The Rebound
Winter Renshaw
Contents
Copyright
Important!
A Gift For You
Description
Undedication
Prologue
Part One {The Past}
1. That Beautiful Boy
2. Don’t Jinx It
3. Heartbreaker
4. Don’t Get Too Caught Up
5. We’re Forever, You and Me
6. The Scholarship and The Girl
7. I’m Scared
8. The Bucket List
9. Blue Eyed Babies
10. Five Hundred Texts
11. The New Kid
12. Homecoming
13. Why Would You Do That?
14. And Now I Have To Kill Him
15. It’s Called Improvising
16. Together Again
17. Keep Telling Yourself That
18. I Can’t Breathe
19. I Can Only Imagine
20. Please Let Me Explain
Part Two {The Present}
21. A Benign Tumor on My Heart
22. Oh, God
23. Paper Covers Rock
24. Too Late
25. First Red Flag
26. Do You Know Who That Is?
27. A Soulless Shell
28. It’s Worse Than I Thought
29. I’m Not That Cruel
30. He Wanted To Marry Me
31. Don’t Think, Just Do
32. Love Is the Root of All Pain
33. Cruel and Heartless
34. That Boy You Used to Date
35. Just This Once
36. Regrets
37. Jealousy
38. I Don’t Know What This Means
39. That’s Not an Invitation
40. There’s Nothing More to Say
41. Last Night’s Dream
42. I’m Doing This
43. The Errand
44. That’s How It Always Goes
45. I Used to Call You Dove
46. A Million Different Thoughts
47. A Mistake
48. We Did What We Had To Do
49. There’s Something Wrong
50. I Think You’ve Done Enough
51. Nothing More Dangerous
52. You Act Like We’re Strangers
53. I Don’t Blame Her
54. Just Some Guy
55. I Said It
56. About the Other Night
57. I Thought You Knew
58. He Doesn’t Get To Say No
59. I’ll Do Anything
60. We Need To Talk
61. Dandelion Wishes and Google Searches
62. All Bets Are Off
63. Epic
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Cold Hearted
Copyright
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Eighteen Months Later
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Coming Soon – Ps I Hate You
Acknowledgments
Books by Winter Renshaw
About the Author
Copyright
COPYRIGHT 2018 WINTER RENSHAW
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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EDITING: The Passionate Proofreader
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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Description
The last time I saw Nevada Kane, I was seventeen and he was loading his things into the back of his truck, about to embark on a fourteen-hour drive to the only college that offered him a full ride to play basketball.
I told him I’d wait for him. He promised to do the same.
But life happened.
I broke my promise long before he ever broke his—and not because I wanted to.
We never saw each other again …
Until ten years later when Nevada unexpectedly returned to our hometown after an abrupt retirement from his professional basketball career. Suddenly he was everywhere, always staring through me with that brooding gaze, never returning my smiles or “hellos.”
Over the years, I’d heard that he’d changed. And that despite his multi-million dollar contracts and rampant success, life hadn’t been so kind to him.
He was a widower.
And a single father.
And rumor had it, he’d spent his last ten years trying to forget me, refusing to so much as breathe my name … hating me.
But just like a rebound, he’s back.
And I have to believe everything happens for
a reason.
Undedication
Undedicated to the guy who probably thinks this book is about him.
“We are made of all those who have built and broken us.”
Atticus, poet
Prologue
Yardley Devereaux
{Ten Years Ago}
He sent my letter back.
I re-read my words, imagining the way they must have made him feel.
Nevada,
I’m writing because you haven’t been taking my calls or answering my texts. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I thought you should hear it straight from me…
I’ve broken my promise.
But you should know that I never wanted to hurt you, none of this was planned, and I still love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in this world.
This is something I had to do. And I think if you’ll let me, I can explain in a way that makes sense and doesn’t completely obliterate the beauty of what we had.
Please don’t hate me, Nevada.
Please let me explain.
Please answer your phone.
I love you. So much.
Your dove,
Yardley
The paper is torn at the top, as if he was about to rip it to shreds but changed his mind, and on the back of my letter, in bold, black marker, is a message of his own.
NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN.
Chapter One
That Beautiful Boy
Yardley Devereaux, age 16
I don't belong here.
I realize being the new kid makes people give you a second look, but I don't think it should give them permission to stare at you like you have a second head growing out of your nose. Or a monstrous zit on your chin. Or a period stain on your pants.
At this point, it’s all the same.
Not to mention, I don't think anyone can prepare you for what it feels like to eat lunch alone.
The smell of burnt tater tots makes my stomach churn, and the milk on my tray expires today. I'm pretty sure the “chicken patty on a bun” they gave me is nothing more than pink slime baked to a rock-hard consistency.
I’m unwilling to risk chipping a tooth, so I refuse to try it.
Checking my watch for the millionth time, I calculate approximately 3 1/2 hours left until I can go home and tell my parents what an amazing first day I had. That’s what they want to hear anyway.
