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  “Yeah.” There was an edge to her voice that concerned me.

  “Aren’t you happy?” She’d hated being under John’s thumb when he ran it, and I knew she secretly hoped she’d be editor once he graduated.

  “I guess.”

  “London?” I prodded.

  “I just don’t know if I should accept,” she said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I…I just think they should ask someone more stable, I guess.”

  I furrowed my brows, confused. “Have you gone crazy since I left, baby?” I teased.

  “No.” She giggled. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked in a gentle tone.

  “I don’t feel like I’m in a place to make a commitment like that.”

  Now I understood. We’d had a similar conversation before. “London, you’re not sick. I know because you remind me of it all the time. If you want me to treat you like you’re healthy, you need to treat yourself the same way.” I didn’t like lecturing her. Shit, I wasn’t her damn father. But she needed to hear this.

  Silence filled the line, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. Perhaps I should have left the advice to Dexter. London needed me to be her shoulder, not her parent.

  “You’re right,” she finally said.

  “That’s usually the case,” I said with a smile, grateful for her concession.

  A light laugh tickled my ear. “It’s nice to know that your ego is still intact.”

  “I’m the same guy I’ve always been, baby.”

  “I hope so, because that guy is pretty amazing.”

  I smiled, her words warming my heart and erasing all the uneasiness I’d felt earlier.

  CHAPTER 5

  London

  My hands were clammy. I wiped them on the thigh of my jeans, painting sweat streaks across the denim. Not like it helped anyway. A second later my palms were coated in sweat again. When I noticed my leg bouncing violently under the table, I steadied it and forced a deep breath. I bunched my hands in my lap and lifted my head. With dozens of eyes on me, I wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. At that moment I was seriously regretting my decision to accept the position as editor of the Gold Rush Gazette.

  Last night as I stayed up late brainstorming ideas for the paper, I was happy that I’d taken Cooper’s advice. Ideas swirled through my mind, the possibilities endless. Elation filled me as I scribbled onto my notebook. For hours I imagined concepts for articles. By the time I finished, the notebook was almost completely used up, my telltale chicken scratch filling the pages in black ink. As I closed it and sat back against the chair, a sense of satisfaction sank into my gut. While I worked I hadn’t thought about my illness or how much I missed Cooper. Not only that, but I felt like the old me. The London before I got sick. The girl who lived for the rush of a story, who fed off the written word like it was a drug she couldn’t live without. I had lost some of that passion, some of that fire. In the past year I’d lost some of what made me “me.” It’s not like I hadn’t gained things too. Cancer had made me stronger, and Cooper had made me softer, more trusting. There was good that had come out of what I’d gone through. But still I missed the girl I was before. Missed how I could shut the world out and work with singular focus. Missed how I could lose myself in the words.

  But mostly I missed looking forward.

  Most of my life I’d dreamt of my future. It never seemed like a distant possibility. To me it was a given. I was certain that tomorrow would come; that one day I’d go to school and become a reporter. I’d never allowed myself to believe it wouldn’t happen. Weird, I know, especially since my mom was murdered at a young age. You would think that I would understand better than anyone how quickly life can be over. How one moment you can be breathing, laughing and talking, and the next moment you’re just gone. How you can be participating in a mundane activity like gardening and then you’re lying on the ground, your clothes ripped, your eyes open wide, and vacant. But maybe that’s why I didn’t allow myself to entertain the idea of death. It was too horrifying to think about. Subconsciously I thought that if I kept believing tomorrow was promised that maybe it would be. But when I got sick I could no longer buy into that idealistic thinking. I had to face the fact that my future could be ripped away the same way my mother’s was.

  And the minute I stopped believing in the future, the harder it was to start again. However, last night my hope had reignited. A spark that had been snuffed out was lit once again. It’s easy to be brave when you’re alone though. Truth was that I did my best work alone. Now that I was sitting in front of a group of people, my courage was waning.

