Chapter One WILLOW, AGE 18

Labor Day weekend

“Why are we starting back at school so late again?” I’m sitting at the baroque-style vanity table that’s in my cousin Iris’s room, dotting my face with a highlighter stick almost aggressively.

“I already told you.” Iris rises from her prone position on her bed, her dark blonde hair in the perfect messy bun I can never, ever duplicate, no matter how hard I try. “You leave for a year and everything changes.”

She loves to remind me of this.

“Oh, I know.” I turn away from the mirror, glaring at her like I’m mad, even though I don’t mean it. She’s not only my cousin, but she also happens to be my very best friend. “But we used to start in August.”

“And now we start in September.” Iris shrugs her slender shoulders, the strap of her tank top slipping. She shoves it back into place and plops backward onto the unmade and downright chaotic bed. Total symbolism for the complete disarray that is her mind and life. “Only fifteen minutes was added to our school day, but that’s enough to allow us to start school later and end it sooner. Doesn’t Westscott have the best ideas?”

My face turns into a grimace. I can feel it, and from the look on Iris’s face, she can see it. Even though she’s lying down and staring at the ceiling. “I haven’t even met this mythical new headmaster and he’s all you can talk about.”

“That’s not true. I don’t talk about him all the time.” She rises up into a sitting position as if she’s rising from the dead. Even points an accusatory finger at me. “You’re just mad because you’ve been gone and so much at Lancaster Prep is different now. Face it. You don’t like change.”

I return my focus to the mirror and start patting the highlighter into my skin with my fingertips. “You’re right. I hate change.”

“Well, then you’re going to hate your senior year because everything is different.” Iris sounds almost gleeful. I think she’s enjoying this—torturing me over how things are all switched up at school. She’d never admit it, but she was a little jealous, a lot sad and plenty angry with me for abandoning her during our junior year of high school. That’s the word she always uses-abandoned. Like I’m her deadbeat mom and I dropped her off on an orphanage doorstep. “You might freak out and feel like you’re at a different school, but you’ll be fine.” She pauses. “Hopefully.”

My cousin/bestie has always had a flare for the dramatic.

“Iris.” I jump to my feet and whirl around to face her, resting my hands on my hips. “You have to stop holding my leaving you against me. I went to Italy. I was gone for almost a year and I missed you terribly, but now I’m back and we’re together again. Please stop being angry with me over it.”

The best thing about my relationship with Iris is how loyal we are to each other, yet we also can fight like sisters and make each other cry. I think we act like this because we’re the same age and there are hardly any girl cousins in the family. The few that exist are a solid five years younger than us and we have nothing in common. As in, we can barely tolerate hanging out with them because they’re so young and annoying.

Once we started at Lancaster Prep our freshman year and were in the same grade, Iris and I clung to each other and eventually became inseparable. No one talked about us in a singular way—it was always Iris and Willow. Or Willow and Iris. Until I applied for a foreign exchange program our sophomore year and surprisingly enough, got accepted. Oh, she was so mad at me.

I think she might still be.

“You know I love to hold a grudge.” She’s staring at the ceiling again, stretching her long, enviable body across the mattress. She’s tall and lithe while I’m short with too big boobs. “Mom reminds me all the time that I’m just like my father and we all know how he is.”

Grumpy. Quick to judge—but always willing to admit when he’s wrong. Fiercely loyal and protective but once you wrong him, you’re dead to him. Whit Lancaster is a man most don’t want to cross. His children are basically the same way—all three of them.

“But my father always says Mom knows how to hold a grudge like no other so I’m doomed.” Iris sighs. “I come from a grudgeholding, revenge-seeking set of parents. Whoever wants to tangle with me, they better watch out.”

“Revenge seeking. Give me a break.” I march over to my bed—we’ve shared a room at Iris’s house since I was little—and grab a pillow, tossing it at her. It bounces off her forehead, making her laugh. She can never stay in a bad mood for long. “Come on already. Get dressed so we can go downstairs.”

