Kate Avelynn

“You told me once dear, you really loved meAnd no one else could come between.But now you've left me and love another;You have shattered all my dreams.”

“He stabs his fingers through his drying hair and resumes his pacing. “You think I don’t know this went really fast? I didn’t plan for this to happen. Hell, I didn’t even know if you’d let me talk to you, much less be with you. But then you did and we did and…” He stops in the center of the room and stares at me, his shoulders sagging. “I figured out pretty quick that this is a forever thing for me. I think it has been from the very beginning.”

“I feel his intense gaze skimming my face and force myself to look him in the eye. This time, when he leans closer, I know what he wants. He traces my jaw with his fingertips, then moves lower to my chin. My eyelids flutter closed when he tips my face up.Oh my God. Sam Donavon is going to kiss me. The forest holds its breath.I hold my breath.Our lips brush, light as eyelashes. His fingers trail back into my hair, tilting my head. Hot cinnamon dances across my mouth. I’m drowning.And then my name, roared at the top of familiar lungs, cracks the silent night.”

“Selfish as this sounds, I meant what I said earlier,” he finally says.I try to remember what he said, but everything is kind of a blur. “Which part?” “The ‘I’m glad you came tonight’ part.” So I’m not imagining the nudging or the sparks or what I could have sworn was his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand while we walked to his car. “Mmm. Well in that case, I meant what I said, too.”He kicks a rock I’m two steps from tripping over out of my path. “You said the potholes in Leslie’s driveway suck.”

“Two babies in little more than a year and a half. Knockout Jimmy was forced to give up boxing and take a job in the paper mill. It broke him, and in turn, he broke us all.”

“James “Knockout Jimmy” O’Brien, Granite Fall’s very own boxing legend—a title he held until a young groupie poked holes in the condom she made him wear “for protection.”My brother was born nine months later, fists already swinging.”

“This is my first real memory of James. In every memory before that, he’s just a flash of color, a warm body with a blurred face, a comforting voice begging me not to die. When he planted himself between our father and me that day, an eight-year-old with small fists clenched at his sides, I think I fell in love with my brother.”

“James is why I never left. I should have left.”