Prologue

Nash

"Peyton's knocked up."

I froze in place, afraid that if I made the slightest move, the guys loitering on the other side of the wall of gym lockers would hear and know that someone else was nearby, overhearing this conversation. I'd already been in the locker room, stuffing my gym shorts and other related crap into my backpack for the final time before graduation, when Ryan and his buds had strolled in, probably for the same reason. They hadn't seen me because my locker was in a corner far from the door, and since I had no desire to interact with them, I'd resigned myself to staying put until they left.

I'd almost survived four years of jerks like Ryan and his buds, and I didn't want to break that streak on the day before graduation.

This didn't mean that I wanted to listen to them jabber. But while normally, I didn't give a rat's ass about what Ryan Harvey and his pals had to say to each other, I cared very much about the current subject of their talk.

Peyton Rivers was the smartest, most beautiful girl in our class. I'd had a crush on her from the moment I'd gotten an eyeful of her dark-haired, green-eyed beauty on the first day of high school. I'd tumbled the rest of the way in love with her when we'd had a class together in the second semester of our freshman year. That was when I'd found out that she was as kind and funny as she was gorgeous.

It had been at the beginning of our sophomore year that we'd become friends after Mrs. McConnell, our Honors English teacher, assigned us seats next to each other, which had the added benefit of making us project partners whenever there was a group assignment. Everything I'd suspected about Peyton turned out to be true—and then some. We shared so many of the same interests and opinions that spending time with her was fun. We'd started hanging out even when we didn't have assignments, just talking about books, music, movies and life.

Also, it was torture, because in addition to being my one true love and fated soulmate, Peyton was also the long-time girlfriend of Ryan Harvey, a Neanderthal in every sense of the word. Ryan was a jock, but not a very good one. He was always on the verge of failing a class or two, and I was pretty sure he had a permanent chair in detention. I couldn't figure out exactly what Peyton saw in him; I only knew that they had been together since middle school. So basically, I'd been screwed by a universe that had assigned Peyton and Ryan to one school and me to another. Sometimes, I drove myself crazy imagining all the what-ifs: what if Peyton had lived closer to me, and we'd known each other since kindergarten? Would she be mine now? Would Ryan just be a joke to both of us?

It didn't matter, though. I had to face reality, and mine was that Peyton's loyalty lay with Ryan. She seemed blind to his many faults, including all of the times when he was unfaithful to her. I found it infuriating, but Peyton never wavered. Not that she confided in me about her feelings—I never brought it up, and she only mentioned Ryan in passing when we were together. Still, I was pretty tuned into her feelings, and I hadn't seen any signs of heartbreak.

Although . . . the last few weeks, she'd been a little weird. A little off. Sometimes when we were talking, her words would trail away, and she'd stare into space, that adorable little wrinkle between her eyes. I had hoped that it meant that since we were about to graduate, she was thinking about ending things with Ryan, but I had a feeling I wasn't that lucky.

But now, hearing Ryan's words, it all began to make sense.

"Duuuuude." Ryan's best pal Andy groaned. "That sucks, man. What're you gonna do?"

"Me? Not a damn thing," Ryan drawled. "I mean, it's not my problem, right? She's the one who was fucking stupid enough to get preggers. Who can say if it's even mine?"

My mouth dropped open, and my hands curled into fists. What the actual fuck? Peyton never would have cheated on Ryan.

It seemed that even his idiot friends felt the injustice of that question. "Aw, no, Peyton's a cool chick. She wasn't sleeping around." Mike snorted. "If she had been, we would've heard about it and taken care of the situation."

"Maybe. But who can say?" Ryan must've slammed his locker shut, making the whole partition shake. "I guess so, but sometimes—" He broke off. "You know, she spends a lot of time with that brainiac Sampson. They, like, study and shit. They hang out, even after school. And I've seen how he looks at her."

My heartbeat sped up. Did Ryan really suspect how I felt about his girlfriend? Could Peyton know?

