The room erupted.

Screaming and shrieking and wild, uncontrollable laughter that felt like the first sip of champagne. Daisy and Honey were smiling and crying and switching between hugging Belle and Laia, then trying not to squeeze Laia too hard, then screaming again because they remembered why they were smiling and crying in the first place.

Daisy's friend was engaged. Her best friend was pregnant. It was like she'd bitten into a piece of cake to find it was two pieces stuck together.

"I took a test on Wednesday night," Laia was saying, her olive face flushed and russet eyes gleaming. "Took three, actually. Kenji took me to the doctor yesterday while you were all having lunch."

Daisy hadn't even known they'd slipped away. She'd been at the waterfall with Hunt.

"So this is official?" she asked, her vision blurring, her cheeks wet, her heart soaring. "This is really happening?"

Laia wiped her tears with her sleeve. "You're going to be an auntie, Dais."

Daisy couldn't contain it then—the all-consuming joy that burst her heart wide open, sending the happiest kinds of tears streaming down her cheeks. She scooped Laia into a hug, and they cried into each other's hair.

Her friend was engaged. Her best friend was pregnant. It was like she'd stumbled across a treasure chest on Christmas Day.

"And you." Honey whirled to Belle. She poked her arm playfully. "Laia's right. I can't believe you kept your engagement from us for a whole day!"

Belle accepted her hug. "I wanted you all to be the first to know. And I wanted to tell you together."

Daisy and Laia joined their cuddle, the four of them encased in a bubble of their own just like on wild, drunken nights out the year they all turned eighteen.

Daisy's friend was engaged. Her best friend was pregnant. And she couldn't have been happier, couldn't have been more thrilled for them.

It was around the time she saw Honey grinning wider than she'd seen her smile in over a year, announcing she'd better get back to her room so as not to keep Matthew up; when Belle fidgeted on the spot, her lips twitching into a coy grin when she, too, said she better get back to Ruby—and Laia purred in reply; when Daisy's best friend put her left hand on her belly, fiddling with her engagement ring as a quiet, secret happiness settled over her face. It was around that time when Daisy felt an awful, bitter stab of pain in her chest. When her heart was sliced raw by something not at all like joy.

Her friend was engaged. Her best friend was pregnant. And Daisy was pretending to date a guy she used to hate in order to spite his ex.

Daisy hated herself for it—that twinge of jealousy. She loved her friends. She wanted them to be happy more than anything in the world. But to see them so happy and content when she so wasn't ... Hard. Harder than the time Vanessa had fallen sick and Daisy had to learn her solos for Cinderella in a single weekend.

But she treated her face like a canvas, painting on a smile. She tried to slip out the door behind Honey and Belle. Laia pulled her back.

Literally.

She grabbed Daisy's arm and hauled her back into the treehouse, closing the door with a solid thud.

"Spit it out," Lai said.

Daisy willed her smile to widen. "Laia, I'm so thrilled—"

"Spit. It. Out."

Daisy's smile faltered. "Spit what out?"

"Daisy." A warning: Don't lie to me.

Daisy knew she couldn't, anyway. So she simply sighed, shaking her head. "Not tonight, Lai. This is your night."

"Our night."

Daisy shook her head. "Your night—"

"Dais—"

"I don't want to spoil it."

"Spoil it?" Laia pulled her down onto the bed gently, her tone so soft it threatened to summon a fresh wave of tears. "I'm having a baby with the love of my life. I'm on a tropical holiday with my best friends—my family. Nothing can spoil this night. So"—she rested her hand on Daisy's arm—"what is it?"

But Daisy couldn't. Wouldn't do that to her.

Laia reached for the hand Daisy had tangled in her hair, removing a copper lock from around her finger.

And there was nothing but deep, unshakeable love in her eyes, on her face.

Daisy drew an unsteady breath. Screw it. Laia wasn't some random acquaintance she had to pretend to be okay in front of. Laia was her sister. Her soulmate. It was how Daisy knew—that Lai wasn't letting Daisy leave the room until she offered her something.

"I just ..." Daisy looked at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. "I see you and Belle and Honey, and I'm so happy for you. So happy that you've found people to share your lives with. I mean it, I am."

