Seventeen years ago, I moved back to my home state of California because I hated who I was while living in Chicago. After graduating, I realized the friends I made in high school weren't actually my friends. They were jerks, so I ended every one of those friendships.

The final straw that broke the camel's back, making me cut ties with my friends and move far away from them, was when someone who I considered my best friend admitted something she and my other friends had done to a boy—my bestie who befriended me when I first moved to Chicago.

I'm no saint for what I'd done and said to him, but what my best friend, Chloe, did was disgusting. She and my other friends were sending him packages filled with weight and muscle-gain products, fatty foods, junk food, pencils, chopsticks, and more, mocking him.

The strange thing about those girls making fun of Aaron was that he wasn't a nerd or anything. He was actually quite popular, friendly, caring, helpful, funny, and so fucking gorgeous that my heart fluttered every time I was around him.

Then, when I started making more friends outside of Aaron's circle—everything changed—I changed.

My new friends insisted I needed to stay away from Aaron. That he was a bad guy, a player, that he'd break my heart, and that he treated women like shit. Everything they accused him of being floored me, and I never saw him as being anything they claimed.

He was the perfect gentleman every time we were together.

I never understood why they tried ruining his reputation or why they were trying to keep me from hanging out with him. And I didn't want to believe anything they told me until I saw Aaron talking to a woman one day at lunch, his arm around her, laughing, smiling, messing with her, and acting like he and she were an item.

I was looking for him that day to see what he thought about us being a couple, but when I saw his arms around a woman who wasn't me, making my insides twist and knot, the things my friends told me about Aaron instantly came to mind. So I walked away.

Then, later that same day, when our school day ended, he approached me, asking me to be his girlfriend. And because of what I saw at lunchtime and how my friends were telling me, see, I told you so, and more, getting me to believe what they had been telling me for weeks about him, I turned him down—saying things to him I never would've said. And the look on his face while I was putting him down nearly killed me. I hurt him. But at the time, I felt he hurt me, too.

And because of how hurt I was and how I knew I had hurt him, I hid from him. I also hid from myself, becoming a person who wasn't the person my parents raised me to be.

However, it wasn't until much later that I learned the truth—my reasoning for leaving Chicago and returning to California.

I learned that the girl Aaron was messing with the day I felt hurt by him was his younger sister—she didn't have school that day and came to have lunch with him.

I learned my friends were jealous that Aaron was giving me the time of day instead of them. And how, for months before I had moved to Chicago, they were trying to get him to notice them.

I learned they had lied to me about Aaron. That he wasn't this guy they tried painting him as.

I learned they became my friends because they knew I was friends with Aaron and his friends. They hoped that becoming friends with me would be the golden ticket to landing Aaron, Callum, Hudson, Jace, Greyson, or Rory. Since Rory and Callum already had serious girlfriends, they tried getting the other guys to notice them—especially Aaron.

I also learned about the packages they sent Aaron—angry he wanted me, not them.

I learned a lot that day, and instead of looking for the one person I needed to find and apologize to, I left.

Two years after returning to California, I met a man who also became my husband three years after we started dating. We had two kids who were my life, but those lives were taken away from me just two short years ago when we collided head-on with a driver who had fallen asleep at the wheel, taking my two-year-old son, five-year-old daughter, and my husband away from me. And I've been living in misery since.

Actually, I've been living in misery since I moved to California as I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I cared a lot about and his heart I had crushed.

My marriage to Logan wasn't always solid; in fact, it was rocky from the beginning of our marriage. And it was all because I couldn't get over the boy I'd hurt—I just couldn't seem to let it go. I loved Aaron, and I hurt him all because the people who I thought were my friends that were supposed to be looking out for me and my best interest, keeping me from being hurt. Lied to me.

Logan knew what was eating me alive during our entire marriage. He tried helping me let it go, but my stubbornness refused to allow him to help me do anything, causing us to fight constantly. I hated it. God, did I ever hate fighting with Logan. And now that the three loves of my life have been gone for two years, the funk I was in when they were still alive got much worse.

It's been so bad that living in the state that stole my heart, I could no longer bear living in that I packed up all my things and returned to Chicago a few months ago.

I moved back to the place I ran away from because I felt it was something I needed—more so had to do to help bring peace back into my life. Even though it had been twenty years since I hurt the one man I truly cared about back then, and I assumed since it had been that long, he'd gotten over the shock and pain of my words, I wanted to find and apologize to him.

