Cobalt Bay, California

June 6, 1994

It was ironic.

The sun was high against the blue skies, streaming warm sunlight down the rolling meadows, making the bright green leaves glisten with the last of the morning dew. Even the tombstones and stone angels gleamed through the dirt and grit they'd acquired over the years.

It was ironic for sixteen-year-old Oliver Yates to feel as cold as the graves he was staring down at on such a fucking glorious spring day.

A fresh wave of anger surged through him and he clenched his fists.

A gentle hand on his back jolted him out of the pervading darkness and he glanced at his best friends. Stellan had clasped his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic but meaningful look.

Max was there as well. Next to him stood Sebastian who'd surprised Oliver by flying out out of his exile in England to join him here today.

Oliver gave them a grim nod, fighting to restrain the violence inside him that threatened to lash out.

The restlessness that had always stirred in him escalated into molten rage the moment his life had changed drastically. It now felt like he was a volcano about to erupt any second, oblivious to whatever he would obliterate in his path.

Life was so fucking unfair.

Why should he care that others lost everything too when it happened to him?

Sure, he still had his friends. Other than his Uncle Bertrand, they were all that he had left.

They were important to him but they did not replace the family he had lost forever.

Fisting the grief that had uncoiled in his belly back into the dark pit inside of him, Oliver forced himself to glare down at the three open graves where the caskets were being lowered to, wondering how life was going to go on for him now without his parents and younger brother.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

One second they were driving home from Harry's taekwondo tournament and the next they were crushed under a ten-wheeler.

Oliver would've been pinned under all that rubble too if he'd been sober and remembered that he had to make his way back home from Tanya's bed. He'd stumbled into it during Friday's big, drunken party, promptly passing out on it after a feisty fuck with the blonde cheerleader.

He'd been too hung over and too comfortable to leave the bed that he completely forgot about Harry's tournament until his mother sent the still-groggy Max and Stellan out to track him down.

They dropped him off at home where he'd scrambled to shower and change, hoping to catch up with his family at dinner at least. He'd been hopping into his convertible when a police car pulled up into the driveway with the news.

Oliver remembered staggering to his knees but not much else afterwards.

His Uncle Bertrand had come, being his father's younger brother and executor of the estate, but he got trapped in lawyer meetings for hours and days on end. His best friends, all three of them, came over and stayed with him through the hellish week. They kept him company whether he was drinking himself into oblivion or picking a fight with anyone who would allow him to spend the volatile emotions that were clawing out of him.

The annoying thing about good friends was that they only let you go so far. Oliver wanted to go over the edge completely where the pain might finally stop. They kicked his ass right back to reality where the pain felt fresh and raw every day.

So here he was, on this fine spring day, watching his family being buried under a mound of earth.

His fists tightened at his sides, his fingernails digging into his palms until he lost feeling in his forearms. It was all he could do to keep himself from jumping in after them.

An hour later, the large gathering at Cedar Hill cemetery started to break up as people went their own way.

His friends stuck around, somberly talking with people and keeping an eye on him.

"Will you be staying with your uncle?" Jack Cartwright, Stellan's father, asked as he led Oliver slightly out of earshot.

The last thing Oliver wanted to do was talk but Jack was like a second father to him. Growing up with Stellan, he couldn't avoid it considering how much the man doted on his children and their friends by extension.

"Yes," he answered quietly, looking away to avoid seeing the pity on the man's face. Of all four friends, Oliver always had the shrug-it-off, devil-may-care attitude. Most things in life could be dealt with fists.

But right now, his fists were useless against the hell staring him in the face and he didn't know how to deal with it. He didn't even know if he wanted to.

"I don't think I can stay in the house," he added reluctantly, unable to help himself.

"With school nearly done, you could stay with the boys at Whitewood," Jack said slowly. "I'm sure Sebastian would stay if you all planned on it. You could stay the whole summer there."

Oliver glanced at Jack.

His expression was gentle but nothing like the pitiful grimace Oliver was expecting. He instantly felt relieved.

The Cartwrights owned an enormous beachside cottage in Santa Catalina Island called Whitewood House where Oliver had spent a few of his summers. With the endless beach, the vast private grounds, the tennis and volleyball courts and a dock with a small yacht stationed to it, he and his friends always had a grand time there but Oliver quickly felt guilty for the slightest thought of fun when his family's bodies hadn't even cooled under the earth yet.

"Thanks but I think I'll pass, Jack," Oliver said with a sigh, running a hand through his short hair. "I want to be on my own for a little bit."

Jack gave him a brief nod. "If that's what you want, Oliver. Let me know if you need anything."

Oliver remained in his spot for a long time, watching the cemetery empty except for the last handful of people. Then he turned around and started walking up the hill along the winding path, mindless of his direction.

He found himself at the top of the hill in the back of the cemetery, under the shade of a large weeping willow. It was completely isolated and distant enough from the tragedy of his life.

It was only in the silence that he could truly contemplate the value of his own life in comparison to the three significant ones that were robbed in a senseless stroke of destiny. He would trade his worthless existence for any one of them in a heartbeat.