  Did you know that the number one fear in our world is public speaking? It’s true. Three out of every four people are afraid to speak publically. And I was one of those three. Big time.

  I’d spoken to Cooper briefly this afternoon. He was on his way to practice so we didn’t have much time to talk, but it was enough time for him to give me a pep talk. And he’d made me believe I could do this. He’d told me I was strong and capable, that the newspaper was lucky to have me as an editor. I’d even teased him, saying that if baseball didn’t work out he should become a motivational speaker. If only he was sitting beside me right now.

  “London?” Mr. Smith cocked his head and raised a brow.

  Oh, god, how long had I been sitting here mute in front of everyone?

  Judging by the amused looks of the other students, I’d say it had been too damn long.

  Clearing my throat, I sat up taller. “Um…well…hi.” A few snickers sounded around the room. One of them came from Annabelle Garcia, which didn’t surprise me at all. She’d been angry with me ever since I interviewed Cooper in her place. It’s not like it was my fault she ended up getting the flu. But she acted like I’d stolen the article in an effort to get close to Cooper. Her anger towards me had only grown worse when Cooper and I started seeing each other. I swear she really believed that if she had done the article she would be the one seeing him instead. I wanted to be upset that she thought I was so irreplaceable. But I understood. No one could figure out how I’d landed Cooper. It baffled me at times too. Breathing in deeply, I stared down at my notebook and conjured up all the gumption I could. “Most of you know me, but for those who don’t, my name is London Miller.” I glanced at the few freshman all sitting together to my right. “And I’ll be your editor this year. I’ve been in the newspaper club since my freshman year, and I love it.” A broad smile leapt to my face. When I saw a few of the students furrowing their brows, I tempered it a bit. No need to seem too eager.

  I knew I loved the paper more than most, even though writing for the Gold Rush Gazette was an extracurricular activity so everyone here had chosen to be. Well, except for Michael Reese. His mom had forced him to join, thinking it would keep him out of trouble. I was pretty sure he was signed up for every extracurricular activity at the school. At least that’s what it looked like when I flipped through the yearbook. I wondered if he was as useless in those clubs as he was in this one. Glancing over at him, I caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes as he stared off in a drug-induced stupor.

  “Anyway, I have a lot of ideas for our first issue. If you have any suggestions, I’m more than happy to hear them now. Then I’ll throw out a few of mine and we can all vote on the direction to take.” My gaze scoured the room. “Sound good?”

  A collective bob of heads told me they were in agreement, and my heart soared. Maybe this wouldn’t be a complete disaster. I couldn’t wait to tell Cooper that he was right; that I could do this. The first suggestion came from Annabelle, who offered to do a piece on the quarterback of the football team. I wrote her idea down, knowing I’d give her the story. Not only was it something the student body loved to talk about, but I figured maybe it would soften Annabelle toward me a little. And perhaps if she set her sights on a new guy, she’d forget about Cooper. A few other suggestions were thrown out, but they were articles w
e’d done before, so I shot them down almost immediately.

  “What about a ‘where are they now’ type of article about high school sweethearts?” Annabelle tossed out in a flippant way, as if she’d just thought of it.

  “What do you mean?” There was an odd twinkle in her eyes that made my stomach twist. I sat forward, placing my elbows on the table.

  Annabelle twirled a pen between her index finger and thumb. I watched it as it spun in tight circles. “Like we could follow a few couples who were together in high school and see what they’re up to now, see if they’re still together or dating other people or what.”

  “Ooh, I like that,” one of the new freshman girls said. I couldn’t remember her name.

  “Yeah,” Catherine piped up. She was in my grade and had joined the paper her sophomore year. I considered her one of the stronger writers in the group. “You know, I heard that Austin Hawkins and Gianna Benson broke up over the summer.”

  “Really?” Annabelle’s eyebrows shot up.