"Fuck, Ry, she doesn't have the hots for him." The derisive laughter made my blood boil. "I mean, look at him and look at you. Peyton wouldn't even give that nerd a second thought when she's your girl."

"Yeah, maybe." Ryan was quiet a minute. "But it doesn't matter. He can have her—her and her brat, too. I'm not letting something like this ruin my life."

"You're still leaving?" Mike asked. "You're gonna go up to North Carolina?"

"Got that job waiting for me there. My dad worked it all out. Him and my mom already bought a house outside Charlotte. They wanted me to have a fresh start, and after that mess with the liquor store in Daytona . . ."

"Yeah." Andy sounded a little uncomfortable. "Getting out of the state is probably not a bad idea."

"That's what my dad says. I mean, I don't know why everyone's making such a big deal—it was just a prank. All the kids go in there to score booze. It's not my fault the old man had a heart attack when I told him I was packing a gun."

My eyes widened. I'd heard rumors that someone in our class had been involved in a nasty situation up in Daytona Beach when the owner of a liquor store had died of cardiac arrest during an attempted robbery. The fact that it was Ryan shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. And it sickened me as well.

"Yeah. Well." Mike coughed. "Couldn't you take Peyton with you when you move?"

"Shit, man, no way." Ryan laughed, but it was a cruel sound. "Starting fresh means all the way. I don't need some woman crying to me all the time when I want to be out living my life. I'm not getting tied down—not now. I'm too young to be stuck with one chick, and I sure as hell don't feel like getting sucked into some deal with a screaming baby, too. I need to play the field. Score all the pussy I want."

"What did Peyton say when you told?" Andy asked. "Did she, like, freak out?"

"I dunno." Ryan sounded bored. "I said she needed to figure out this shit on her own. I told her it wasn't my problem, and no way she can prove that it is. She ran off somewhere." I heard the sound of metal on metal and assumed Ryan was taking the padlock off his locker. "We done here? Y'all got your shit? I wanna grab some beer and hit the beach."

Heavy footsteps followed, but I didn't move. My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of everything I had just heard. But one thought was screaming out to me.

Peyton.

A montage of the last few years ran through my brain. I saw glimpses of Peyton's beautiful smile, the way her eyes lit up when we found something we had in common or when she was particularly passionate about anything. I remembered all of the times we'd come close to admitting our feelings—or mine, at least; I didn't know for sure that Peyton saw me as anything but a friend—but had ended up skating around the truth.

One night in the autumn of our junior year, I'd stayed late to work on a project with my physics teacher, and as I had been leaving school, I heard voices and music coming from the gym. It was almost homecoming, and I realized that some of my classmates were probably working on our float . . .

I paused at the door to the gym, glancing inside, and I saw her. She was stuffing tissue paper onto some kind of figure made from chicken wire, and she was laughing, messing around with her girlfriends, dancing to the music that came from a boombox on the gym floor.

It was rare that I could watch Peyton without risking her seeing me, but tonight, she was completely unaware of my presence. I drank her in, wishing as I always did that somehow, some way, the world would tilt on its axis and Peyton would realize that there was someone else who loved her. Someone who would do anything for her.

As though she felt the weight of my gaze, suddenly she turned, and I knew she had spotted me. I expected that she might wave to me, or maybe she'd just pretend that she didn't see me and go on talking to her friends.

But she surprised me. She began walking toward me, her eyes never leaving mine. I knew I should do something, play it cool, joke around with her, but I couldn't make myself move at all.

She didn't stop until she was only a breath away from me; looking up at me, her expression serious, she searched my face.

"Did you come to help with the float?" Peyton asked, her voice husky.

I shook my head. "I'm working with Mr. Evans on a physics project—something that will look good on my college applications. We went late tonight, and I heard voices as I was leaving . . ." I stopped talking, thinking that I sounded like the huge science nerd that I was.

But she only smiled. "You should come over. Twisting up tissue paper is so much fun."

Glancing down, I saw a tantalizing swell of pale skin in the gap of the low-cut cotton top that clung to her curves. I realized that if she moved even a fraction of an inch closer, the tips of her breasts would brush my chest.