Laia curled Daisy's hair behind her ear. "I know."

Daisy let that breath out. Let it all out, even though it felt selfish and wrong. "But it hurts so much. Because I don't have that." She shook her head, her eyes welling with selfish, stupid tears. "But I did, Lai. I did have that. Everyone else got their happily ever after. Why didn't I?"

Laia's eyes shuttered. "I don't know. I wish I did. But I don't."

Daisy clamped her lids shut. She wouldn't cry. Couldn't. Not here. Not tonight.

"He cared about you Daisy. So much." Laia laced an arm around her, pulling her closer. She rested her head on Daisy's shoulder. "He wouldn't want you to cry. He wouldn't want you to stop yourself from finding your new happily ever after."

Daisy looked at her quizzically.

Laia's face was blurry, her smile small and mirthless. "You think I don't know why you pick the guys you do? Why you refuse to put labels on anything, and why you manufacture reasons to call it quits after three months?" She tutted, but there wasn't anything cruel about the sound. "You're sabotaging yourself, Dais."

Daisy blinked, letting a single tear fall. "I can't do it again, Lai. I can't."

"You can."

"How?" she snapped. Not angry at her. Never at her. Just at the situation. Just at herself. At life. "How can I? How can I go and be with someone else when he—" A broken sound escaped Daisy's throat, and she swallowed thickly. "I'm terrified that I'm going to end up alone. But every time I contemplate falling in love with someone else, I feel like I'm betraying him."

"Daisy, no." There was such complete, utter heartbreak in her best friend's eyes. "He's gone, but you're not. You're here. And I know you loved him, but he wouldn't want you to think like that. Not for one second."

Daisy couldn't help it. She wouldn't move on. Not when he couldn't. Not when his eyes were forever frozen in that declaration of star-crossed love.

"You know Kenji and I would never blame you, right?" Laia backed up enough to look her dead in the eye. "And mum and dad ... No one would be angry at you for moving on."

"I know."

"You deserve to be happy, Dais. And you will be. You just have to give yourself permission." Laia held her against her. "Permission to move on."

Even that sounded like a betrayal. Daisy couldn't stomach the thought.

It was past midnight when she left Laia's room, padding to the couch to congratulate Kenji with a kiss on the cheek. He hugged her a little tighter than usual. Like he knew what had taken her and Lai so long, knew why her makeup was streaked with tears. Was Daisy really that bad at hiding her emotions?

Tomorrow. She'd get herself together and make it up to Laia and Kenji tomorrow. She'd buy them and Belle and Ruby the biggest bouquet of chocolate flowers they'd ever seen. Maybe Hunt would help her make them breakfast.

Yes. Tomorrow. She'd be better tomorrow. Her friends would think she was, at least.

The lamp was on when she opened the door to the treehouse. Daisy stumbled a step. Hunt was on the bed for once. Not under the covers, but sprawled out on top, Movie Moment open but abandoned in his hands.

Asleep.

That deep ache in her chest shifted as she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. His lowered lashes cast shadows onto his cheeks. He'd tried to stay awake. Tried to wait up—for her.

She eased the book out of his hands. They fisted, like even in sleep, he was trying to hold on. That brown leather notebook she'd spotted that morning was resting next to him, too, and Daisy placed it beside Movie Moment on the nightstand. She grabbed the knitted throw from the couch, draping it over him before turning off the light.

Too tired to take off her makeup, Daisy searched the contents of her suitcase in the dark. Grabbed the first pyjama stand-in she could find. A shirt. It smelled like grass clippings, like spring water and summer rain, and ... It didn't matter. She didn't care. She quickly changed, then crawled into bed, waiting for the darkness to ease some of her pain.

It chased her into sleep—that last, fateful car ride.

His hand veered from the stick, landing on her thigh.

Daisy's heart thudded against her chest, a caged butterfly desperate to break free.

He swept his thumb up, then down, an amused laugh pushing out of him as Laia and Kenji pretended not to be flirting with each other in the backseat. Daisy's fingers were tangled in her necklace when she deigned to look at him.

