The Choices Ive Made - J.L. Berg

Copyright © 2017 by J.L. Berg All rights reserved.

Visit my website at www.jlberg.com

Cover Designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, www.okaycreations.com Cover Photography: Regina Wamba, Mae I Design, www.maeidesign.com Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com Ami Waters, Book Glam, www.bookglambyami.com Interior Formatting: Champagne Book Design

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9983912-3-6

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Other Books by the Author Dedication Prologue 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 Chapter Eighteen Epilogue Coming Soon… Other Books by the Author Playlist Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by J.L. Berg The Ready Series When You’re Ready Ready to Wed Never Been Ready Ready for You Ready or Not The Walls Duet Within These Walls Beyond These Walls Behind Closed Doors The Cavenaugh Brothers (includes Within These Walls, Beyond These Walls, and Behind Closed Doors) Lost & Found Forgetting August Remembering Everly The Tattered Gloves Fraud

Dedicated to my very own high school sweetheart. Thank you Chris for giving the crazy girl who dumped you twice in junior high another chance. Who knew it’d last forever? I love you babe.



ALL MY BAGS WERE PACKED. The back of my truck was full to the brim. I was really leaving. With one last look at the bright blue house I’d called home since birth, I hopped in the truck and started the ignition. I knew he was watching me from the window. I knew he wanted to run out here and beg me not to go and hug me good-bye, all at the same time. But I’d told him not to. And, after everything my father and I had been through over the last few months, it was the least he could do for me. The sun had barely risen over the tide as I made my way out of town. Seeing the last few shops fall behind me made my heart squeeze tight in my chest. I swallowed hard and kept going. There was one last stop I needed to make. Several miles out of town with no marker or sign to indicate it was coming, I pulled off the road and turned off my headlights. The light from the sun was enough now. And I knew this spot like the back of my hand. Grabbing what I needed from the front seat, I shoved it in the pouch of my hoodie and began the short walk to the beach. How many times had I made this same path over the last eighteen years? A hundred times? A thousand? It had been my playground as a kid and a place we could escape to as teenagers. Growing up in a small town gave us few choices to act out and be kids, especially when your graduating class was a grand total of five. By the time I reached the exact spot I’d set out for, the sun was bright, and the day was new. Looking down at the sand, I let out a sigh. Without room for tools or shovels in my truck, I guessed I would be doing this the old-fashioned way. With my hands. Dropping to my knees, I began the tedious process of digging a hole. A deep one.

All those years of building castles had at least given me some skills. Within no time, I had a narrow hole in the sand for my tiny treasure. I was officially a pirate. Reaching into the pouch of my hoodie, I pulled out the small wooden box. My fingers ran over the intricate pattern. It had taken me all semester to carve them. Art class at our school usually consisted of simplistic things, like painting and modeling clay. A small grant won by our school had afforded us a few woodworking tools this year, and I’d gravitated to them. I loved the precision and detail required. My hands were naturally steady, and I worked well under pressure. My friends all thought I was nuts, obsessing over a box. But it had become the one thing I could focus on when everything fell apart. When I lost my anchor. But, now, it was time to bury the past and everything with it. The wooden box and all the promises it carried within it. Dropping it into the sand, I carefully covered it, one layer at a time. There was no need for markings. I’d remember this spot for as long as I lived. This place, this island, was etched onto my skin forever. The blue house, the little inn with the yellow room, and the beautiful girl I’d be leaving behind. Nothing but a distant memory scattered to the wind.