  I was actually surprised by that as well. Austin and Gianna were a year ahead of Cooper in school. They’d been voted “most likely to get married” for a yearbook poll that took place their senior year. And everything pointed to the fact that they would. In fact, they’d gone to the same college, and I’d even heard that they were engaged last year. I had assumed the relationship would last, but I figured it would be unprofessional for me to relay that. As editor of the paper, I shouldn’t even participate in rumors. Besides, this wasn’t a gossip magazine, it was a newspaper. And this wasn’t news. I opened my mouth to say that when Catherine cut me off.

  “Yep. Apparently Austin met some other girl in college. Not that I’m surprised. It’s not like anyone marries their high school sweetheart anymore.”

  Annoyed, my stomach rolled. I had no idea why this conversation was bothering me so much. It’s not like I cared what happened with Austin and Gianna. I hardly knew them.

  “All right, let’s get back to real pitches,” I said a little more harshly than I should.

  Annabelle’s eyes widened. “That is a real pitch. It’s a human interest piece. I think people will like it.” She smiled. “Let’s face it, no one reads the paper. It’s boring. I think it’s time we spiced it up a little.”

  “It’s nothing but gossip,” I replied. “I’m fine with spicing things up, but not this way. I won’t have us spreading rumors.”

  “Is that the real reason you don’t want to do the piece?” Annabelle smirked, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

  Internally I had been telling myself I felt bad for Gianna; that I abhorred gossip and rumors. But under Annabelle’s smug stare, I knew it went deeper than that. I wouldn’t be admitting it to anyone though. My face heated up, and I fought to keep my voice steady as I spoke. “Yes, that’s exactly why. Now, if no one else has any more pitches, I’ll share some of my ideas.” No one said a word, and it didn’t surprise me. I was reminded of all the times John was firm with us. In truth, I’d kind of thought he was a dick when he did that, but now I understood. There was only so much a person could take. As I lifted my notebook, the papers quivered between my shaking fingers.

  It’s not like anyone marries their high school sweetheart anymore. Catherine’s words floated through my mind, rattling me further. I wasn’t sure if Cooper and I would one day get married, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d fantasized about it. Deep down, I believed that Cooper and I would last. We’d already been through so much, and it hadn’t broken us up. And Cooper had promised me time and again that distance wouldn’t tear us apart. But if Gianna and Austin couldn’t survive college even though they were there together, then what hope did Cooper and I have if we weren’t? Already it felt like we were drifting apart. He had this whole other life I wasn’t involved in. And I was sure girls were all over him at college the same way they were here.

  Out of sight, out of mind. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

  How long before Cooper forgot about me and moved on to someone new?

  CHAPTER 6

  Cooper

  A large hand clamped down on my shoulder as I leaned over to pick up my baseball bag after practice. Instinctually, I flinched. But when I glanced up and saw Parker smiling down at me, I relaxed.

  “Hey, man, you were awesome today,” Parker said. Black tufts of hair peeked out from under his hat, and when he smiled it pushed his thick cheeks up into his dark brown eyes. Parker was a big guy. Not fat, just big. Burly, muscular. I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the opposite side of him in a fight. But he seemed harmless. And he was a damn good catcher.

  “Thanks.” Tucking my thumb under the strap of my bag, I hoisted it up. After slinging it over my shoulder, I stood. The bag swung next to my leg, bumping me in the thigh. Sweat soaked the back of my shirt, and soreness set into my tired right arm. I’d been pushing myself pretty hard lately, and my muscles were feeling it. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to loosen up the tightness a little bit.

  “You were throwing gas today, man. Seriously.” Parker grinned. “You’re sure gonna give the other pitchers a run for their money.”

  “You call that gas?” Ace’s voice boomed from over my shoulder.

  I swung around to face Ace. He was standing in front of me flanked by the other two pitchers. “Did you hear that guys? Parker here thinks Mini-Coop throws harder than the rest of us.”

  Mini-Coop? That was a new one.

  “C’mon, Ace. You have to admit, the guy’s pretty damn good.”