He's like a brother to me, she'd tell the girls from the studio when he'd pick her up from ballet. Like Kenji, Laia's brother was a year older than Daisy. With smooth, tanned skin credited to his mixed Armenian and Spanish heritage, honed into fighting form by his years spent boxing, paired with his floppy black hair and a roguish grin, he was the kind of guy that every girl in town knew.

For a fraction of a second, he took his russet eyes off the dark, barren highway. His warm gaze roamed over her face with unwavering intent as he stroked his thumb over her thigh again; a long, luxurious sweep. His smile was the kind that could make grown women grovel, and he didn't bother chewing it away when he dragged his eyes off her with criminal slowness to cast them onto the winding road.

But that thumb never stopped teasing, stroking, vowing.

Daisy's heart was dancing.

Not like a brother. Not at all. He never had been. And tonight, Daisy thought, she was going to let him know exactly what she thought of him.

She gripped the golden necklace, toying with the tiny ballet slippers. With Love—

The darkness was consumed by blinding white light.

It happened too quickly.

No one could have stopped it.

The universe narrowed down to screeching tyres and shattering glass, to exploding airbags and seatbelts cutting flesh. She could only smell petrol. Could only taste blood. She couldn't feel her legs. Couldn't feel that steady, tender, loving touch.

Daisy turned to find him in the dark. His eyes said, I love you. I've always loved you.

And she was crying. Screaming.

Because Nic wasn't blinking.

"Daisy?"

A voice.

Familiar, but so far away, reaching across time and space.

She screamed again. Bucked, trying to get the metal off her, trying to get to him. She had to wake him, had to get help, had to—

"Daisy."

Someone was shaking her. Trying to tear her away. But she couldn't leave him. Couldn't leave Nic alone on this dark, bloody road. Alone. He was alone here—

Crying and screaming and panting, Daisy woke in a room she didn't recognise with a man she didn't know.

Help, she tried to yell. Tried to, but—

"Daisy." Someone tugged her hand, drawing her toward them. "It's okay. Sweetheart, you're okay."

But she didn't know him, didn't—

No. That wasn't right. She did know him. She thought she might have liked him. Trusted him, at least.

She didn't question it further than that.

Daisy launched herself into an embrace that smelled like citrus and damp leaves, like secret waterfalls and a warm, salty wind. She burrowed into it, into him.

In Hunt's arms, she broke.

It had happened countless times. She'd wake from a nightmare, or the guy she was seeing would rouse her from sleep, telling her she'd been mumbling or kicking him during the night. She'd laugh it off, excuse herself, then creep into the kitchen and make some tea. Read a book to numb her mind. To forget.

But this had never happened.

She'd never shattered like this.

Daisy sobbed. Wept. She couldn't stop. It was like she was a pane of glass, like she'd been thrown on the floor and nothing could glue her jagged pieces back together. She couldn't keep the tears down, couldn't swallow her hopeless, broken cries. She could only muffle them against Hunt's chest as he pressed her against him, rubbing her trembling back with one hand and stroking her tangled, damp hair with the other.

He squeezed her tighter before making to let go. "Let me get Laia—"

"No." Her plea was a mess of shallow breath and hollow cries. "Don't bother her."

"Daisy—"

"Please."

Hunt sighed, and she could tell that he was torn, that he was unsure of which road to take. But she felt his firm chest relax beneath her. He didn't push it.

Hunt turned on the bedside lamp before settling against the bedhead, drawing Daisy onto his lap and letting her press up against him as close as she could. Warmth. Life. She needed both. He wrapped his arms around her, the heat rippling off him the only force in the world that could thaw her icy skin, that could ground her in the now so her mind didn't slip to the past. He hugged her tighter. Like he knew.

"I'm sorry," she told Hunt through bursts of broken breath, "for waking you—"

"Don't." His hands slid up and down her back, his chest solid and grounding beneath her. "Please just ... don't." And the tenderness in his voice ...

Daisy drew back a bit, just enough to wipe the wetness coating her cheeks. Hunt wasn't in his clothes from dinner anymore, but in his pyjamas—a plain tee and grey sweats. He must have woken up sometime between her coming to bed and her waking him again.

By screaming.

This was ... God, he probably did think she was unhinged. She grimaced.

He tilted his head at her expression. Waiting. Listening. Never, ever prying.

