Dear Haven, I don’t know about you, but I am so ready for Spring Break! One week of no school, no teachers, and no homework? Yes, please! Do you have any plans for the week off? My family and I are heading to the beach to go camping for a few nights, and Reid is coming with us. Then, our town has its annual spring festival. We plant trees and there is usually tons and tons of food and pies and freshly squeezed lemonade. Also, I know it’s a ways away, and I know my parents will be talking to your parents about it soon, but this summer I was hoping we could meet in person? I mean, if you want to. I thought it would be fun. We’ve mentioned meeting in person before, so yeah. Anyway… read you later! Your friend, Wes P.S. Reid says hi P.P.S. Damn it, I am so sorry! I TOLD him to leave my shit alone! ********** Dear Haven, Hey! It’s been a minute. Usually you’ve written back by now, but maybe you’re busy? I know you were going to be starting more ballet classes and private lessons

11.5 YEARS LATER HAVEN POV “Let’s run through that last section one last time, Haven,” Peter called to me from the middle of the darkened house. “I really want you to imagine you’re floating on those sissones. Remember, you’re a fairy.” I nodded to him as I turned away from the seats of the theater and grabbed my towel from the floor of the stage to dab at the sweat on my face. Rehearsal had been grueling. Peter was picking apart every step and transition of my interpretation of the Lilac Fairy. Not that I minded. He was a genius when it came down to the nitty-gritty details of nailing Nureyev's choreography. Even in the short months I had been with this new company, I had already seen an improvement in my technique and my performance quality. But damn, were my feet feeling it. I would need an extra long Epsom salt soak over the weekend. Thankfully, it was my last rehearsal for the week, aside from the optional barre class on Saturday morning. Well, optional for everyone except m

WESLEY POV “Haven?” I took a small, hesitant step towards her. I wanted to touch her, to put my hands on her and check if she was real. But I stopped in my tracks when she crossed her arms and tugged her leather jacket tighter around her body. As if it was a shield. Why would she react like that? Like she needed to protect herself. How could she think I would hurt her? Had someone else hurt her? My Lycan did not like that idea. I pushed those thoughts away as she shook her head again, her loose curls swaying with the motion. Her face scrunched up in confusion, and she looked up at me and said, “I’m sorry, I — this is—” “It’s me. Wesley,” I told her, taking another small step forward. “We used to—” “Yeah. No. I mean — I know who you are, I just — how?” she stammered. “How is this possible? How are you here?” she asked, gesturing wildly with one hand. “I could ask you the same question,” I replied with a laugh. She tilted her head to the side, and the movement was so wolflike I h

HAVEN POV Once I had composed myself a bit, I pushed off from the wall, and walked to the table, where the box Wes brought with him sat. I glared at the offending box. Why he’d left it behind was beyond me. I didn’t want it. I wanted nothing to do with him. I lunged for it and snatched it off the table, then stomped to the door, ready to take it out to the dumpster behind our building. But the force of my movements sent the box flying to the floor as it slipped from my grip, sending the contents tumbling out and across the plank flooring. I froze in my tracks, staring down at pages and pages of letters, my nine-year-old handwriting in the glittery purple gel pen ink sparkling back up at me. My throat tightened, and my heart thumped against my ribs. I knelt down to the floor and gathered the pages, taking care to not bend or crinkle any of them. With slow, precise movements, I stacked them together, putting them in order from the very first letter I’d sent him to the last, while al

HAVEN POV I stood in front of the mirror in the costume shop, staring at my reflection. Bolt after bolt after bolt of brightly colored fabrics and rack after rack of costumes surrounded me, but I fixated my eyes on the costume currently on my body. The bodice of the purple costume had a sweetheart neckline, with off the shoulder flutter sleeves adorned with flower petals. The petals also decorated the bodice, with rhinestones and flowers that started at the top of the neckline and met in the middle all the way down to the skirt. The skirt itself was a brilliant design — the fabric made to look like individual petals of a flower, starting in a deep purple near the bodice, and fading out to white at the edge, with more rhinestones scattered throughout. And glitter. There was glitter everywhere. “Ouch!” I cried out, breaking my concentration on myself. “You were doing it again,” Maya scolded. “Doing what again?” “Your port de bras. I told you to hold still, otherwise you’ll get ja