"I don't think so," I rasped an answer. "I don't want to hang out with any of them."

"Okay." She frowned, and I felt terrible that I'd just dissed her friends. I was about to turn around and leave when the music changed from something hard rocking to the familiar strains of my favorite Billy Joel tune, This Night.

"Oh." Peyton smiled up at me. "I love this one. It's my favorite Billy Joel song."

My eyes dropped to her lips, desire flaring when her tongue darted out to wet them.

"Want to dance with me?" she asked, and I thought I must have been dreaming. "Like I said, it's my favorite."

I should have said no. I should have left. Instead, I pushed away from the doorjamb and opened my arms to her.

Peyton flowed into me as though we were made for each other. I closed my eyes as she rested her cheek against my chest, and we swayed to the music.

I kept us hidden in the shadows, content to just hold her for this stolen time. My heart was pounding, and I wondered if she could hear it.

When the song ended, Peyton leaned back, looking up at me, confusion clouding her eyes. I wanted to ask her if this meant anything to her, to beg her to come outside with me so we could talk, but I was afraid of breaking the spell.

So instead, I did the hardest thing ever and let her go, acting as if this dance had meant nothing. As though it hadn't been the most beautiful few moments of my entire life.

We never mentioned it. When I saw her in class, I kept things light and casual, and Peyton did the same. But I never forgot what it was like to hold her . . .

And then I remembered that one afternoon this past spring, at the beginning of English class . . .

"You went to the movies this weekend? What did you see?" She smiled at me, her hands folded on top of a pile of her textbooks on her desk.

"Say Anything. John Cusack was excellent, and the music was crazy good. Did you see it?"

"Noooo." Peyton frowned and rolled her eyes. "I wanted to go to that one, but Ryan wanted to see Cyborg, so you know which one we ended up watching." One side of her mouth curled. "As per usual."

"Yeah . . ." I cleared my throat. "You should have called me. You could've gone with me." My teenaged self was flipping out at the idea of sitting next to Peyton Rivers in a dark movie theater.

"I wish I had." She sounded sincere, but I was pretty sure we both knew that would never happen. "Was it super romantic?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it was. Not, like, your typical teen movie, I guess. There was this scene where Lloyd—that's John Cusack—is trying to get Diane back, and he stands outside her window with a boombox playing their song."

"Oh my God." Peyton slapped her hand to her chest and closed her eyes. "I would die. I would just absolutely melt."

I looked at her and mused that if I thought standing outside her window with a boombox would win me the heart of Peyton Rivers, I'd stand there every night for the rest of my life. I'd do it until my arms gave out and my knees turned to jelly.

If only it were that easy . . .

I wished that I could do over every single one of those near-miss moments. If I could, I'd be bold and tell her that she belonged with me, the man who could love her the way she deserved, not some bonehead loser like Ryan Harvey.

I didn't have a time machine, but I had the here and now. Overhearing what Ryan had told his friends gave me a rare advantage, the ability to offer Peyton a lifeline in the midst of what probably felt like a hopeless storm.

Ryan had said she'd run off somewhere. He probably wouldn't know where she'd go when she was sad or upset, but I had a hunch that I knew.

Way down at the far end of the Cove's beach, the landscape changed abruptly. A rocky outcropping formed something a little like a cliff, and the sandy area was narrow, often disappearing altogether during high tide. Locally known as the end of the Cove, it wasn't a popular spot since it was so far from the restaurants and shops on the main drag, and parking was limited, too.

But one day last year, when I'd asked Peyton about her plans for after high school, we'd gotten on the topic of things we'd miss about the Cove. My list was pretty short; although I didn't say it out loud, the only thing I was to regret about the end of school was losing my connection to Peyton. Not being able to see her every weekday was going to break my heart.

Peyton had been thoughtful, tilting her head and pursing those perfect pink lips as she considered the question.

