Logline

Brynn Davis, the girl from a shattered home, finds her escape in the boy next door, but one painful secret will tear them apart, setting their lives on two different paths, forever connected by one hidden truth. 

Blurb

Brynn Davis and Tyler Hayes have been best friends since they were kids. He's her safe escape, and she's the girl who stole his first kiss.

When Brynn's world gets too loud, Tyler's window is the door to her peace. Through every downfall, and climb back up, they've always been there for one another. But in one decision, and one secret bound in a torturous lie, they're torn apart.

Ten years later, Tyler is living his dream in the NBA, miles from home. He should be reveling in having it all, but he's missing all the things he used to love, including the one girl who turned his life upside down in so many ways.

Has too much happened to build their connection again, or are their paths still destined to cross?

~Prologue: The Now~

Brynn

There are certain choices we make throughout our lives, split decisions that determine the course of everything to follow. Sure, those decisions may be thought out and carefully planned with thorough reasoning to back it up, but whatever we choose sets forth a path carved among the stones.

I've made a lot of decisions in my twenty-eight years. As a single mom, some are as simple as what to cook for dinner while others dig deeper, pulling at all the aspects that have built who I am.

There's one decision, though, one choice that's branded itself against my heart, searing an unforgiving path into my story. It's one that still lingers in the shadows, weighing heavy against my shoulders whenever the quiet gets too loud.

Like right now.

But I push it away, ignoring the dull ache between my eyes, the stress of everything making itself known. Instead, I focus on the view around me, finding peace and distraction in the things that have always brought me calm.

Driving down the same road I've traveled most of my life, I can't help but take in the views. It should get old, the same lake tucked away within the Sierra Nevadas, the same setting sun that dances across the water each and every day. But somehow, through darkened days and brighter horizons, the sight before me never seems to lose its spark. It's breathtaking.

The way the mountains encase the glass surface of the water, their mirrored reflection extending across the lake. It's something I don't think I'll ever tire of, something that somehow brought me peace growing up when the days seemed like the light would never shine through. And trust me, I had some dark days. Ones that forced me to grow up a whole lot sooner than I should have.

But I'm here. Despite the surge of questioning doubt that still spins around the decision I made all of those years ago, I'm here.

It's not until my guitar is fastened across my lap, the quiet, loyal gathering of the local coffee shop surrounding me, that I can truly feel the jagged edges begin to soften.

I've been playing here every Friday. It's small and intimate, a far cry from the bar I play at on Saturdays. Those nights are different, providing a sense of flavor and excitement that Fridays don't carry. The crowd is louder there, eager to dance, to sing along. It sparks a different side of me, one set on entertaining and lighting up the stage rather than just telling a story with my lyrics.

As I slowly lift my gaze out to the small coffeehouse crowd, there's a warmth that fills me. A genuine sense of joy, of belonging. When I was younger, the dream was to be famous, to be stepping out onto a much larger stage, people chanting my name. But dreams change. And this stage, while it's confined to a small corner, is home.

My eyes jump from table to table, just as they do every time I play. He's not here.

Tyler Hayes.

The first boy to ever have my heart, the only one I've ever trusted to hold it.

He hasn't resided in the audience in years, but that never stops me from looking and hoping. I never missed one of his games, he never missed a show. At least, he never had before he left...before I forced him away.

One decision. One choice altering the path I thought was laid out before me. All of it gone in a moment.

I let the air fill my lungs, expanding my tightened chest as I push aside the memories of our last interaction. The pain still holds, gripping tightly around my heart as my fingers strum the first note. The sound of my guitar infiltrates my system, the music taking over, just as it does every time I feel myself falling.

Tyler

"Hayes!" I hear a familiar voice across the room, letting my eyes linger on the screen for just a moment longer, watching my team fall behind in another pending loss while I attempt to bounce back from blowing out my knee at the start of the season. We hand over another turnover, something that should have me yelling at the screen.

I don't.

Lately, I haven't had the same fight left in me to respond.

"They need you." Our team trainer, Thatcher, sits down beside me. "They haven't been moving the ball the same without you controlling the tempo."

I turn his way, plopping my leg on the table and laying back. The movement in my knee is nearly back to full strength. It's the muscle that's lacking. While I'm just shy of thirty, a number that may appear young to the rest of the world, it's beginning that slow descent into injury city within the active hard-on-the-body world I've spent my life.

"We've gotten screwed this year, Thatch," I respond, trying to keep my eyes on the game as he examines my progress. "First, I'm out before the season really gets started, then Gordy messes up his ankle halfway through, and now we're leaning on a rookie who has barely had time to figure out the pace of our lineup. They're adjusting."

He nods, pulling my leg back and stretching it to the side. "Yeah, well, that all sounds a lot like they need you."

I laugh, knowing my little hopeful speech just sailed right through both ears. "Then give me some good news."

"How has the training been feeling?" he asks, placing my leg back on the table and taking a step back. "Anything sore? Any pain during any of the exercises?"

