PROLOGUE

ALESSI

“If you move that chair one more time,” I told Bash, laughing lightly. “I’m breaking up with you.”

My boyfriend looked up from where he was adjusting the lounge chair for what had to be the fifth time.

“It needs to be perfect,” he said, nudging it just a smidge to the left.

“It’s a chair.”

“It’s the Fourth of July,” he said.

“Still a chair.”

His horrified expression made me laugh.

Around us, our friends were gathering near the front of the Hastings family’s superyacht for the upcoming fireworks show. Music drifted through the warm evening air while the ocean stretched endlessly around us, black as ink except where the yacht’s lights shimmered across the waves.

“My dear, Alessi,” Bash said, pointing dramatically at the deck. “I need you to trust the process.”

I rolled my eyes, even as a smile tugged at my lips. “You realize fireworks look pretty much the same from every angle, right?”

“Whatever,” he said, shooting me an offended look over his shoulder. “But even if they do look the same, you still deserve the best seat on the yacht.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

The fireworks would last maybe thirty minutes, but the effort he was putting into this made me feel special.

I was about to tell him as much when a low, familiar voice sounded behind me.

“Alessi.”

And that was all it took for my fingers to tighten around the edge of the blanket.

Because I knew that voice all too well.

Had spent years loving the exact way it wrapped around my name.

I turned and that’s when I found Bash’s best friend Miles standing a few feet away, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, the other rubbing along the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

Which was strange since the NFL quarterback was rarely unsure around anyone.

He was all broad shoulders, messy brown hair, and familiar brown eyes that I’d spent years trying not to get lost in.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice light. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His gaze flicked past me to Bash, then back again. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

I looked toward the railing where Bash was now fluffing a blanket like a man who had watched one too many romantic comedy proposal scenes.

My mouth twitched.

The fireworks were supposed to start any minute, and my boyfriend had clearly put thought into all of this. The charcuterie tray. The chairs. The perfect view.

The whole thing was cute.

So cute I should’ve been sitting on the chair beside him already.

“Can it wait?” I asked, not needing Miles’s drama to derail another perfectly good evening. “The fireworks are about to start.”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he said, his jaw working. “Please.”

Miles never said please like that. Not to me.

Not anymore, at least.

Was something actually wrong? A small knot formed in my stomach.

My gaze swept over him again, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the way he kept rubbing the back of his neck. The Sentinels training camp started in a few weeks. Was he feeling anxious about the new season?

He’d told me before that he was working out a few things with his contract…

“Can we just…” He tipped his head toward the quieter side of the deck. “Talk over there for a second?”

I hesitated.

Then, across the deck, Bash looked over and lifted his hand, waving me toward him.

I held up one finger.

Just a minute.

His smile faltered briefly when he noticed Miles standing beside me, but he nodded and went back to arranging the champagne glasses.

So when Miles started walking toward a quieter section of railing near the side of the yacht, I followed with a sigh.

Once we’d moved about fifteen feet away, I stopped and crossed my arms.

“Okay,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing too serious.” He breathed out an uncomfortable laugh. “I mean, I just wanted to check in.”

“Check in?” I repeated.

“Yeah.”

“With me?”

His mouth tugged slightly. “Don’t make it seem weird.”

“I’m not making it weird. It came pre-weird.”

That got a tiny smile from him, and for one sharp second, things felt almost normal.

But then his smile faded.

He glanced down at the deck, then toward the water, then back at me. “How are things going with Bash?”

I blinked. “You pulled me aside to ask about my relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re good.”

“Good,” he said, nodding quickly. “That’s good.”

I studied him. “What makes you ask?”

“No reason.”

“Miles.”

His eyes cut toward Bash, then back. “You’ve been back together for six months now, right?”

“Correct.”

“And it seems like things are getting serious.”

A small laugh slipped out of me, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Are you asking as his best friend? Or as my stepbrother?”

A jolt of pain passed across his face, before he smoothed it away. “Both, I guess.”

My chest tightened, but I ignored it.

“I like him,” I said. “He’s good to me.”

“Yeah.” Miles swallowed. “He’s a good guy.”

“He is. He’s fun. Thoughtful.” I glanced toward Bash again, watching him set the champagne bottle in a small ice bucket before checking his watch. “And he knows what he wants.”

Miles went still.

And I probably should’ve stopped there.

But since Miles and I were pros at being petty with each other, I couldn’t resist turning back to him and adding, “He’s proud of our relationship and doesn’t make me feel like his feelings are something he has to hide.”

Miles winced.

And the mean, wounded part of me couldn’t help but think, Good. You deserve to hurt too.

He had hurt me enough through the years that it seemed only fair he should have to feel the sharp edge of it once in a while.

Miles looked past me again, toward the people gathering along the railing. “I’m glad you seem happy with him.”