"Well, I've never been anywhere but the Cove. It's home, you know? But if I have to name something . . ." She had blinked slowly. "I love hanging out at the Rip Tide, of course. That's my family's place, you know—my uncle and aunt own it, and my cousin Jude pretty much runs it now. It's like a second home. Still, though—" She had cast me a quick assessing glance. "Sometimes I like to be alone, you know? I just need to hear myself think. There's a spot under the cliff at the end of the Cove. You can't really see it unless you're looking for it. When I was little, I used to go hide there whenever I was sad or feeling sorry for myself. I still sneak away sometimes when—" She broke off and took a deep breath. "Anyway, I guess that's what I'll miss when I leave the Cove. If I do, that is. I still don't know if college is for me, or if I'll even get in anywhere I want to go."

I'd assured Peyton that she could go anywhere she wanted, to any college, and the direction of the conversation had shifted, but I had tucked that bit of Peyton information away for just such an occasion as this.

And sure enough, after I'd lucked out and slid my ancient Chevette into a just-vacated spot and then jogged to the beach, I spotted a flash of hot-pink on the rocks below the overhang. Peyton had worn an oversized tee in that color today with a pair of denim shorts, I remembered.

When I approached her, plodding through the sand with my sneakers in my hand, I saw that Peyton had tucked herself as far as possible into a crevice in the rock. Her knees were bent, and she had wrapped her arms around her legs. Her feet were bare, with toe nail polish that matched her shirt. The face that she lifted to me when she heard my steps was flushed, with eyes swollen and red.

"Nash, this really isn't?—"

"Hey." I pretended that she hadn't spoken. "So this is your special spot."

"Yeah." She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "But right now, I want to be alone. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." I dropped down to settle on a rock that had been made smooth by the water. "Don't ever apologize to me about anything, Peyton. You don't need to. Okay?"

"Oh, Nash." She drew in a shuddering breath. "If you only knew."

"Yeah?" I slid my feet into the sand. "Maybe I know more than you realize." I hesitated a beat, digging up some courage. "Maybe I know you better than you realize."

Peyton snorted softly. "I doubt that. You know the image of me. You know the me who everyone sees at school, the cheerleader, the honor student . . . you don't really know what I'm like inside."

"You're beautiful," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "You're beautiful inside, just like you are outside. Maybe other people don't see it, but I do. I swear to you, I do."

"Oh, Nash." Peyton sounded weary. She let her head fall back against the rock behind her, her eyes drifting shut. "You're so sweet. You're just—you're a good guy. I've always known that. I wish—I mean, I know you can't turn back time, but so many times, I've wished it was you I—" Her lips pressed together, and her brow crinkled as a single tear trailed down the apple of her flushed cheek.

"Peyton." I dared to do what I'd never done before, reaching for her hand. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't pull her fingers away from my grip.

"Peyton, I—I wish I didn't have to say this, but I know why you're upset. I was in the locker room, clearing out my gym stuff, and I overheard Ryan talking to his friends. He said—" I paused, wondering if there was a kinder way to phrase it. "He said you—you're, um, pregnant."

She did snatch her hand away then, sitting up and turning her back to me. "Of course, he's out there spreading the news, huh? The perfect Peyton went and got herself knocked up. So much for her bright and shiny future. So much for Miss Prissy Ass Rivers, right?"

She curled herself over, her shoulders shaking. I couldn't help myself; I crawled toward her and wrapped my arms around her slender frame, holding on tight.

"It's going to be okay, Peyton. Shhhh. Please, don't cry. C'mon. Don't."

"It's not going to be okay." Peyton turned to bury her face in my chest, and my heart began to pound. How many times had I dreamed of this, fantasized about holding this woman against my body? But never in those visions had she been crying as though her heart was in danger of shattering.

I smoothed a hand down her spine, rubbing gently as I made shushing noises, letting her cry it out. My fingers tangled in her hair, and I carefully combed through the strands so as not to pull and hurt her.

