Chapter 3

Brooke's POV

Severe dehydration left my throat burning, with a rusty, bitter taste rising in it.

With my back to the overlook, ignoring Easton's shouts, I limped toward the gift shop beside the visitor center parking lot.

Cool air washed over me as I entered, the room scented with pine candles and cedar polish.

I went straight to the beverage fridge at the back of the store.

My hand was still trembling as I reached for the large bottle of electrolyte water.

Then, out of pathetic muscle memory, my hand automatically grabbed four more drinks.

I got Easton a cold brew coffee—he always got drowsy driving after three in the afternoon.

I picked a sugar-free black tea for Hiram—he hated sweet things.

I grabbed a blue sports drink for Avery.

I even got Kenzie a peach sparkling water, because an hour ago she'd mentioned wanting something fruity.

I stood in the narrow aisle, hugging five cold bottles to my chest.

I looked down at the pile in my arms.

My heels were raw and bleeding, soaking into my shoes.

My boyfriend had abandoned me in an observation deck parking lot.

My own brother had crammed me into a garbage-strewn footwell.

And here I was, spending my own money, fussing over their comfort like an unpaid servant.

A dry, bitter laugh caught in my chest.

I walked to the register, put four bottles back on the shelf, and set down only the electrolyte water.

I paid the cashier three dollars, twisted off the cap, and drank half the bottle in three desperate gulps, like a woman dying of thirst.

The cold liquid landing in my empty stomach finally calmed my pounding heart.

I walked out of the gift shop into the shade of the porch.

Ten-odd meters away, by the wooden viewing platform, the four of them were clustered around an outdoor snack stand.

Easton was handing Kenzie a fresh berry smoothie with a paper straw.

Hiram and Avery were working on large waffle cones loaded with chocolate ice cream.

They hadn't waited for me.

They hadn't looked for me.

They'd bought their own treats and settled into their cozy little world of four.

The bench they sat on had exactly four spots.

There was no room for anyone else. Not anymore.

I sat down on the cold stone steps of the gift shop porch, took out my phone, and opened my email.

The signal was strong near the visitor center; the inbox refreshed instantly.

At the very top sat an email I had starred six months ago.

"Offer of Admission: Imperial College London—Graduate Research Scholarship Program."

A fully funded master's in environmental engineering: full tuition waiver, living stipend, and international research placements.

The dream I had bled for through four years of undergrad.

When the offer came in March, I had cried happy tears.

But then Easton told me that moving to London would "derail our timeline as a couple."

Hiram accused me of being selfish for crossing an ocean, since the family needed me nearby to manage Mom's rental properties and handle the holiday errands.

Avery sneered that I was putting on airs, "playing high-society elite" in front of our old friends back home.

So I hesitated.

I emailed the admissions committee asking to defer my decision to the final deadline.

And the final deadline to accept the offer and confirm my student visa sponsorship was tonight at midnight.

I stared at the screen.

There was only one prominent blue button: "Accept Offer & Confirm Enrollment."

I looked up from my phone.

Across the parking lot, Easton was dabbing a melted drip of ice cream from Kenzie's lip with a napkin, and she wrinkled her nose and made him burst out laughing.

Hiram slung an arm around Avery's shoulders, pointing at a distant peak.

Without me, they were a complete family.

I had never been his partner, or their sister, or their friend.

I was the on-call designated driver of their lives—the one who picked up the tab and cleaned up the trash while they had their fun.

I looked back down at the phone.

My thumb didn't hesitate for half a beat. It slammed the blue button.

A green confirmation popped up on the screen:

"Congratulations, Brooke Owens. Your acceptance has been received. Your enrollment guide and international visa documents have been sent to your email."

A deep, calm breath filled my lungs.

For the first time in six months, my chest didn't feel tight.

I took another long swig of ice water.

A janitor in a khaki uniform rolled a wheeled bin past, emptying the recycling container beside the porch.

I rose from the stone steps.

My heels still burned, but my legs had never felt steadier.

I walked to the bin, dropped in my empty bottle, and looked up at the black Tahoe sitting in the sun.

The countdown had begun.

I had less than three days left on this trip. Then I would fly home, pack, and fly on to London.

And I would not waste one second of those seventy-two hours begging for anyone's love.