“BUSINESS OR PLEASURE?” I turned in my seat after just boarding a plane at Chicago O’Hare. There, settling in next to me, was a petite blonde, dressed neatly in a trim suit that did amazing things to her body. Smiling, I answered, “A bit of both, I guess.” Hearing my response, she paused. “You’re Southern, right? Do I detect a hint of a North Carolina drawl in there somewhere?” The accent. It always stumped people. It was the exact reason I’d hoped to be alone for this flight. After booking it at the last minute, I’d managed to claim the last first-class seat on the small jet, giving up my preferred aisle seat for the window. I’d planned on bribing the person in the front row to switch. When you were six foot four, any amount of extra legroom was appreciated, but seeing my possible companion for the next two hours, I swiftly changed my mind. “You’re correct, ma’am,” I answered, adding a little extra to the accent I usually tried to mask. If it led to me getting laid, I’d use all the charisma my Southern roots had afforded me. It worked like a charm. I watched her face light up like a damn Christmas tree in the dead of winter. “How’d you become so savvy in detecting the subtleties of Southern dialects? Or are North Carolina boys just of particular interest to you?” She giggled. A damn giggle. Jesus, I was wasting my time. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, giving me a quick glance, and her face flushed as I took her in. She was young. no more than twenty-three I’d wager. She sat in first class like it was a

habit rather than a luxury. I took another moment to study her—the professional suit and megawatt smile—and it suddenly made sense. Probably a sales rep, I decided. “I went to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,” she explained. “My roommate was a native, and it didn’t take long to memorize the way she said certain things.” “We are a specific breed,” I joked, watching those baby blues light up with delight. “So, tell me, how did you get from UNC to selling pharmaceuticals?” I said, glancing down at the large black carry-on under her seat with a bright white company logo I instantly recognized. A look of surprise crossed her flawless features. “How did you know?” She laughed before adding, “You must be a doctor!” I scrunched my shoulders. “Guilty. Actually, I’m a surgeon at MacNeal, here in Chicago.” “Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I work MacNeal. What specialty?” “I’m a Cardiothoracic surgeon,” I answered, watching her gaze linger a bit on my empty ring finger. This no-name pharmacy rep had a thing for doctors, I was guessing. And damn if she wasn’t trying to hide it. She was most likely making a fortune, flirting with lonely doctors and their hospital staff, as she searched around for Dr. Right. Too bad for her, that wasn’t me. But I’d enjoy the hell out of flirting with her. I didn’t deal with pharmaceuticals much, but I’d probably buy anything she threw my way just to spend a little more time checking her out. With those good looks and killer set of green eyes, she could have worked her way to the top in a matter of months. “Well, it’s a shame we’ve never met before now,” she said. “Makayla Roads.” She politely held out her hand, but I knew it was undoubtedly just a ploy to touch me, one that I graciously acknowledged. I stretched my hand out toward hers. “Jake Jameson.” Her small hand felt warm and silky in my large palm. I lingered, running my thumb over hers before letting go. “Jake? Is it short for anything?” she asked, clearly flustered by the intimate gesture. “No, ma’am,” I replied. “My mother—God rest her soul—wasn’t fond of formality. So, I’m just Jake. Plain and simple.” “I doubt there’s anything plain or simple about you, Dr. Jameson.” My jaw twitched as I tried to keep the dazzling smile plastered across my face. I took the compliment, nodding as I gave myself a moment to regain my composure.

Mentioning my mother had been an accident. One I rarely made. Just the mere mention of her had a thousand memories swimming back to the surface. I quickly stuffed them back down. “So, you’re headed back to North Carolina then?” I asked in an attempt to keep the conversation rolling. Now that I knew her proclivity for nailing doctors, I might not be ready to join the Mile-High Club with her, but she was entertaining nonetheless. “My best friend’s wedding,” she answered. “We always knew she’d be the first one down the aisle.” I couldn’t help but notice the twinge of jealousy in her voice. “And why’s that?” I asked as the flight attendant came around and took drink orders. Makayla ordered a glass of wine while I stuck with a Bloody Mary. “She’s been with her boyfriend for ages. High school sweethearts. Can you believe it? We’re twenty-four, and those two have already been together for ten years.” I cleared my throat, regretting my choice to relocate now. Rather than an easy distraction like I’d hoped, this girl had managed to once again leave me speechless as the years seemed to melt away before my eyes. “We’re the lucky ones, Jake. How many people find each other at fourteen?” It felt like yesterday when she had said those words to me. I could still hear the sound of the waves lapping at our feet as we’d curled up on the beach just before sunset. We had been the lucky ones. Or at least, we could have been. But I’d chosen a different life. One that didn’t include her. “And what about you?” she asked. “Visiting family back home?” I nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.” “That sounds nice. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.” “I’m sure,” I answered passively, eager for that Bloody Mary that was soon to come my way. We continued to make small talk as the final passengers boarded the plane, and then we took off for Raleigh, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. It was miles away. Years away. Because, soon, all those bottled-up memories would filter back to the surface…and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for the consequences.