Jesus, I would do anything in the world to avoid hurting this girl. If I had my way, I'd build a cocoon around her, keep her safe from anything and anyone who might cause her any kind of distress. Her sobs tore at my heart, devastating me at the same time that my ire rose, making me want to pulverize Ryan into a bloody mess for hurting my girl.

But she wasn't my girl, not really. I knew that right now, I was just a convenient port on a stormy day. I was going to appreciate the hell out of this temporary bliss, but I knew my job was to make sure Peyton knew that she had options. That she wasn't alone.

So as soon as her breathing calmed a little, I eased back and tipped her chin upward. "I'm so sorry, Peyton. I wish this wasn't happening to you." I hesitated a moment. "For what it's worth, I don't know that Ryan's spreading the news around. I think I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when I heard him talking to Mike and Andy."

"Maybe." She rolled one shoulder and reached for her little pocketbook for a tissue. "Doesn't really matter, though, does it? In the Cove, the news is going to spread fast. If I'm lucky, I'll get to break the news to my parents—" Her face crumpled again. "Oh, God, I'm going to have to tell my parents that I'm pregnant. I'm going to have to tell them that I'm not going to college in the fall, after all. They were so proud when I got into Florida State—and then I got the scholarship, too." She glanced up at me. "Did you know that? I got a fucking scholarship that was going to make sure I was the first one in my family to graduate from college."

"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "And I get that it's going to be a little harder to do college with a baby, but there's got to be some way?—"

"For me to go to college with a baby?" She laughed, and it was a harsh sound. "First, I'd have to tell the admissions department that I can't make it this fall, because I'll be too busy getting ready to give birth. I highly doubt they'll say they'll hold my place for me."

"You don't know," I argued. "But listen, Peyton, even if it isn't FSU, you can still go to college. And—" I took a deep breath, bracing myself to say what it was I'd come here to tell her. "Peyton, you don't have to do this alone. What I wanted to tell you—I want to be with you."

Her brow furrowed again in confusion, and I rushed to clarify. "I mean, I want to help you. I—" I swallowed hard. "I'll be your baby's father. I'll stay by your side the whole time. I—I want to marry you, Peyton."

Peyton's eyes widened, and her mouth formed an O.

"Oh, Nash."

"I'm serious, Peyton. I am. Listen." I took her hands again, this time holding both in my own. "Let's get through today and tomorrow. Don't say anything to anyone—we'll graduate, and then after that, we'll talk to our parents. First yours, and then mine. We'll tell them . . ." I was making this up as I was going along. "We'll tell them that the baby is mine. That I'm the father. And then we'll let them know that we have a plan."

"We do?" Peyton cocked a brow. "We have a plan?"

"Well, we will," I amended. "I mean, I'm thinking already. I'm going to Andersonville in Georgia?—"

"I know that." A faint smile ghosted over her face. "I remember things, too, Nash."

"Right." It felt good that she actually cared enough to recall about details of my life. "They have married student housing. We could move in there, and after the baby comes, you could start classes, too."

"With a baby in tow?" Peyton sounded dubious.

"We'll set up our schedule so one of us can be with him—her—well, the baby, I mean—while the other one is in class."

"And how am I going to afford to pay for those classes?" She tossed up both hands. "I really needed that scholarship, you know, to be able to make it at FSU. My parents can't afford to send me to college. And once I tell them I'm going to make them grandparents before I even start classes, I have a feeling they're going to be even less inclined to contribute."

"There are a whole bunch of scholarships and grants out there for non-traditional students. I saw them when I was applying, mostly because I didn't qualify for any of them." I grinned. "But now maybe we will."

"Nash." Peyton turned her hands within mine so that our palms were pressed together, our fingers linked, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. How many times had I wished for this? Not under these circumstances, maybe, but still . . .

"Nash, I'm just . . . I can't believe you'd offer to do this for me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your friendship. I don't deserve you." She bit her bottom lip. "I can't let you throw away your future because I was too much of a moron to see that Ryan was—that he never—" She shook her head. "I wanted to believe things about Ryan that have never been true, and it's only now that I know how wrong I was. But it's not fair for you to suffer because I was so blind."

