Chapter 1

The night of the storm started cold, with spells of rain, and occasionally soft hail. The dark streets of Reading were wet, mirroring the buildings above them, with the heavily tapping raindrops masking other sounds. There were barely any people out.

A gush of wind blew orange-brown leaves on my legs as I ran through the misty streets, my waterproof shoes hitting the ground in constant rhythm.

I loved the rain. Bad weather was perfect for running. The empty pavements helped me clear my head and stop my thoughts from wandering and distracting me with things I wanted to forget. Like what I had to do tomorrow.

“It won’t be that bad, Amber.” My dad’s words went through my mind.

I shoved them away. Just concentrate on the run, the breathing. In on four, and out slowly. Match the pace of the feet. I relaxed and looked at the trees, waving in the wind. A stray dog crossed the street in front of me. So much happens around you when you run in a storm. Just looking at it was almost enough to make you forget your troubles. Almost.

“Yes. It will work out,” I’d answered my dad. “Apart from the fact that I’m a year older than everyone in my class.” Eighteen, almost.

“Nobody needs to know that. You’ll see: it will be a good year. You’ll meet new people. It’s a much bigger school. They can’t all be like the Robinson sisters.”

I fisted now, as I did when we’d spoken, remembering who my friends used to be. Almost by instinct, I had pulled my sweater sleeve to hide one of my scars. My dad saw it.

“Amber, you can talk to me about what happened.” He gave me a concerned look, the skin wrinkling around his eyes. For a moment, he looked twenty years older.

“Of course, Dad,” I lied. “And I know it will all go well this time,” I lied bigger.

He had tried to say something else to reassure me, and as usual, the conversation didn’t last long.

My running shoes were getting wet now, as the rain became heavier. A chilling wind cooled my face. My thoughts went now to why I was redoing a school year.

Great. Just great. I had come out here to forget. To get some inner silence. Who was I kidding?

Again, I recalled my dad’s words that it wouldn’t be that bad. No. It wouldn’t. I would make sure of that. Because I knew all too well what that bad was like. The scars reminded me every day.

Up ahead, at the end of the street, I suddenly saw a gate that took me a moment to recognize.

It was the entrance to Parkview School, where I was going tomorrow for the first time.

It seemed everything about this run was taking me back to what I was trying desperately to forget. I hadn’t even noticed the turn I’d taken to get here.

I looked at the looming buildings. Bad weather loved them. They appeared gloomier than I remembered, with dark clouds above and the heavy rain hiding the details that were already barely visible in the dim light of the streetlamps. A big blob of cement and bricks.

Lightning fired up the sky behind them for a moment, making it all look like something from a horror movie.

I retraced my steps and headed in the opposite direction, and nearly bumped into a tall woman with curly hair. I apologized, still running.

The rain was replaced by soft hail. The wet pavement was becoming slippery. I needed more solid ground and headed toward the river, ignoring the thunder and lightning that grew stronger.

“Hey, miss!”

A car drove beside me slowly, hail drumming and bouncing off its black coating, just as the river came into view.

“Do you need a ride? It’s crazy out here.”

I turned to see the guy who shouted to me above the noise of the storm.

A huge bolt of lightning blasted across the sky.

Just as our eyes met.

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped and everything around me stood still, silent. And in that instant of sudden light, I caught every detail about him. His bright-blue eyes. The coal-black hair, dropping on his forehead. The toned skin that looked young, about my age—too young to call me Miss. The strength in his arm that held the wheel. And…a hint of something genuine in his gaze—a true concern for me.

A roar of thunder boomed around us, bringing me back to the wet street.

“I’m fine. I’m probably safer out here,” I yelled back. I never took a ride from a stranger. Though something deep inside told me that I would be safe with him. Safer than with anyone else in the world.

What? Where did these thoughts come from?

“Are you sure?”

I simply nodded. “I’m heading home, but thanks.”

He seemed reluctant. He held my gaze.

One glance told me that the city behind us had darkened. People were unplugging electric items and turning off lights—despite the early evening hour—in fear of the lightning storm.

He observed me, and I thought I saw wonder in his eyes. I was barely able to look away.

But he broke the gaze, abruptly pulled up his window, and kept going.

To my surprise, I felt a pang of regret for not taking his offer. My eyes followed his black car as it disappeared down the street, leaving an imprint on my memory.

