1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Present day…

Lacey

I wake up to the sound of clapping.

And not the good kind.

"YES! Right there, baby. Hit me right there." Cecelia's moans float through our adjourning wall and I shudder, pulling my blankets over my head to try and block out the noise.

"Harder, baby! I'm getting close."

I throw my blankets back down and glare at the patchy ceiling above me. This isn't the first time Cecelia has woken me up with a front row seat to the porn show and I doubt it's going to be the last. Cursing whoever was in charge of roommate distribution, I cross my arms and wait for the sound of slapping skin to fade, half-heartedly listening to my roommate's squeals of ecstasy.

My God. Does it really take that long to come ?

Doing my best to ignore the masculine grunts drifting through my wall, I roll over and grab the book from my nightstand. There's just enough light streaming in through the dusty window that I can see the words on the page in front of me.

Naturally, I stopped reading the night before on a sex scene.

"I'M COMING!"

I snap my book shut and fling it across my first-year dorm room. It slaps the window and falls face down onto the gross beige carpet. Regret fills me immediately and I abandon my warm bed to retrieve the fallen soldier.

Carefully smoothing the corners back into place, I put the book back on my nightstand and turn to look at my makeshift bookshelf above the small desk pushed tight against the wall.

I run my finger along the colourful spines, the fourteen books I managed to squish in between the drawers holding my school supplies putting a warm feeling in my chest. There is nothing like a pretty bookshelf, however small.

Especially when each novel contains a happy ending.

The screams from the next door finally fade into an unrhythmic pattern of heavy breathing. I turn my attention to the envelope tucked between my favourite romance novels. Gently pulling it out of its hiding spot, I open it up and pull out the first photograph.

"Mi amor? You in there?"

A loud knock on the main door has me hurrying to put the envelope back in its hiding spot .

"Coming!" Wincing at my word choice, I leave my bedroom and walk through the tiny living room to open the main door that connects to the residence building. Nico Montez grins back at me, his pink polo shirt unbuttoned to show off the tanned, lean chest underneath.

I smile, giving his bare torso a glance, "Isn't it a little early for a strip tease?"

"Babe, it's never too early for a strip tease. Maurice would know."

He winks and I laugh, picturing Nico's brooding partner. The two of them met last summer when Mo came back to help coach Taber's lacrosse team. It took a few fights and a drunken standoff, but finally the enemies-to-lovers became an official couple a few weeks ago.

The sound of my laughter puts a bright smile on his face and the familiar sting of guilt hits me. Both Nico and my brother try to hide the fact they still worry about me, but the obvious attempts at keeping me light-hearted are a dead giveaway.

Not that I can blame them. If I had a little sister who tried to commit suicide I'd do everything I could to make her laugh as well.

"As much as I love taking off my clothes, that's not why I'm here." Nico conspicuously looks over each shoulder before dropping his voice to a whisper, "It's time to put our plan in motion."

"OTB?"

"OTB. "

I smile, leading him into the dorm. Nico follows close on my heels, his anxiousness to get to the safety of my room making me laugh.

"Cecelia is occupied with an overnight visitor. There's no need to fear."

"Until that woman stops dying her hair green and piercing her septum for fun, there will always be something to fear." Nico leans against my closed door and blows out a breath, "I will never forgive Housing Services for making Lucifer's offspring your wallmate."

I bite back a laugh, "That's a little on the dramatic side."

"Is it though?"

He sweeps his eyes around my room, and I do the same, noting the unmade duvet and the desk cluttered with every succulent imaginable. My heart skips a beat when I see the white edge of the envelope peeking out of its hiding spot, but Nico doesn't seem to notice.

"Green hair and piercings don't qualify as demon qualities, Nico."

"Maybe not, but the woman they're attached to does."

I shake my head and walk over to grab my plant mister. The glass spray bottle catches a ray of sunlight and the adorable flower design etched along the side sparkles back at me.