Dad moved us here from California with the promise that we were going to be richer than sin, whatever that means. But if Missouri is such a gold mine, then why doesn't the rest of the world move here? So far, Lambs Grove looks like the kind of place you'd see in some independent film about a mother trying to solve her son's murder with the help of a corrupt police department, starring Jake Gyllenhaal, JK Simmons, and Frances McDormand.
Okay, I'm probably being dramatic, but this place is pretty lame.
I miss the ocean.
I miss the constant sunshine and the steady stream of seventy-five degree days.
I miss the swaying palm trees.
I miss my friends.
Forcing your teenage daughter to move away from the town she’s grown up in her entire life—in the middle of her sophomore year—is cruel. I don't care how rich Dad says we’re going to get, I'd have rather stayed in Del Mar, driven a rusting Honda, worked two jobs, and paid my own way through a technical college if it had meant we didn't have to move.
And speaking of cruel, can we talk about my name for a second? Yardley.
Everyone here has normal, middle-America type of names. Alyssa. Monica. Taylor. Heather. Courtney. If I have to spell my name for someone one more time, I’m going to scream. My mom wanted my name to be special and different because apparently she thinks I'm special and different, but naming your daughter Yardley doesn’t make her special …
… it just makes it so she’ll never find her name on a souvenir license plate.
I’d go by my middle name if it weren’t equally as bad, but choosing between Yardley and Dove is akin to picking your own poison.
Yardley Dove Devereaux.
My parents are cruel.
I rest my case.
I pop a cold tater tot into my mouth and force myself to chew. I'll be damned if I'm that girl sitting in third period with a stomach growling so loud it drowns out the teacher. I don't need to give people more reasons to stare.
Pulling my notebook from my messenger bag, I pretend to focus on homework despite the fact that it's the first day of spring semester and none of my teachers have assigned anything yet, but it’s better than sitting here staring at the block walls of the cafeteria like some awkward loser.
Pressing my pen into the paper, I begin to write:
Monday, January 7, 2008
This day sucks.
The school sucks.
This town sucks.
These people suck.
After a minute, I toss my pen aside and exhale.
“What about me? Do I suck?” A pastel peach lunch tray plops down beside me followed by a raven-haired boy with eyes like honey and a heartbreaker’s smile. My heart flutters in my chest. He's gorgeous. And I have no idea why he's sitting next to me. “Nevada.”
“No. California. I’m from Del Mar,” I say, clearing my throat and sitting up straight. “It’s kind of by San Diego.”
The boy laughs through his perfectly straight nose.
I can't take my eyes off his dimpled smirk. He can’t take his eyes off me.
“My name,” he says slowly. “It's Nevada. Like the state. And you are?”
“New,” I say.
He laughs at me again, eyes rolling. “Obviously. What’s your name?”
My cheeks warm. Apparently, I can’t human today. “Yardley.”
“Yardley from California.” He says my name like he’s trying to memorize it as he studies me. I squirm, wanting to know what he’s thinking and why he’s gazing at me like I’m some kind of magnificent creature and not some circus sideshow new girl freak. “What brings you here?”
He steals one of my tater tots before slipping it between his full lips, grinning while he chews.
Nevada doesn't look like the boys where I’m from. He doesn't sound like them either. He isn't sun-kissed with windswept surfer hair. His features are darker, more mysterious. One look at this tall drink of water and I know he’s wise beyond his years. Mischievous and charismatic but also personable.
He’s … everything.
And he’s everything I never expected to come across in a town like this.
A group of girls at the table behind us gape and gawk, whispering and nudging each other. It occurs to me then that this might be a set-up, that this beautiful boy might be talking to this awkward new girl as a dare.
“Ignore them,” he says when he follows my gaze toward the plastic cheerleader squad sitting a few feet away. “They’re just jealous.”
I lift a brow. “Of what?”
He smirks, shaking his head and laughing at me like I’m supposed to ‘get it.’
“What?” I ask. If this is a joke, I want to be in on it. I refuse to add butt-of-the-joke to the list of reasons why this day can go to hell.
“They’re jealous because they think I’m about to ask you out,” he says, licking his lips. Nevada hasn’t taken his eyes off me since the moment he sat down.
“Should I go inform them that they’re wasting their energy?”
His expression fades. “Why would you say that?”
“Because …” my eyes roll. “You’re not about to ask me out.”
“I’m not?”
I peel my gaze off of him and glance down at my untouched lunch. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why am I doing what? Talking to you? Trying to get the courage to ask you on a date?”
I look up, studying his golden gaze and trying to determine if he’s being completely serious right now.
“You’ve never seen me before in your life and then you
just … plop down next to me and ask me on a date?” I ask, rising. If I have to dump my tray and hide in the bathroom until the bell rings, then so be it. Anything is better than sitting here while this guy tries to make me look like a damn fool in front of a bunch of strangers that I hope might someday treat me like I’m not a three-headed alien.