I didn't know where Aaron would be or if he had moved out of state like I had. And I felt if he did, I wouldn't blame him for what I had said to him and what my friends had done to him to make him leave the state.

Hell, I did.

But I figured moving back to Chicago would be the easiest for me to find Aaron, come clean, start over, turn over a new leaf, rebuild my life, and focus from the bad to the good. From the pain to the gain. And from resentment into forgiveness.

I had no clue if he was married, so I knew that searching for him would be tricky. The last thing I want to do to him is ruin his marriage if he were married. All I want to do is make peace with my demons and apologize for my shitty behavior.

This is something I need to do. It was something I should've done a long time ago. And it makes me wonder if I had done what I should've done long before the accident, if my husband and two kids would still be alive today. Because the day I lost them was the day my husband picked me up from the hospital after another suicide attempt.

Being a heartless bully for no reason ruined me. And I hated myself for allowing people to turn me into someone I wasn't. And being a bully was something I planned on teaching my kids not to do when they got older. I had a lot of plans for them. Now, everything I had planned for them, I tell them about whenever I visit their graves, something I hadn't done in months since I refused to return to California. Even though my three loves permanently resided there, I hated everything about that state.

Since moving back to Chicago, I've Googled Aaron. I don't know how many times, and the picture that kept popping up with his name was a plastic surgeon, and he looked nothing like the boy I remember crushing.

The man Google claimed was Aaron Rhodes was scorching hot. Even though his body was hiding behind a white coat, you could clearly see he wasn't the skinny boy I once knew—he was muscular. His eyes were still like a force of nature—compelling, irresistible, and gripping. They were like flickering flames of a fire, drawing me in and captivating me every time I pulled up and ogled his picture.

The more I stared at him, the more I saw it was the Aaron I returned to Chicago to find, all from his eyes and the smile I used to gush over. Besides the stubby facial hair in the picture, the only thing about him that hadn't changed was his infectious, amiable smile.

It satisfied me knowing he still lived where I last saw him. Because I was determined to continue moving until I found him. The problem is, even though I found his profile and got the address to where he practices, I haven't found the guts to confront him.

Every day since I figured out it was him, I've driven by his practice. And when I thought I had enough guts to walk inside to see him, to get off my chest what had been weighing me down for years, my nerves would kick into high gear, making me sick, and I'd leave the parking lot and go home.

We may have only been kids when I destroyed and humiliated him in front of the entire school. And I know it's been twenty years since that day I turned into a fucking cunt, and I should just move on since Aaron's probably forgotten about it by now. But my conscience keeps telling me confronting my old friend and telling him how sorry I am for hurting him is something I must do before my husband and kids call me home.

I just can't seem to bring myself to do what I want to do, fearing he'd remember the heartless bitch I became and demand I get out of his face and leave him alone. It's something I deserve to happen, but it's also something I don't want to hear him telling me, either. Because in order to get over the depression I've dealt with since practically high school, I need him to hear me out.

I can only hope he'll give me the time of day to allow me to do that.

And I hope that day happens very soon. Like next week soon.

A few weeks ago, I received an invitation to a get-together my high school was throwing—like a school reunion, and I wondered why. Then, when I read the back of the invite, I read why they were throwing the party they were.

Everyone's favorite teacher was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and was given only months to live. And his wish was to see his students through the years one last time. So, the students of our graduating year decided to throw a party and dance to make Mr. Hanson's night one last time.

At first, I told myself I wouldn't go to avoid seeing my old fake friends and him. I didn't go to my tenth reunion or my fifteenth. And it made me wonder why I should go to this party if I didn't go to the reunions. To see who? To see the ones who used me? Who turned me into someone I wasn't?

Granted, I was old enough to know right from wrong. And I had a voice to stick up for me—and Aaron's. But being the new girl in town and how I was trying to make friends, I couldn't do the right thing, and twenty years later, I'm still paying the price for the pain I caused.

But now I want to go. I know there's a possibility Aaron may not show up, but if I don't go and he does, I feel I'll miss out on the opportunity to make amends with the first person ever to steal my heart.

I also realize that if he does show, he may avoid me altogether. Especially since these last two years, I've let myself go, gaining at least fifty pounds. And how I've got unappealing scars—old and new.

I have old scars from trying to unalive myself throughout the years. And new scars from the accident.

So, if I were to see Aaron and how I now know he's a plastic surgeon, and how much I've read up on him these last couple of months and saw how he's the best in the nation, I'd hate for Aaron to think I was only trying to reconcile with him, to talk him into making me beautiful again.

