This is the first book I’ve read by A.L. Morrow and I loved it. The blurb already lets you know that Milo’s brother died. What it can’t convey is the anguish that his death caused – not only to his family but to his best friend.

The story is told in alternating POVs from both Milo and Benji. Each of them is coping with Kellan’s death in very different ways. Benji’s method wasn’t so good. He acted out, did things he’s not proud of, and ends up leaving college and returning home.

Near the end of the book there are a couple of pretty big surprises that I didn’t see coming and that made me like this story even more. This is a very emotion-invoking book and parts of it are a bit sad but ultimately there is a wonderful HEA. I loved the epilogue and now I need to check out this author’s other books.

Reviews for A.L. Morrow

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“I’m sorry for your loss.”

I ignore the next person who tries to talk to me, exactly like I did the last. Dad’s eyes bore into me. When there’s a break in the people approaching, he steps closer and leans over my shoulder.

“Milo, stand up,” he scolds. “These people are here to support us. Snubbing them is rude.”

Mom comes between us immediately. She places her hand on Dad’s arm, but her gaze is warm when it turns toward me. “David, leave him alone. He’s going through enough right now. He shouldn’t have to worry about other people, too.”

At least Mom gets it.

Dad frowns but stands straight again. Sighing, he looks out across the church.

Then, he scowls.

“I can’t believe that piece of shit showed up.”

I glance over my shoulder in the direction of his stare, and I see him.

“Benji?” I whisper.

Our eyes lock, and I can barely breathe.

He came. I texted him the other night to make sure he knew about the arrangements, but he never replied. Still, he’s here, standing way in the back where people light votive candles. His hands are shoved in his pockets. He’s dressed in black. And although he’ll always be my idea of gorgeous, right now he looks like hell. Gauze is stuffed up his nostrils, and a bandage covers his nose. His bottom lip is split, and he’s got stitches by his hairline and bruises on his cheeks. My dad really did a number on him.

“How did he even find out about the service?” Dad grumbles.

Because I told him. I knew you wouldn’t, so I did.

“David, let it go. He was Kellan’s best friend. He has every right to be here.” Mom hooks her arm through Dad’s and takes his hand, holding him back before we have a repeat performance of their fight in the ER.

But she doesn’t stop me.

I’m on my feet, making my way to the back of the church before the next note on the organ plays. Unfortunately, Benji moves just as quickly. He beelines toward the door, knowing he’s been spotted.

“Benji, wait!” I call.

Dad’s voice echoes behind me. “Milo, get back here. They’re about to start. Milo!”

Fuck that. Kellan would want Benji to feel welcome. He’d want him to know he doesn’t blame him for what happened. He’d want him to be all right.

And you know what? I want that, too.

I move faster, jogging down the aisle, taking off after him, but he has too much of a head start. The door to the church swings open. He almost knocks over one of Kellan’s former coaches, but he doesn’t excuse himself or stop.

“Benji!”

I know he can hear me. I know he saw me. If only he would hold still for a second and give me a chance to explain, to apologize for my dad …

I follow him through the front door and make it down the front steps of the church in time to watch his Range Rover pull out of the parking lot.

“Benji …”

No, he can’t go. He can’t leave me here. I have too much to say.

He needs to know it’s not his fault.

He needs to know I love him—that I’m in love with him.

But he’s gone.