“Hey! What are you doing?” Down below, Luke stood in cold shadow. Sunrise was a mystery in this part of the canyon; sunset a spectacular sight.

“What do you care?” she yelled and stomped back into the house. His fiddle perched on the window seat, his wetsuit hung in the front closet, his backgammon board sat on the breakfast bar. Luke had vined his way into every corner of her life.

And she had welcomed him. She should have known better.

She went to the hamper, dragged out his Orioles T-shirt and assorted socks. When she got back to the deck, Luke had folded his clothes and stacked them neatly on the gate.

He expected her to wilt again, and let him in.

Not happening. Dirty laundry-over the railing and going, going, gone.

“Destiny, aren’t you being a bit melodramatic?”

“If you won’t listen to me, maybe this melodrama will get through that holy haze you’re in.”

“I’ll listen to you. Just let me up so we can talk.”

“I’m sick of you talking.”

“Okay, then. I’ll shut up and you can talk.”

“You’ve lost your mind, babe.”

“Really? I’m not the one talking in tongues and hearing voices.” Back inside, then out with as many clothes as she could carry.

The Malibu Jazz Fest T-shirt. She and Luke had laid in the grass and let the music drift around them, their fingers touching-because that’s all they needed-as the music and stars soaked into their skin.

She whipped the shirt high into the wind, watched it flutter down like a piece of paper.

Early morning, birds going nuts, sky still a sad shade of pink. Normally she’d already be at work, even though it was a Sunday. The call sheet would be pinned to her board with photo stills, the first of her actors stumbling into the trailer, bleary-eyed with a fruit smoothie in one hand and coffee in the other. Yesterday they had wrapped. She wasn’t contracted to do another for three weeks or so.

Her mother wanted her to come home to Nashville for a few days. Her father wanted her to come to D.C., spend some time among the power brokers. He knew she hated politics. She did love drama though, and Dad’s job provided plenty of that. Maybe next time.

All she wanted to do today was rip Luke Aviles off her heart like a Band-Aid. Then she’d sleep until her next gig. Dr. Phil would call that depression. Destiny called it making a decision and learning to live with it.

Question was, could she learn to live without Luke?

Excerpted from To Know You by Shannon Ethridge and Kathryn Mackel. Copyright 2013.  All Rights Reserved. Published by Thomas Nelson, Nashville, TN. Used by Permission. Not to be copied without Publisher’s prior written approval.