Nico makes himself comfortable on my bed while I tend to my plant babies, carefully looking them over for any dead stems or dry spots. Just like the bookshelf, my indoor garden is limited by Taber University's tight residence quarters, but I make the most of the little space I have.

"Don't be mean."

He heaves a sigh, adjusting my pillow beneath him, "You need to be less kind, Lace. Did she wake you up with another sex fest?"

My eyes flick to our adjoining wall, waiting to hear Cecelia shout some sort of response. Her side of the dorm stays silent, so I cross my heart and hope she fell back asleep.

I nod with a sigh, "I needed to get up anyways. We've got lots to do today."

"Have you figured out if she's a dominatrix yet?"

"Nico!"

He grins, "What? It's an innocent question. If you're gonna hear what's going on, you may as well learn something from it."

The smile slips from his lips and he jerks upright on the bed, "Shit. I didn't mean to-

"It's fine." I cut him off, not wanting to go down the same rabbit hole we've been down countless times before, "What's the next step for Operation Trip's Birthday?"

Nico falls silent, his dark eyes scanning my face for the broken girl I became two years ago.

"We've got to grab the cupcakes and set up shop. I'm thinking we go hard on the decorations and hope they make up for the lack of people in attendance." He hesitates, "I really am sorry, mi amor. I didn't mean to call you out like that. "

I point the spray bottle in his direction, "If I was really upset, I would have misted you. Now, get out of here so I can change and we can hit the road."

Nico rolls off my bed and saunters over to give me a hug. Tucking my head beneath his chin, I close my eyes and fight to keep the tears at bay.

He squeezes me tightly, the familiar scent of his cologne reminding me of all the memories we wouldn't have had together if the pills had worked.

"You are perfect, Lace. Never let anybody, including my dumbass, make you feel any different, okay?"

"Okay." I whisper, afraid that anything louder will make the cracks appear.

He smacks a kiss atop my head, "You've got thirty minutes and then we're on our way to Party Central. Got it?"

"Got it."

I wait until he's gone before I walk over and pull the envelope out of my bookshelf.

As much as Nico and my brother shower me with support, they don't understand what it's like to be the broken girl. To be composed of shards so sharp that sometimes I wonder whether this is my punishment. To be stuck with a darkness that never goes away, a past people are too scared to talk about, and thoughts too dark to voice aloud. I've been surrounded by love and support these last few years, but I've never felt so alone .

Until I met her.

Opening the envelope, I let the photographs fall onto my desk. At first glance, they look like pictures I took of my therapist's sunshine yellow tissues – each one marked with a daily quote of inspiration – but if you look closer, you can see the handwriting covering the back of each one.

Happiness is not by chance but by choice.

But what if that choice doesn't belong to you?

Then maybe it's time to make it your own again.

I run a finger over the photo, tracing our first correspondence. I had found the tissue by accident, the bright yellow material had caught my eye before one of my therapy sessions and I had hastily written a reply, filled with hope that this stranger might be the friend I've been looking for. It seemed silly to take a photo of the tissue, but I wanted proof that I wasn't alone, something to hold on to in case I never heard from her again.

Turns out, it was a good thing I took the photo because my mystery friend left me a new tissue the following week, but the original one had disappeared.

Don't wish for it. Work for it.

Who took the choice from you?

A boy who didn't deserve my time or affection. So, who is currently keeping your happiness just out of reach?

Some people look for a beautiful place. Others make a place beautiful.

A guy as well, although I have the misfortune of being related to him. Was your happiness-stealer a first love or just a tragic one ?

First love. I was your typical na?ve girl who fell for the wrong guy.

Every day may not be good, but there is good in every day.

I'm sure it wasn't that simple.

You're right, it wasn't that simple, but it was embarrassing. Sometimes I think back on the girl I was and I get so angry it feels like I can't breathe. The worst part is, I'm not even angry at the guy who hurt me. I'm angry at how easily I let myself be manipulated. I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear this.

A little improvement goes a long way. Take it day by day.

