Two years after exchange student Ailbe O'Rourke arrives, the friendship he and Isla formed takes a turn, but admitting that she has developed stronger feelings for him could not only jeopardize the friendship they share, but his ability to remain with the family.
Rejection is not something 18-year-old Isla is ready to chance, but denying her feelings will leave her wondering about what could have been.
Carrying such a heavy burden already, Isla's dilemma becomes even more complicated by a secret no one would have imagined to be true.
Read an excerpt:
I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I laughed hysterically at myself. My face was covered in paint and blood from my hands. Why this was funny? It was funny because if I couldn't laugh right now then I was afraid I would cry. I may not have spoken words, but I poured my heart out to my canvas and now my heart was aching from not being closed up in a little box. Through my laughter tears flowed and blood dried up on my hands and I stood there belted over in laughter.
“Are you okay?” I heard a voice through the door. It was Ailbe. Of course it would be him, Grayson slept with headphones on most of the time.
“Yes.” I said through the door, but it had come out shaky from the crying. I had stopped laughing but I hadn’t stopped crying.
“Can I come in?”
“I said I was fine.” I tried to snap, but it came out strained.
“Then open the door and let me see for myself.” I unlocked the door and he stepped back.
“You don’t look fine.”
Tears dripped down my face and my clothes were a mess and my hair was all over the place. “Well I am.”
He looked at my bleeding hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“I know. Glass is stuck in my hand.” Now that he was looking at me I didn't feel weak, I was able to stop crying and my voice was strong again.
He stepped forward and reached for my hand and I pulled it away. “Let me look at it.” Hesitantly I gave him my hand. “How did you get glass in your hand?”
“Does it matter? Why did you come over here?” I said drily.
“Well I heard someone laughing at three in the morning, so I was concerned.” I didn't realize it was so late; I had been down in the basement since about eleven when I got home. Grayson and I didn't stay there talking to Andrew until then, but I wanted to drive around a little while and just think in silence.
“Well I’m fine.”
He picked a tiny piece of glass out of my hand. “No you’re not. Have you seen yourself? You have blood and paint all over your face. Your hand probably has hundreds of pieces of glass stuck in it. You are not okay.”
“Please don't act like it matters to you.”
Quevina Scarver was born and raised in Long Island, New York. For a few years a young age she moved back and forth between Florida and New York by choice to be with each of her parents. Around the age of 11 she began to write poetry as a way to express her feelings. For years she would only write poetry until 2009. After the birth of her son, Quevina, took to reading more and more, until one day sentences and ideas started to randomly come to her. The only way to get them out was to write. It wasn't until 2011, after moving back to New York again, that she decided writing was what she wanted to do with her life. In 2014 she graduated with a Bachelor's Degree for Creative Writing. Ever since she has started writing she realized it was a true passion of hers and took it upon herself to attend school to try to learn more of the process.