The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances

by Sara Jane Woodley

  “She left.” I shrug and take another sip. “Took off one day and never came back.”

  There’s a beat of silence and I stare at the field. This has been my reality for so long, I just feel numb to it. Sometimes people stay, sometimes they leave. There’s nothing I can do to stop or control it.

  “I’m sorry,” Wes says quietly. Usually, I’d jump in and insist that he has nothing to be sorry about, but his words land differently. “That’s terrible.”

  I take a deep breath and shake my head. “It was a couple of years ago. What happened with your dad?”

  “He left us, too.” Wes has the same matter-of-fact tone that I had, but I know that what he’s saying is anything but matter-of-fact. “It’s why we moved to Edendale. My mom grew up in Edendale, my grandparents live there. She just wanted to get away, have a fresh start after Billings.”

  My heart breaks for Wes in that instant. I can’t imagine losing my mom PLUS everything else — my friends, my school, my swim team, my life. Wes must be incredibly strong to move away from all that he knows, all that he loves.

  “I’m sorry, too.” My words have never been more sincere.

  Wes shrugs. “Honestly, my dad was a deadbeat. He was really successful with his job and always provided for us and everything, but he did the bare minimum with me and my mom. He skated by, especially in the last few years. It sounds insane, but a part of me wasn’t surprised when it all went down…”

  He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. I sneak a glance at him and his shoulders relax, his face in a perfectly easygoing expression — like he’s speaking about an inconsequential event and not the thing that shook his whole world.

  Then, he meets my eyes. “It feels good to talk about it. No one really gets it.”

  I smile, my body warm. “I feel the same.”

  I remember what Wes said about Brooklyn breaking up with him when he moved to Edendale. Does she know the full story — that he’s looking out for his mom after his dad did the unthinkable? Could she really be so heartless?

  I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking the question. It isn’t my place.

  Wes chuckles and holds up his iced coffee in a toast. “To making better life choices than our parents!”

  I clink his bottle with a grin. “To making better life choices.”

  I take a chug of my drink and watch Wes curiously. He’s staring at the meadow, seemingly lost in a pleasant thought. The silence settles comfortably between us and I turn my gaze towards the field of colors, feeling safe and warm. Despite knowing each other for less than a month, I have the unmistakable sense that Wes understands me in a way few people do.

  After the meadow, the road trip of pictures continues. Our next stop is at a local farmer’s market. Wes changes into a black shirt, and I pull a cardigan over my sundress and tie my hair in a ponytail. We sample local cheeses, examine artisan jewelry stalls and share a homemade pretzel as big as my head. Keeping with the contract, we snap pictures the whole way through.

  Our third stop is at a rustic red and white cabin on the edge of the highway that sells root beer floats and ice cream sundaes. Wes puts on a white t-shirt and a baseball cap, and I duck into the bathroom to change into shorts and a tank top.

  We sit at an outdoor table in the sunshine, and I film a video of us sharing a root beer float in front of the snow-capped mountains. Wes pulls me into his lap and nuzzles my neck affectionately. When I look back on the video, the blushing smile on my face is genuine.

  He peers over my shoulder to watch the footage. “Really cute. We’re pretty photogenic, if I do say so myself!”

  I giggle and shove his shoulder. He pretends to topple off the bench and he wraps his arms around me to take me with him. We right ourselves and heat rises to my cheeks. It feels kind of nice to have his arms around me.

  “What do you say about being done with photos for today?” He asks with a twinkle.

  I nod and shift off his lap. “Absolutely. You’ve done a pretty good job acting coupley today.”

  “Pretty good?”

  I pretend to think about it, stroking my chin. “Passable.”

  He laughs hard and I smile. He’s been a good sport all day, initiating cute cuddling photos and wrapping his arms around me. I’ve got a camera full of pictures that are sure to make Isabella and Chloe green with envy.

  I put my phone in my bag. “Besides, I’m not really the selfie type.”

  “You’re not like a lot of the girls I know.” Wes’s eyes dance.

