Begin Again

When you grow up with someone your whole life, you learn the small things first.

What they like.

What they don’t.

How their brain works three steps ahead of everyone else’s.

The way they fiddle with the string on their hoodie when they’re nervous.

The exact second their jaw tightens before they say something stubborn.

You learn the predictable things.

What they’ll order at the diner.

How they’ll react when they’re jealous.

Where they’ll stand in a crowded room.

You think you know their patterns.

You think you know their every move.

Until the day Rowan Hayes makes one you never saw coming.

Childhood best friends.

High school sweethearts.

“I’ll protect you from everything and anything,” he’d whispered once, his forehead resting against hers beneath the fairy lights strung across his parents’ backyard. “From anyone.”

Isla Bennett had believed him.

She had always believed that she and Rowan were the kind of story that didn’t end. The kind that stretched from scraped knees and pinky promises to wedding rings without ever really breaking.

So when Rowan walked away three weeks before her eighteenth birthday—

People thought the breakup was the tragedy.

It wasn’t.

The tragedy had already happened.

The breakup was only what came after.

Months later, Isla still couldn’t decide which hurt more.

Losing the boy she’d loved since she was seven...

Or losing the version of herself that had existed before everything changed.

She couldn’t hear a phone ring from an unknown number without her stomach dropping.

She still checked the locks twice before going to bed.

She still looked over her shoulder when footsteps echoed behind her.

And every time someone mentioned Maplewood—

She stopped breathing for just a second.

Now she stood in front of Crestwood Hall.

Move-in day.

Boston, Massachusetts.

Hawthorne University rose above the city in old brick, ivy-covered buildings, and centuries of history.

This was supposed to be a fresh start.

Different from Maplewood.

Different from whispered conversations that stopped when she entered a room.

Different from sympathetic smiles she never asked for.

Different from him.

She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack and looked across the crowded quad.

Students laughed.

Parents carried boxes.

Upperclassmen shouted directions to nervous freshmen.

Life moved around her as though nothing terrible had ever happened.

It felt...

Strange.

Almost wrong.

Her gaze wandered before she could stop it.

Across the courtyard.

To another residence hall she’d memorized months ago while pretending she wasn’t memorizing it.

Athletic Housing Annex.

Where Hawthorne’s hockey players lived.

Where Rowan Hayes lived.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

She hadn’t seen him since February.

Not after the breakup.

Not after she’d packed everything that reminded her of him into a cardboard box and shoved it beneath her bed at Nana’s house.

Not after she’d convinced herself she’d eventually stop missing someone who had chosen to leave.

Did you smile at someone who used to know every version of you?

Did you nod?

Did you pretend nothing had happened?

Could you survive looking into the eyes of the person who broke your heart...

When you still loved them anyway?

She forced herself to look away.

One step.

One staircase.

One unlocked door.

One breath at a time.

Her dorm room was smaller than she’d imagined.

One bed.

One desk.

One narrow closet.

One window overlooking a courtyard already beginning to glow with early autumn.

It was strange how somewhere so small could still feel like possibility.

Boxes covered the floor.

A stack of novels leaned dangerously against her suitcase.

Someone knocked gently on the open door before disappearing again, searching for another room.

College.

It was finally here.

Her phone buzzed.

Nana.

A smile found her before she answered.

“Hi, Nana.”

“There she is,” her grandmother said warmly. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?”

“I’m your only granddaughter.”

“Technicalities.”

The laugh that escaped Isla was quiet but genuine.

“I made it.”

“I knew you would.”

Isla turned slowly, taking in the room once more.

“It’s... different.”

“Good different?”

She nodded before remembering Nana couldn’t see her.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then softly—

“It feels safe.”

The words surprised even her.

Nana didn’t comment.

She never pushed.

“I’m glad, sweetheart.”

Safe.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed feeling that word.

“You’ll love your classes,” Nana continued. “You’ve been dreaming about Hawthorne since middle school.”

English Literature.

Books.

Writing.

Stories.

A classroom where she hoped one day she’d become the kind of teacher who noticed the quiet students.

The ones carrying battles no one else could see.

If teaching wasn’t where life led her...

She’d write them instead.

Stories had always made more sense than people.

Stories had endings.

Real life rarely did.

“And Rowan?” Nana asked carefully. “Is this everything he’s dreamed of?”

The question settled heavily between them.

Five hours.

That’s how long the drive from Maplewood to Boston had taken.

Five hours...

And she’d spent almost every mile wondering if he was excited.

If he’d already skated on Hawthorne’s ice.

If he still laughed the same way.

If he’d forgotten her.

“I haven’t seen him.”

She left the rest unsaid.

That she was terrified she would.

That she didn’t know if she wanted him to look at her...

Or past her.

“I imagine hockey season has him busy,” Nana offered gently.

“Probably.”

Someone called her name from the hallway.

“I’ve got to go.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you more.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket just as a familiar voice echoed down the hall.

“There she is.”

She looked up to find Uncle Colin balancing two cardboard boxes against his chest.

Relief washed over her.

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.

“You made it.”

“I wasn’t about to let my favorite niece move into college alone.”

“I’m your only niece.”

He grinned.

“Family really loves exploiting technicalities.”

She laughed again.

A little easier this time.

He looked around the room.

“So...”

His eyes landed on the growing stack of novels.

“...looks exactly how I pictured.”

“You expected less?”

“I expected more books.”

She gasped dramatically.

“I’ve been insulted.”

“You’ll recover.”

His smile softened.

“I’m proud of you, Isla.”

She looked away before he noticed how much those words affected her.

Proud.

It had been a long time since she’d believed she deserved to make someone proud.

Rowan

Rowan Hayes had imagined Hawthorne University a thousand different ways.

The arena.

The jersey.

The roar of a packed crowd.

The chance to play the game he’d loved since he was old enough to lace up skates.

Sports Management had always made sense.

Hockey wasn’t forever.

He wanted to stay close to it long after the final whistle.

But every version of this future had included someone else.

Isla.

She’d been there in every dream.

Every plan.

Every impossible future they’d whispered to each other at seventeen.

Until one day...

She wasn’t.

Six months.

That was how long he’d lived with the decision.

Six months replaying words he’d never meant.

Six months wondering whether she hated him enough.

Because if she hated him...

Maybe she’d stop looking back.

Maybe she’d stop trying to carry the weight of a town that expected too much from an eighteen-year-old girl.

Maybe she’d be safe.

He’d told himself it had been worth it.

He repeated that lie every morning.

It became harder to believe every night.

He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag as he stepped onto the quad.

Fresh start.

That’s what everyone kept calling college.

As if changing your address could erase the worst day of your life.

Then he saw her.

Standing outside Crestwood Hall.

Sunlight caught in her hair.

Looking exactly the same...

And completely different.

She looked lighter.

Smaller somehow.

Like someone who had spent months trying to make herself disappear.

His chest tightened.

She turned.

For one impossible second, he thought she might look at him.

Instead...

She walked away.

And Rowan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Because the one person he’d broken to keep alive...

Looked like she’d never forgiven him for breaking her heart.