Page 100 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

Weeks ago.

The sad truth is that I’ve missed him. It takes every bit of self-control not to launch myself at his muscular body.

Instead, I strengthen my resolve. “There’s nothing left to say.”

He rises to his feet before swallowing up the distance that separates us in the blink of an eye. It becomes necessary to lift my chin in order to steadily hold his gaze.

“Then I guess you can sit and listen while I talk.”

When he’s no more than a foot away, he grinds to a halt. Our gazes stay locked in the silent war as a shiver scurries down my spine and electricity hums in the charged air that surrounds us. That’s when I realize we will always generate this kind of irrepressible energy when we’re near one another.

It’s not something that will fade.

No matter how many years pass.

Unable to hold his penetrating stare as that knowledge sinks in, I glance away. Once again, my attention falls to the object beside me. I suck in a sharp breath and blink, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me.

It’s a camera.

And not just any camera, either. It’s the very same Nikon that fell to the bottom of the lake. I rip my gaze away long enough to throw a questioning look at Austin.

“How?”The word comes out sounding more like an unrecognizable croak.

He settles cautiously on the bed before slipping his fingers around mine. “It’s not the one you lost. I wish it were.”

“I don’t understand. How did you know what model it was?”

“Your mom gave me the information.”

I blink in surprise, thrown off by the response. “Really?”

I…can’t believe she did that and never said a word.

“Yeah.”

I glance at our entwined fingers as my brain continues to somersault.

Why does his hand wrapped around mine feel so right?

It would be so much easier to leave him in the past and move on with my life if that wasn’t the case.

When I remain silent, lost in the chaotic whirl of my thoughts, he adds, “I told her how much you missed your father and that the camera was a connection to him that meant a lot. She seemed to understand and got me the information I needed.”

As much as I want to hold back the flood of tears, they prick my eyes.

He waves his other hand toward the camera. “I know it won’t replace the one that belonged to him, but I wanted you to have it.”

My gaze returns to the black object. It looks just like Dad’s. Carefully, I reach out and pick it up. The weight is the same. If I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t know the difference by the shape or texture. I turn it over in my hands. There are a few nicks and scuffs that mine didn’t have, but otherwise it’s identical.

I…can’t believe Austin did this.

And just like that, the walls I’ve been struggling to hold in place come tumbling down. I glance at him and our gazes fasten. Looking away feels impossible. It always has been but now, even more so.

“Thank you. This means…everything to me.”

And it does.

It’s not Dad’s camera. I can’t click the shutter button or stare through the view finder and know that a decade ago, he once did the same.

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