  I blush. “How so?”

  “Well, to start with...” He places an elbow on the table and looks into my eyes. At that moment, it’s like he knows everything about me. I shift but don’t break eye contact. “You don’t take selfies, you eat a lot of junk food, and you don’t care if your hair gets messed up when you go swimming.”

  I frown.“So… Is that a good thing?”

  “Of course.” His face is serious. “You’re you, Anaya. You should know how special you are.”

  A lone butterfly flies free in my stomach and I squash it down. How does he have this effect on me? I force a smile and wish I could believe his words.

  “You’re different from most guys I know, too,” I blurt.

  Wes tilts his head to one side. With a half-smile, he echoes my words. “How so?”

  I shrug and stare at my hands. “I feel like I can talk to you about anything.”

  Silence falls between us and I wonder if I said too much. My cheeks burn bright red and I hope that my sunglasses are hiding it. I glance at him quickly, trying to gauge his reaction.

  Wes is smiling, pensive.“I feel like I can tell you anything, too. You’re easy to talk to, Anaya. That’s rare for me.”

  My heart is giddy and my stomach flips over. Get a grip, Anaya!

  “Well, you’re a good listener,” I say shyly.

  Wes grins wickedly. “Sorry, what?”

  I swat his arm, happy that he lightened the mood. I scramble for something funny to say, but before I can open my mouth, Wes places his hand over mine. It isn’t a coupley or romantic gesture. It feels… friendly, like we’re forever bonded by our backstories, our contract, our fake relationship.

  “You know, I didn’t want to move to Edendale,” Wes says. “But, after the last few weeks, I’m starting to think that it’s going to be okay. It’s because of you, Anaya. I’m pretty glad I met you.”

  My heart thumps irregularly and I want to squeeze his hand, lean into him, tell him how much his friendship means to me. But I can’t.

  “I’ll tell you one person who isn’t glad you met me.” I force a smile.

  Wes looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

  “Brooklyn.”

  He bursts into laughter and his hand slips from mine. I can almost physically feel a piece of my heart going with him.

  “You’re right about that,” he says. “It’s a testament to how well our plan is working. You’re a genius.”

  I smile and wish that his words were enough. “I do what I can.”

  By the time we get back to the Jeep, the sun is dipping below the mountains and the world is made of shades of gold. I wrap my little cardigan around my shoulders as a gentle breeze blows through the air. There’s a sort of magic, a beauty, to this time of day.

  Wes turns the key in the ignition and grabs his phone. “Mind if I pick the song this time?”

  “Of course not,” I say.

  He frowns at the screen for a few moments before breaking into a smile. He sets his phone in the cupholder and drives. We pull onto the golden highway and the opening bars of the song fill the car.

  It’s one of my favorites. Perfect for this moment, here and now.

  It's The Best Day by Taylor Swift.

  23

  Anaya

  “I’m a genius!” Bree declares, setting down her curling wand with a triumphant thunk. She puffs the bottom of my hair so it falls delicately around my shoulders.

  I stare at my reflection in the an
tique mirror in the loft of the Legacy Inn. The girl in the mirror peers back at me, a relative stranger with perfect curls and kohl-rimmed eyes. I look different with my makeover — more mature, graceful. I’ll say one thing for Bree, she has a knack for makeup and I’m grateful for it. It was one of the things I’d hoped my mom would show me.

  “You look beautiful,” Stefi says from the bed, where she’s sitting cross-legged in sweatpants.

  Bree, Kiara and I are getting ready for one of the Inn’s famous garden parties in Bree’s loft. Stefi is hanging out with us, but she isn’t getting ready for the party. She has other plans this evening.

  Bree’s parents own Legacy Inn, so she doesn’t live in the staff cabins with the rest of us. It’s a good thing as none of our cabins are big enough to fit four girls and a heap of dresses. I’m not much of a girly-girl, but I have to admit that it’s fun getting ready together. These girls are so different from Chloe and Isabella. Even though I’ve only spent time with them for a month, they’ve already shown themselves to be strong, feisty, fearless and loyal. I just hope that when September comes, we’ll still be friends.

