Chapter 1 A SIREN PIERCED THROUGH HANNAH’S BRAIN, CATAPULTING her straight up in bed. Her cheeks were wet. No, no, I want to go back. The jarring noise came from outside her window then stopped. She pulled on both sides of her scalp and squinted at the shadows sitting around her room. She jumped when the noise cut through the air again, vibrating from the floor. Shoot. She fumbled for the phone. She reeled it up by its cord and grabbed the receiver. “H-hello?” she croaked, clearing her throat at the same time. A shiver slid down her back into her damp sheets. This one felt more real than the others. His phantom scent of spicy vanilla and leather hung in the air. Her head whipped around. Wait, he was just here. In her dream she’d bolted out the front of her house when she saw Deacon’s car from her bedroom window, not giving a flip if she got caught. Standing before her, he’d gently moved her hair off her eyes. His deepening gaze had summoned her heart to crack open . . . for him and only him. He’d tugged her shoulders toward him. “You look incredible. God, let me kiss you.” She’d almost forgotten the sweeping angles of his face, how beautiful he was, dressed in his clothes from that night, the bloodstain from where the bullet entered his shoulder somehow gone. She’d searched those soft chocolate brown eyes of his, the ones that spoke more to her than his words ever had. She’d known what she wanted, what she’d always wanted. “Will you stay this time?” He’d swooped down as if to kiss her, stopping inches from her lips, and whispered, “Forever, Hannah.” Then he was gone. “Hello?” She cut off her breath, straining to hear anything at all as she pressed the receiver tighter to her ear. “Hello . . . ? Peter?” A sharp click, and the phone went dead. It was always the same. Stupid kids, she thought. She changed her clammy tank top and dove back into bed with her eyes still closed.