The Montgomery lake house
Spring Break
The moon was half-hidden behind thick clouds, casting pale light across the lake’s still surface. The distant thrum of music from the party at the lake house echoed through the night, but out by the water, it felt like a different world altogether. Augustus stood on the edge of the property, staring out into the darkness, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He could feel the tension radiating off Willow as she marched after him, her heels sinking into the grass, anger laced into every step.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Augustus,” she seethed, her voice slicing through the quiet night.
Augustus clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay calm. He had been tired all week—tired of the fighting, tired of the games, tired of her. They had been at each other’s throats for days, and now he just wanted to be left alone. The constant back-and-forth between them was like living in a loop of endless torment.
He turned to face her, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m tired of this, Willow,” he said slowly, each word heavy with exhaustion. “I’m so tired of your bullshit.”
She stopped a few feet from him, her eyes wide with shock. She wasn’t used to him standing up to her like this. Willow had always had control—over him, over their friends, over everything. And she was never going to let that go.
“So what, that’s it?” she spat, her voice rising as her frustration grew. “We’re over? You need me, Augustus.”
Her words hit him like a slap, but he didn’t flinch. She was right, in a way. He needed her like he needed a bullet to the head.
“I’m tired,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, laced with an underlying sadness.
Willow stepped closer, her fury momentarily giving way to panic. “You can’t break up with me,” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly. “You know you can’t.”
And she was right again. His whole future had been mapped out for him since they were kids—Willow Montgomery was his future. The daughter of the mayor, the shining jewel of Mills Creek’s upper class. The Clarks and Montgomerys had been intertwined for decades, two wealthy oil families with money so deep and ties so binding that it was impossible to escape. He would marry Willow one day, whether he wanted to or not. It was expected.
But here, under the moonlight, away from the pressures of their families, Augustus didn’t want that future. He wanted something more than this endless cycle of cruelty and control. He wanted to breathe again.
“We’re miserable, Willow,” he said, his voice thick. He ran a hand down his face, trying to focus despite the haze of alcohol clouding his mind. “We’ve been miserable for so long.”
“You can’t leave me.” Her voice cracked, a vulnerability breaking through her hardened exterior. The steel beam that had been Willow Montgomery wavered for a moment, bending under the weight of her own insecurities.
Augustus could see it—she was as broken as the rest of them, barely holding on. But that didn’t mean he could stay. Not anymore.
“I can’t do this,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I can’t keep letting you treat me like this.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes were glistening in the moonlight, and she took another step closer, her hands shaking as she reached for him. “I’ll do better. I’ll change, Augustus. Please.”
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain in her voice. He wanted to believe her—he always wanted to believe her—but deep down, he knew she couldn’t change. She didn’t know how.
“We’re done, Willow,” Augustus whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant music.
A flash of rage crossed her face, her eyes darkening with fury. Before Augustus could react, she was on him, marching forward with a terrifying intensity. Her hand came up and struck his cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the air. Augustus staggered back, holding his face as the sting radiated across his skin.
“I fucking own you, Augustus Clark,” Willow hissed, her voice cold and venomous. She glared at him, her chest heaving with anger. “You don’t break up with me. You’re nothing without me.”
For a moment, they stood frozen, locked in a silent standoff, neither willing to back down. Then, from somewhere behind them, a loud screech broke the tension—a couple swimming in the lake, laughing as they splashed around in the cold water.
Willow’s expression changed in an instant, the rage slipping away as quickly as it had come. A sweet, almost eerie smile spread across her face, and she stepped closer to Augustus again. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the same cheek she had slapped moments ago.
“Let’s go back to the party, okay?” she whispered, her voice suddenly light and carefree, as if nothing had happened.
Augustus stood there, frozen, watching her walk away toward the lake house, her figure illuminated by the distant glow of the party. He could still feel the sting on his face, and somewhere deep inside him, a sense of dread began to creep in.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The park was eerily quiet at night, only the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze offering any hint of life. The streetlights cast long, soft shadows across the path, and the moon hung low in the sky like an unblinking eye. Lilia stood at the edge of the fountain, staring into the dark water. She was cold but too stubborn to notice, or maybe too numb. Her arms were wrapped around herself as if she could hold herself together, even as she felt like she was falling apart inside.
She’d been waiting for him for almost half an hour now, though it felt like much longer. Her phone had been in her hand the entire time, and her grip on it tightened with every passing second. Each time she heard footsteps or a rustle in the bushes, her heart jumped into her throat, thinking it was him. And each time, her heart sank when it wasn’t.
Then finally, she heard it—the unmistakable sound of his footsteps approaching. She glanced up, her breath catching when she saw him walking toward her, his face partially hidden by the shadows. He was wearing a dark jacket, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression unreadable. But there was something different about him—something cold, distant.
