The morning air smelled like new beginnings and old regrets.
I dragged my suitcase across the cobblestone pathway of Riverside University, watching other students laugh and embrace friends they hadn't seen all summer.
Everyone seemed to belong here already. Everyone except me.
But that was the point, wasn't it? To be somewhere nobody knew me as "the girl whose sister died." Somewhere I could breathe without people's pitying stares suffocating me.
The campus was beautiful in that effortless way expensive things always are ivy-covered brick buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, students who looked like they'd stepped out of a catalogue. I clutched my acceptance letter in my pocket like a talisman. I'd earned this. Full scholarship for academic excellence. This was my chance to become someone new.
"Emma! Emma Chen!"
My heart stopped. That voice. I knew that voice, even though I hadn't heard it in three years.
I turned slowly, hoping I was wrong, knowing I wasn't.
Kai Sullivan stood about twenty feet away, his camera hanging around his neck like it always had. But he wasn't the lanky teenager I remembered. He'd grown into his height, his shoulders broader, his jawline sharper. His auburn hair was artfully messy, and those green eyes God, those eyes still held the same warmth that had gotten me through so many childhood nightmares.
"Kai?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.
He closed the distance between us in quick strides, his expression torn between joy and hurt. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were transferring?"
Because telling him would have meant talking to him. And talking to him would have meant explaining why I'd cut him out of my life three years ago. Why I'd stopped answering his calls, his texts, his letters. Why I'd disappeared without a word after Sarah's funeral.
"It was a last-minute decision," I lied, unable to meet his eyes.
"Emma." He said my name like a prayer and an accusation. "It's been three years. You couldn't send one text? One email? I thought… God, I thought maybe something happened to you too."
The pain in his voice cut through me. "Kai, I'm sorry. I just"
The roar of an engine interrupted me. A sleek black Mercedes pulled up onto the sidewalk, so close I had to stumble backward to avoid being hit. My suitcase toppled over, spilling some of my belongings onto the ground.
"Hey!" Kai shouted, stepping protectively in front of me. "What the hell?"
The driver's door opened, and out stepped someone who looked like he'd been carved from marble by an artist with a thing for sharp angles and dangerous beauty. Tall easily six-foot-three with dark hair styled with that effortless perfection that probably took an hour, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and ice-blue eyes that assessed the situation with cool detachment. His charcoal suit probably cost more than my entire semester's tuition.
"You're blocking the designated drop-off zone," he said, his voice smooth and authoritative, with just a hint of what might have been a British accent mixed with American.
"You almost hit her with your car," Kai shot back, his hands clenched into fists.
Those blue eyes finally focused on me, and something shifted in his expression surprise, maybe, or recognition. His gaze swept over me, taking in my worn jeans, my oversized cardigan, my scuffed sneakers. When his eyes met mine again, they'd softened almost imperceptibly.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, and this time his voice held genuine concern.
"I'm fine," I managed, suddenly very aware of how I must look compared to him. "Just startled."
He crouched down with fluid grace, gathering my scattered belongings a worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice," my journal, some pens. When he picked up the photo that had fallen from my journal Sarah and me at the beach, both laughing he paused, studying it for a moment before handing it to me with careful reverence.
"Your sister?" he asked quietly.
How did he know? "Yes."
"I'm sorry." And he sounded like he meant it. He stood, extending his hand. "Adrian Blake. And I apologize for the near collision. I'm running late for a meeting with the dean."
Adrian Blake. The name sent a chill down my spine, though I couldn't say why. I shook his hand warm, firm, confident. "Emma Chen."
"The transfer student." Again, not a question. "Literature major. Full scholarship. Professor Morrison's Advanced Literature seminar."
"How do you know that?" Kai demanded, still positioned protectively beside me.
Adrian's gaze flicked to him with mild amusement. "I'm also in that seminar. I review the roster. I make it a point to know who I'll be studying with." He turned back to me. "You wrote your admissions essay on the evolution of the female protagonist from Austen to Morrison. It was quite impressive."
Heat crept up my neck. He'd read my essay? "Thank you."
"I look forward to our discussions, Emma." The way he said my name sent an unexpected shiver through me. "Something tells me this semester will be far more interesting than I anticipated."
He moved toward the main building with the kind of confidence that comes from never doubting you belong somewhere. I couldn't help but watch him go the way he moved, the way other students seemed to part for him instinctively, whispering as he passed.
"Who the hell was that?" Kai muttered, glaring at Adrian's retreating back.
"I have no idea." But I was lying again. Because something in Adrian Blake's eyes when he'd looked at me had been familiar. Recognizable. Like he'd seen something in me I thought I'd hidden.
Kai turned to me, and his expression softened. "Emma, I've missed you so much. These past three years have been… I tried to reach out so many times. After Sarah died, I wanted to be there for you, but you shut me out. Why?"
Because you would have seen through me. Because you would have known the truth that I blamed myself for Sarah's death. That if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own teenage drama that night, maybe I would have noticed she was upset. Maybe I could have stopped her from getting in that car.