NOW

I was having the perfect dream when the call came in.

A happier, more vibrant version of myself was dancing through the forest like some kind of unhinged woodland fairy, something I hadn't done in years. But just when it was getting good, the shrill sound of my ringtone pulled me from my slumber.

Grabbing my cell phone from the bedside table, I slid my finger over the green circle and put it to my ear. "I hate you," I said to whoever deemed three in the morning a good time to call.

The insufferable male voice on the other end laughed. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

Pete. It was Pete on the other end, and he only called for one thing.

I sat up in bed, shoving my covers aside and shooting my pillows a longing glance. I knew I wouldn't make it back to them tonight.

"How bad is it?"

Pete hesitated, and I heard a bit of shuffling through the line, as though he was assessing the situation at hand one last time. "Worse than New Year's. Not as bad as St. Patrick's Day."

"Nice," I grumbled, reluctantly getting out of bed. "And there's no chance this is an April Fool's prank, right?"

Since we're on the subject of holidays...

"April Fool's was last week, Vi," Pete reminded me. But of course, I already knew that it wasn't a prank.

This was simply my life.

With dragging feet, I wandered down the dark hallway of my cabin toward the even darker living room, my tired eyeballs screaming at me when I turned on the light. But I needed to find my shoes. I thought I'd kicked them off somewhere by the couch but couldn't immediately locate them.

My eyes skimmed the room, drifting over the fireplace and the coffee table. Along the fluffy oval rug and past the corner where all the pieces of my latest puzzle were still spread out on the hardwood floor, untouched. My shoes wouldn't be over there.

Then I glanced by the front door, wondering if they actually landed where they belonged when I got home from family dinner last night. But no. Not there either.

Maybe I left them in the kitchen.

"I thought lifeguard orientation was serious business," I grumbled to Pete as I headed in that direction and looked around for my stupid flip-flops. "Who thought it was a good idea to start drinking?"

Silence loomed on the other end, but it wasn't exactly quiet. It was the noisy kind that seemed to say, you know damn well who.

I let out a sigh. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Just as soon as I find my shoes...

One last glance around the cabin and I found the damn things under the dining room table. I slipped into them quickly and headed to the entryway. After grabbing my coat and keys, I took off to rescue my boyfriend.

***

The lifeguards at Lake Maren always gravitated to the same spot when they got together, claiming the primo fire pit a few yards away from the main building and sprawling out across the sand.

Despite the spring chill in the air that night, that's exactly how I found them—listening to music, destroying a twenty-four pack, and watching the moon dance over the water. It wasn't hard to find Cash in his favorite spot by the fire, but the sight of him never got easier.

He sat in his usual lawn chair. Rina Whitaker sat on his lap.

Swallowing my upset, I shook my head and plodded through the sand until I was right behind them. Cash had one hand splayed across Rina's stomach, the other holding a can of River's Edge Lager. It made me wonder who was working when they bought it, because it certainly wasn't me.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Five sets of eyes turned to me, but I was only focused on two pairs of them. One hazy with alcohol, one teeming with satisfaction she was never good at hiding.

"Oh, shit." Rina lifted herself from my boyfriend's lap and ambled to her feet. For my sake, or so it seemed anyway, she reeled in that arrogant smirk and said, "I'm sorry, Vi. It's not what it looked like. He was just–"

"I'm sure he was," I threw a hand up and cut her off before she could finish whatever lame excuse she'd come up with.

It didn't matter. My beef wasn't with Rina. Sure, she shouldn't have been on my boyfriend's lap, but my boyfriend shouldn't have had another girl on his lap. He was the bigger problem here. Along with whatever he was drinking.

"Violet! You're finally here." Cash's delayed acknowledgment was slurry as he rose carefully to his feet, keeping things slow and steady, legs wobbly as he moved toward me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. "I was waiting for you," he whispered in my ear.

Without permission from my brain, the sweetness of his words woke up a tenderness in my chest, and a shiver rolled up my spine. I loved that but hated it. I didn't want it but needed it. It would help me get through the night.