“Get dressed? I am dressed.” She slides off the bed, effortlessly chic in a cropped white tank that shows off her tan and dark brown leggings that showcase how long her legs are. She slides her feet into a pair of furry Louis Vuitton slides and throws her arms out. “Dressed and ready to go!”

I sort of hate her.

No, that’s a lie. I absolutely adore her. These are my own insecurities rising up and threatening to choke me.

We leave Iris’s bedroom, her slides slapping against the sleek white marble floors extra loud as we head for the staircase. The sound echoes throughout the cavernous corridor and I’m surprised her mother isn’t screaming at her to walk properly. I know I’m tempted to tell her just that.

“I’m starving,” I murmur, thinking of all the yummy breakfast food Marta will have prepared. She’s their housekeeper and we all adore her. She’s been with the family so long that we consider her an honorary member and she acts like one too.

Always bossing us around and telling us what to do. We all roll our eyes and most of the boys talk back to her, but we all end up doing exactly what she wants.

“I ate an orange earlier.” My side-eye is strong and aimed right in her direction, making her shrug almost helplessly. “What? I woke up at seven and couldn’t go back to sleep. The light was so bright since you forgot to close the drapes last night.”

“You have hands too, you know.”

“I guess I was too excited to sleep any longer.” Iris shrugs, shooting in front of me as she calls, “Race ya to the bottom of the stairs.”

We run down the endless steps, but Iris shot ahead of me at the top, which means she’s going to win. If my mother could see us now, she’d be furious. These are the very stairs where Sylvia Lancaster tumbled to her death—she was Iris’s grandmother and her funeral was held on the day Iris was born so we didn’t even know her. I’ve heard the family stories though. She was awful and abusive toward her daughter Sylvie, but no one really talks about her.

Typical. Iris and I are always griping about the family secrets and how no one will share them with us.

“You seem off this morning. Are you about to start your period?” Iris jumps from the second to the last step, her slides slapping the floor and echoing throughout the entire foyer. “We used to be synced up. One more thing we lost.”

Her winsome tone is as good as any actor I’ve heard.

“Dramatic much?” I tease back, making her laugh. The sound of it warms my heart and I reach for her, locking her in a hug. She struggles to get out of it, but I won’t let her go. I’m a touchy-feely Lancaster and she is most decidedly not. “Come on, let me hug you.”

“Ew no. Hugs are for wimps.” She starts to run ahead of me, those vaguely annoying—but very cute—shoes smacking on the cold marble floor. “Better hurry or you might miss breakfast. Marta starts clearing plates at nine-thirty!”

Ugh, she’s such a liar. Marta’s not the one clearing plates from the buffet table in the dining room. There are servants for that task and Marta is the one who manages them.

My steps slow at the thought and I sort of hate myself for having it. Being away from my family for the school year showed me how the other half lives—the term my mother used when I was first accepted to the exchange program and my father was dead set against letting me leave. I had to beg and plead and cry for him to finally give in and let me go.

I’m a self-admitted daddy’s girl, which means I know how to get my way with him almost always, but convincing him to let me leave the country and live with another family for a school year? That was difficult. He didn’t want me away from them for that long. He also thought I was too young, too sheltered, too … I don’t know. Too na?ve? He never said those words out loud, but I’m fairly certain that’s what he was implying.

I am my mother’s daughter in many, many ways, but I would never consider myself as na?ve as she was. He would’ve been proud to see me hold my own while I was away, which I did. I learned a lot, and I pushed myself out of my comfort zone just by going there, and I’m proud that I lasted the entire school year. It would’ve been so easy to give up. To go home, but I refused. I wanted to have an experience on my own, without all of those Lancaster expectations attached to it.

It’s really good to be back home though.

Eventually I end up in the dining room—all the breakfast food is still out, shocker—and I’m behind Iris as we fill our plates with fluffy scrambled eggs and colorful pieces of fruit. I also add one slice of bacon and a chocolate croissant while Iris ignores both items and we settle in at the table with a few of our cousins. Not a single parent is in sight. They all get up far earlier than we do and I’m sure the majority of them are outside already. The men are probably golfing at the nearby country club and Iris’s mom is tending to the garden because that’s her new favorite thing.