"I wouldn't be suffering." Crazy bold for once in my life, I raised our joined hands to my lips and kissed her knuckles. "Don't you know how long I've been crazy for you, Peyton? Don't you know how long I've waited for you to see me—to really see me?"

Her green eyes filled with tears again. "I wish I had known sooner—how you felt. I never—I mean, I might have suspected it, I guess, but then I felt terrible for even thinking about you that way. I thought I owed it to Ryan to stick with him. We were together for so long. But if I'd seen you—really seen you—" She echoed my own words, perhaps unconsciously. "Then maybe I wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"It doesn't matter how it happened." I ducked my head to gaze into her eyes. "And it's okay if you don't—if you don't feel the same way about me yet. We have time. You might grow to love me, you know?"

Peyton glanced away, emotions at war on her face. "Nash, are you sure about this? I don't want you to regret—well, anything. Taking on another guy's baby?—"

"This is your baby, and that's the only thing I'll ever see," I promised. "Peyton, I couldn't do anything but love someone who's a part of you." I tightened my hold on her hands. "All you have to do is say yes."

For a long moment, the only sound was the crash of the waves and the whisper of the wind. Then Peyton lifted her eyes to mine and nodded.

"Okay. Yes."

"All right." I let a whoosh of breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I knew jubilant wasn't how I should be feeling at the moment, but I couldn't help it. Peyton had said yes to me. She was going to be my wife. We were going to be a family, and even if it took a while for her to fall in love with me, that was fine. I knew it would work out.

I stood up, tugging Peyton to her feet, too. "After graduation, we'll talk to your parents, and then to mine. Will you be okay until then? Or do you want to go see your folks now?" A crazier notion occurred to me. "We could always drive to Georgia tonight and get married, and then come back tomorrow to tell both of our families that it's a done deal."

"Oh." She pressed her fingers to her lips. "I don't think so—let's not move that fast, Nash. I think it would break my mama's heart if she wasn't there when I got married. And like you said, we just have to get past graduation, and then we can worry about everything else."

"Yeah, true. My mom wouldn't be thrilled to miss my wedding either." I rubbed the back of my neck. "We'll have to talk about that—if you want to get married here in the Cove or somewhere else. And do you want a big wedding or?—"

"We can figure that out later. One thing at a time."

"Right." I laughed, wagging my head. "Sorry. I guess I'm just excited." I paused. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"I've got my car, thanks." She looked down the beach. "And I might sit here for a few more minutes. I just need a second to wrap my head around all of this. It's pretty big. An hour ago, I thought my life was over, and now . . ."

"Now you know it might not look like you expected, but it's actually just beginning." I could see it all in my head, from the first kiss we'd share after the preacher pronounced us man and wife, through the birth of a baby who looked just like Peyton, to a long life together, filled with love and happiness next to the woman who would always hold my heart.

"Yes." She hesitated, and I thought she was going to say something else, but instead, Peyton rose to her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. "Thank you, Nash. You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you so much."

"Don't ever thank me," I countered, brushing her hair away from her face. "I'm going to make you so happy, Peyton. I promise. You won't regret this. Not ever."

She managed a smile and wiped at her eyes again.

"Okay, well, I better get on home." I took a few steps backward. "I'll see you tomorrow night at graduation. And then—" I spread wide my arms. "Then every day for the rest of our lives."

She clasped her hands together under her chin. "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe it's real."

"It is, though." I stopped for a minute, realizing that I'd neglected to say something very important. "I love you, Peyton. I love you now, and I will love you as long as we live."

Without waiting for her reply—or the lack of one, which would have been painfully awkward—I turned around and sprinted up the incline toward my car. My heart was pounding, and my head was spinning. This was really happening.

I glanced over my shoulder in time to watch Peyton standing at the edge of the water, her long hair blowing in the wind and thought that I was the luckiest guy on the planet.

And then I didn't see Peyton Rivers again for thirty-five years.