Never apologize for speaking your mind. Few people speak the honest truth, and it is not something to be ashamed of. As for your TedTalk, well, I really enjoyed it. Anger has always played a present part in my household, so I know a thing or two about feeling trapped in your own skin.

Honestly, I'm normally not this open with people. Karen has helped my communication skills (as I'm sure you know) but I don't normally talk to strangers about my past. And yet here I am, opening up to someone whose name I don't even know.

Even the smallest action can make a difference.

If it's any consolation, I don't normally talk to people like this either. My name is Skylar, by the way.

Skyla r

It's nice to meet you Skylar, my name is Lacey. I have to say, your name is almost as pretty as your handwriting. Are you an artist?

I tilt my head, rereading the girl's response. There's something strange about it, some sort of misassumption that I can't quite put my finger on. I study the yellow tissue intently, as if it might conjure up an image of the girl I've spent the last few weeks talking to.

A girl named Lacey.

For the past year, Silverwood's one and only therapist has done her best to get me to open up, to share the horrors of my childhood so we can fix the damaged pieces inside of me. Karen went through every trick in the book, even letting me bring my sketchbook to our sessions so I can try and communicate with her that way. Nothing seemed to work until I met her.

A girl named Lacey.

When I first saw her writing, her resilient response to my dark question, it felt like I was being seen for the first time. Finally, I had found someone who understood what it was like to walk on the dark side and come out a little bit shattered.

It's not Karen's fault that our sessions are unproductive. She just doesn't understand that not all broken things can be fixed.

But Lacey does.

Pulling out the sunshine tissue from my pocket, I let it unfold out in front of me. The bold letters of today's quote scream back at me, but I pay the words no attention as I flip it over and pull the pen from my sketchbook .

Pretty is not normally what people say when they find out my name, but yes, I do like to draw. I find sketching helps relieve some of the pressure inside me.

I carefully fold the yellow tissue and bend down to tuck it between the rocks in the flowerbed outside of Karen's building. Originally, I started leaving my thoughts as a way to amuse myself after the emotional garburator these therapy sessions put me through. Eventually it became a sort of solace. A safe space to leave my lingering questions and inner demons after Karen's intrusive line of questioning.

Now, I look forward to these sunshine tissues. Reading Lacey's responses has somehow become the motivation I need to get through the hard days. The days I feel more broken than normal.

Clipping my pen back onto the ring binding of my sketchbook, I tuck it under my arm and walk back down the gravel path. The beige building that holds Karen's counselling sessions sits on the far edge of Silverwood, the very tip of the small town I grew up in. The main street can be seen from the nearby parking lot, the mom-and-pop shops and the little boutiques running along a road that has four streetlights and two stop signs.

The bottoms of my sneakers have just hit the rough edge of the concrete parking lot when a red hatchback pulls in. My shoulders tense when I register who's sitting in the passenger seat, the platinum blonde hair telling me Silverwood's biggest rival has arrived .

Stella O'Brien hops out of the car with a tight smile, her dainty features and lean frame a polar opposite to her fierce personality. Like me, Stella's older brother is well-known in the lacrosse circuit except hers shines in a positive light. Mighty Mo helped lead his team to four consecutive championships while Vector became known for putting his opponents in the hospital.

I'm not surprised that students from Taber University wind up in enemy territory. Given the small size of both university towns, Karen is the only certified therapist within a 100km radius.

What is surprising, however, is that someone like Stella attends therapy. From what I've seen, her family lives and breathes competition and success, and that type of personality doesn't normally leave much room for mental health.

Guess you can never tell though.

I shift the sketchbook under my arm, hoping to make it past her ride without being spotted. Hunching my shoulders to hide my face, I've almost made it to the sidewalk when the driver's door opens and a familiar face gets out.

My hurried steps falter when I register the blonde fauxhawk attached to the guy walking around the vehicle to give Stella a hug. I stare, watching Taber's old lacrosse captain whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh.

He's okay .

Blood roars in my ears as I change course and start walking towards the couple. There are so many things I want to say to him but I don't know if I'll be able to say anything at all.

