Let The Light Shine Through Read online

  Copyright © 2022 A. Marie

  Published by Booktickets by AM

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to original owner.

  Editing: Rebecca, Fairest Reviews Editing Service

  Proofreading: Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading

  Cover Design: Murphy Rae

  Cover Photography: Regina Wamba

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Playlist

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Also by A. Marie

  Acknowledgments

  Music plays a big role in my writing. You can find the full playlist on Spotify.

  SUPERG!RL—Stefania

  bad guy—Billie Eilish

  So Am I—Ava Max

  Basic—NiGHTS

  Sweet but Psycho—Ava Max

  Princesses Don’t Cry—Aviva

  Sociopath—StayLoose, Bryce Fox

  Boy Toy—Marisa Maino

  Wasted—Jesse McCartney

  So Bad—Brandon Colbein

  How to Be a Heartbreaker—MARINA

  You Don’t Own Me—SAYGRACE, G-Eazy

  Nights With You—MØ

  Cool for the Summer—Demi Lovato

  Headcase—Kailee Morgue, Hayley Kiyoko

  Crave—Ruth B.

  I Didn’t Just Kiss Her—Jen Foster

  Explosion—Zolita

  Church—Aly & AJ

  Monster—Gabbie Hanna

  Terrified—Terror Jr

  Fine—Spencer Sutherland

  Deathbeds—Bring Me The Horizon

  Let Me—ZAYN

  Hydra—Julia Wolf

  Let Go—Lynnea M

  No Right To Love You(Acoustic)—Rhys Lewis

  Sucker(Acoustic)—Ben Woodward

  Someone You Loved—Lewis Capaldi

  Empty—Olivia O’Brien

  DaNcing in a RoOm—EZI

  The Boy Who Cried Love—Anastasia Elliot

  Fuck Feelings—Olivia O’Brien

  1 Shot 2 Shots—Che’Nelle

  My Name Is Human—Highly Suspect

  Horizon—Luna Blake

  Funeral For A Lover—JJ Wilde

  Get Better—Leslie Mosier

  Young Fighter—Nate Fenwick, Evie Clair

  Afterlife—XYLØ

  The Night We Met—Lord Huron

  For the ones we still need.

  This book is a 95k-word mature new adult romance standalone.

  It contains foul language, consensual sexual situations, mild violence,

  and drug and alcohol use intended for audiences 18+.

  Depression along with subjects dealing with cancer and death are present.

  Roz

  Black surrounds me as far as the eye can see, mocking me, and a bead of sweat breaks from my hairline, running down my temple. One at a time, I roll my sleeves up to my elbows, stalling.

  This—public speaking—has never been my strong suit.

  Fucking sucks. Especially for this. For him.

  “Hi,” I say finally, scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces. “I’m, uh, Roswell Andrews-Smith.”

  Nothing. Not an ounce of recognition.

  That’s small-town upstate for you. Nobody gives a shit who or what you are here. They’re too caught up in their own lives to worry about anybody else’s.

  Not like the scene I’m used to.

  Or was, I guess. Was.

  “Or you might know me as Roz.”

  Crickets.

  Cool.

  Because if nobody recognizes me in this place, then chances are nobody else in town will recognize me either. I’ve been gone a long time.

  Not long enough.

  Aside from visiting my parents every now and then, I had no plans on coming back here permanently. Not now and sure as fuck not like this.

  “Big Red and I, uh. I mean Salvy.” Fuck! “Salvy and I were teammates, but more importantly, we were friends.” Best friends—brothers practically—but who cares? He’s gone.

  Dead.

  Forever.

  Just like our friendship.

  What does it matter that he lived doing what he loved? He also died doing what he loved, so…was it worth it? Really? Doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing—at his goddamn funeral, getting ready to relay some great memory to a church full of strangers, like it’ll somehow give meaning to a person whose death was completely meaningless.

  And our friendship? No one here will understand what Salvy truly meant to me. Not even from a sappy story straight from the horse’s mouth.

  If I ever get around to telling one…

  Gripping the edge of the wooden podium, I glance around again. It’s the energy. Mine. Theirs. It’s all…off.

  I’m off. Off the mountains I crave more than air. Off my fucking game in everything else I try to do. Just off, period.

  In the front row, my parents take turns consoling Salvy’s mom, Diane. It was only as a favor to my mom back in sixth grade that I asked Salvy to come up to our cabin with us for a weekend of skiing and snowboarding. I used to think it was because she knew I struggled to make friends on my own, but now that I’m older, I wonder. I wonder if it was just her way of keeping her heart from hardening over during the frigid New York winters. She can be…complicated. Judgmental. Harsh at times. But she’ll never turn down an opportunity to look like the ultimate hostess. Thank God too because that little redheaded fucker, Salvy, became my best friend after that trip up north together and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

  Were. We were inseparable.

