Page 1 of Chasing After You
PROLOGUE
I DIDN’T MEAN to fall in love with Henry Price.
Does anyone ever choose to fall in love? Sometimes I wonder if that’s why they call itfallingin love. No one ever means to fall down—you trip, lose your balance, or maybe someone pushes you, but it’s not something anyone chooses to do.
So . . . yeah. I fell in love with Henry, while quite literally falling, as I chased after my family’s new puppy and busted my knee open on a rock hidden in the grass. My knee started bleeding immediately, and I freaked out as five-year-olds do when their leg has blood running down it, especially ones with a phobia of blood.
And then Henry appeared, offering me a hand like a white knight to help me up. He pulled his shorts up on one side, showing me the white indented scar on his knee that was nearly identical to the bloody mess on mine.
“Maybe we’ll have matching ones,” he said, and I forgot about the blood and how much it hurt, because Henry Price was smiling at me. One of his front teeth was missing after he knocked it out playing football with our dads.
That was the moment my fate with Henry was set in stone, and I prayed we would have matching scars on our knees.Spoiler alert: we do.
Honestly? Looking back, my feelings were inevitable.
Our parents were best friends, so Henry was everywhere all the time. My little heart thought it was a perfect fairytale. Despite being five years older than me, Henry never made me feel like I wasn’t important. In my mind, there was never another option. Henry Price and Mirabelle Walker together forever, matching scars and all.
If I could do it all over again, I would, because that moment turned into me spending the next fifteen years chasing afteryou.
CHAPTER ONE
Mirabelle
“BAILEY! YOU CUT me off,” I yell after my seventeen-year-old brother, wading through the water as I carry my surfboard under my arm.
He flips his shoulder length blond hair back, shooting me an infuriating grin over his shoulder. “Try paddling faster next time. I thought you were an Olympian.”
“Gymnastics—not surfing.” I throw my middle finger in the air at him as I feel the shells dig into the bottom of my feet. “Imbécile,”1 I mumble under my breath. I can’t believe we’re related.
My dad is throwing passes for JJ, my eighteen-year-old brother, as he practices his footwork to get ready for his freshman year of college starting in a few weeks. “Dad, did you see what Bailey did?” I complain, catching his attention after he throws a perfect spiral for JJ.
He laughs deeply, glancing in my direction as I set my board in the sand, quickly undoing the leash from my ankle. “I’m not getting in between the two of you—figure it out yourselves.”
“He stole my wave,” I continue, ignoring his answer.
“Mira, I can’t do anything about it.” He shrugs, shaking his head, the streaks of silver in his dark hair reflecting in the sunlight.
Is he kidding me? Dad could absolutely do something if he wanted to. “Well, you could ground him.”Okay, I might be taking this a bit far, but come on. That’s the second time today he pulled that shit, and it’s annoying.
“Stop whining, Mirabelle. Dad’s not going to ground me because you’re butt hurt,” Bailey taunts, taking off his own leash.
“Then stop dropping in on my waves if you’re going to tag along with me. It’s annoying.”
He rolls his green eyes. “Explain to me how I’m tagging along when it’s our beach?”
Hunter comes strolling down the stairs from the house, a water bottle in each hand. “What are you guys fighting about now?”
“How do you know we’re fighting?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Dad snorts as Hunter throws him a water.
“That’s like asking if the sky is blue,” Hunter replies, tossing me the other bottle.
Hunter and Bailey are identical twins, the only difference between them is Hunter’s blond hair is cut short like JJ’s dark hair. It’s annoying how all three of my brothers inherited our mother’s piercing green eyes, whereas I only got my blonde hair from her. Aside from Dad’s height and build, the twins look exactly like Mom.
“Dad.”
Dad simply smiles at us, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Sorry, figure it out.”
JJ jogs over from where he was standing to join the conversation, the ball tucked into his arm as he towers over me. I’m a month shy of being two years older than him, and I know it might seem strange to other people, but he’s my best friend. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead that he wipes off with the back of his hand, his green eyes twinkling. “What’s happening with Mira’s face?”