"Yeah?" I forced a smile up at him, ignoring the smell of beer on his shirt. "And you thought passing the time with Rina on your lap was a good idea?"

A couple snort laughs resounded from the rest of the group. I'd forgotten they were even there, all of them now lurking in the darkness. Glancing over, I noticed Rina had joined Pete, Zack, and Aria in the sand.

"That was Rina?" Cash asked, laughing a little through his drunken confusion. But I didn't find it funny at all.

Eventually, he wouldn't either. In about eight hours, after a good night's sleep and probably a stack of pancakes, he'd realize what he'd done and be sad and sorrowful. He'd apologize and I'd forgive him.

We've been here before.

"It's time to go home," I told Cash, letting muscle memory do the legwork as my eyes scanned the area for what he'd left behind.

I was happy to see his hoodie draped over the back of his lawn chair, not on Rina's body. After grabbing it for him, I felt around the pockets of his jeans to make sure he had his wallet. Pete would hang onto his keys and make sure the car was taken care of tomorrow.

A chorus of goodbyes sang out behind us as I led Cash up the sand and toward the parking lot. I was grateful that he was being amiable and not belligerent tonight.

"I thought it was you," he muttered when we approached my car. "In my lap."

"Well, it wasn't." I opened the passenger door for him, feeling an offensive sting in my eyes. "Come on, get in."

When he didn't immediately do as I said, I worried for a second that the night was about to take one of those belligerent turns. I had no energy for that.

But instead, Cash turned his body toward mine and his hands found their way to my waist, all tender and sweet, his grip just right. So easily too, even in his wasted state, like holding me was something born of instinct.

"Violet Hale, " he murmured in my ear, "you look beautiful tonight."

A soft laugh bubbled up from somewhere I had zero control over. "You can't even see me in the darkness, Cash."

Or through your drunken haze.

"I don't have to see you to know you're beautiful," he said, bringing his lips to mine. The kiss tasted like beer and bad decisions, but I surrendered to it anyhow. I always did. Cash was the single best kisser I'd ever kissed. And if the kiss wasn't enough to soften me, when he leaned back and smiled, it was over.

His light brown hair was grown out at the time, messy in a cute sort of way, and he had this rogue lock of hair that liked to fall down his forehead, making him look like a 90s heartthrob. So different from the guy I fell for a year ago, but endearing all the same.

And that smile. Shit. That sweet smile of his had a way of unwinding all the knots of my irritation. It was crazy, honestly, how easily they untied themselves and became the vines of his affection, wrapping around my heart like that's all I needed to forget it was three in the morning and my boyfriend wasn't being a very good boyfriend.

Cash kissed me again, before sliding into my passenger seat.

I let out a longing sigh and drove him home like I always did.

Put him to bed like I always did.

Set a glass of water and two ibuprofen on his bedside table like I always did. And then I climbed in beside him and fell asleep. Like I always did.

***

THE NEXT MORNING

Every time I get woken up from a good dream, some small part of me always wishes it will come back when I fall asleep again. After my rescue mission in the wee hours of the morning, all I wanted to do was pick up where I left off in the forest, unhinged dancing fairy and all that.

Instead, it was raining in my dream. And not the kind you dance in. I didn't even have rain boots on. When I was little, I used to have these fantastic purple rain boots and I loved to dance in them. But no. No fantastic rain boots, no perfect dancing rain.

It was an all out storm, the kind you hunker down for. A crack of dream lightning scared me awake, and I took a quick glance around, acclimating myself to Cash's room. His sheets were warm and soft. I felt his presence beside me, but there was no snoring, and he always snored after a night of drinking.

Glancing over at his side of the bed, I found him awake, his weary eyes set on me.

"Hey," I whispered, stretching a little to come alive before rolling over to face him.

He did the same, regarding me with a cautious smile as his gaze traveled slowly over my face. "Hello, beautiful."

