Page 1 of Until Forever Falls

Prologue

Brooks

Then

Every step I take away from her feels as though a knife is twisting deeper into my chest, each pounding heartbeat a cruel reminder of what I’m about to lose.

My old Nikes press into the gravel with each step, but I force my eyes to stay fixed ahead, desperately willing myself not to turn around and pull Dylan into my arms.

Time stretches painfully as I approach my truck, each second dragging longer than the last. The parking lot feels endless, mocking me, luring me closer to the moment I’ll have to shatter everything I’ve ever wanted.

Dylan was the dream I never questioned, the forever I never doubted. But everything changed in the span of a few weeks. Now, I have to end it—end us—to protect her.

I can’t pull her into the darkness closing in around me. She’s barely holding on as it is, and this might be the thing that makes her let go. She deserves a life free from pain, without the grief that will now inevitably follow me wherever I go.

She calls my name, and my stomach immediately churns, bile rising as I brace myself for what I’m about to do. My whole world is collapsing, the future I pictured with her falling apart before my eyes. But this isn’t about me—it’s about Dylan. It has to be. She deserves more than I can give her now; she deserves someone who can truly stand by her side, through both the highs and the lows. And it’s the lows that scare me most. I know what’s coming, and I’ll take the hit alone before she has to.

Every part of me aches to be selfish.

I want to hold on to her with everything I have and damn the consequences, but I can’t.

I love her too much for that.

My hands tremble against the truck door, a desperate struggle to remain steady. The urge to turn back, to steal one last kiss, presses hard—almost impossible to resist. But another kiss would only weave another lie, another thread of false hope. Sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go, even when it tears you apart from the inside out.

Even if I have to break her heart to keep it whole.

1

Dylan

Now

No. No. No.

This isn’t happening.

Ten years should’ve been long enough to bury the memories, to piece together what he shattered and finally move on. An entire decade to forget the boy who tore my heart apart. Familiar as ever, the need to vanish creeps in as I’m crouched behind a ridiculous umbrella, praying that Brooks Holland doesn’t see me.

Every effort went into running from my past—from him. Yet, one glance, and I’m back to being that broken, vulnerable girl again—a harsh reminder that the wound he left behind never truly closed. Time didn’t fix it. I’m just better at pretending. And now he’s here—not the boy I knew, but a man lounging outside the Beauport Hotel in Ogunquit—miles from the place I swore I’d left behind.Rockport, Oregon.

My grip tightens around my camera, knuckles white as I try to steady the tremor in my hands. I wish I could turn back, return to capturing the rocky cliffs and endless ocean, letting the world exist through my viewfinder—but now, the lens feels useless. The damn I built is giving way, and the pain I’ve kept hidden is breaking through the cracks.

The ocean breeze pulls at my hair, its salty touch a reminder of the last place that felt like home. My heart betrays me, pounding in protest as that old ache brutally resurfaces. I force a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm, to hold back the memories pressing in.

Hiding behind the shade of the umbrella, I steal a quick glance at Brooks—lounging by the water, completely oblivious to my gaze.

He is even more handsome than I remember, his chestnut-brown hair catching the light, hints of gold flickering through it like sparks. Thankfully, his eyes are closed, but I can picture the piercing emerald green hidden beneath his lids. Even his dimples, thoseinfuriatingly charmingdimples, mock me from afar.

Then there’s Aaron, my boyfriend, sprawled out on the cabana just a few feet further, waiting for me. The urge to bolt, to escape back to our room and leave him behind at the pool, is more tempting than I care to admit. I could easily pack my things, come up with some urgent excuse, and disappear before nightfall. But guilt sinks its teeth into me, refusing to let go. Aaron planned this trip to whisk us away from the chaos of the city. I can’t abandon him now—especially not because my past refuses to let me go.

With a shaky exhale, I force my legs to move, stepping away from the safety of my hiding spot and toward the pool. Aaron is unsurprisingly absorbed in a thriller novel. His black hair, flecked with subtle hints of gray, falls across his forehead, and I can’t help but smile as I watch him absentmindedly brush it back.

His warm hazel eyes light up as he smiles, the corners crinkling with an easy charm. “I was wondering when you’d come back,” he says, marking his place and setting the book aside.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, easing into the chair beside him.

“Did you get a chance to capture any of the views?”

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