With a crumpled-up phone number in hand, I said my good-byes to the overly eager Makayla and headed out of the airport. The first breath of that sticky Southern air just about knocked me backward. It was barely April, and already, the humidity had found its way to North Carolina. It smelled sugary, like sweet tea on the porch. It smelled like flowers and sunshine and afternoon bike rides. It smelled like regret and sorrow. Although I hadn’t been here in years, I hadn’t forgotten my way around. I took a quick glance across the baggage claim area, locating the rental car area almost immediately. The Raleigh airport hadn’t changed a bit, and as I ambled my way toward the shuttle that would take me to the rental area. I found myself smiling as fond memories of college football with the gang and long road trips to this small airport with my family to pick up relatives came rushing back. A life that had long ago since passed. I should have flown to Norfolk, I said to myself. It was the shortest distance by car and didn’t carry nearly as many memories as this town did, but I’d wanted the driving time. The preparation time. No doubt, that feeling I was getting in the pit of my stomach would become a permanent fixture in my belly for the next several days. Hell, the next few months, I reminded myself. Especially when I saw her. Molly McIntyre. The girl who had once been my entire world…until, one day, she wasn’t. I’d thought I’d never see her again. I’d counted on it. I had left that life behind and everything that went with it. But, when I’d gotten the call last week, informing me of my father’s death, I had known our paths would soon cross. No one ever really left Ocracoke Island. At least not when you were a native. To the eight hundred or so people who called it home, Ocracoke Island was a treasure. A glimpse of the past, where life moved slower and the word neighbor still meant something. To me, however, it was simply the place I had grown up. A stopping point that had eventually catapulted me to where I was now, and I’d never had any intentions of returning. But my father had worked his magic, making it impossible for me to stay away. I should have known.

“You must be present at the reading of the will,” the lawyer informed me over the phone. He was formal and to the point, ignoring the fact that, twenty years earlier, I’d been one of his best friend’s kids rather than just a nameless benefactor. “That’s horseshit, Alan. You and I both know my father wouldn’t have put such a ridiculous stipulation on his will. Besides, I don’t want anything anyway,” I said, hearing his immediate sigh, knowing he’d been caught in a lie. “He said you would say that.” “Then I guess I’m predictable. Just send me a copy in the mail, and give away his stuff to someone else, or donate it—hell, I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with it.” “We need you here Jake.” My hands went through my hair. “I’ll come back for the funeral and make all the arrangements. That’s all I can give you—a single day.” “He left you the practice, Jake,” he finally said. “Jesus, Alan,” I said, hearing the regret in his voice. “Why would he have done that?” “Because he knew it was the only way to bring you back for good.” And he was right. If I chose to ignore it, the medical practice my father had kept and maintained for more than forty years would fall apart in a matter of weeks. With only one doctor and a single nurse doing the jobs of five, I knew they’d never get anyone in their right mind to take the position. At least, not right away. As much as I wanted to ignore it, to forget about every person who could be affected by his death, I knew I couldn’t. Do no harm. That was the oath I had taken when I became a doctor. I had to go. I had to help. And he’d known it all-too well. Even in his death, my old man was pulling the strings, navigating my life from the grave, as he tormented my conscience. So, here I was, about to leave the airport to drive three hours through North Carolina to go back to my hometown. Back to everything I’d left behind. Everything I’d tried to forget. The chief of surgery at MacNeal Hospital had been oddly gracious over my plight. Giving me an extended leave had left him short a surgeon. It had taken some serious work to rearrange my schedule. But, now, I had two months ahead of me to get my father’s practice back on track and out of my life for good.