  Kiara holds up a butter-yellow minidress to her slim frame. “I already wore this to one garden party, can I get away with wearing it again?”

  “Of course, it’s gorgeous,” I tell her with a genuine smile.

  “I wish I could wear yellow, I’m way too pale.” Stefi smiles wistfully and checks her phone again. She won’t give a reason as to why she’s not making an appearance at tonight’s party, but she checks her phone often, like she’s expecting a text. I’m curious to know what’s going on with her, but I’m too preoccupied with the night ahead to pry.

  My body buzzes with nervous energy. I feel like I’m preparing to go onstage for a cheer or gymnastics performance. Tonight is step two of our plan to make Brooklyn jealous. It’s Saturday night and Wes has confirmed that she and her family will be attending the garden party. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to look like we’re on a date. With the way things are going lately, Brooklyn and Wes should be back together in no time.

  The thought gives me very mixed feelings. I want Wes to be happy and to have his girlfriend back… I’m just not ready for “Wes and Anaya” to be over. There’s only one way this can end for me. And it’s not one of those happy endings you see in the movies.

  “Here, Anaya, you should wear this.” Bree throws me a slip of white fabric, and I hold it in front of me. It’s a beautiful, delicate linen dress with a flared skirt and a halterneck.

  “I couldn’t!” I exclaim, eyes wide. “I’ll probably spill something on it and ruin it.”

  Bree laughs and her silver dress shimmers in the light, clashing delightfully with her rose gold hair. “Life is for living, and clothes are for wearing. Put it on.”

  “Brave of you to be handing me a white dress,” I mumble as I assess the lovely fabric.

  “Brave of you to trust my style choices,” Bree giggles.

  After a beat of hesitation, I change into the dress. It hugs my body perfectly without feeling uncomfortable or too tight. I match it with my high-heeled sandals, and spin around. I’m greeted with huge smiles from my new friends.

  “Anaya!” Kiara shrieks. “Wes is going to die when he sees you in that.”

  I force a smile as my heart sinks. If only they knew that I’m getting dressed up for Wes so that he can win the heart of somebody else.

  24

  Wes

  The world is a canvas of color. The sunset stains the sky in shades of pink and red streaked with gold. Beyond the peaks of the snow-capped mountains, it's like the heavens have been set alight.

  Below the fiery sky, the Inn’s garden glows with a million strings of fairy lights. Men in button-down shirts and slacks escort women in elegant dresses across stone walkways lined with lanterns. White tables and garden chairs are dotted strategically around a dance floor, and the outdoor bar is open, serving glasses of champagne to the guests.

  I stand at the edge of the scene, fidgeting nervously with the cuff of my blue collared shirt.

  And then, in the distance, I see her. My heart picks up speed and my mouth drops.

  Anaya walks up the stone pathway looking like an angel in a floaty, white dress. Her long hair falls over her shoulders and down her back. She’s wearing makeup — just enough to emphasize her big eyes, full cheeks and lips. The beauty of the scene fades compared to her.

  We lock eyes and she drops her purse. She blushes and bends to pick it up, an adorable smile on her face. I keep my eyes on her the whole time, unable to look away. She walks towards me, taking small, slightly wobbly steps.

  “Hi,” she says shyly, like we’ve never met before. Her cheeks are still pink and I can’t stop staring.

  “You look beautiful.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat.

  Her eyes widen at the compliment and she looks away bashfully. I’m shaken. Does she really not know how gorgeous she is? How special and unique she is? I extend an awkward elbow towards her, my palms suddenly sweaty.

  She slips a delicate hand through my arm. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  I laugh. “Wow, how generous.”

  Anaya shrugs cheekily, a reminder that she’s still the girl that I’ve spent every day with since I arrived at Legacy Inn. We’ve become close friends, but I can’t deny how truly beautiful she is.