That I don't want.

As much as I hate how I look and despise how ugly I am and feel, I want nothing more than to have these scars disappear, but that's not something I'd even think about asking him to do for me.

I don't deserve him doing anything for me. What I should be telling myself is to learn to live with the scars since they're reminders of what I lost, when, and why.

But I'm not going to think about my wrongdoings anymore tonight. Now that I've decided to attend my high school party, I've got a week to find something to wear. And a week to somehow figure out how not to look like a female version of Porky Pig.

Since I have no friends, and my parents are out of the country, visiting Europe for the rest of the year, I'm on my own.

I'd ask someone I work with to help me pick out a dress to wear, but I can't even do that because of how embarrassed I am about my scars; I work remotely from home. And whenever I'm supposed to go into the office, I devise an excuse for not being there.

As for groceries, I order online and have them delivered.

And for anything else I need, I order from Amazon or other places that offer same-day or next-day delivery.

But now that I need something special to wear, I have to physically go to the store to find that perfect dress that'll tone down my flabby, stretch-marked belly, hide my thick, thunder thighs, and a dress that'll make my ass not look so big.

Sigh...

I know black hides imperfections well, but do I really want to go there looking like I'm dressed to go to a funeral? Reminding myself how dead I am?

Yes and no.

I lifted the invitation and pinched my bottom lip between my teeth as I stared at it, trying to devise a reason not to attend.

I have many reasons not to go, but there's also a huge reason I need to show my face, trumping the cons of why I shouldn't go.

So, after loading my face with makeup and throwing on a ball cap, I put on my big girl panties and went to the mall, doing all I could to avoid locking eyes with anyone.

I even avoided looking at the associates who approached me, asking if they could help me find what I was looking for.

All I wanted to do was find a dress and go home. To hang it up where I'd see it every day for the next week, reminding me of where I was going and why I was attending something I didn't give two shits about. Even though I'd love to see Mr. Hanson one last time, he was an amazing teacher.

A couple of hours later, I found the dress I sought. It hid my hourglass figure perfectly, making me look thinner than I was. So, I bought it.

Then, because it was late and I didn't feel like cooking anything, I stopped at a restaurant I'd wanted to try ever since I moved back to Chicago, hoping I wouldn't run into anyone I knew.

Even though I decided to make my face known in a week, I still wanted to avoid people and stay off the radar the best I could.

But that didn't happen either.

Someone immediately recognized me when the hostess sat me at the table beside them. Hudson. And he was with a woman who looked somewhat familiar to me.

"Sloane, is that you?" Hudson asked.

Acting like I didn't hear him, I lowered the brim of my cap as I eyed the menu.

"Sloane?" I heard him ask again.

Don't look at him.

Don't look up.

Just continue ignoring him.

Too fucking late. I looked up and flashed Hudson a fake smile. "Oh. Hi, Hudson," I finally responded shyly.

His handsome face lit up. Gosh, he and the others were always so God damn good-looking; I wonder if they're all still that way. Aaron sure had blossomed into a fine specimen. And since Hudson did, too, I'll bet the other guys in his circle turned out to be just as hot.

His smile was beautiful and genuine. One thing I remember about Hudson was his caring and amicable personality. "I thought that was you. How have you been?"

It's been shitty. Thanks for asking.

I wobbled my head, unsure how to answer him since I didn't feel like conversing with anyone.

Hudson looked at the female he was with and pointed my way, saying, "That's Sloane, the girl Aaron used to run with back in the ninth grade."

Her head turned to face me, and when I got a good look at her, it dawned on me about who she was. Shelby. And she's even more beautiful than she was our senior year.

She smiled and waved. "Hi, Sloane."

"Hi," I quietly responded, feeling a bit uncomfortable and wishing the waitress would return to take my order so this conversation would end. But I didn't see her anywhere.

"Sloane, this is my wife, Shelby. Do you remember her?"

My eyes flickered to Shelby, and I nodded, saying, "I do. It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you as well. It's been a long time. Are you in town for the high school party, or have you lived in Chicago the entire time?"

Where are you, waitress?

"I moved back to Chicago a few months ago."

"Are you attending the party?" Hudson asked.

I didn't want him running to Aaron, telling him I'd be attending, causing him to want to change his mind if he was going, so I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I still have a week to decide if seeing people I've avoided for the last seventeen years will be worth it."

That's not all a lie.

I still have a week to change my mind and thirty days to return the dress I bought.