A blinding ray crossed the sky. The almost-daylight clarity it gave the riverbank, and the boom of thunder that followed, told me that staying out here was a very bad idea. I shouldn’t be risking it tonight, and the peace that running usually gave me didn’t work anyhow. I needed to get home. And fast.

I turned and started back, forcing my feet to go at speed despite the drenched pavement. There were no people or moving cars in sight.

When I neared my street, the wind was in full force, waving the trees, and the tapping hail got stronger. Here, too, I was the only one out.

I quickened my pace. This wasn’t getting dangerous, was it? Should I have turned back earlier?

My breath got rapid as I pushed myself, ignoring the pain in my legs from the effort. Almost there. Almost home.

Home… Warm shower. Dry socks. Maybe some writing? Definitely some writing—my books were how I dealt with things, and also my biggest secret.

I reached the crossroads and the house had come into view, when it happened.

A large tree right in front of me creaked loudly and then split in two, falling toward me.

My eyes widened in horror as I tried to run out of its way. But the pavement was too slippery.

All of a sudden, I was on the ground, not realizing I had fallen until the shooting pain in my left knee forced my eyes to shut involuntarily, and almost took over my senses completely. But the tree was still coming at me, and I had to save myself.

I forced my eyes open and rolled sideways, only to realize that I was going in the same direction as the cracked trunk. I didn’t even have time to scream.

And then, everything happened as if in slow motion. The tree came crashing, and I couldn’t move out of its way. But then, it suddenly flipped mid-air and landed away from me.

Behind it, someone stood. His two hands were open in front of him and their movement matched the trail of the trunk as it rolled. As if he guided its course!

The whole thing took just a few seconds, though in my mind it felt like it lasted forever. I looked up.

“You!” It was the guy from the car. I recognized his face.

“Are you all right?” He rushed to my side.

“How…?” The words left me. My torturing pain mixed with confusion.

What had just happened? What had I just seen?

“Can you stand?”

How could he…

That tree was about to crush me. I was supposed to be dead right now. Or dying. Or waking up in a hospital. But, out of nowhere, he was there, with his hands in front of him…moving the tree away?

“Did you…?” I groaned, my voice hoarse from agony as I pointed at the tree, still shocked from what I saw.

He ignored my words. “You fell hard. Are you okay?” His voice had warmth. His eyes observed me with worry.

“Your hands…” I tried again. I had to know. But only a mere blurred mumble came out of me when I spoke.

Giving up talking, I tried to push myself to stand, but I could barely move my leg from the pain.

“You’re injured!”

I looked up, nodding.

Our eyes met, and again there was warmth between us.

He seemed to hesitate. He looked around him, as if to see whether someone could witness what he was about to do. Then, he breathed out tensely, cursed, and kneeled beside me. “For what it’s worth,” he muttered under his breath.

He held his hands just over my left knee.

Instant warmth spread from them, and relief washed all over me. For a moment, I closed my eyes to savor the soothing sensation. Ease, heat, and release engulfed me, intoxicating, almost addictive, calling to me, making me feel safe and loved. I never wanted it to stop. But it did.

I opened my eyes to see a look of surprise on his face as he observed his own hands in disbelief.

I stretched my leg. Barely any pain. “How did you just do that?”

“Acupressure.”

He answered too fast, that look of amazement still in his eyes. He seemed just as shocked as I was that he could heal me.

But only for a moment. He caught himself and went serious again—as though he were well practiced at masking what he felt from the world.

Now that my pain was gone, I got a better look at him. He was slim, but the kind that you knew had strength, like long-distance runners, and although he kneeled, I could tell he was taller than my dad. My glance fell on the large hands that had healed me using acupressure.

Acupressure.

Hold on. “But you didn’t even touch me.” And how did he move that tree out of the way without touching that either?

Again, he didn’t respond to what I said. “We shouldn’t stay out here. Can you stand?”

I glanced at him, a question in my eyes, but he moved his gaze down to my knee. No, he wasn’t going to tell me. Would I, if I were in his place? I knew I wouldn’t. I’d completely deny it. Whatever he was would be his deepest secret.

And he was right: we had to get out of here. I tried to stand now. It worked. It hurt, but only a bit.

“Do you live close? I’ll walk you home, or drive you.”

I smiled. No way I would say no to him twice. And if there was even a chance that he would tell me how he’d…

“Just over there.” I turned and pointed. Then, I stopped. Across the road from my house, I could barely make out a tall figure, staring at us.

“Try a few steps.”

His voice brought me back.

When I glanced toward the house again, the figure was gone.