Revving the engine of the practical little car I’d adopted as my own, I headed onward. The car was nothing fancy, but it’d get the job done. I’d never been overly attached to cars. Having driven a beat-up truck through most of college had taught me to remain humble. Or maybe my father would have taken credit for that as well. Nevertheless, living in downtown Chicago for the last several years had required more trips on the Red Line than an actual car. But I did love a nice ride in the country every now and then. Settling into the nondescript black sedan, I tried to convince myself this was no different. Just a leisurely drive. I managed to keep this mantra going for a few hours until I hit the coast. Then, reality set in. I really was going back. Still in off-season, the Outer Banks of North Carolina was still quite peaceful, catering to mostly locals until the population tripled almost overnight the second summer hit. Soon, these quiet shops and empty beaches would be filled with families from all over the world, spending their precious money for a slice of what locals enjoyed year-round. I kept on driving, past Kill Devil Hills and all its many golf courses and tourist attractions. The Wright Brothers Memorial came and went, reminding me of a junior high field trip when I’d spent the entire bus ride talking Molly’s ear off about the first flight. Even then, I’d had it bad for her. The farther I drove, the quieter it became. Small beach towns passed by as I slowly made my way to Hatteras. This was where the Outer Banks really shone. Wooden houses dotted the shore, high on stilts to keep them protected from storms. I could see the wear and tear from their age, but that was part of the charm. People rode their bikes to cozy little mom-and-pop restaurants, feasting on local seafood and crabs. It was a simple way of life. One that was easily loved…or despised. In my case, it had been a healthy mix of both until the end. Until my world had been flipped upside down. By the time I ventured down to the farthest tip of the Banks, my legs were sore, and my stomach was empty. Pulling off just before the ferry that would take me on the last leg of the trip, I stopped at a small restaurant to refuel. Stepping out of the car, I stretched, feeling stiff and tired from being in one position for so long. I was used to being active. Sitting around never suited me. Even as a kid, I’d run around the island for hours, chasing crabs along the shore with my friends. These days, however, exercise was more of an indoor sport, as I’d opted for a high-priced gym membership over crab-chasing. But I still loved to run. Taking the short walk from the car, I entered the restaurant, looking for a bite to eat

before boarding the ferry. What I got was the exact opposite of quiet. “Holy shit!” a familiar voice called from across the restaurant. “Is that the Jake Jameson?” I looked over and immediately recognized him. Dean Sutherland. My childhood best friend. Growing up, it had always been Dean, Molly, and me—the three amigos. “As I live and breathe.” I grinned, surprised by the sudden emotions hitting me. I’d been dreading coming back here, facing the music for my sudden departure all those years ago. But seeing Dean? Here and now? It was nothing short of a blessing. We met somewhere in the middle, hugging like men always did—a hefty pat on the back while we both grinned like fucking idiots. “I wondered if we might be seeing you,” he said before his face turned somber. “I’m sorry about your dad.” I nodded. “Me, too.” He motioned me over to the far corner where he’d already devoured half of a sandwich and a couple of bags of chips. We each took a seat as Dean struggled to find the words, deep creases lining his forehead as his eyes stared into mine. “He fought it, you know? Every step of the way, he tried to stay healthy enough for everyone. But, eventually, it caught up to him.” “The liver can only take so much,” I said, shaking my head, as I tried not to imagine the memories of my father huddled over a bottle of gin late at night. “But enough about that. How the hell are you, buddy?” That shit-eating grin of his, which had coaxed me into a world of trouble, spread across his face. God, I’d missed this guy. “Good,” I answered. “I’m really good.” He pushed a tendril of sun-kissed hair from his face, giving me a second to notice the lines around his dark green eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was still as goodlooking as ever, but the years were showing. They showed on all of us, I guessed. “Your dad never stopped bragging about you. When you graduated from Stanford and moved to Boston for that fancy residency, you would have thought he’d won the damn lottery.” “If only he had.” I laughed, remembering the mountain of debt I’d been left with to pay after my father’s drinking habit and poor judgment depleted every dime we’d had.