She made to pull away. "It's okay." Her throat was scratchy, her voice coming out hoarse. "You can go."

He quirked a brow, but there wasn't anything smug about the expression. Wordlessly, he reached over to the nightstand, plucked a tissue from the box, and dabbed her puffy face.

And then she was crying again, softer.

He caught each tear, then helped her regulate her breathing.

"Together," he said gently when there wasn't enough air to satiate her lungs. "In for three"—he counted them down, holding his breath with her—"out for three." He held her gaze, releasing the air slowly. His breath was so cool on her hot cheeks, something else to wake her, ground her.

They did it again. And again. Until her chest had cleared, and she could get air down on her own. Until her fast, panicked breathing became slow and deep, and she was able to cleave the fog from her head and remember that it was over. That she was here, she was safe, and it was over.

But was it?

She clamped her eyes shut. A single tear trailed down her cheek. On cue, Hunt reached out to dab it away.

"I dream about it." She swallowed. "The accident."

Hunt said nothing. But he was there. He was listening.

She opened her eyes, her vision still blurry. But his eyes were liquid amber in the night, so alert and bright that she found herself captive, found herself murmuring, "You asked who Nic was."

His hand stilled on her cheek. "Laia's brother."

She nodded. "He was with us that night. In the car. When we—" She choked back a sob. Hunt shook his head. So she let it out, and he was right there to catch the tears that fell in its wake. "He didn't make it."

His eyes shuttered.

Lowering the tissue, he held her glassy gaze. "I'm so sorry, Dais."

Her eyes fluttered closed. That's what the nurse had said when she woke up in that hospital bed three days later. When, before asking about anything else, Daisy had asked about Laia and Kenji and Nic, Nic, Nic. The nurse had hesitated, looking at the door.

But Daisy was nothing if not persistent.

I'm so sorry, Dais.

The world darkened that day.

"He was your first love," Hunt guessed.

Her heart twinged. Was it that obvious?

"I never told him." She looked down, toying with the hem of Hunt's shirt. She hadn't realised she'd grabbed it, grabbed him. And she didn't know when he'd become it—her anchor. Only that he was.

"I never even told Laia. I thought she'd kill me. But then Lai and Kenji started seeing each other, and I thought ... maybe she wouldn't mind, you know? Because Kenji was Nic's best friend, so she'd get it ..." She released a sad, mirthless laugh. "Now, when I look back, I feel like an idiot. Because of course Laia wouldn't mind. She never would have."

"No." Hunt's smile was soft. Encouraging. "She would have been thrilled."

Daisy nodded. She dropped Hunt's shirt, cringing at the droplets of mascara-coloured tears marring the fabric. "I think she knew. Toward the end, at least. Not that I was making an effort to hide it. Nic had gone off to uni, and I thought he'd for sure move on. That he'd find some girl who was older and more mature and super cool and sexy." Someone like Vanessa, maybe. "But he never did. Whenever he visited, he was always alone. I monitored his relationship status on Facebook like a hawk. Like a creep." A shade softer, she added, "And I never stopped loving him."

Her hand had gone to her necklace, fondling the chain. Hunt's gaze went there, something clicking inside.

"That's from him, isn't it? You never take it off." His eyes glazed over a bit, but it was with fondness, not sadness. "Not even when we went swimming."

"He gave it to me for my birthday. You have no idea how much time I spent dissecting the inscription. With Love, Nic. Just platonic love, I told myself; he just loved me the same way he loved Lai. But then he'd always find an excuse to touch it, or bring it up, and I wondered if, maybe ..." She sniffled. "If it wasn't that kind of love, after all."

"No, Daisy." Hunt's voice was low, but nothing about it was harsh. It was as soft as the fingers that danced through her hair, as transfixing as the eyes fastened on hers. "I don't think it was that kind of love at all."

She gripped the necklace tight. She'd run away from everything else that reminded her of dancing. But she'd never taken that necklace off. Not since the day Nic fastened it around her throat for the very last time.

"That night," she whispered, "the night of mine and Lai's graduation, I felt something shift. Like, all that time, he was waiting for me to be sure. And I was. Nic and Kenji were going to come on holiday with us, and ..." She closed her eyes again. She knew things would have changed on that trip. "Well, we never got to