LOGINEthan’s truck rumbled to life in the driveway just after seven. The evening sky had turned a deep orange, streetlights flickering on one by one. Mia climbed into the passenger seat without a word, the skimpy white sundress riding high on her thighs as she settled in.
The thin fabric clung to her body in the warm cabin air, the low neckline showing the soft upper curves of her breasts and the faint freckles he had traced with his tongue in his mind a hundred times since yesterdaDear Readers,We made it.One hundred and thirty chapters.As I sit here writing this, I honestly don’t know where to begin. What started as an idea in my head became a journey I shared with thousands of people I may never meet, yet somehow feel connected to.First of all, thank you.Thank you for giving Mia and Ethan a chance.Thank you for spending your time, your energy, and your hard-earned money to unlock chapter after chapter. In a world where everyone is busy and life keeps demanding more from us, the fact that you chose to spend a part of your day with my characters means more than I can ever put into words.Thank you to every reader who left a comment.Whether you laughed, cried, screamed at Ethan, wanted to drag Sophia by her red hair, threatened to fight Sarah, defended Mia, or simply shared your thoughts after reading a chapter—I read your comments. They made me smile on difficult days. They encouraged me when I doubted myself. They reminded me that these characters had bec
Two years later Mia stood in the lavender reading nook she had built with her own hands, running her fingers along the spines of books she wouldn’t be taking with her. The past two years after graduation had been a steady climb: full-time work at the university counseling center, graduate courses in the evenings, weekends spent strengthening the roots Aunt Lisa had once reminded her to keep. She had grown into herself—twenty-three now, confident, grounded, no longer the girl who needed chaos or validation to feel alive. But she had never stopped wanting Ethan. The job offer in Los Angeles had come through three weeks ago—a clinical psychology position at a respected practice with ties to the league’s player wellness program. It was perfect. After four years of long-distance flights, late-night calls, and carefully scheduled visits, the distance was finally closing. Her parents and Ethan’s mother were in the living room helping with the last boxes. Jake and Nora had driven in
Mia's senior graduation day arrived under a sky so perfectly blue it almost felt mocking. She stood in line with her classmates outside the main quad, black gown fluttering in the light breeze, and the mortarboard slightly crooked no matter how many times she adjusted it. From the bold, reckless nineteen-year-old who had seduced her brother’s best friend to this moment—twenty-one, grounded, roots firmly planted. The house waited for her a short walk away, now fully hers in every way that mattered. But today, one chair in the family section would be noticeably empty. Ethan wasn’t coming. He had apologized again two days ago over a crackling video call, exhaustion clear in his voice after back-to-back games and travel. “The schedule got locked in last minute. I’m so sorry, baby. I wanted to be there more than anything. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” She had told him she understood. And she did. His career was rising—consistent minutes, scout attention, the kind of development
That week wasn’t about passion burning hot and fast. It was about the quiet romance of ordinary days shared. They cooked together in the kitchen he had planned for her—simple meals, laughter over spilled sauce, his arms around her waist as she stirred pasta while he kissed the side of her neck. Mornings started with coffee on the small back porch, wrapped in a shared blanket, talking about everything and nothing. He helped her study for an upcoming exam, quizzing her from flashcards while she sat cross-legged on the couch, his hand resting on her knee. One afternoon they walked the neighborhood hand-in-hand, the early autumn air crisp. Ethan pointed out small improvements she’d made to the house—the flower beds she’d planted with her mom, the reading lamp in the lavender nook positioned just right for late-night studying. “You’ve turned this into a real home,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Every time I come back, it feels more like ours. I love seeing what you build while I’m g
Three months later. Mia stood barefoot in the kitchen, late afternoon light pouring through the window above the sink as she stirred a pot of soup. The lavender reading nook was now a lived-in sanctuary—shelves overflowing with psych textbooks, novels, and a growing collection of houseplants she’d named after group members (Sophia’s was dramatic and needed constant attention). The living room had a comfortable couch they’d picked out together during one of Ethan’s visits, throw blankets Nora had sent as a housewarming gift, and photos on the walls: the whole group at the lake house, Jake and Nora’s new apartment, Sarah’s gallery opening, and a candid shot of her and Ethan laughing on the porch the day they’d first seen the house. It was home. The past nine months hadn’t been easy, but they had been real. Long distance had taught her resilience in ways she hadn’t expected. She thrived in her junior-year classes, volunteered consistently at the counseling center, and built
Mia closed her laptop with a satisfied click, the final draft of her abnormal psychology paper submitted fifteen minutes before the deadline. She leaned back in the desk chair in the lavender reading nook, stretching her arms overhead as late afternoon light poured through the window. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of neighborhood kids playing outside. It still felt new—hers in a way that made her chest warm with quiet pride.Roots, Aunt Lisa had said during that last lake house weekend, pulling her aside on the dock while the others laughed around the fire. You’ve got them here, Mia. Don’t let anyone’s dream, no matter how bright, pull you out of the soil before you’re ready to move with it.Those words had stayed with her through the first brutal month of long distance. She wasn’t waiting. She was building.Lena had become a daily constant. They met three times a week for “survivor club” st
The kitchen filled with the warm, savory scent of garlic and tomatoes as everyone pitched in for dinner. Jake stood at the stove stirring a big pot of pasta sauce, wooden spoon in one hand, beer in the other. Sarah chopped vegetables at the island, laughing at something Jake had said. Ethan draine
The next morning, Mia padded downstairs barefoot, the hem of her oversized sleep shirt brushing the tops of her thighs. The thin cotton had ridden up during the night; one wrong move and the curve of her bare ass would flash anyone who looked. She didn’t fix it. The house smelled of fresh coffee a
The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Mia stayed by the pool in her tiny black bikini, laughing at Jake’s dumb jokes, sipping lemonade, and pretending not to notice how Ethan’s eyes kept finding her. Every time she stretched languidly on the lounge chair, letting the sun kiss her barely-covered ski
The jealousy hit Mia like a slap of summer lightning sharp, electric, and impossible to ignore.Mia had just turned 18 two weeks ago, and the summer heat in their quiet suburban neighborhood felt thicker than ever. Her older brother, Jake, was home from college for the break, and as usual, his best