His voice was clear and so were his eyes. The guy I'd fallen for was back, but the guy he was last night would have to apologize before we came full circle.

"I'm sorry," Cash muttered, right on cue. Melancholy entered his tone like a welcome guest.

"It's okay," I smiled.

"It's not." He shook his head. "I've been, uh...laying here all morning, watching you sleep and..." The words he spoke came out brittle and unfamiliar. Our next mornings had never gone like this before, and my chest grew tighter with every passing second. "I've been thinking about...things."

I lifted myself up on my elbow, all ears. "What things?"

He let out a humorless laugh and turned to lay on his back. With his eyes plastered to the ceiling, he couldn't even look at me when he answered. "Vi, you don't deserve the shit I put you through."

"Then why do you do it?" I asked. To me, it was so simple. I couldn't fathom what possibly went through his head when he did the things he did, but my feelings for him were always too strong to fight it.

Slowly, Cash faced me again, a somber smile tilting his mouth. "I keep waiting to see when you've hit your limit. When you'll realize you deserve better than me."

Some kind of survival instinct kicked in, and I inched closer to him in the bed, not liking where this conversation was going. I hated that my eyes were filling with tears. Hated that my voice was about to crack. Hated that I felt his warmth slipping away from me, even as I laid there still surrounded in it.

"You could just be better," I pleaded softly, holding his eyes with mine, begging him for something I wasn't sure he could offer.

"I don't know how," he confirmed as much a moment later. "I've never known how."

I swallowed hard. "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need to break up."

Those words jolted through my entire nervous system like the bolt of lightning from my dream. No rain to accompany it. No dancing. There hadn't been dancing in months. There was only shock.

"You're breaking up with me?" I sat up in bed and scooted away from him as quickly as I could. Cash didn't move a muscle. He just laid there and watched me react. "I should be breaking up with you."

"If it gets you away from me," he said, so softly I almost didn't hear it. He looked back up at the ceiling. "Then go ahead. But I'm done hurting you."

"You're hurting me right now." My hand flew to the left side of my chest, clutching the aching organ that pumped there. "Look at me, Cash Collins!"

He did just that, his eyes meeting mine, watery with tears. He wasn't just watching me react anymore. The evidence of his own pain was clear, and I didn't really give a shit.

Yes, I did.

No, I didn't.

Fuck!

I pulled myself out of his bed and slid into my flip flops, finding them right where I left them as a waterfall of tears fled my eyes. I let them come. There was nothing else to do with them now.

Cash sat up and sighed. "Vi–"

"Don't talk to me," I barked at him. The last several months were playing out in front of me like a film reel of my worst moments. I barely recognized myself in half the images and scenes. "You want to be done? We're done. Don't call me again when you need rescued."

I was yanking my car door open when I heard my name being called from the sidewalk. Cash's mom, Angela, was climbing out of someone's shitty Nissan and stumbling toward the driveway.

As she passed me by, she laughed. "Doing the walk of shame too, Violet?"

I met her hazy eyes, not in the mood for conversation. "Something like that."

Angela continued to make conversation. "You're leaving early."

"I have to go to work."

"The beer stand doesn't open for another couple hours."

And you'd know, wouldn't you?

"Inventory day," I mumbled.

"Ahh," Angela nodded. "Well, have fun."

"Will do."

I slammed my car door shut and sped away, heading straight for The Riverbank, a quaint little concession stand in my hometown. It was a branch of my grandparents' world-renowned brand, my first job, and somewhere I used to enjoy spending time. A place filled with malt and memories, and now the last place I ever wanted to see again.

Uncle Reed swung the front window open when he saw me trudging across the gravel parking lot. "You're early," he said with a big, gracious smile.

I tossed my name badge on the counter. "I quit."

As I made my way back to my car, Uncle Reed's laughter echoed behind me. "Is this an April Fool's prank or something?"

"April Fool's was last week," I reminded him without bothering to turn around. "The only fool here is me."