“Well, at any rate, he kept us up to date on your life.” His eyes met mine, and I nodded, feeling the regret heavy on my shoulders. “I know I should have checked in, visited, or at least called. But you know how it is.” He didn’t, I was sure…but he agreed anyway, nodding his head as stilted silence settled around us. Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to stop by the table, giving me a thankful pause down memory lane. “I’ll have a turkey sandwich. No mayo and light on the cheese,” I requested, watching Dean’s smile falter. “Did you turn into a chick while you were away? Who the hell doesn’t want cheese?” I laughed, loving the way he still said whatever the hell was on his mind regardless of the consequences. “Gotta keep this impressive physique in shape,” I joked, patting my flat stomach. “Good Lord, you’ve turned into a dingbatter for sure,” he said as the waitress walked away to place my order. “God, that’s a word I haven’t heard for ages,” I replied, shaking my head at the local term for an idiot mainlander. “Well, you’d better get used to it. You show up in those frilly ass clothes, spouting off words like physique, and you’re going to get your head dunked in the tide.” “By you, no doubt.” “Damn straight,” he said, giving my designer jeans and tailored button down a once over. “You might be all high society now with your fancy degrees and impressive salary, but you’re still the same kid from way back who yelled at me for poking the jellyfish along the shore.” “What can I say?” I laughed. “I was a tenderhearted son of a bitch.” “That, you were.” He smiled. “That, you were.” Another awkward silence fell around us like fog along the tide. One that reminded me of how long it’d truly been. Here I was, sitting across from the man I’d once counted as family, a friend I would have gone to hell and back for, but now, I didn’t know a damn thing about him. “So, what have you been up to?” I asked, feeling the distance between us growing. He looked away for a moment before answering, “Oh, you know, a little of this and that. Business is good. Mom would love to see you. We’ve got a few new boats now.” I nodded, not surprised in the least by his response. Dean had always intended to work for the family business. Since we were kids, it was all he’d talked about. The Sutherland Fishing Company was big on the island, and when your name happened to be Sutherland…well, that was what you did.

Fishing. His whole life had been planned out for him, and he’d never even thought to dispute it. It was just how life ran around here. That was why I’d left. Although I wasn’t a Sutherland, my life had been just as planned until I chose a different path. “Listen, I’d better get going,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “The ferry is about to push off, and I’ve been gone most of the day, grabbing supplies and whatnot.” I looked out at the dock, watching the ferry return from the other side. Passengers began loading by the carload in neat, straight lines. The waitress dropped off my food, and still, I sat there, staring out at the vessel that would bring me home. It’s not home, I reminded myself. “Would have thought a big-ass Sutherland like yourself would have his own means of transportation by now.” He chuckled. “Sometimes, I like to ride the ferry and zone out, you know? Driving the boat requires all sorts of thinking, and every once in a while, it’s nice to just not.” I nodded. “Yeah, man, I do.” He still seemed hesitant, and I caught him gazing at that ferry with a worried look in his eyes. It dawned on me just then. “Oh, come on, Dean,” I finally said with a smile. “Don’t tell me you still believe in that old superstition about the last ferry of the day.” He laughed. “It was your wackadoodle neighbor who told me about it. Scared the piss right out of my six-year-old body. I’ve never been able to step foot on that last boat after hearing her tell those scary stories late at night.” I rolled my eyes. “You know as well as I do that Terri has a few loose screws, and there isn’t anything she loves more than messing with young boys, especially when she catches them in her garden. Nothing bad has ever happened to the last ferry of the night. You and I know that.” “Then, how do you explain the crazy experience we had that one night during junior year?” “You mean, when Molly dared me to crawl under the car and grab your ankles when she was telling you that fucking lame-ass ghost story?” His eyes widened in shock. “You assholes! I nearly peed my pants that night.” I laughed. “Pretty sure you actually did. I think I had to talk you out of jumping off the boat several times.” He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Those were the good old days,” he said, turning his attention toward the window. I followed. I didn’t say anything in return.

“Okay,” he finally said, his eyes finding mine. “I’ll grab the last ferry with you. But only because we need to catch up. Things are different now.” I nodded, letting him believe that. But how could anything be different in a place where nothing changed?