Hudson laughed. "I know what you mean. Shelby and I contemplated going, but we've decided it would be fun to see how much everyone had changed, and Mr. Hanson, so if you're going, you'll see us there."

I forced a smile. "Great!" I said, sounding thrilled. "I guess maybe I'll see you and the others there." I baited, curious to see if he was still friends with the others and if he still talked to Aaron.

"Rory and his wife, Isabelle, might be there. He travels a lot for work, and next weekend, he was supposed to be in Texas, but he told us he might push it back a week so he could attend the party and see Mr. Hanson. Greyson and his wife Amanda are attending. And Callum and his pregnant wife Eloise will be there as well."

That's right, Callum's girlfriend Victoria died our senior year.

"... And Jace and Tallulah are still debating about going. She's in her first trimester of pregnancy, and she's been sick as a dog. So, if you go, you may or may not see them."

I noticed he didn't bring up Aaron. And I knew he was around since I Googled him. I was curious if he was going, but I also wanted to avoid asking anything about him since Hudson was with Aaron when I berated, mocked, and humiliated him.

But since I was extremely curious and how it was the deciding factor of my going to see people I didn't want to see, the words just unexpectedly slipped from my lips. "And what about Aaron? Is he going? Or do you guys not talk anymore?"

A warm smile appeared on his lips. "Yes, we all still talk, and we all hang out as much as we can. As for Aaron going to the party?" He laughed like I was crazy for asking. "Probably not. But if he decides to go," Hudson added, studying me. "I'd be quite surprised."

I nodded. Maybe I won't be going after all, either. I was only going, hoping to run into Aaron.

The look on Hudson's face makes me believe Aaron isn't going because of me. And he probably never went to the other ones, assuming I'd be there, too.

Which makes me not want to go even more.

But I have to.

I need to.

Apologizing to Aaron is one of the top things on my bucket list. So I have to go whether he shows up or not.

"That's too bad," I said as my waitress finally returned to take care of me. Saving me from telling Hudson how he should talk him into going so I can apologize.

I ordered my food, and when the waitress left to put my order in, I crossed my fingers that Hudson and his wife were done trying to socialize with me.

I felt Hudson's eyes on me and looked up from my phone to see that he was studying me. With as much cover up I applied to my face to cover my hideous scars. There's no way he can see them, and if he can, he's got some damn good eyes. Or, he's staring because I am wearing my makeup heavily.

Or he's staring at me because he remembers the evil things I said to Aaron when we were fifteen.

"Sloane, I think you should attend the party," Hudson said. "I'll even talk Aaron into coming."

"You don't have to do that. I'm the last person he probably wants to see."

"Probably," he admitted, adding, "but that was so long ago. We were young, and now we're all older and wiser," he smiled and winked.

Please tell him to come. Please.

"I know, but you don't have to force him to come. I still don't know if I want to go," I lied.

He looked at his wife, then at me, cocking his head to the side as he asked, "Can I ask why you wouldn't go to the party? Is it because of Aaron?"

"I don't go anywhere anymore. This is the first time I've been out and about in years."

His brows pinched together. So before he asked why that was, and I broke down in tears, admitting why, I held up my hand and said, "Don't ask why, please. It's not something I want to discuss right now."

Hudson paid his bill, then headed over to me, his hand resting on my shoulder. "It was nice seeing you, Sloane. Hopefully, we'll see you next Saturday night." He squeezed my shoulder. And that friendly gesture warmed me. "I think it would be good for you both to come."

Aaron probably wouldn't think that.

He leaned to my ear, and I gasped when he whispered, "You don't have to show up wearing all that makeup either. It's not needed, and Aaron's used to seeing scars." He stood, sliding his fingers from his forehead to his cheek and chin. The same area of my ugly scars. "Everyone has a story, Sloane. And hiding behind whatever story that is, isn't good for you. You'll just bring yourself further down that rabbit hole, making it much more difficult for you to come out of it."

I looked away from him, swallowing. Saying what he did and sliding his fingers down his face of where my scars are meant he noticed what I was trying to hide when he was studying me.

"It was nice seeing you again," Shelby sincerely said.

"It was nice seeing you two as well."

Hudson's hand rested on my ball cap. "Seriously, give next weekend some thought. He's a mess. And I think seeing each other again would be good for you both."

Hudson is either setting me up to be humiliated like I'd done to Aaron, or he's genuinely trying to give Aaron and me a long, overdue, much-needed reunion. So I can apologize to him finally.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!