“What?”

“N…nothing,” I replied. “I thought I saw someone on the other side of the road.”

Alarm clouded his eyes. But again, the emotion was fleeting and he faked a smile all too quickly—masking his concern at having been seen.

“It must have been a shadow or something,” he said. “A person would have rushed to help us. Let’s get you home.”

His voice had that warmth in it again. But I could also sense…heat. He looked at me like a man looks at a woman he wants to be around longer than he can.

We started slowly. My clothes were soaked and muddy from the fall but I didn’t care. I couldn’t help observing him as he walked beside me, but a little distant. As if trying to avoid touching me. I found myself wishing that he did. I liked his style. He was taller than I thought. And more muscular—the natural kind; power radiated from him as he walked. I waited for the next streetlamp to get a better glance at his face.

He was gorgeous! Bright sapphires met my gaze, and his hair, black as the night, fell wet on his forehead. From that moment on, his eyes never left me.

“I just realized I don’t know your name. I’m Amber. Amber Byrd.”

“Nice to meet you, Amber.” He smiled.

I liked his smile. It was not perfect, like you see in commercials. Instead, it had edge, and I couldn’t help noticing those full lips.

I waited, but he just kept walking beside me.

“And you are…?” I had to ask.

He kept smiling but shook his head.

“Fine then.” I sighed.

He just laughed. Silence took over.

It would have been easier if we talked, because my thoughts now started to race. Who was this handsome stranger who saved me? I played back in my mind everything that had just happened.

How? How did he do it? The way he’d moved the tree, and what I felt when he’d healed me. It should be impossible. And yet…

We almost reached the house. I slowed even more. Every second with him could be the last, and I didn’t want him to go.

Would we meet again? Did he live in my city or was he just driving through? Would I ever find out what really happened and how I was alive right now?

He walked me to the doorway. The old three-story house blocked the wind, and the small stone lion statue by the stairs looked almost alive with the rain bouncing off its head.

It was the darkest house around. Electricity and lights weren’t just down to a minimum. It was empty. At least my parents weren’t home to worry about me after what just happened—but that was normally a given.

I unlocked the door and opened it. “Do you want to come in? A cup of hot coffee?” To think that I’d refused to enter his car, and now I wanted to be alone with him in an empty house.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

Really? “Tea then?”

I caught the longing and wonder in his eyes. He wanted to come in; I could tell.

His eyes moved to my lips, and my heart quickened. But then he shut them and took a step back. It felt forced.

“I’m good. Thank you,” he said.

“Me too.” I meant it in so many ways. I would not be conscious right now if it wasn’t for him. “Is there any way at all that I can thank you?”

Any way that he could stay with me longer?

He shook his head. “Just be safe. Goodbye, Amber.” He turned to leave.

But I stopped him. “At least tell me your name.”

He hesitated.

I swallowed. Waiting.

Again, he smiled, but sadly this time. “It’s better this way.” He looked at me, as if trying to imprint a memory of me on his mind. Then, he walked away.

I watched his sturdy steps, treading the drenched path in front of the house, as if the water couldn’t disturb him. When he was almost out of sight, he turned.

Despite the storm and the darkness, I knew that he looked straight at me, maybe even meeting my eyes from that distance, though I could barely make out his face. But I doubted anything was impossible at this point.

I wanted to wave and then close the door, but I couldn’t move. I stood motionless, images of the brief moments we’d shared rushing through my mind.

He turned and walked out of my sight.

I closed the door.

Inside, the familiar silence of the house greeted me. I hung my coat and got out of my muddy shoes. The actions seemed mechanical. I didn’t feel that I was really here—in my mind, I was still out in the rain, under the tree, with a man whose name I didn’t know. And these memories now felt more real to me than what was around me.

I went through the motions of showering and getting ready for bed. An early night, as usual.

But I couldn’t fall asleep. I lay awake, listening to the alternating beats of heavy rain and hail.

I got up twice to pace the room. I even wrote a few pages for my next romance novel. Nothing helped.

Eventually, I forced myself to just lay there and shut my eyes.

My parents were still out when the cloudy images of stormy dreams took over, and I could almost feel the raindrops as though they were in the room with me, despite my two warm duvets and the pillows piled on top of each other. In my dreams, bright-blue eyes observed me, and a sensation of warmth rushed into my body, as he healed my wound.

Along with the strangest realization I had in the shower—right before going to sleep—when I looked down at my skin and saw that all my scars had vanished.