  Anaya breaks our eye contact to look around the party. “I see Brooklyn.”

  Who?

  Right. Brooklyn. The thought of her is jarring. I’d been so lost in Anaya, I’d almost forgotten the point of this evening. I glance towards the bar, where the bartender sets a champagne flute of orange juice in front of my ex. She picks it up without thanking the bartender, and then looks directly at us. Her beautiful face is creased and dark like a stormy sky.

  I look at Anaya out of the corner of my eye. “She must’ve seen our Instagram photos.”

  Anaya laughs. “If you want to make her less jealous, I could show her the clip I got of you singing horribly off-key.”

  I poke her in the side. “Don’t pretend you weren't impressed by my singing.”

  “Of course I was. That talent! You should be on Broadway.” She looks at me seriously. “Or become a Taylor Swift impersonator.”

  I chuckle and hold out my hand. “Just wait until you see my dancing.”

  She looks at me questioningly, her eyebrow arched, like she’s debating whether to follow me. I meet her gaze levelly and she makes her decision. She puts her hand in mine and I beam, flooded with happiness.

  “You’ve seen me walk. I think you can guess that I’m not much of a dancer,” Anaya laughs. “But we can give it a go.”

  Her words are music to my ears. I know next to nothing about dancing. My mom tried to teach me in preparation for the Homecoming dance in Billings, but I barely remember anything. Strangely, I don’t feel nervous with Anaya. Not like I used to feel with Brooklyn.

  We step onto the dance floor and a slow song comes on. I circle my arms around her waist and Anaya loops her arms around my neck. We sway to the music, our bodies close. I can smell her coconut shampoo and the slightest hint of floral perfume.

  Anaya gestures with her head. “Check it out.”

  I tear my eyes from hers to glance at Brooklyn. She’s dancing with a guy who looks college-age. She shoots the odd glance our way to see if we’ve noticed.

  Anaya smiles. “It’s working. She looks pretty frustrated.”

  I nod, but I feel surprisingly empty. I should be happy, I should be thrilled that our plan is working. This is what we — I — wanted all along. But, I can’t muster a feeling of joy. My mind keeps returning to one question — is Anaya happy that our plan is working?

  “She must be really special,” Anaya says, her voice quiet.

  I stop swaying for a moment, and look into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you must really love her. You’ve gone to all this trouble to get her back when you co
uld have any girl you wanted.”

  I frown and glance at Brooklyn again. I’ve never had to put my reasoning into words. “I guess I do... The truth is that Brooklyn is the only part of my life that I have any connection to anymore. If I lose her for good, I lose everything my life used to be.”

  I let my words die as I hear them for the first time. Is that really what I’m aiming for? Am I trying to make Brooklyn jealous because I love her, or because I want my life back?

  I frown. No, I love Brooklyn. I always have, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. That’s just how it is. But, as Anaya processes my words, her face dark, I find myself hoping that she won’t pry further. I can’t lie to Anaya and I’m not sure what I would say if she continues to ask questions.

  To my shameful relief, Anaya’s face clears and she wears a neutral expression. “I see.”

  All of a sudden, I realize how uncomfortable I am. My dress shoes are too tight, my shirt too hot, and my belt too stiff. I’m bothered, and I don’t like the way Brooklyn keeps glaring at Anaya.

  As if reading my mind, Anaya tilts her head, a playful smile on her lips. “Want to get out of here?”

  My body relaxes. “More than anything.”

  “Go change into your swim shorts and meet me in ten minutes by the Activities Shed.” There’s a wicked glint in Anaya’s eye. “Bring a towel.”

  “What?” I stare at her.

  She winks. “Just trust me.”

  25

  Wes

  “Anaya!” I call through the darkness.

  No answer. The night air is chilly and I shiver, feeling ridiculous. I’m standing alone on the beach wearing only my swim shorts. I cross my fingers that no guests come this way or I’d have some explaining to do.

  Suddenly, a warm hand lands on my bare back.