We watched the second-to-last ferry pull from the shore from our table in the restaurant, knowing there was one on its way back for us. It vanished into the dark waters of the Atlantic like some mystic pirate ship sailing into oblivion. After a beer or two, we paid our tab and set out toward our vehicles. “Definitely couldn’t have done that if I had the boat,” he said before letting out a manly belch. I shook my head in amusement. “No, definitely not.” “So, I’ll see you in a few,” Dean said, slipping his hands in his jean pockets. “Right. Priority pass,” I said as something dawned on me once again. I was a tourist here now. Dean was a local. The dividing line was clear as day as he wandered off toward his vehicle. Residents of Ocracoke could apply for a priority pass, giving them easy access to and from the island, while people like me had to wait in line. “I’ll see you out there,” I hollered over my shoulder, bidding him a farewell as he took his place in the priority lane. The walk back to my rental was short and the salt air did little to calm my nerves. This was it. In one hour, I’d be back on Ocracoke Island. Hoping into the car, I revved the engine and pulled into the short line of cars waiting to board the ferry, feeling like the greatest imposter of them all. A local with no home. A deserter with nothing to look forward to but a lonely house and a dead father. I slowly made my way onto the ferry, remembering the last time I’d done so. It was a few days before my freshman orientation, and I had been determined to make the cross-country trip alone. My father and I had gotten into a huge fight the day before. “You have other options!” he yelled. “Better options.” “You mean, the options that would keep me here, close to you.” He sighed, placing his hands against his forehead, as if he were trying to smooth out the stress of the last three months. “You know, I’m not the only one here who wants you to stay.”

His words hit me like a battering ram. Less than twelve hours earlier, Molly had said the same exact thing. But nothing was going to deter me. Not family obligation or young love. “I’m going to college, Dad. I’m going to college where I want to go, not you. Nothing can keep me here. You can’t make me attend college at NC State or force me to come back here to take over your mess of a practice. You lost that power over me when you killed my mother.” I regretted it the instant the fateful words had fallen from my mouth. I could see the pain they’d caused, feel the last thread snap that bound us together. “Well then, I guess that’s it,” he said, his voice hoarse and filled with regret. “I wish you nothing but the best.” I watched him walk away, leaving the small living room I’d filled with tension and animosity. I should have been happy. I’d stood my ground. I’d won. But, rather than elation, I felt dread. And overwhelming sadness. That day was the beginning and the end for me. The first day of my new life. And the end of everything I’d left behind. No one had shown up to see me off. I’d driven onto the ferry, the back of my old, beat-up pickup filled to the brim, completely and utterly alone. And that was the day I’d decided I was done. With this town and everyone in it. Funny how fate had a way of making a liar out of me.

“It’s like riding a bicycle, isn’t it?” Dean said as he approached me. I’d parked my rental and cut the engine like instructed before stepping out toward the railings. The air was a bit cooler than before when I’d touched down in Raleigh, and the humidity had drastically improved since the sun set. “If the tourists can figure it out, I sure as hell can. Besides, it’s not like I forgot all those years we used to get out of summer chores to catch a ride to Hatteras.” Dean grinned. “Man, we sure thought we had everyone fooled, didn’t we?” “We did,” I answered adamantly. He just shook his head. “No, we didn’t. My ma told me years ago that she knew exactly where we went. Yours did, too. They just chose to let it go, saying, What fun is

