She’s talking like we’re fourteen years old. I’m so consumed with anger, hurt, and every other emotion, I can’t see straight. I have to close my eyes so I can keep my breathing calm. I think of Jake.

   “I went home after you caught us. I was expecting James to come after me, but he didn’t. He didn’t even call to see if I was okay. Nothing. And then I saw you,” Megan says, her tone almost angry—like she has the right to be upset. “I saw you doing that shit to James’s truck, laughing and smiling. You were with these people who I’ve never even seen before, and they were laughing with you, helping you through your pain. They don’t even know you, and they like you already. And you were in Jake Andrews’s arms . . .”

   I speak up, because she shouldn’t even breathe his name. “Jake has nothing to do with this! You didn’t even know who he was when you saw us at James’s house.”

   “That’s bullshit, Mick. Everyone knows Jake and Logan! They were the hottest two guys out of fifteen schools. Only you—perfect little Mikayla, so loyal to her perfect boyfriend—only you didn’t bother to notice anyone else. Only you didn’t know who he was.”

   I want to punch her. If she brings up Jake’s name again, I will.

   “And that’s when I called him, Mick. I called Chris because I wanted to take something away from you, like you had from me, but he wasn’t supposed to kill them. I loved them, too!”

   “Don’t you fucking dare!” I snap at her. “Don’t you dare talk about my family or my boyfriend like you give a shit! You have no fucking right to speak their names or even think about them for the rest of your fucking life. Do you understand?” I breathe in, trying to compose myself, because I really don’t want to punch a pregnant girl. In the distance, I see Jake get out of the truck, but he pauses and waits.

   “Are you going to turn me in?” Megan asks, actually looking concerned.

   And that’s when I see her—truly see her.

   “Look at you,” I spit out. “Who the fuck are you, Megan? What the fuck happened to you?” I look at her and scrunch my nose, disgusted. “You sleep around so much, you don’t even know who the father of that baby is. You think opening your legs and having some random guy pound into you is going to make him love you? It didn’t make James love you.

   “You’ll have to look at yourself in the mirror every fucking day. Every day, you’ll have to live with the guilt of what you did. You killed my parents, who genuinely loved you. You killed my nine-year-old sister, who looked up to you. She’ll never grow up and experience life. Every day, you’ll have to wake up and be the person you are, and you’ll have to live with it. And that, Megan, is punishment enough.”

   Then I walk away from her—from all of this.

   I run to Jake.

   He’s waiting for me with arms wide open.

   Like always.

   My prince.

   My knight in shining armor.

   My happily-ever-after.

EPILOGUE

MIKAYLA

   It’s been six months since Megan’s confession. I only told Jake about it, and that was because he forced it out of me. I guess it’s hard to hide your emotions when you find out that your best friend played a role in your family’s death.

           Luckily for me, Jake was my rock, as always. He knew not to push me, and he knew not to be distant. He knew exactly what I needed. I guess that’s why fate brought us together.

   Logan was right—Jake is the other half of me.

   I never did move out of the house, and Jake and I have begun our happily-ever-after.

   This year we started a new tradition—we made our own birthday shoe boxes. We decided to make them on the anniversary of my family’s death. Mine is already full. I see him writing things constantly and stuffing them in there. I love that he does it—that he unknowingly gives me a part of them every day.

   I love Jake Andrews, my very own prince.

   I more-than-a-lot love him.

   And I can’t wait to tell our children our very own fairy tale and happily-ever-after.

LOGAN

   If you knew about my past, you’d understand why I don’t let people get too close to me. The people who are supposed to love you don’t always love you back. Sometimes they hurt you, physically and emotionally. Sometimes they just check out completely.

   In my nineteen years, I’ve only loved one person—my dad, or Dr. Matthews, as most people know him. He saved my life. I’ve come close to loving only one other person—or at least I thought it could be love. But I had to kill that idea really fast, because you’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend’s girl.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

       Jay McLean is an avid reader, writer, and, most of all, procrastinator. She writes what she loves to read—books that can make her laugh, make her smile, make her hurt, and make her feel. She currently lives in Australia with her fiancé, two sons, and two dogs.

           Follow Jay on Instagram and Twitter jaymcleanauthor. For more information, visit her blog at jaymcleanauthor.