“Where’s Row?” Iris asks me as she pops a square of honeydew melon into her mouth.

“He’s heading back to campus today, remember?” My younger brother brought a friend along with him to the house, and from what I can tell they’ve had a great time swimming and hanging out together, but they’re both on the football team and have to go back to school early for practice.

It’s still unbelievable to me that Row plays football. That he actually wants to do it. Our family has never really been into competitive sports before, but I guess there’s a first for everything.

“Oh right. Because of football.” She digs into her food, practically shoveling endless pieces of melon into her mouth while I nibble on my single piece of bacon, mulling over my younger brother’s choice to leave early. “He’s really good at it, Willow. They’ve made him the quarterback and everything.”

“I know—I’ve heard all about it,” I murmur, still a little stupefied over the fact that Lancaster Prep now has a winning football team.

Look, our school is known for a lot of things. Only the elite of the elite have attended the private high school for hundreds of years, but the new headmaster has made a lot of changes since he took over, and he implemented those changes in a rapidly short amount of time. Like our sports department. We always had one, but it wasn’t necessarily award-winning. Our lacrosse team did well years ago. Oh, and the girls’ volleyball team always wins division championships.

But never football.

“The team is going to kill it this season.” At my amused look, Iris huffs out a sigh and rolls her eyes. “You’re such a snob. There’s nothing wrong with going to a football game on a Friday night and screaming your guts out because you’re so excited that we’re winning.”

“We’re winning?” I repeat. “We had nothing to do with it.”

“It’s called school spirit.” She smiles. “And the entire campus has it. Trust me, you’re going to love the vibe when you come back. I know you will.”

She’s just trying to reassure me because as she already pointed out, I don’t like change. I should’ve known some things would be different when I came back from Italy, but it turns out nothing is the same. My little brothers both grew like three feet—okay a total exaggeration, but they are both so tall now—and from what I’ve heard so far, my school has changed a lot. Even Iris seems to be different. More mysterious. Which makes me wonder if she might be holding on to something that she doesn’t want to tell me …

Or maybe that’s just me being paranoid. I’ve definitely not brought up a certain someone because I’m worried over what she might say. Mom told me a long time ago when I was having trouble with a friend back in middle school that the truth hurts but sometimes, we need to hear it.

She’s right. The problem? Sometimes I don’t want to hear the truth, especially if it doesn’t align with my secret wishes.

I remain quiet as we finish our breakfast, listening to the nonstop chatter from our younger cousins and siblings. Our family likes to get together for almost every holiday, Labor Day being no exception. Both Iris and I have brothers that are the same age, and Vaughn and Beau are talking about video games and a Marvel movie they went and saw yesterday afternoon. Then there’s Prudence and Paris, Aunt Carolina’s twin girls, who also went to the movie yesterday and keep trying to interject their opinions. The four of them won’t stop talking and when Iris finally sends me a look, I know she’s telling me she wants out of here.

August strides into the room just as we’re pushing back our chairs, a look of complete disdain on his face when he sees the younger cousins sitting at the table. “You’re leaving?” he asks his sister.

Iris nods. “You can hang out with them. I’m sure you’ll have so much fun.”

She knows her brother can barely tolerate anyone, even relatives.

“Fucking Christ,” he mutters as he heads for the side table to grab some breakfast, his irritation coming off of him in palpable waves.

“He’s so grumpy,” Iris says to me. “I thought college would put him in a better mood but apparently he hasn’t changed a single bit.”

“Apparently,” I agree, shaking my head.

We promptly exit the house, the younger cousins’ laughter still ringing as we make our way outside, and the moment that I pull the door shut, there’s nothing but blessed silence, save for the occasional seagull squawking as one of them flies overhead.

“God, our little brothers are annoyingly loud,” Iris mutters as she heads toward the closest table. The bright white and navy striped umbrella is open above it, leaving plenty of shade, and there’s a warm breeze blowing, making the ends of my hair dance. “Never any peace and quiet when they’re around.”

“I don’t mind it,” I admit. “I missed having so much family around.”