youth if you can’t get away with a few things here and there?” I was shocked. “So, you mean, all this time, they knew? Every covert getaway we planned, every success story?” “All crap.” He laughed, both of us turning our attention back to the water. “Well, I’ll be…” After some time, Dean spoke up again, “You know, your accent is becoming stronger, the closer we get to home.” “It’s not my home,” I growled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his shoulder rise as he shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say, but don’t be surprised when you start bitching about mainlanders and the price of coffee in a few days.” I rolled my eyes. “Never gonna happen, my friend. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. To help transition my father’s practice, so it can soon become someone else’s problem.” He turned to me, looking somber. “And that’s the only reason?” A wisp of long blonde hair and a forgotten smile flashed across my mind. I could hear her laughter. Feel her body as she surrendered to mine. “Yes,” I answered firmly, my jaw twitching as I willed the memories away. “It’s the only reason.” Dean’s hands went up in a symbol of surrender. “Okay, just checking.” I watched the white spray of water the ferry left in its wake as it sped toward the island. Sped was a relative word. A one-way trip between the mainland and Ocracoke was about an hour, but considering the lack of alternatives, it was an impressive feat. I remembered my grandmother telling me of the days before the ferries had become the standard around here. It’d made leaving the island a rare occasion, and that generation still talked nonstop about how wonderfully exclusive the island had been. After my mom had died, it’d felt pretty much the same. Like a tropical prison meant to cage me in forever. “Listen,” Dean said hesitantly. I could hear the sudden distress in his tone, which immediately drew my attention sideways. The lines across his forehead that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him deepened as he grappled for the right words. “I wanted you to hear it from me first. Molly and I, we’re getting ma—” A dreadful, deep boom sounded off behind us, instantly cutting off Dean’s words. Turning around, we instinctively ducked as an explosion of fire ripped through the ferry. Flames burst through the engine room, engulfing it in a fiery plume. Utter mayhem followed. “What the—” I cursed under my breath as Armageddon surrounded us.

Screams. Bloodcurdling, soul-ripping shrieks of pain ripped through the night, causing my body to leap into action. This was what I had been trained to do after all. It was what had been hardwired into my brain after years of residency and training. Weaving through the maze of cars, I sprang into action. Dean followed suit. We ripped doors open, pulling injured people from their cars, away from the flying wreckage. “Dean!” I yelled, pointing to a family of four who were scared stiff. “Get them out of here!” He nodded, carrying the battered and bruised as well as the shaken to safety. The rest, however, were for me. Grabbing anything and everything I could from the cars, I quickly made makeshift tourniquets for wounds that wouldn’t stop bleeding, I banged on chests and started CPR, as brave souls took over so I could attend to others. And I never stopped assuring them that everything would be okay. When, in reality, I knew the opposite. There had been an explosion on the ferry. A ferry carrying dozens of cars. Gallons of gasoline. We were literally stuck in the middle of the ocean on a ticking time bomb. It was only a matter of time before— Another explosion sounded, making my ears ring and my heart race. Turning toward the sound of the blast, I saw complete horror. Cars were flying through the air and into the darkness of the water. Screams. God, I’d never forget the screams. Especially one in particular. “Jake!” Dean hollered, his voice standing out above the rest. “Jake, help!” I finished assessing a child’s small leg. “Don’t move, okay?” I said, turning my attention to his mother. “Keep pressure on his leg. Help will be here soon.” But even the blue-eyed child, covered in his own blood, knew that was a lie. We were all going to die here. Even me. But like hell I’d stop trying. Jumping over a scrap of metal, I made my way to Dean’s cries of help. When I got there, it took everything I had not to lose my shit as my eyes took him in. “Hey,” I said, analyzing the situation as I drew closer. Dean’s arm had been nearly severed. How? I wasn’t sure, but I was guessing what

remained of his pickup truck next to him was to blame. Pulling the shirt off my own back, I did what I could. I tried to stop the bleeding, I checked for other wounds, and most importantly, I kept him awake, even when his dark expression told me it was the last thing he wanted to do. I’d seen this look before, more times than I could count in my days of working as a resident in the ER. The will to live was waning. Dean was giving up. His eyes began to look skyward as he reasoned with God. “Hey,” I said, tightly pulling the scraps of fabric around his biceps. His focus fell back on me. “Remember when we were little, and Terri used to bust our hides for running off to the beach?” He gave me a ghost of a smile as his eyes went glassy. “Yeah,” he choked out. “We never seemed to be able to do what we had been told.” “Remember how we made fake pirate swords out of driftwood and practiced battling each other as the tide receded?” “I bested you every time.” “I wasn’t made for fighting, I recall.” He coughed a strangled cough that made my insides burn. “No, you were always suited for something better. Something bigger. I’m glad you found it, and I’m fortunate I was able to see it before—” “No,” I said. “Don’t you dare say it, Dean. You and I are going to get off this trash heap of a boat and walk into town as heroes, you hear me? You’ll be the talk of the entire island. Hell, you might even get laid.” He laughed, and I could see the struggle in his gaze as he did so. “Tell Molly I’m sorry.” My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to decipher his words. “Tell Molly you’re sorry for what?” I asked, not knowing if he was still here with me or lost in a memory. “Tell her I’m sorry for not being enough. For not being you. Take care of our Molly for me.” I shook my head as I looked down at him, disbelief invading every molecule of my body. “It was always you and her, Jake. Now everything will be as it should.” His words swam around me like piranhas as I tried to make sense of it all. I looked into his eyes one last time, remembering the moment before the explosion. Molly and I are getting ma— Married. My chest burned as I watched Dean’s eyes shut tight and I was left holding the limp

