All the Broken Pieces (27 page)

“Well, I think you belong here, but that’s just me being selfish.” He put his hand on the side of her face and ran his thumb along the top of her cheek. “If your parents hadn’t come along, you wouldn’t be here, and…I don’t even want to think about that.” Heat ran through her as he gazed into her eyes, saying so much with a simple look. “I was miserable before I met you. So the thought of you…that would mean…” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Liv.”

The words filled her with joy, but it seemed incomprehensible, especially after what she’d just told him. “How can you love me? You don’t even know who I really am.
I
don’t even know who I really am.”

He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. “I love whoever you are.” He kissed her, lightly at first. Then he slipped his hand behind her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her with growing urgency. Like it might be the last time they ever kissed.

When their lips separated, it took her a moment to catch her breath. “I never would’ve made it through all this without you.” She leaned into him, felt the security of her body pressed against his, and inhaled his recently showered, soapy scent. “I love you, too, by the way.”

He took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

Leaning against him, feeling the warmth radiate off him, listening to his breath go in and out, she knew she was exactly where she belonged.

Epilogue

Liv no longer worried about keeping her hair over the scar on her neck or hiding the faded scar on her chest. Over time her arm spasm had completely disappeared. She knew how to ride a bike; she knew how to drive. Sports were still shaky, but she managed. The only thing Spencer refused to take off the list was “Teach Liv to give a compliment.” Not because she never complimented him—she did all the time—but because he thought it was funny to hold it over her head.

Last month, she and Spencer had graduated from high school. Next fall, they’d be attending ASU together—she and Keira were going to be roommates. The drive from Phoenix to Cottonwood wasn’t too bad, so they’d all make frequent visits back home.

Everything in her life was as it was supposed to be. With one exception.

She pulled up to the curb and double-checked she was at the right address.
1725. This is it.

Liv looked at Spencer. “I don’t feel so brave now that we’re finally here.”

“You’ve thought about this for almost two years,” he said. “It’s time.”

“But what if I’m doing more harm than good?”

“There’s no way that knowing you could do harm.” He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “We came all this way. You can do this.”

She took off her sunglasses and smoothed down her hair. “Okay. I can do this.” She blew out a shaky breath. “Wish me luck.”

Spencer leaned across the car and kissed her lips, lingering for a couple of seconds. “Good luck. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Rapid pulse pounding through her head, she opened the door and climbed out. Her legs ached from the hours in the car, and it was nice to stretch them. Rochester didn’t have the dry, desert air she was used to. The landscape was greener, the air full of moisture. Taking a deep breath, she started up the sidewalk. The lawn was neatly trimmed; flowers lined the sidewalk; two huge trees shaded the front yard; and the white, two-story house had dark-blue shutters. It was the quintessential American home.

No memories hit her as she took it all in. She thought she’d recognize something, but it all looked foreign.

Then she saw a brunette girl through the large window. She was the reason she’d come all this way. Liv stared at the more mature version of Elizabeth.

For two years, she had lived her life as Olivia Francesca Stein. She’d left the two girls she used to be behind her. While the voices had disappeared the night she’d learned the truth about who she was, there was still the occasional tug; the dream that made her think of her sister. So once she turned eighteen, she’d made up her mind to come see her. Parts of the story she’d tell the Clarks would be true—the amnesia, and being raised by loving parents. How exactly her parents had come to be her parents and the details about how she was actually two people, she’d keep from them.

After all the months she’d spent thinking about this moment, wondering if it was the right thing to do, here she was, standing in the doorway to her old life. The life Vivienne Clark would’ve lived if she hadn’t been in a head-on collision.

Elizabeth turned toward the window. Her eyes widened. She dropped whatever had been in her hands and leaned closer to the glass. She yelled something over her shoulder—Liv couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded more like excitement than fear.

It was just the push she needed to take the final steps. She walked up to the front door, raised her fist, and knocked.

Acknowledgments

Huge thanks and hugs to all the people who helped this book get to where it is now! For Julia Allen, Brandy Vallance, Robert Spiller, and Susan McConnell. You guys have taught me so much about writing, and more than that, have become dear friends. Thanks to Anne Eliot, a talented author and one of my closest friends—the night we met was fate. You’ve talked me off the ledge so, so many times and provided laughs when I really needed them. To Kika MacFarlane, for being the first teen to fall in love with Spencer, to think my book was worth getting grounded over, and for telling me I couldn’t give up on this story. To Jenna Shattuck and the other yaromance.com girls for being my teen readers and being so cool.

Thanks to my fabulous editor, Stacy Cantor Abrams, and her also-fabulous assistant editor, Alycia Tornetta. This story wouldn’t be where it was today if not for you two. To everyone at Entangled for all the support. All the authors, editors, and Danielle Barclay and Elana Johnson for help with publicity—you have all been so amazing. (Also, thanks to Stacey O’Neale for getting me started with the PR stuff.) Thanks to Lisa Burstein and Rachel Harris who answer my freak-out e-mails, encourage me, and make me laugh.

To my mom, dad, brothers, and sisters, for putting up with all the writing talk. Love you guys! Shout-out to my BIL, Jeremy, for proofing query letters and answering endless grammar questions. To Amanda, Malinda, Ariane, and Christy for reading my early books and telling me they were good, even though the writing needed a lot of work. Thanks to my kids who are just the best and understand when Mommy’s working. And last but not least, huge, super-sloppy-kiss thanks to my husband, Michael, who puts up with writer mood swings and has read novel after novel to provide feedback and tell me when my guys aren’t talking like guys. Thanks for not telling me I was crazy when I came up with the plot for this book, even though you later told me you thought it (along with saying I made it work and it was the best book I’d ever written). Thanks for believing in me. Without your support, I would’ve given up long ago.