Chapter one
1272 Words
***Lillianna POV***
August
I’m going to do it.
I’m going to tell him I love him.
The thought repeats in my head like a heartbeat, wild and reckless. My palms are slick against the soft fabric of my yellow sundress, the one Toby once said made me look like “summer itself.” I wipe them on my thighs anyway, trying to steady my trembling fingers.
He just walked out the door, and I can still feel the ghost of his laugh vibrating in my chest.
Now or never, Lilly.
“Where are you going?” Bianca asks, her voice floating from the couch, muffled by the thrum of music and chatter.
“Just getting another drink,” I lie, my voice too light, too careful. I can’t even look at her. My eyes are fixed on the door—on the space where he was just standing, smiling that soft, crooked smile that always makes my stomach flip.
The air outside is cooler, quieter. My pulse roars louder than the distant music. The party lights fade into a blur of gold behind me as I step off the porch and into the night.
“Toby?” I whisper his name like a prayer, scanning the lawn.
“Hey there, il mio cuore.”
Bishop’s voice slides through the darkness, smooth and low. He steps out from the shadows of the porch, hands stuffed in his pockets, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“What’re you doing out here?” he asks.
“Have you seen Toby?” I barely glance at him, eyes darting toward the treeline.
He hesitates before nodding toward the left. “Yeah. Said he needed some air.”
I take a step, but his voice stops me.
“Lilly, wait.”
I turn, frowning. His expression shifts — worry replacing that usual easy charm.
“Maybe you should just… wait for him here,” he says softly. “He won’t be long.”
Something inside me clenches. “Why are you acting weird?”
He sighs, dragging a hand through his dark hair. When his eyes meet mine, they’re full of something I can’t name—pity, maybe. Dread.
“Look, he was with a girl,” Bishop murmurs. “I just don’t want you to walk in on anything.”
My breath catches.
A girl?
No. No, Toby isn’t like that. He’s never cared about other girls. He’s never looked at anyone else like he looks at me. He wouldn’t.
I don’t even answer him. My feet move before I realize it, crunching across the grass as anger and panic twist together in my chest.
Bishop calls after me, but I ignore him. The sound of my heartbeat is too loud, drowning everything else.
As I near the trees, I hear voices — soft, low, coming from behind the shed.
Every step forward feels heavier, my legs turning to lead. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it. But I keep going anyway, like something inside me needs the truth, even if it kills me.
“…been trying to get you to ask me out all year,” Tiffany Watson says, her laugh too sweet, too practiced.
Through the shadows, I see her hand trail down Toby’s arm.
My stomach twists. My pulse stutters.
He doesn’t move away.
“Really?” he asks, his tone flat, distant. It almost sounds like disinterest, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to stop the ache clawing through my chest.
Tiffany giggles, her red hair catching the light from the porch. “Every time I tried to get you alone, you were always with your little sister.”
Little sister.
The words slap me.
I watch his jaw tighten.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” he says sharply.
That single sentence feels like a knife sliding between my ribs.
I stumble back half a step, my breath catching on a quiet, broken sound.
She moves closer. He doesn’t stop her.
And when she cups his cheek, when she leans in—the world goes silent.
Her lips meet his.
It’s soft. Quick.
But it’s enough to end me.
Something inside me shatters, a clean, silent break.
The breath I was holding leaves my lungs in a ragged sob.
I turn and run.
Branches whip at my arms, the night blurring through my tears. The air burns in my throat as I choke out a cry. Somewhere behind me, I hear my name—“Lilly!”—but I don’t look back.
I don’t want to see his face.
I don’t want to see the boy who just broke me.
When I reach my car, my hands fumble for the handle. Locked. My purse is still inside. “Damn it!” I cry, hitting the door with my fists. My knees feel weak. The world tilts.
Then—arms. Warm, steady. Wrapping around me.
Bishop.
“Shhh,” he whispers, pulling me against his chest.
I bury my face there and sob until my voice cracks. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t need to. He just holds me tighter, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
“I got you, il mio cuore,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a vow.
But I can’t feel anything except the ache.
My heart keeps replaying the same moment — Toby’s stillness, her lips, that look in his eyes.
The look that used to belong to me.
When the tears finally stop, I pull away. My face is a mess. My voice is a whisper.
“Take me home.”
“Lilly—”
“Please,” I breathe. “Just take me home.”
He curses softly under his breath but nods, guiding me to his car.
The ride is silent. The radio hums faintly, but I can’t hear it. My head rests against the window, and the glass is cold against my skin. The reflection staring back at me looks like a stranger — eyes swollen, mouth trembling, heart in ruins.
Since the day we met, Toby has been my person. My protector. My whole world.
But he’s also my stepbrother.
And I guess that’s the problem.
What we had—whatever it was—was never supposed to exist.
But I felt it. God, I know he did too.
You don’t look at your sister like that. You don’t touch her hand and make her whole body catch fire.
So why kiss someone else?
Why her?
When we pull into the driveway, the house looms in the dark—quiet, perfect, pretending not to notice the girl falling apart in the car outside.
“Lilly…” Bishop’s voice is careful, almost pained.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
He hesitates, then grabs my arm gently, pulling me back before I can open the door. His eyes meet mine, full of something heavy, something he doesn’t say.
He leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of my head. It lingers—too long, too tender. “I’m here for you, il mio cuore.”
I nod, barely breathing. “Thanks.”
When I finally step out, the night air hits me again, cold and still. The house feels empty, too big. Everyone’s asleep. No one knows the world just ended for me.
I stand there for a moment, staring up at Toby’s window.
It’s dark.
Good. Let it stay that way.
Because if I ever see him again, I don’t know whether I’ll scream, cry, or still whisper the same words I never got to say—
I love you.
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- Writer