He fell to his knees on the ground, just at the edge of the hill where it broke off sharply into a steep ravine. Only a low metal railing offered safety from the strip of highway a hundred feet below.

It wouldn't take much for him to stop this ugly, gnawing pain—for him to achieve what he deserved in spades and his family didn't.

He was owed a lifetime of guilt and suffering but he didn't know that he could survive it. He didn't want to.

His hands gripped the metal railing and pushed at it, the metal creaking noisily at the pressure, drowning the ragged breaths that rippled through him.

"I'm sorry about your family."

Oliver whipped his head around and found himself staring almost eye-level at a petite girl in a black lace frock. A matching ribbon pulled back her thick, penny-colored hair even though the wavy ends still floated around her shoulders.

Her oval face featured a creamy complexion, flushed cheeks, and the biggest pair of startling, silver-gray eyes Oliver had ever seen on a girl.

Growing up with Stellan, it was hard to miss her considering she was always tottering after them, wanting in on their games even when she was too young to be anything but a drag. But Stellan, being the kind of guy that he was, always patiently taught his sister all the rules to the games and always partnered up with her so no one else would have to be burdened with the task of it. Stellan's indulgence, on top of Jack's own, resulted to the now-ten-year-old little tyrant's confidence that she could do anything she wanted.

Apparently, following him out here on her own was one of them.

Oliver sighed. "Vivienne, what are you doing here?"

If his tone sounded curt, she didn't notice because she simply shrugged. "I thought I'd go after you in case you did anything stupid. Miserable people are known for it."

His brows arched in surprise although this really shouldn't be anything new.

Vivienne Cartwright was a very sharp, precocious child with a tendency to speak her mind with very little regard to people's reactions. She also spoke like an adult with a particularly dry wit. She might be young but she was incredibly sharp for her age and listened too attentively in every adult conversation she could quietly intrude on.

"If you're here to test whether misery really does love company, I'll save you the trouble and tell you that no, it does not," he answered flatly, rising to his feet. "Unfortunately, knowing the fact that you probably can't make your way back on your own without getting into some kind of trouble, I'll walk you back to your Dad. He'll worry if he thinks you're missing."

Her large, silver-gray eyes narrowed at him. "Don't treat me like a child."

A reluctant grin pulled at one corner of his mouth. "I hate to break it to you, princess, but you are a child."

She thrust her chin up indignantly. "I read somewhere that age doesn't matter. If you treat me like an adult, I'll be an adult."

Oliver cast his gaze up to the sky as if to seek some divine intervention and take away from her books no ten-year-old in her right mind should read. "I don't think I'm ready for your adult version yet, Viv. I'd like to grow into the ripe age of at least thirty before I die of a heart attack from one of your antics."

She gave him a speculative glance quite perturbing coming from a ten-year-old. "Hmm... You're probably not that miserable if you still have your sense of humor."

Oliver's smile instantly faded as he remembered reality. "I doubt you're here to entertain me, princess. I'm not really interested in being amused."

"Of course not," she answered with a deep sigh, her thin shoulders rising and falling dramatically. "All you want to do is be sad and alone. I can't blame you. I would feel like that too if my family died. If our situations were switched, you'd probably want to cheer me up too."

What an unusual kid, was Oliver's only thought as he realized the truth of her words while watching her sit down on a bench nearby, still within the edges of the tree's shade.

He finally noticed the small, green velvet-covered chest she'd been holding. She set it next to her on the bench and reached into the tiny black purse slung over her shoulder.

She looked up and caught him observing her as she pulled out a sketching pencil and a few pieces of paper from her purse.

"This is my Ugly Box," she explained as she lifted the chest back to her lap. It was about the size of a small jewelry box and it had a tiny lock in front of it. "I write down all of the ugly things that happen in my life and I keep them here so I wouldn't have to carry them inside me. I put a lot in here already—when Mom and Dad didn't want to be together anymore, when my baby sister went missing, when Mom died and lots of other things. But I'm sure there's enough room in here for your pain and loss."

Oliver stared at her, aghast and incredulous, as she handed him a pencil and a piece of paper.

She smiled at him encouragingly. "You'll feel much better without it in your heart. I'll keep it here and you'll never have to worry about it ever again."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, to point out the lack of logic, but as he thought about it and realized that it somehow made sense in a way, he said nothing but stared at the blank sheet instead.

Vivienne might be a ten-year-old minx but she had her share of pain and loss. If she could brave them by writing them down on a piece of paper, he could be man enough to do the same.

Gripping the pen, he sat down next to her and pressed the paper down on his thigh as he wrote:

My family is gone forever.

He felt so much but there was nothing more that he could write.

He handed her the pencil and folded the note.

She held up the chest to him and he saw the narrow slot on the lid of the box where he slipped the note through.

"There you go," she murmured as she set the chest back down on her lap, her unusually beautiful silver-gray eyes sparkling at him. "You'll never have to be sad again, Oliver. You can write them all down and I will lock them away for you to forget."

