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“You really think so?”

“I know it. No matter how life might look, we all have a puzzle. The pieces are constantly falling to fill the picture of our life. Sometimes, that picture is going to look messy and hopeless, but in the end, when you’re finally looking at the complete picture of your life—oh, baby, it’s going to be such a beautiful picture. You just wait.”

“Thanks Mom.”

“Always, baby.” She pats my knee. “If you’re not feeling like coming to the Wilder’s tonight, that’s okay, too.”

“Did Dad really get cake?”

Mom smiles. “It’s his baby’s sweet sixteen. Of course, he got cake.”

“Then I’m coming.”

18

A POINT OF CHANGE

AUGUST 2007 – 16 YEARS OLD

My back yard looks onto another houses back yard. Not the Wilder’s house. There’s a gate at the back of the Wilder’s property that leads to crown land that is woven with trails. I’ve walked these trails so many times since moving to Rubble Ridge. They’re populated enough that the townsfolk don’t carry the bear spray they carry on other hikes, farther from town. There have been a few mountain lion scares, but nothing came of them. The big kitty, for the most part, remains unseen.

Though the trail I’m currently on isn’t paved, it does branch off from the paved path that ribbons throughout the whole town, making the town easily travelled on bike or foot. In the mornings and evenings, it’s an especially popular route, packed with joggers.

So far, my night has been good. Maybe it wasn’t the dream I’d always had for my sweet sixteen, but it has been nice. The Wilder family feels like family. No, the Wilder’s are family.

I just miss Holt. Everything feels so off without him. Wrong, even.

I hear the river before I see it. The rushing of shallow water over water-polished pebbles. It’s only eight, so the sun is still lighting up the sky, though it’s starting to dip. The mountainous forest glows with the promise of a golden sunset speared with purple and peach.

Kicking off my sandals, I lower to the big smooth rock that many, many use as a nature-ready bench. It’s long enough to easily fit two people. I know, because I’ve sat here countless times tucked close to Holt.

In my pocket, my phone has been achingly silent since I last spoke with Holt. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing and who he is with. I can’t help but wonder if he’s out there in the real world, with girls that aren’t me⁠—

No. I can’t let myself think like that. Can’t let myself linger on insecurities like that. I have enough of them already.

Cold water rushes over my feet, soothing a little of the ache that is my missing Holt. I imagine it washes away a few of those pesky insecurities, too.

“Can I join you?” A deep voice asks. I wrangle in my flinch as I look over my shoulder to see Tate. He’s standing against a tree, like he’s been there a while.

Tate is the light to Holt’s dark. His golden hair isn’t so shaggy anymore, though it is longish. Now, it’s swept up with gel. His sea-green eyes are framed in lashes that are darker than his hair, and his skin is far more tanned than it’d ever been while he’d been in school. Working for the family company has not only darkened his skin, what with the long days under the summer sun, but it’s hardened his form quickly from boy to man.

The fact I notice the change has a shameful heat spilling into my cheeks. I turn away quickly to refocus on the river, but I hear him push from the tree.

“How long have you been there?”

“A while.”

I don’t look at him. I can’t. “Why?”

“It’s your birthday and you look sad.” He sits beside me, and I twist my hands in my lap.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

I nod and scoot away just a little. “This feels⁠—”

I can feel his eyes on my face even though I refuse to look at his. “What does this feel like, Faye?”