I wake up in my hotel room the next morning feeling as though I could walk on air. Even though heavy curtains on the window keep the room dark, I glimpse sunlight peeking through the half-inch of space Mom left between the two panels when she closed them last night. It's time to rise and shine.

Mom is already awake and in the shower. I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, reveling in the dopamine burst from last night that still has me giddy now. Hunter is coming to the hotel to get me before lunchtime, and he didn't say what he has planned for the day. We could spend it a hundred feet from the hotel in Marina Park doing absolutely nothing for all it matters to me, just as long as we're together.

I sit up in bed and reach for my phone. It's only eight o'clock here, so I'm not expecting to see a message from Hunter yet. I did miss a call a couple of hours ago, though, and I don't recognize the phone number or have any guesses as to who would be awake and trying to reach me at that hour.

Whoever it was left a voice mail. It's probably one of those spam car warranty calls given the time the call came in, but I tap to play the message anyway.

Hey Cay, it's Bowie. I guess you blocked my number since texts and calls from my phone won't go through, so I'm calling you from another phone where I'm staying. I'm supposed to make amends with people I've hurt as part of my treatment program, so I'm calling to apologize. I said and did a few things to you under the influence that I shouldn't have, not that being under the influence excuses any of it. I'm sorry for any pain I've caused you, and any danger I might have put you in. I hope you're doing well.

I stare at my phone for a full thirty seconds after the message has finished, but it isn't because hearing Bowie's voice or his apology has affected me. I can't tell if he means it or if it's only a box for him to check off as part of his recovery program, and I realize I don't care either way. Holding anger or any other emotion toward Bowie means keeping a connection with him, and I'm not doing that. I've moved on.

The old me would have been compelled to acknowledge the message and respond with something about being grateful for the apology. Today I delete the voice mail and go on with my day. I hope he gets the help he needs and wish him well, but Bowie is part of my past and that's where he's staying. There's too much about my present to enjoy to give him another thought.

I put my phone down and swing my legs over to the side of the bed when a flash of color on the screen catches my attention. It's a text from Hunter.

Good morning, Cali. It's a beautiful day, and I can't wait to spend all of it with you. How do you feel about sneaking away from civilization for a while and heading out to the lake?

I felt like I could walk on air before, and now I'm filled with so much joy and light that I wonder if I'll simply float away. My grin gets bigger when I walk to the window and open the curtains to be greeted by a cloudless blue sky, brilliant sunshine, and a view of the Sleeping Giant in the distance.

It most definitely is a beautiful day.

* * *

Hunter picks me up from the hotel just after eleven, and it's noon when we turn off of the highway and onto East Loon Road. We're driving past the sign for the amethyst mine when the song on the radio ends and a DJ's voice comes through the car speakers with local news headlines.

"Cayden Indigo performed for a sellout crowd at the Thunder Bay Community Auditorium last night. It was the first performance for Indigo and her band since the tragedy that killed seventeen people at her Los Angeles concert several months ago. She debuted a new song called 'Impossible Star' at last night's show, which attendees say was likely written for Thunder Bay resident Hunter Gray, whom Indigo is rumored to be dating. There's no word yet from her record label on if she plans to record and release the song."

I sneak a glance at Hunter to catch his reaction, but he shifts his gaze to look at me at the same time and we both burst into laughter.

"If they're going to talk about us, then we could probably have fun with this," he muses.

"Oh yeah? What are you thinking?"

"Nothing specific yet, but we could figure out how to plant some seeds and pull a few social media pranks to see what the media makes of it and reports." Dirt crunches under the car tires as he steers us onto Bass Lake Road. "My sense of humor is taking over now that I'm more used to hearing my name and seeing it mentioned, but I also don't live in paparazzi central. It must be freaky to have people right there hounding you."

"Sometimes it is," I admit. "This summer was the worst things have been with the paps for a while. They don't always follow me around, but they probably will the first time you visit me in L.A. if they figure out you're there." I don't want to scare him or give him any reason to second-guess being in a relationship with me, but I also need to be honest with him and let him know what to expect.

"I figured as much," he replies. "That won't stop me from coming to visit you or make me want to hide out. There's nothing that could keep me away."

I want to lean across the console and kiss him when he says this, but he's still driving. I settle for daydreaming about it instead. Once we're parked in the driveway in front of his cottage, Hunter reaches for my hand and leans over to kiss me.

"Ready for a beach picnic?" he asks.

We both exit the car, and Hunter opens the trunk to reveal a cooler, a couple of grocery bags, and a folded-up blanket inside. A bag of marshmallows has escaped one of the grocery bags and I reach inside the trunk to grab it.

"Marshmallows, hmmm?" I dangle the bag in front of him. "You aren't thinking about eating these raw, are you?"

"There may be a few people joining us later tonight for a bonfire," he confesses. "But for the record, they taste better uncooked than burned to a crisp."

"Flambé is gourmet. Expand your horizons a little bit."

"There's no alcohol involved, so it isn't really flambé," he informs me, reaching for the cooler. "It's more like a massacre."

"It's flambé that's suitable for everyone, including people who don't want to consume alcohol. What's not to like?"

He shakes his head in wonder. "I'm going to miss you when you're gone, even if I'm concerned that the marshmallow thing might be a character flaw."