“I am happy.”

“Good.” His voice cracked around the word. “That’s good.”

The breeze lifted a few strands of hair across my cheek, and I tucked them behind my ear, suddenly too aware of the space between us. Too aware of his broad chest, his familiar cologne and the way his brown eyes looked darker in the moonlight.

Too aware of the fact that this was how it always happened.

One second, I was fine. Then the next, I was standing near the boy who’d stolen my heart back when I was fifteen, remembering every version of us that I’d spent years trying to forget.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself—looking back to Bash instead.

Bash, the best friend Miles himself had introduced me to.

Then with a deep sigh, he stepped closer, lowering his voice before he whispered, “Before you go, I-I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” My pulse stuttered as I searched his eyes. “For what, exactly?”

Since heaven knows we had years of baggage between us.

His gaze dipped to the deck, then swept sideways, as if checking to see who might be close enough to hear us.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were softer. Sadder.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to get that kind of peace in the past.”

Peace.

The word hit harder than it should have.

Because, of course, Miles knew every ugly corner of that history.

Every almost.

Every argument.

Every stolen moment that felt perfect until reality inevitably found its way back in.

My heart tugged hard, because even after everything, it still wanted to go to him.

I pressed my lips together and made myself look away.

There was no use dwelling on any of that. No use poking at bruises that had never fully healed.

Because if nothing had really changed in the ten years we’d known each other, nothing was ever going to change.

And it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

Time to stop building castles out of stolen moments and what-ifs.

I wasn’t a lovesick teenager anymore. I was an adult, and adults didn’t get to live inside their fantasies forever.

The hard reality was that Miles and I had never even had a chance at making it work.

Not when one of us always seemed to panic the second things became real.

Not when our lives were so public that the thought of being found out felt suffocating.

So I needed to be the stronger person and just… let the idea of us go for good.

And I needed to stop looking back.

Because as thrilling as it was to live inside a wildfire, eventually you got tired of wondering if everything around you was about to burn to the ground.

Plus, there was something to be said about having a place that felt safe.

For having someone who chose you over and over again without making you wonder if they’d change their mind tomorrow.

And Bash chose me.

Every. Single. Day.

“Miles,” I said softly, “We already know what happens when you try to talk to me like this.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I needed to say something before—” he stopped, shaking his head.

“Before what?” I asked, wondering what exactly could be so important that he needed to talk to me right now.

A cheer rose from the other side of the deck as the first warning flare shot into the sky, bursting in a small shower of gold sparks.

“Are you coming, babe?” Bash called.

I looked over.

He was sitting in one of the chairs now, one hand raised, his smile wide and expectant.

“I need to go,” I said, looking back at Miles. “The fireworks are starting, and Bash really wanted to watch them together.”

Something flashed across Miles’s face.

Pain first. Then panic.

But it was gone so fast I could’ve imagined it.

For a second, I almost asked him what was actually wrong.

But that was the problem.

There was always something.

Some invisible thread between us that tugged until I came running.

Until I comforted.

Until I listened.

Until I let him hold me just long enough to remember what it felt like to belong somewhere, then watched him walk away before sunrise.

I could be his friend.

I could be his stepsister.

I could support him in normal ways.

But I wasn’t going to keep bending over backwards to carry burdens he wouldn’t name.

That wasn’t my job anymore.

It couldn’t be my job.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said, turning to leave.

But before I could take a full step, Miles caught my wrist.

I looked down at his hand, then back up at him and his expression wrecked me.

“Miles,” I whispered a warning.

“I know.” He released my wrist immediately, like touching me had burned him too. “Sorry. I just—”

Then, before I could move away, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.

It probably looked like a normal hug to anyone watching us. The kind of hug a protective stepbrother might give his younger stepsister.

But when Miles’s strong, familiar, arms came around me, my body betrayed me.

Because even though I’d kept him at a distance the past several months, my body had a hard time remembering that it shouldn’t want to sink into his warmth. That I shouldn’t have the automatic urge to breathe in his all too familiar cologne. Revel in the way he had to bend himself almost in half because I was so much shorter than him.

The hug lasted only a second. Maybe two. Before his lips brushed my cheek.

Quick.

Soft.

Dangerous.

My breath caught.

“No matter what happens tonight,” he whispered, his mouth hovering close to my ear. “I just want you to know that everything that happened with us… all the good times. Everything we try not to talk about.” His voice lowered, rough and aching. “Everything with you. It was all worth it.”

My heart stopped, and for a second, all I could do was stare into his dark, brooding eyes.

Because this was what I’d always wanted him to say.

Not necessarily today.

Not now.

But back when we’d still been trying? Absolutely.

Which only made this confession even more cruel.

“I can’t do this anymore, Miles,” I said.