Our parents seemed to make some sort of pact when they all started having children that they wanted to stay connected. When Iris’s parents took over the Rhode Island house, the one that’s been in the Lancaster family since basically the dawn of time, it was decided that it would become the family compound. The one central place where everyone got together for every family celebration and holiday. Throughout the summer. Spring break. All of it.

Iris and her family reside here full time and my family bought a house not too far after my youngest brother Beau was born. But our house isn’t nearly as big as the original Lancaster estate.

“You missed all of us?” Iris ducks her head, her blue gaze meeting mine. She’s got those Lancaster eyes, just like mine. Physically it’s the only part of my father that I have. Otherwise …

I am the spitting image of Wren Lancaster.

“Of course, I missed everyone. Especially you.” I lean into her, pressing my shoulder to hers.

“You didn’t even come home until a week ago,” she points out. “You were gone for what felt like forever.”

“My parents wanted to travel all around Europe as a family for the summer.” I shrug, remembering how upset my mother was when my brother Rowan insisted on going home early so he wouldn’t miss football practice. He’s only a sophomore, but the second he becomes interested in something, he takes it seriously. To the point of obsession sometimes.

It’s the Lancaster in him,Daddy said. I suppose he’s right.

“Did you have fun? Meet any boys on your trip with the fam?”

I slowly shake my head, wondering if I should tell her the boy I’m actually wanting already goes to our school and she knows him very well. “How could I? I was with my parents the entire time.”

“No fun.” She mock pouts. “Did you at least get to drink?”

“I turned eighteen when we were there, so yes. But I didn’t get drunk or anything.” My birthday is in July and we celebrated it in Paris, which was wonderful, but I missed my friends and the rest of my family.

I was eager to get home. I’d been gone long enough.

“I suppose it’s not as much fun getting wasted with your parents.” Iris sighs and I can’t help but laugh.

“No, it’s not much fun at all,” I agree, laughing. “But none of that matters now. I’m home, we’re together once again and we’re ready to have the best senior year of our lives.” I smile.

Iris smiles too. “It’s going to be epic.”

“You really think so?” I hear the worry in my voice and I hate it. I shouldn’t have a care in the world. I am a Lancaster, after all. I’m back on this campus where I belong.

“I know so.” Iris’s nod is firm, her eyes sparkling. “It’s going to be amazing. Just wait until you’re back on campus. You’re going to love it!”

If she says so.

We hear clattering footsteps on the stairwell that leads down to the gardens and the beach just beyond it and two heads suddenly appear. One is my brother. The other is his friend that he brought with him.

Callahan Bennett.

“Iris!” Rowan shouts when he spots us. “Go to the front and entertain Rhett for a minute while we grab our shit.”

Iris’s brows shoot up. “What in the world is Rhett doing here?”

“Who’s Rhett?” I ask, looking between her and my brother.

“Only the best quarterback I’ve ever witnessed in my life,” Row proclaims.

Callahan smiles broadly at me. “Rhett’s my brother. He came here to pick us up and take us to school.”

“Please, Iris.” Row makes a prayer gesture with his hands folded in front of him. “I’ll owe you.”

“Come on, Willow.” Iris rises from the chair, sighing loudly. “Let’s go meet the hottest guy on campus.”

“Ew,” Cal says as he walks past us, trailing after Row who’s already halfway in the house.

We enter the house after them, headed for the front, while the boys race up the stairs to grab their things, their heavy footsteps sounding like a herd of elephants barreling through the house.

“Who’s the hottest guy on campus?” I ask Iris as we briskly walk through the massive living room, drawing closer to the front door. I can hear the blare of loud music coming from outside and I wince.

“You’ll see,” Iris says cryptically, stopping in front of the massive door and turning the locks before she swings it open and strides outside. “Rhett! Darling!”

Darling? What?

I follow her out onto the front terrace, shading my eyes from the sun. There’s a car in the drive. A sleek white Porsche 911 with tinted black windows and a loud, rumbling engine. The driver’s side door is cracked open and this Rhett person has one leg out with his foot braced on the ground, as if he’s poised and ready to leap from the car at a moment’s notice.