A strange, incredible emotion wrapped itself around Oliver's heart and he swallowed hard against the sting of tears he hadn't felt since the day the police delivered the news.

This girl—impish, innocent and kind—wanted to soothe away his pain and suffering even if she had to make room for it among her own burdens.

God knew what devil possessed him but he suddenly found himself leaning down to press a kiss on her forehead.

She froze and Oliver pulled back slightly to look at her, looking for evidence of her sorcery because right at that second, Vivienne was not just a smartass little girl or his best friend's younger sister—she was an angel—a beautiful, spirited and pure-hearted angel who came to earth to save him. He wouldn't be surprised if she suddenly sprouted white wings.

Before he could think better of it, he pressed another kiss on her cheek—a light, reverent peck—but she gasped in shock and jerked her head that his lips grazed just the corner of her own.

Oliver opened his eyes and found the stark confusion in her luminous gaze.

Even though it was completely accidental, he probably just signed his ticket straight to hell for it, but he didn't mind because she was worth any kind of punishment.

He owed her his soul—the one she saved with a small, innocent act of kindness.

"Thank you. Someday, you'll realize what you've done for me," he told her softly with a small smile, rising to his feet and holding out a hand to her. "For now, I think we should walk you back before your Dad sends out a search party."

Trust Vivienne Cartwright to steel herself through any staggering event such as what he suspected was her first kiss, no matter how accidental, because at his words, she straightened her shoulders, her gaze clearing and her chin lifting up indignantly.

"Dad and I are going back to New York tomorrow," she said as she took his hand and started their way back down the hill. "Stellan is staying, of course, even after school. He'll spend the summer here."

"How about you?" he asked, wondering if summer in Cobalt Bay was going to be more bearable with sunny, strong-willed Vivienne around.

She sighed. "I want to stay but Dad gets sad in New York when he's all by himself. I can't leave him to suffer."

Oliver fought a smile.

She may be a little devil at times but Vivienne had a big, generous heart.

"Maybe I'll come visit you and your Dad in the summer," he told her. "I'll be staying at Uncle Bertrand's house in Richmond. It's not so far from New York."

"Will you really?" she squealed excitedly, her grin adorable. "I promise to behave. I'll show you the city. We can go to Central Park! They have carriages there with white horses and a lake and—"

He laughed and squeezed her hand. "I've been to Central Park, Viv. But we can go visit again. We'll even bring a picnic."

"A picnic! I love picnics!" She was lit up like a Christmas tree and Oliver felt a tug in his heart. Vivienne was made to smile happily like this all the time.

"I'll wear this blue-green dress I got at Bergdorf," she gushed, practically skipping along the way. "It's so pretty, I can't wait to show it off. It's got little pearls sewn on the collar and cherry-red ribbons on the waist to look like a belt and—oh! You'd love it!"

"I'm sure I will," he told her with an indulgent smile, surprised he actually meant it. Vivienne always went on and on about dresses even around her brother and his friends, and they usually politely tuned out but Oliver realized now that if it put a big smile like this on her face, it must be worth hearing.

They chatted on until they got back the small group waiting for them.

"Vivienne, where did you go traipsing off to this time?" Jack asked in as stern a voice as he could manage when he saw them. "I was about to call 911."

Oliver grinned and nodded at his friends who seemed startled to see him—or maybe just to see him smiling. "She followed me to make sure I didn't do anything stupid as miserable people are known to do. Right, Viv?"

She blushed and bit her lip guiltily as the others glared at her in disbelief. "Well, you were all worried and said that he was self-destructing. I listened to you talk about nothing else but Oliver's so much better than that."

Oliver resisted the urge to reach out and muss her hair up.

The little minx was defending him—to her father and his friends, no less.

Vivienne Cartwright was truly precious.

"After a lecture from a ten-year-old, I think I'm good," he assured them with an amused nod. "Now, let's get out of here. I'm starving."

And just like that, Oliver Yates found his way to salvation.

***

Hello everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the first part of Oliver and Vivienne's story. 

Their story is going to be a little different in how it starts and how it eventually comes together years later. 

I'm always cautious about including the topic of self-harm in my stories but it was important for me to show just the kind of hell Oliver was going through and what small, random acts of kindness could do for people suffering like him.

As a theme with the last CBB book, there will be some poetry injected here and there throughout this story, this time featuring works of modern poets.

Thank you for being here and I'll see you in the next post!

XOXO,

Ninya

P.S. I thought this song would be perfect for this part. I watched If I Stay recently and this song was so powerful in it.

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Heal by Tom Odell ♪♪♪

Take my mind and take my pain,

Like an empty bottle takes the rain.

And heal, heal, heal, heal.

And take my past and take my sins,

Like an empty sail takes the wind.

And heal, heal, heal, heal.

And tell me some things last.

And tell me some things last.

Take my heart and take my hand,

Like an ocean takes the dirty sands.

And heal, heal, hell heal!