"No. I'm still a bit weaker on my right side, but other than that, it feels great."

"Good." He nods, lifting his iPad and tapping on the screen. "Shooting drills have been good?"

The thought of the one thing that's still functioning normally has me smiling. "Shooting is fine."

"I assumed so. Those reels of you getting back out there are causing quite a stir."

And that would be the doing of our social media team, posting videos of me hitting shots around the arc, getting them hyped up for my return. There's nothing like your starting point guard splashing down threes while the team is drowning in losses to bring back a spark of hope to the fans. There's no shot in hell I'm making it back for the end of the season, but there is hope I'll be there at the start of next year.

"My shot's not the problem."

Nodding, he finishes something on his iPad before he's tucking it under his arm. "I want to increase your time on the bike, add some lateral drills to your work on the court. But," he pulls in a breath, "I think if all keeps going as it is, you'll be able to have some limited minutes on the court this summer."

"Wow, really?" I question, but the expected excitement falls short. A recurring theme in my life these days.

"I'm not promising anything. I need to pass your progress along and continue to monitor each step, but it's looking hopeful, Hayes."

He claps my shoulder, giving me one more smile before walking away. I don't exactly know what to do with the news. When I first got hurt, I knew it was bad. I began dreaming of this day, living and breathing for the moment I was cleared to get back on the court.

It's so freaking close I can taste it. And yet, I'm not jumping for joy.

For the first time since I walked away from my hometown, I've paused long enough to think about what I left behind. I've been running so fast from what I left, keeping busy enough to not have to face the reality of what I'm missing. To feel what I'm missing.

My life has been one leap after the other. College was a blur-filled whirlwind. One where I stuffed a whole lot of pain and wallowing into the distraction of parties, studying like hell to keep my grades up, and basketball. Then came the inevitable path to the NBA, to still working my ass off to get called up, and earning the starting spot.

But as the years trail by, I'm left with this feeling of empty. I'm beginning to wonder if this game...maybe it's not everything I've ever dreamt of.

Maybe it's not actually enough.

"I thought you'd be celebrating," a voice jumps in beside me, my gaze turning over to Gordy, who's hobbling over from the bike. "Summer training, that's right around the corner, man. You should be stoked to be bouncing back that fast."

"Yeah." I nod, sliding a hand through my hair. "I am."

"Yeah, I can see that. The whole somber, head down thing just radiates excitement."

Gordy is one of the first guys I met on the team. He's been in the league almost twice as long as me, taking me in and showing me the ropes. Not to mention, his wife makes an amazing chicken pot pie that I'm privy to every other Sunday we're in town, which has been a lot lately.

"I am. Really," I insist.

"Well, don't hurt yourself with your celebration dance. We need you back next season. I'm not bringing home that championship without you." He stands to leave, throwing a towel over his shoulder and taking a few steps before I'm stopping him.

"Hey, Gordy?" I question, taking a breath when he turns around. "You ever ask yourself why you're here?"

He hesitates, the slight pull to his brow bringing a tilt to his head. He loosens up, throwing out a hand as he answers me, "I'm old, Hayes. I've got weak ankles from years of sprains. Pretty sure Thatch and his team got their work cut out for them with my last few years."

"No," I laugh, shaking my head at his response. "I mean...I don't know. It's just...nevermind. It's nothing."

He doesn't back away like I expect him to. Instead, he takes a small step my way, dropping his voice. "Listen, I don't claim to have it all figured out, but when I find myself with more questions than I have answers, I usually go to the last place I felt at home."

Home.

The word slams against my chest in a heavy thud, splintering the wood planks built to keep everything tucked away.

In the fast pace of it all, I've never stopped long enough to linger on anything outside of basketball. Everything has been to get here and to stay here. To say I've neglected my family over the last ten years would be an understatement. That slow, steady pace back home sounds a bit like a dream at the moment.

The problem is, I haven't been home in ten years. Not since...

Going home means there's a chance I could see her.

Brynn Davis.

The girl who captured my whole heart. Right before she tore it from my chest.

In a small town like Lakeshore, California, I knew I was bound to run into her if I went back. And there's no amount of time or distance that could prepare me for that.

"What if home is the one place I've been avoiding?"

Gordy shrugs. "Then I'd say it sounds like you've found your issue. Look, I don't know why you've kept your distance, Hayes, but I think maybe your gut is trying to tell you something. Now, I've never been one not to listen to my instinct. So, let me ask you this, what is your instinct telling you right now?"

That I've been away from home for far too long, and that if I go back, I might just see the one person I ran from.

I've been gone for ten years.

Despite the way my heart still bleeds from the wounds Brynn left behind, I miss her.

I've missed her since I watched her crawl out my window, with no intention of ever coming back. Though things were left in a place I never thought we'd end up, I've known her so much longer than that dreaded night.

Problem is, I don't think I can ever forgive her for what she did. At least, that's what I've always told myself.

But maybe, just maybe, it's time to return home to the one town that holds everything I left behind.