He said the shrimp there was unlike anything else—so fresh, so sweet, that someone like me, who loved seafood, couldn’t
possibly pass it up.
And he said the sunlight at Toben was warm enough to thaw even the coldest heart.
I had never longed to visit a place as much as I did now.
Maybe it was just the way he had described it–too beautiful, too perfect, too much like something out of a dream.
Sitting in my car, I scrolled through my contacts and stopped at a name I hadn’t called in seven years: Lucas Owen.
I hesitated, then dialed.
The phone barely rang before he picked up.
“Grace?”
My throat tightened.
“Lucas, you’ve always gone on and on about how beautiful Toben is. I’m starting to think you were lying. So, I’ve decided to see it for myself.”
“You’re coming to Toben?” His voice sharpened. “Grace, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said lightly. “I just want to check if you were full of crap.”
1/3
Chapter 8
+15 Bonus
I abandoned my car at the airport, leaving Josh’s number with the parking attendant. Then, I boarded a plane.
Seven years had passed since I last saw Lucas.
But when I saw him again, he was just as bright, just as handsome.
His skin was paler now, the angles of his face sharper.
Maybe it was because he had spent so many years at Toben Lake–his eyes were as clear as the lake’s surface, clean and
untouched.
He ran toward me with open arms, but just as he was about to pull me in, he hesitated.
He let his hands drop, smiled, and said, “Grace, welcome to Toben Lake.”
On the way to his guesthouse, he glanced at me, frowning.
“What the hell did Josh do to you? You’ve become way too thin.”
I stretched out my hand, letting the wind slip through my fingers.
Instead of answering his question, I said, “Lucas, I’m dying.”
The car jerked to a stop.
“Grace, that’s not funny.”
I wasn’t planning on hiding it from him. I didn’t want to give him any hope.
“I’m not joking. Liver cancer. Late stage. I have about a month left to live.”
His face went cold. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel before he slammed his fist against it.
“That bastard Josh–this is how he took care of you? I’m taking you to the hospital.”
I reached out and stopped him. “Lucas, don’t bother. I just spent hours on a plane. I’m exhausted. Just take me to the
guesthouse.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then gave in.
The guesthouse was his. He gave me the best room, the one with the most stunning view.
As I unpacked, Lucas walked in.
He had a cigarette between his fingers, and his eyes were red–rimmed–like he had been crying.
He never used to smoke.
I remembered how proud he had been once, telling me, “For the sake of my future wife’s health, I’ll never touch cigarettes.”
I zipped up my suitcase and turned to him.