  Ace shrugged, one side of his lip curving upward. “I’m sure in high school his skills were impressive. But this is college. You’re playing men now, Mini-Coop. Men with facial hair, not peach fuzz.” He chuckled, and the other guys joined in.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Facial hair, but no common sense, huh?” Picking a fight with Ace may not have been the smart thing to do, but this guy was grating on my last nerve.

  “What did you say?” Ace stepped closer to me, puffing out his chest. But I wasn’t scared, and I certainly wasn’t going to cower the way he thought I would. Sure he was a big guy. Almost as big as Parker. And it was clear that he was older than me. He’d filled out in places I hadn’t quite yet. However, I was stronger than he gave me credit for. And if I needed to prove it, I would. There’s no way I was going to let this guy push me around all season.

  “Ace.” Parker jumped in between us. “He does have a point, you know? You two are on the same team. If he plays well, it helps us all.”

  “Yeah. If he plays well.” Ace glared at me from behind Parker. “And if he doesn’t then we’re screwed. He’s a baby. He’s gonna crack under the pressure. I can tell. None of us can figure out what Coach was thinking, putting Mini-Coop in the third starter slot.”

  “Stop calling me Mini-Coop,” I spoke through gritted teeth, attempting to get around Parker who was acting as a human shield between us.

  Ace chuckled as if I was his personal form of entertainment. “Let him go, Park. Let me show him what happens when he plays with the big boys.”

  “Really, Ace? That’s what you wanna do?” Parker shot him a knowing glance. “You think that’s smart after what happened last season? How much forgiveness do you think Coach is going to extend you?”

  Ace exhaled, the fight in him withering. Suddenly he didn’t look so sure of himself. Even the other pitchers appeared uncomfortable now. I wondered what the hell Parker was referring to, and made a mental note to ask about it later.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Probably not smart to test it, huh?” Parker said, wearing a smug expression.

  “You’re lucky you had your watch dog here with you.” Ace sneered at me. “Next time you might not be so lucky.” He turned to his friends. “Let’s go, boys.” As they started to walk off, Ace called over his shoulder, “See ya later, Mini-Coop.”

  I lunged forward, but Parker threw out an arm, catching me. “Easy.”

  “God, that guy is an asshole.” I blew out an angry br
eath.

  “He’s just a hothead. Ignore him.”

  “How can I when he keeps coming at me?”

  “You took the slot he wanted. He’s just trying to rattle you, get under your skin.” Parker smiled. “And from where I stand, it looks like it’s working.”

  I bristled. He was right. Ace was setting up a trap for me, and I was walking right into it like a mouse blindly going after a hunk of cheese. If I wasn’t careful I’d be crushed, trapped. My legs buckling, I lowered onto a nearby bench. “I just thought things would be different here.”

  “It’ll get better once the season starts. Trust me.”

  I snorted. “Like suddenly Ace and I will become best friends or something? I highly doubt that.”

  “Yeah, me too. But Ace is a good pitcher, and baseball is important to him. He’ll let up when the season starts. He’ll do what’s best for the team.”

  His words shook me a little. What if Ace was right? What if I didn’t have what it took to be successful in college ball? What if I broke under the pressure? I mean, I was already falling apart. Already I was allowing some trash talk to get under my skin. I was acting like a wimpy kid, someone easily manipulated, easily pushed around. Taking a deep breath, I stood, vowing to get it together.

  “Thanks, Parker.” I slapped him on the back.

  “Sure. See ya next week.”

  “Okay.” Practices were something I always looked forward to in the past, but now I found myself regretting them. I really hoped it got better when the team practices started. Maybe with everyone around Ace would be more civil. I clung to Parker’s words, praying that as the season started Ace would calm down. But even as I thought it, it seemed unlikely. The guy acted like a complete dick. I couldn’t imagine him being any different. With my thumb tucked under the strap of my bag, I trekked across the field and started walking in the direction of my dorm.