Spending Thanksgiving alone hadn't been all that bad. Christmas was torture. The Shaws sent me a box of presents, and I opened them by myself on the morning of the twenty-fifth. Somehow, they'd managed to package the scent of their home and mail it to California. As soon as I had unfolded the cardboard, the familiar smell rolled out in waves. It was the first time I'd missed home since I'd left. I'd longed for Portia, but I'd talked to Ernie and Hensley enough that their absence didn't seem any different than it had when I lived with my mom. There were times I'd go long stretches without seeing them, although not often.I hadn't been able to unwrap a single package for nearly an hour. And when I finally regained my composure, every piece of paper I tore, tape I removed, and ribbon I untied, took me further into longing. Even though I wasn't sure I was ready to go back just yet, that box convinced me that there was nothing I wanted more. With the last gift opened, I stared at the bott

There was a huge tree just behind campus that typically went unoccupied and far enough away from the bustle of the crowd that I could escape. I didn't have a clue what I was getting myself into, and I didn't want to be exposed to onlookers or passersby. I trotted across campus, through the quad, and past the bookstore. When people attempted to stop me to talk, I waved and said hello, but I kept the course to my destination. As I'd hoped, there was no one around. I unzipped my backpack and took out the blanket I'd packed, careful not to accidentally toss the journal on the ground. There wasn't anything ornate or special about the cover itself, although I was certain it had been expensive. The leather was soft like suede yet worn like a jacket. While I assumed it was new, it appeared aged. The words on the pages screamed at me to read them, but even if Jude hadn't written what was inside, I'd still covet the book for its beauty.Once I settled onto the blanket, I grabbed the noteboo

The knock after eleven at night startled me. I figured Carson or Ethan left their keys at home, locking themselves out. I didn't bother glancing through the peephole. Instead, I kept my nose rooted in the book I was reading, disengaged the deadbolt, and then grabbed the knob. I didn't take notice of who stood on the other side when I flung it open, and I returned to my place on the couch.The weight of the metal latching itself in place resounded through the apartment. After sitting down, I realized neither of them had come inside. Irritated by the disruption-and ready to fire off a smart-ass comment about one of them needing an escort or an invitation-I ripped back the door.And every thought fled my mind. If I'd been asleep, then I would have believed I was dreaming. As it stood, the vision before me was as real as the book I'd thrown on the sofa. My Adam's apple bobbed in painful exaggeration as I swallowed back my surprise. There. Within arm's reach. Stood Portia Sh

Sunday afternoon came faster than either of us wanted. Three days hadn't been nearly enough time to reconnect, and even though I'd made myself sick on lemon pie, saying goodbye proved to be painful. I'd give anything to freeze time in that hotel room with the dessert tin between us, forks in hand, simply enjoying each other's company and catching up as we shoved pie in our mouths.Standing in the airport, I held Portia's face and softly kissed her. "Don't cry, babe. It's only a couple of weeks," I whispered with my forehead pressed against hers.Her eyes were bloodshot, and no amount of consoling would change her anguish. It was inevitable-her displeasure and our circumstances. She had exams to finish, and I had to fulfill a two-week notice at the bookstore. We'd be back together in no time; however, having spent the majority of a year apart, those weeks seemed unjust. A harsh penalty neither of us wanted to serve. "I don't want to go." Portia's whimpered words tore at my heart.