I don't comment on this right away, but the words "when you're gone" stay with me while we transport everything from the trunk down to the lake shore and spread the blanket out on the beach. I've been basking in the glow of a romance-induced high since last night, but the long-distance part of our relationship is something we should discuss.

I wait until we're settled on the blanket and Hunter has poured sparkling grape juice into glasses for us before voicing what's on my mind.

"It might be the wrong time to bring this up, but what happens after this week?"

My question elicits an alarmed look from him. "What do you mean? Please don't tell me my marshmallow massacre comment or character flaw joke changed your mind about us? I was only kidding."

"I know you were, and those wouldn't change my mind in a million years. I'm just realizing we'll be thousands of miles apart again soon. We should talk about how we want to handle it."

"We'll make it work." There isn't a hint of doubt in his words. "Even if we lived in the same city, there would still be long distance when you're off all over the world touring, right?"

"That's very true," I agree. "There's a good chance I'll have shows throughout the next year to make up for the tour I canceled on."

"Then we'll figure out when I can visit you in L.A. or in another city if you're close by for a show, and if there are days you can visit me here."

I take a drink from my glass while reflecting on his words. It's the perfect opening for something I want to ask him, although I can't predict what his reaction will be when he finds out why.

"Speaking of times to visit L.A., what are you doing in late November?"

Hunter pulls a food container out of the cooler while he answers. "If it's anything like last November, I'll start the month complaining about it raining for the zillionth day in a row and end it on a ski hill. Otherwise, not much. How about you?"

He opens the container and offers it to me, revealing a spread of crackers, cheese, apple slices, and grapes inside. I take it from him and busy myself with putting crackers and cheese on a paper plate while I silently will him to say yes to what I'm about to propose.

"I was asked to perform and present at the American Music Awards. I know you said once that red carpets aren't really your thing, but is there any chance you'd like to be my date?"

Hunter buries his face in his hands, which is not the response I was hoping for. "Can you do me a favor?" he asks. "If possible, can you please forget every asinine thing I've said about celebrities, award shows, and red carpets? I've learned my lesson about stereotyping and making assumptions."

"Does that mean you're okay with being my arm candy?" I suppress a giggle when his face and neck turn red. "I know you said something about that sounding lame, so..."

"Cali," he groans. When he lowers his hands from his face, he looks mortified. "You have every right to never let me live that down, and I swear it will haunt me forever. Yes, I would love to be your arm candy. Absolutely nothing is lame if it means I'm with you."

"You're going to regret saying that," I tell him in a sing-song voice. "I'm already planning the cheesiest things for us to do when you're in L.A."

"I'll enjoy every second of whatever we do together. Bring on the cheese."

My breath catches at the conviction in his words and the happiness in his eyes. He reaches for my hand and lifts it up so he can press his lips against my knuckles. I'm not sure if it's him who pulls me in closer or if I end up there on my own, but the next thing I know, he's cradling both sides of my face and lowering his head over mine.

Our kiss is gentle and sweet, but when Hunter leaves a trail of butterfly kisses along my jawline and the side of my neck, the endorphins that rush through me make it tempting to pin him to the ground and make out from now until sundown. I slip my hands under the hem of his shirt and let them roam over his stomach and chest, an action that elicits a soft laugh from him. He presses his mouth against my collarbone and then looks up at me. I stroke his hair and nudge his head upward, so I can capture his mouth with mine again.

"I'm going to have to find a way to see you again before November," I say after we break apart and I'm able to catch my breath. Kissing him is ridiculously addictive.

"So, about that." He winds a strand of my hair around his finger. His face is jubilant. "I was going to write a letter for you to read on the plane and surprise you with this, but I don't think I can wait that long."

"Wait that long for what?"

"To tell you I'll see you before November. I already have a flight booked to L.A. in early October so I can check out some colleges there when I'm off school for Thanksgiving here. UCLA and USC both have marine biology programs I want to apply to."

It takes a few seconds for this to sink in. "You want to move to L.A. for college?" I hope with every fiber of my being that I heard him correctly.

"If I get accepted and it all works out, then I'll be living there at this time next year and can be your arm candy any time you'd like, until you get sick of me."

"I'll never be sick of you," I say, even though I know he's joking. "I'm already counting the seconds until you're there in October and I can show you around your future home."

"There are something like three million, one hundred and fifty-six thousand seconds between the time your flight leaves this week and when my flight there is scheduled to land. Not that I'm also counting."

"Of course you aren't." I ruffle his hair. "How many seconds do we have left together before I go?"

"I'm not counting those. I just want to spend them all with you."

He puts his arm around my shoulder and I lean into him, closing my eyes when he drops a kiss on the top of my head. The last thing I expected today was to find out that we might be only a year away from living in the same city. And the last thing I expected this summer was to meet Hunter and feel the way I do now.

I've traveled from some of my darkest days to the brightest ones imaginable. I don't know if someone can ever fully recover from trauma, but it's something I'm finding ways to move forward from with the love and support of my mom, my friends, my band, and of course, Hunter. Nightmares about The Domino happen less often now, even if they aren't entirely a thing of the past. I don't know if time will erase the images of that night from my memory, but I do know where I am now is a long way from where I was when I first found myself at the shore of this lake.

I have so much to be thankful for, and so much to look forward to. And as I rest my head against Hunter's shoulder and look out at the water, noticing how the sunshine makes it glimmer and shine, all I think about is how I can't wait to find out what's next.

* * *

Keep reading for the epilogue bonus chapters!