I'm so focused on the uninjured captain that I don't notice Stella's glare until I'm ten feet away. I freeze, heart pounding, as I take in the venom in her eyes. The accusations are right there, reflecting back at me through someone else who was hurt by my brother's actions.

It doesn't matter that it wasn't me on the lacrosse field that day. My last name holds me responsible.

Cody turns his head and I quickly duck mine, not wanting him to see me for what I truly am. Pulling up the hood of my Sabers sweater, I turn away from my demons and start the long trek home.

"Your boss called. He needs you to take the late shift tomorrow night." Vector glances at me from the kitchen table, "I told him you were free."

Rainwater drips from my hood onto my face while a puddle starts to form on the floor. I'm completely drenched, the thick cotton of my hoodie no match for the downpour that started halfway through my walk home. I pull my sketchbook out from under my t-shirt and assess the damage.

"Did you hear me? I said you could work tomorrow night. "

I nod, flipping through the damp pages. Most of the ink got smeared or bled right through the page, destroying the sketches I had completed the week before.

Frustration burns through me as I toss the ruined book onto the kitchen table. The number of hours I spent filling those pages are all gone. Destroyed, ruined, because of a simple walk in the rain.

The moment you think you have something good life steals it away.

Or someone else ruins it for you.

Bitterness fills my mouth as I pull out a chair and sit down across from my brother. I stare at him, observing the way he slouches over his laptop. His long hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and the grey Sabers t-shirt he's wearing makes him look like a normal person.

Rage burns through my body as I look at the person who has almost single-handedly ruined the family name. He has no right to look like a normal person.

Not when I can barely see straight.

"I saw Cody Ellsworth today."

"Oh yeah?" Vector grins, "How'd he look? He was rocking a wicked black eye for a while."

"He looked healthy. Not that you would care." I stare him down, waiting for the fire to alight. My brother meets my stare head-on, his gaze steady and focused.

"If the old Tiger captain is back on his feet then there's no need to have regrets. "

My teeth snap together, "You're fucking sick. You can't just go around hurting people."

A spark hits Vector's eyes and suddenly I've got the fight I was looking for. He leans forward and places his muscular forearms on the table.

"Watch yourself, Sky. Don't forget who stepped up when it came time to kick dad out."

"And look how that turned out. Now you're just a bully on a lacrosse field."

A screech fills the air when Vector pushes back his chair and stands up. The fire in his eyes is blazing, matching the one running through my veins. I shove my chair aside and stand up, the rage linking us together making the air between us crack with tension.

"What are you going to do? Hit me?" I spit out the words, the jagged edges of my heart throbbing painfully, "Do it. Break me into fucking pieces, I don't care."

Vector stares at me but doesn't move from his place across the table. I glare at him, burning a hole through his skull while I wait for him to make a move.

I want him to hurt me.

Then only one of us will be a monster.

"Come on, Vin. Hit me." My voice cracks and tears start to leak out of my eyes, "Show me what it's like to be broken."

Vector walks towards me with slow measured steps. I squeeze my eyes shut once he's within reach and brace myself for impact .

"What is going on in here?" My mother's gasp echoes through the kitchen, "Skylar, honey, did you walk home in the rain?"

I blink my eyes open and see Amber Vin rushing towards me. My brother is two feet away with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You're going to catch a cold in those wet clothes! Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up."

"I wasn't thinking."

She shakes her head, "Next time call me. Vector, go run and turn the shower on hot for your brother. We need to get him warm."

Amber turns and walks away, the limp in her gait as prominent as the day we brought her home from the hospital. I glance over and see Vector watching her as well, the pained expression on his face identical to the one I'm feeling.

He catches me staring, but before I can say a word, he steps forward and wraps me in a hug. I try to pull away but he doesn't let me. Strong arms pull me tight against him, the soaked state of my clothes starting to soak through his.

"I'll buy you a new sketchbook, Sky. Today is going to be a good day."