  I hang my head, rolling it side to side as I focus on the brilliant red tie I wore in his honor.

  Why him? Why now?

  We were the best snowboarders on that mountain that day and yet…it wasn’t enough. Salvy’s now a statistic, a fucking number, for the very sport that bonded us nearly ten years ago. His mom will never see her son again. I’ll never see my partner in every stunt we’ve ever pulled—on and off the slopes—again. All for what? Because we liked the snow more than the heat? Because our blood ran icier than others’? There’s not a boarder alive that could argue that fact.

  Salvy and I got identical contracts from our sponsor for a reason. We were the team to beat and everyone knew it. We requested, chased, begged for any boarding time w
e could get because it was what we wanted. What we loved.

  But what if we hadn’t? What if we would’ve spent more time off the slopes than we did on? Would Salvy have missed the avalanche that ultimately took him out?

  On a sigh, I lift my head, instantly noticing a new face. One that wasn’t here before. One that’s different from every other face locked on mine. Different because not only is she wearing a white shirt in a sea of black dresses and suits, but she’s also smiling. At me.

  Hands in her pockets, she leans against the back wall, bending a knee to prop one of her Vans under her ass. She’s still dressed in black, too, but in what looks like a men’s suit. It’s open in the front, revealing her two-sizes-too-big white V-neck that practically hangs from her thin frame as she lowers her head conspiratorially. Long dark curls come to a stop well below her chest and that out-of-place smile of hers is still stretching her full pink mouth.

  Our eyes connect and her lips widen, showing a full row of teeth whiter than her shirt.

  Who smiles at a funeral? And why?

  I swallow and I swear her gaze drops to my throat before returning to mine. It’s so bleak in here, I can barely see—usually it’s all twinkling white hills and frisky gray skies—but amongst the mass of dark clothing, and even darker expressions, this girl’s like a beacon of light.

  Nothing feels bright anymore. It’s all just…dull. Silent. Not the kind of silence you seek out, but the kind that finds you, then swallows you whole. My life is now muted.

  Except her smile. There’s nothing quiet about her smile. I can’t take my eyes off it, wishing I could hear it myself. Feel it. Taste it.

  She pulls a hand from her pocket, motioning with her heavily ringed finger for me to speed it up, almost like she’s got somewhere to be.

  I hold back a scoff. In the end, we’re all going to the same place. Somewhere Salvy arrived way before he was supposed to. Definitely before I was ready for him to. He was always like that though. Eager motherfucker.

  The thought tugs at my lips, and I straighten with the reminder fresh in my mind.

  After a cough, I start again, “In all the years I’d known Salvy, he was always the first one down every line we carved. Not because he was the fastest, or craziest, but because that’s just who he was.” Sounds of agreement echo around the packed room. “Yeah, I guess he figured the sooner he got to the bottom, the sooner he could start back from the top all over again. I never told Salvy this, but that was one of my favorite things about him—without fail, his goofy-ass smile would be waiting at the top of whatever new mountain we were trying to conquer.”

  I tell them about our time in Saas-Fee, Switzerland, leading up to the avalanche, all the while my thumb rubs a divot on the aged podium, over and over again, the spirals mimicking the swirling inside my chest from remembering those final days. I haven’t talked about our last trip together yet. I’ve always been on the quieter side, much to the frustration of my sponsors, parents, and practically any girl I’ve ever hooked up with, but ever since Salvy died, I don’t feel like talking at all. To anybody. About anything.

  Maybe I did choose the silence. It’s safer. You can’t hear anything you don’t want to.

  “It wasn’t supposed to end like that,” I choke out. “But if Salvy really did rush to the final finish line, I hope to God when it’s my turn to join him, that his smiling face is there to greet me one last time.”

  The center aisle distorts in front of me as my vision blurs and my ears fill with deafening white noise. I manage to give the girl in the back one last look before stepping off the altar. She watches me the entire time, smile still in place. I can’t decide if I should return the smile or flip her the bird. What’s her deal?

  I find my seat beside Salvy’s mom, my dad clapping me on the back a little too hard to be supportive.

  “Buck up, boy. Time to get back out there already.” Both my parents have been saying it since I touched back down in the States. They think I should shake off my best friend’s death. They think I should get back to work, grinding my ass off.

  For what though? To meet the same end Salvy did?

  I don’t want to do anything that has to do with my old life.

  The priest drones on while I fight the urge to yank my tie off. Fuck. This is the most clothes I’ve worn since…ever. Bet Salvy’s getting a real kick out of watching me squirm in this clown suit. Only for you, Big Red. Only for you.

  Throughout the readings—there’s so fucking many—I catch myself trying to spot the mystery guest out of the corner of my eye, but every time I send a side-eye down our row, I can only make out the first few pews, nowhere near the back.

