CROSSING THE LINE

Three Years Earlier

"Long before the lines were ever drawn, we were already stealing small pieces of a future we weren't ready for."

Saturday afternoons at the Carter house were never quiet. By lunchtime, the smell of Richard Carter's barbecue had already drifted across the neighborhood, tempting anyone within walking distance to wander over under the excuse of "just saying hello." In reality, everyone knew there was always enough food for one more plate and enough laughter to make you forget whatever had been weighing on your mind.

To Jace Crawford, the Carter house had become a second home long before he could remember exactly when. He no longer knocked before walking inside. He knew which cupboard held Mrs. Carter's famous chocolate chip cookies, where Richard kept the chilly bin stocked with soft drinks, and which step on the back deck creaked loud enough to give away anyone trying to sneak inside after curfew. More importantly, he knew that if he stayed long enough, he'd inevitably end up doing one of two things: playing football with Evan, or arguing with Evan's little sister.

"You're late," Jace looked up as Richard Carter stepped away from the barbecue, tongs in one hand and an apron stretched across his broad chest.

"By four minutes," Jace replied, checking the time on his phone with exaggerated seriousness.

Richard snorted. "You've been spending too much time with my son."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

Before Jace could answer, the front door burst open behind him. "Evan!" a familiar voice yelled. "Jace's here!"

Jace smiled before he even turned around. Some things never changed.

Evan appeared in the hallway a second later, controller still clutched in one hand. "Took you long enough."

"I had football."

"You had breakfast."

"I can multitask."

The two friends exchanged the kind of shoulder bump that had replaced handshakes years ago before Evan nodded toward the lounge. "Come on. You're getting destroyed in FIFA."

"Didn't you say that last weekend?"

"I was overconfident."

"You lost six-nil."

"I've improved."

"Doubtful."

Their argument continued all the way into the living room, neither noticing the smaller figure quietly slipping down the hallway behind them. Jace dropped onto the couch and reached for the spare controller just as something soft landed over his head.

"What the—" He pulled a black hoodie away from his face. His black hoodie. "You've got to be kidding me."

A burst of giggling answered him. Jace turned to find fourteen-year-old Jasmine Carter standing in the doorway, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail and his oversized North Ridge Football hoodie hanging almost to her knees. The sleeves swallowed her hands completely, and the front pocket looked big enough for her to disappear into. She looked far too pleased with herself.

"It's comfortable," she declared.

"It's stolen."

She shrugged. "It was cold."

"It's thirty degrees."

"I get cold easily."

Jace looked at Evan. "Are you going to do something?"

Evan didn't even glance away from the television. "Nope."

"She's wearing my hoodie."

"I know."

"She stole it."

"I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

Evan selected his team. "I've learned it's easier just to let her win."

Jasmine folded her arms triumphantly. "See?"

Jace pointed an accusing finger at her. "That's

the fourth hoodie."

"It's only the third."

"You keep count?"

"You leave them here."

"I don't leave them here."

She smiled sweetly. "You do now."

Jace shook his head, unable to stop the laugh threatening to escape. She'd been doing this for years. Any time he came over, one of his hoodies mysteriously vanished. Sometimes he'd find it draped over a dining chair. Sometimes it would be folded on the washing machine. More often than not... he never saw it again.

Mrs. Carter wandered into the room carrying a plate stacked high with freshly baked cookies. "Oh good," she said brightly. "You found your hoodie."

"I found Jasmine wearing my hoodie."

She looked at her daughter. "It does suit her."

Jace stared in mock disbelief. "So nobody's on my side?"

Richard called from the deck, "Not a chance."

Jasmine grinned so hard her cheeks hurt. "I told you."

Jace sighed dramatically, dropping back against the couch. "I've been betrayed."

"You'll survive."

"I won't."

"You will." She reached for a cookie from the plate balanced on the coffee table.

Jace caught her wrist just before her fingers reached it. "Oh no."

She looked up innocently. "What?"

"You don't get my hoodie and my cookie."

"I absolutely do."

"You absolutely don't."

She narrowed her eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Before he could answer, she twisted free, snatched the biggest cookie from the plate, and bolted toward the back door laughing.

"Jasmine Carter!" Jace called, already getting to his feet.

Richard looked over the barbecue. "Good luck catching her."

"I don't need luck."

Jasmine glanced over her shoulder just long enough to stick her tongue out. Then she ran even faster.

Chapter One

The Party

"The most dangerous lines are the ones you never thought you'd cross."

Three Years Later

The first Saturday night of the semester always felt the same. Music echoed across the North Ridge University campus long before the sun disappeared behind the hills, and by the time darkness settled over the town, every fraternity house was overflowing with students eager to celebrate the beginning of another year. Laughter spilled onto the streets, headlights crawled along the rows of parked cars, and the scent of barbecue, beer, and fresh rain lingered in the crisp evening air. For most students, it was the highlight of orientation week. For Jace Crawford, it was another obligation.