned back to my notes.
The rest of class blurred into background noise. I kept stealing glances, drawn to him in a way I couldn’t explain. Whatever passed between us in that instant, it wasn’t nothing. It was a connection.
And even though tomorrow I’d bury my father—his cologne still clinging to the coat I wore today, his voice still echoing in the silent rooms of our house—my grief was suddenly eclipsed by worry for Becker Reeves. The boy with haunted eyes. The soldier fighting a battle he couldn’t name.
“Greya Matthews, please come to the office. You’re being dismissed,” the overhead speaker announced.
The room stilled. Heads turned, pity written across their faces. Everyone... except the new boy. He’s the only one who doesn’t know my father just died.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and gave him one last smile before walking out. And in that moment, I made a silent promise: I would help Becker Reeves, no matter what....
“Greya!”
My eyes fly open. My heart pounds as the memory unravels, dissolving back into the present of 2022.
“Greya, wake up! We’ll be late!”
I blink against the light spilling through the blinds, the air heavy with the same emptiness I remembered from that day years ago. The echo of his eyes—piercing, broken, unforgettable—lingers in my chest like a wound that never heals.
Five years later, I still haven’t figured out the complexities of Becker Reeves...I still haven’t found a way to help him...found a way for him to let me in.