  After my fifth failed attempt, I give in and tug at my collar roughly. I need air. But not this air. Where everybody else’s lungs beg for oxygen, mine scream for the mountains.

  That’s what nobody seems to understand but pretends to nonetheless. The need, the constant pull from wherever I am to the white powder I’ve always thought was more addictive than any other—snow. Even here, even now, the itch to strap up and ride the fuck out until nothing exists except the sound of my board slicing through my own lines…it’s strong. So fucking strong.

  The urge is still there, but the follow-through is not, and the longer I go without snowboarding, the easier it’ll be to ignore that impulsive feeling entirely.

  With a closing prayer, the funeral concludes with a not-so-subtle invitation to take things elsewhere. My mom insisted—of course—to hold the reception at our house, so after I receive a kiss on the cheek from her, Dad leads her away to the waiting town car. The caterers have been there all day preparing, but my mom will want to go over every little detail before the first guest arrives.

  I’ll take Salvy’s mom over after she has the chance to make the rounds.

  Speaking of…

  Scanning the small courtyard, I snag on one person in particular.

  Bingo.

  I make sure Diane is all right, then pass through the wrought-iron gate, stopping under an impressive maple tree to peer down at her—the girl from the back. She’s sitting on a skateboard with her arms resting haphazardly on bent knees as she stares up at the sky.

  The arches of my feet tic. Even though I haven’t skateboarded since I was a kid, a deck’s a deck and this one calls to me just the same.

  I silence that, too.

  “It’s a bluebird,” I say, and she lifts her pointer finger, telling me, “Actually, it’s a Crow.”

  She raises a second finger. “Two.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “Do you know what that means?”

  I glance up, noticing two Crows soaring high above our heads.

  “A change is coming.”

  More change?

  “Good or bad?” I ask, watching them.

  “Good.”

  A good change…what would that even look like right now?

  My eyes fall to find hers again, and I tell her, “I was talking about the weather. Bluebird…it means it’s a clear day. Perfect weather for boarding.”

  “Snowboarder.” She nods her head. “Right.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Her head stops all movement as she stares at me openly.

  Despite the calendar saying it’s now officially spring, winter’s still in full swing here in New York—thankfully—and the frigid bite to this March day is a welcome relief from the sweatbox the ancient nave inside was. Immune to Jack Frost’s cruelty myself, sweat continues to form on my back, but this girl’s sitting only inches above the still frozen earth, probably freezing her ass off.

  My jacket’s already sliding off my shoulders and down my arms. It’s gentlemanly. At least they make it seem like it is in the movies. It might actually be offensive now that I think about it, but I don’t care. I need air and she needs…

  What does she need? Why is she here?

  I drape the jacket over her shoulders, causing her to finally blink, and just like that, her smile reappears, not as big this time though.
/>
  “Have we met?”

  Her eyes—round, brown, and insanely hypnotizing—drop to the crunchy grass under her shoes, giving me a perfect view of her untamed locks. Soft, shiny curls fall around her shoulders as she leans forward to flick a blade of stiff grass off her Vans. As she’s reaching down, the skin at her cleavage, exposed by her deep V-neck, is nothing short of translucent, and I’m pretty sure I can see each and every beat of her heart.

  Tha-thump. Tha-thump. So calm. So sure.

  I wish I could feel that again.

  “No,” she says nonchalantly.

  Okay. “Did you know Salvy then?” I’m really hoping she says yes because if she doesn’t, her smiles…they might mean something I won’t like.

  There’s never a shortage of opportunists when your name makes headlines.

  It might’ve been naïve thinking my return to my hometown would go completely unnoticed but it’s never been an issue in the past. Usually, I’m able to slip in and slip out with no one the wiser, but now I’m back, living here full-time, and that might be a bit harder to pull off.

  I’m so busy running my eyes over her…everything, I almost miss her say quietly, “I don’t think so.”

  She stands suddenly, slipping her arms through my jacket’s sleeves, which sets off a chorus of jingles. The girl’s got at least one ring on each finger, maybe even each knuckle.

  “Sounds like he was a good time though.”

  I step back, giving her—or me—some space, and nod. “He was.”

  A gust of chilled wind whips past, ruffling her brunette hair, and instead of pushing the unruly strands from her face, she leans into the breeze, letting them tease her pale skin. The move strikes me as familiar. Like something I’d do. Like something I do.

  Something I did.

  “Well, I’m Roz,” I say, sticking my hand out even though I still don’t really understand why she’s here. She doesn’t seem to recognize me and she didn’t know Salvy. Maybe she’s a friend of the family?

  But no, that doesn’t check out either, considering she hasn’t so much as waved in Diane’s direction. So far, she’s only been focused on me. Is she here for me?

  She hums, giving me a once-over while purposely ignoring my outstretched hand.