The party is outstanding yet apparently typical, according to Warren.

Throughout the afternoon and late into the evening, I've been playing the role of fake-girlfriend and trying not to gawk at the backyard and its stunning view. I've smiled when need be, listened to hundreds of stories about Warren and Hazel when they were kids, and stayed beside him, keeping my hand locked securely with his.

Hazel introduced me to Greyson Williams. His first impression, meaning his looks and what Warren told me, made me a little wary of meeting him. He didn't sound like the type of man Hazel would fall for; he's a tattoo artist that has a shop located near the building Hazel works in. The two of them met in a small café that sits between their two buildings.

Anyways, after getting past the tattoos that cover his right arm and the silver piercing in his left eyebrow, I came to like Greyson. I can also understand why he and Hazel work so well together. He may look tough, but he's actually a softie beneath the imagery. He's handsome, too – black hair, warm grey eyes, tall, sweet, and well-built.

After that introduction was over, I met some old neighbours of Warren's, along with several extended family members. I wasn't much of an interest to them – that went more toward how Warren did this past volleyball season – but I didn't mind. It was compelling to watch Warren socialize. He's so calm and carefree, charming. He knows how to relax in his own skin.

While things have been okay, dinner was a moment of refuge for me. Warren, Julia, Easton, and I all ate dinner down by the docks, taking a break from being social and simply being ourselves. I was able to sit back and relax instead of staying alert.

It was actually nice to hear Easton and Warren tease me about my height, too. While everyone's toes managed to touch the water, my toes were nowhere near even skimming it. I suppose the familiarity of their teasing was nice to experience after faking for so many hours.

After dinner, we play bocce ball on the beach. I've played bocce ball many times prior to today and I'm fairly good at it, but those times were on grass. Playing on the sand is challenging, but that minor setback doesn't subtract from the fun.

Now, it's dark and we're all sitting on the docks again, waiting for the fireworks to begin. Hazel tells me, before she runs back up to the house to refill her drink, not to expect much, considering the fireworks are store-bought. But fireworks are better than no fireworks, in my opinion.

Warren digs his elbow into my side. I look at him.

"So?"

I sigh in defeat. He's wondering how the evening has been, and, to be honest, it's been spectacular. "I've had a lot of fun," I admit.

Warren leans back and tilts his face to the starry sky. He smiles and says, "Yeah, Canada Day has always been my favourite holiday. I love this country. And this party...man, there's just something about tradition that gets to me."

His words are like lightning to water; the charge of devastation and guilt that hit me are electrical. Painful. As calmly and steadily as my body will allow, I get to my feet. Even with the attempted effort, my movements are unhinged; ungraceful and robot-like.

Warren stands up. Julia looks at me. Easton and Greyson are too busy chatting about tattoo designs to care.

"Are you okay?" Warren asks.

I nod and quickly turn away before he can see the first tear that slips down my cheek. I can't let Warren see me cry or else he's going to ask for an explanation. I don't think I'll be able to give him one due to my current emotional state. I also don't want to give him one – he's never seemed like the type of guy to care about someone's past.

There's only one other guy that loves Canada Day this much, and I've barely thought about him today. The thought sickens me. All day, I've been laughing and smiling and having fun when I should have really been mourning and remembering.

The guilt and sadness I feel are unexplainable, overpowering.

I'm halfway down the dock when I hear footsteps begin to thump against the wood. When I hear Julia say, "Warren, let her go."

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want someone to hold me and comfort me, tell me everything is going to be okay. That all this pain I'm feeling will pass and make me stronger.

In all honesty, I wouldn't mind even Warren doing that for me. There's just one problem: I don't want to retell the story.

Before I know it, I'm sprinting up the stairs, hoping no one sees me like this. But, to my dismay, at the very top of the stairs, I collide with Hazel.

She blinks in surprise as her drink sloshes over the edge of the red plastic cup, and then looks at me. I cringe. I can only imagine what I look like right now. The tears are streaming uncontrollably down my face.

"Nova?" she asks, setting her drink down on the edge of a flowerpot filled with red and white petunias. "What's going on?"

"I – " my voice cracks midsentence.

She gives me a sympathetic look and takes my arm. "Come with me."

I don't try to fight her; I follow her every step until we reach the room Warren and I have been sharing. She sits me down on the bed and then sits beside me, the mattress dipping beneath our combined weight. She wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and asks what's wrong.

For some abnormal reason, I spill everything to her. I've told the story before, but this time isn't any easier. I still stumble over my words, confuse the timeline, sob, and choke on his name.

Hazel's reaction is similar to anyone else's. The only difference is that, after I'm finished telling the story, she's crying over Carter Jackson, too.

"I'm sorry," I say as the sound of fireworks going off echoes outside. "I didn't mean to ruin the day for you."

"Nova," she sniffles. "Don't apologize. What happened...my God. I'm so sorry. I never would have thought...you just seem so happy. Sheltered, I will admit that much, but still happy..." she trails off and wipes away her tears. "Does Warren know?"

I shake my head, flopping down onto my back and staring at the ceiling. "I never told him. Warren and I didn't get off on the right foot when we first met, and we haven't been the best roommates. We haven't associated ourselves with each other until now, really. There hasn't been a good time to tell him, either."

Hazel lies down beside me. "East told me everything about you and Warren, so I know it's going to seem impossible to you when I say this, but my brother can be a very understanding person. He'll understand, Nova." She pauses. "Promise me you'll tell him."

I slowly nod my head. "I was planning on it, but not until I moved out of the dorm room and into a separate one."

"You can't do that," Hazel replies softly. "Like it or not, there's a connection between you and Warren. He needs to know or else there's a possibility he'll keep saying things that hurt you. If he knows, that'll stop. I understand that my brother can be an ass, but when there are limits with his words and actions, he follows them and refuses to cross the line. Trust me when I say he's going to beat himself up when he realizes he's hurt you – even if it was unintentionally."

Her words don't make me feel better, but they don't make me feel worse. If he could understand, then maybe it would be worth telling him. "I will tell him," I sniffle. "Before the summer ends – I promise. I just...I need to think about how I'm going to do it."

"Good," she nods, sitting up. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," I sigh. "Do you think the party will mind if I turn in for the night? I don't want to go downstairs like this."

Hazel shakes her head. "People are already starting to go home – it's almost midnight. So I'm sure they won't mind if you turn in."

"Okay," I say, closing my eyes. I begin to contemplate whether or not I should use my remaining vigour to get ready for bed.

"Oh, and Nova?" Hazel asks.

"Yes?" I open one eye.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you shouldn't feel bad for not thinking about Carter. You are still alive. You deserve to keep living your life to the maximum and enjoying every second of it. I'm not saying you should ever forget him – always remember someone that meant that much to you – but don't let his death hold you back from growing. Growing is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you don't belong."

I nod, even though I've heard these words a million times. I know she's trying to help me, let me know that she understands and wants to help me, but the words have lost any meaning to me.

Hazel pauses at the door, hand resting upon the handle. "If you ever need someone to talk to, Nova, I'm here."

"Thanks, Hazel," I reply.

She flashes me a smile. "Us girls always stick together."

And with that, I'm left alone, thinking about how I'm going to fulfil a promise I intend to keep. I'm not very keen on telling Warren about my past, but I'm also not someone that goes back on a promise.

The only hard part I have to decipher is how I'm going to tell him without breaking down.