Not when I was finally starting to move on…

But when I searched his face for the answers to why he was doing this just when I was finally in a stable relationship.

Just when I was happy—all I found was regret.

Maybe even sadness.

And before I could figure out what I wanted to ask, another firework exploded overhead, color bursting across the sky, reflecting in the ocean around us.

I turned back to Bash and the sight of him helped settle some of the chaos Miles had stirred up inside me.

Bash was good. Steady.

Easy.

Being with him didn’t feel like constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I looked back at Miles one last time. And whatever he’d been trying to say seemed to have retreated behind a wall again.

Which was probably for the best.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said.

He nodded.

Then I turned and walked back to Bash, trying not to think about the strange look on Miles’s face or the way his goodbye had felt far more permanent than it should have.

“Everything okay?” Bash asked, kissing my cheek as I sat beside him.

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly.

His eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

I forced a smile and leaned against his shoulder. “I’m sure.”

“Okay, good.” He pulled me closer as another firework exploded overhead.

For a while, we just sat there together, watching the sky light up in bursts of red, gold and blue.

Off to the left of us, our friends laughed and pointed and took pictures.

It was beautiful. The kind of night people remembered.

The kind of night people wrote songs about.

As if on cue, Bash pulled out his phone and pressed play on his music app. An instant later, the opening notes of Under the Firework Sky began drifting through the portable speaker beside us.

I laughed softly.

Of course he’d play this song right now.

“This is still my favorite song of yours,” Bash whispered near my ear as my recorded voice began singing the first lyrics to the love ballad that had launched my music career.

I groaned. “You say that because you’re biased.”

“And for good reason.” His grin widened as he looked out toward the fireworks. “I still can’t believe this song happened because of that Fourth of July party.”

And my chest instantly tightened.

Because he looked so happy.

I forced a smile, still not having the heart to tell him the full truth behind this song’s inspiration.

Even though he was right about which night had inspired it, he still didn't know the full story behind it.

Only one other person did.

And the truth of that was much too messy to talk about.

“Yeah,” I said, looking down at my hands, wishing I’d never recorded this song in the first place.

Bash squeezed me closer, looking down at me with such love and devotion in his blue eyes. “I’m really glad we found our way back to each other.”

And the tenderness in his voice made my stomach twist with guilt.

But before I could respond, he shifted out of his seat to stand.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking up at him.

But instead of answering, he just reached into his pocket. And when he pulled out a black, velvet box, my stomach dropped to the ocean below us.

Because everything from the evening suddenly clicked into place.

The beautiful setup.

The nervous energy he’d been carrying around all day.

The special song.

“Bash…” I said, my heart pounding against my ribs.

But I didn't know what else to say.

And suddenly, I wasn't the only one looking at the man lowering himself onto one knee.

We were the center of everything now. Our friends had turned from the fireworks, gasping and squealing, phones already up.

I looked back at Bash as a huge smile spread across his handsome face. It was the kind of smile that was equal parts excited and terrified.

He was going to propose.

Right here. Right now.

In front of everyone.

Everything around me dropped to a hum, like someone had turned the world's volume all the way down.

And then, without meaning to, my gaze lifted past Bash. Going about ten feet away.

To Miles.

Who still stood near the railing. Watching.

And it hit me.

He'd known.

That's why he'd pulled me aside.

That's why he'd said goodbye like that.

That's why he'd been so strange all night.

My pulse stumbled. And for one breath, our eyes met, and something painful passed between us.

Like a guitar string tuned too tight, finally giving.

Then Bash started talking, and I forced myself to look back at him.

At the man kneeling in front of me.

At the future he was offering.

A future that was real.

When he finished, he looked up and asked the question I'd felt coming all night.

"Alessi Holland, will you marry me?"

I looked down at the ring, emotion clogging my throat. It caught the light and threw it back, a small burst of white against all that dark.

And then, against my better judgment, I let myself look toward the railing one last time.

Because there had been a time, once, when I'd imagined a different version of this. A different man on one knee. A different name in my mouth.

But some dreams were never meant to survive outside your own head.

And ours was one of them.

I swallowed hard and looked back at Bash.

Then I smiled and said, “Yes.”

His whole face broke open. “Yes?"

“Yes, Bash.” I laughed through the sting in my eyes. "Yes, of course I’ll marry you..”

Then everything happened at once. The ring, cold as it slid over my knuckle. Kiara and my cousin Maddie shrieking somewhere off to my left. Bash's hands coming up to frame my face like I might drift off the deck if he let go.

And as another firework burst into gold above the water, I looked toward the railing one last time.

Miles was already walking away, disappearing into the crowd as if he’d never been standing there at all.

And whatever he’d come to tell me tonight, I had a feeling I’d never hear it now.