“Iris.” His deep, commanding voice seems to tug at something low in my belly and I drop my hand, watching breathlessly as he emerges from the car, his hand braced on top of the door. Wow, he’s tall. “Where’s my brother and Row at? We gotta get going.”

“Calm down, they’re coming,” Iris says with an unfamiliar laugh. I send her a strange look, but she’s not paying any attention to me. “Where’s your friend?”

Rhett appears genuinely confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Brooksie.”

“Wait a second—are you referring to Brooks Crosby?” I ask Iris.

She shushes me and I take a step away from her, annoyed.

“He’s already at school. And he hates riding in my car. You know this. Says he’s too big for it.” Rhett laughs, the sound rich and deep and I shade my eyes again because I can’t make out a single feature, thanks to the blazing sun above our heads.

My heart stops as I drink in his handsome face. No wonder Iris is laughing and flirting with him. I would be doing the same thing if I knew who this boy was. He’s tall, with golden brown hair that gleams in the sun, and while he’s wearing sunglasses that cover up half of his face, that doesn’t diminish his good looks. He’s got great facial structure. Prominent cheekbones and a sharp jawline that is just begging to be kissed.

I shake my head a little at the thought. What in the world?

“Sorry, Rhett!” Callahan emerges from the front door in a full sprint, Row right behind him. They’re both carrying unzipped gym bags that are bulging with clothing and a sock falls out of Row’s bag, landing at my feet.

“Get your skinny asses in the car, pronto,” Rhett demands, turning toward his seat and flipping it forward. “You can take the back, Cal.”

“Aw, man.” Callahan groans as he folds his lanky body into the back seat.

“Row, you forgot this!” I wave the sock above my head, grateful it’s clean and doesn’t smell like sweaty feet.

“I don’t need it,” Rowan yells as he rounds the front of the beautiful—and dangerous looking—Porsche.

I ignore what he says. I also ignore Iris who asks me what I’m doing as I run down the steps without thought. Gravitational pull, I think as I approach Rhett. He’s larger than life, bigger than I realized and my gaze lands on his arms—his biceps in particular. He’s got muscles for days and his chest is wide, that navy Lancaster Prep T-shirt he’s wearing stretched to the absolute limit.

My breaths come faster and I skid to a stop, holding out the sock lamely. “This is my brother’s.”

Rhett slowly lowers his glasses down the bridge of his nose, blatantly checking me out with what looks like hazel-colored eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Row’s sister.” I wave the sock at Rhett again, feeling like a fool. “Can you give this to him for me, please?”

“Anything you want, pretty girl, I’ll do for you,” he drawls as he slides the glasses back up, covering his eyes.

“Jesus, don’t flirt with my sister, Rhett!” Row screams from the passenger seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Rhett completely ignores him, sliding his hands into his shorts pockets. “You go to Lancaster?”

I nod.

“Huh. With that gorgeous face of yours, I’d definitely remember you.” A pained expression suddenly appears on his face. “Please tell me you’re not a freshman.”

“I’m not,” I say with a breathless laugh, my heart fluttering at him calling my face gorgeous.

“Thank God,” he mutters.

“I’m a senior,” I tell him. “I was in Italy last year. On a foreign exchange program. But now I’m back.”

Oh God, am I rambling? He probably doesn’t care about any of that.

“Wait a minute.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at me. “You’re the infamous Willow Lancaster.”

I blink at him, shocked he’d know me. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Everyone knows who you are—except for me. Looks like we need to change that.” He grins, the sight of it blinding me worse than the late summer sun. He snags the sock from my grip, our fingers brushing, and I feel his touch all the way down to my soul.

Now I feel as dramatic as Iris.

Rhett climbs back into the car, tossing the sock at Row’s face before he shuts the door. I take a step back, wincing at the roar of the engine. The tires squeal when he pulls out of the driveway and takes off like a shot, hitting the horn twice as a goodbye.

In a complete daze, I turn to find Iris watching me with a giant smile on her face. “Um. Wow.”

She giggles. “Tell me all about it.”