The Space Between Love & Hate

Copyright © 2023 by Melissa Toppen All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only. Edited by Lawrence Editing Proofread by Marjorie Lord Cover Design by Cover Me Darling Table of Contents Title Page Disclaimer Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Also By Melissa Toppen Chapter One Aspen Memories. Such an inconsequential word, and yet the very thing that defines our existence. What are we if not for our memories? Who are we? Who would I be without the memory of what came before? Without the memory of him? The memory that never leaves, like a silent whisper at the back of my mind, demanding to be heard. I can still see his face. The curve of his jaw. His crooked smile that made my knees weak every time it touched his lips. Eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless, sunny day. Sutton... I remember the first time I saw him in perfect detail—like a fragment of time suspended in front of my eyes. I remember his shirt—faded blue against tanned skin that had seen countless hours of the summer sun. Wet droplets peppered his shoulders from where his still wet hair had dripped onto the fabric. He rounded the bottom of the stairs, our eyes meeting for only a fraction of a second before he looked away, but it was long enough for me to know right then and there that nothing would ever be the same again. And I was right. At thirteen years old, I had predicted exactly what was to come. Some things you just know are an absolute inevitability. “Earth to Aspen. Come in, Aspen.” I blink at the sound of Remi’s voice, glancing up to see him looking back at me with a halfcocked smirk, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “What are you on about?” I drop my phone into my purse before slinging it over my shoulder. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you exist in an entirely different world than the rest of us.” He shakes his head, a chunk of dark blond hair falling into his eye as he leans down to grab my duffel from the floor. “I do not.” I stick my tongue out at him as if in a polite way of saying fuck off. “I’m trying to make sure I’m not forgetting anything.” I offer a half-truth, knowing I could never divulge the real reason I’ve been so distracted since finding out about our trip home a few weeks ago. “We’re only going to be gone a few days.” He needlessly reminds me. I dare say a few days are going to feel a hell of a lot longer to me than they will to him. He, after all, has a lot more to go home to than I do. His friends. His parents. His brother. Just the thought of Sutton has the muffin I had for breakfast turning sour in my stomach. “You’re sure your parents don’t mind that I crash at their house?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’d hate to be an imposition.” “An imposition?” He blanches at me. “You have been a part of my family since middle school. Not to mention, how many times have you stayed at my parents’ already? You could never impose, and you know that. So why don’t you tell me why you really don’t want to go?” “I never said I didn’t want to go,” I argue. “Not outright, no, but you’ve been dragging your feet about this since the moment I asked you to come.” He pauses, trying to read what I’m trying really hard to hide. “Does it have something to do with work? I thought you said they were happy to give you the time off.” “They were. I have more than enough vacation time to cover a few days. It’s not that.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I just...” “Hey.” He steps toward me, his large, muscular frame dwarfing my petite one. “I told you, Dad said they moved away months ago.” His hand closes over mine, his fingers giving me a reassuring squeeze. Of course he would then assume if not for work, my resistance has something to do with my foster family. And while that’s definitely been a factor in my not returning up to this point, it’s not the reason I’m so knotted up over returning to Ohio today. No, that is reserved for none other than Sutton Barnett himself. My first crush. My first love. My first heartbreak. My first regret. The thought of seeing him again is almost as painful as it is exciting, because for as much as I loathe Sutton Barnett, a part of me, the younger part of me I haven’t been able to shake, still feels a hint of something in my chest every time I think of him. It’s irrational, stupid, and pretty much makes zero sense, but a part of me has loved Sutton Barnett since