body of my oldest friend. The man who’d stolen the only woman I’d ever loved.



BITING INTO THE RIPE STRAWBERRY, I moaned as the sweet juice hit my tongue. “Terri, you are too good to me. These are amazing.” She smiled quickly before turning back toward the kitchen counter. “It’s all in the soil,” she said, shrugging. “Well, whatever it is, you’ve got it in spades. I’m lucky to keep herbs and house plants alive.” “You do well with what you got,” she replied, her thick familiar accent brining a smile to my face. I nodded, watching as she packaged up all my purchases. Terri had been my go-to for fresh, local produce for well over a year now. After taking over the family business, a cozy inn my parents had inherited from my mother’s side of the family, I’d found this wonderful old lady and friend with the bright green thumb was truly the key to my success. “Anything else for you today?” she asked as we sat at her kitchen table drinking homemade sweet tea. I looked around, trying to remind myself to think with my brain, not my stomach. “Maybe some peaches?” I said, my mind suddenly whipping up heavenly visions of peach cobbler fresh from the oven. “You know, Greta over on Ocean View carries pretty good produce. Fresh, too.” I nodded. “Yes, but she’s not you. And, besides, who would you talk to if I didn’t come and visit?” She just shook her head, bagging up a few jars of peach preserves since fresh peaches wouldn’t be in season for another few months. “It’s a wonder how your guests don’t roll out of that place when they’re done.” “Some of them do,” I answered with a laugh. “Business still good?” she asked. I began writing her a check for the exact amount I owed. I’d once tried to add a tip to her total, knowing for a fact that she seriously undercharged me, and she’d ripped the

check in half, right in front of me, saying I wasn’t doing her any favors. At least, not with my money. I made it up to her, running errands and weeding her flowers from time to time. Whatever I could do to keep that old woman going. “It’s great actually,” I replied. “Mama and Daddy are amazed at the progress I’ve made since taking charge.” “Well, it’s no surprise to me,” she answered. I grabbed several of the sacks from the table before she could. She let it go, just shaking her head, as we walked out the front door and toward my car. I lifted the tailgate, and she waited as I filled the back with more fruits and vegetables than most people ate in a month. Too bad it would last me only a week. Two, tops. “You’ve always had a knack for that place. Saw it years ago when you came here for fresh lemons, pigtails down your back and tiny freckles under your eyes. Even then, you knew how to take care of those guests. Better than your parents, I’d wager.” I shied away from the compliment. I was never able to take one without feeling uncomfortable. To me, taking care of people always came easily. After I’d grown up in a house filled with strangers, it could have honestly gone either way. But I had seen the joy my parents had in it. How all their hard work had seemed entirely worth it just to see a person smile at the end of a long day. I had known even then that I was made for this life. “Thank you, Terri, but I think I still have some work to do when it comes to living up to the legend of my folks. We still have guests coming back year after year, choosing our little place on the water over anywhere else. It’s a true honor.” “Ah, well, I’m sure they’re proud of you all the same. You’re a good girl,” she said plainly, making me feel like the tiny young thing she’d described moments earlier rather than a grown woman of nearly thirty. We said our good-byes, and I headed back to the house. Although it was still relatively quiet on the island, I did have a few guests lingering about the property, and I wanted to get a head start on breakfast in the morning. Pulling up to the house gave me a sense of peace. I might have had an odd sort of childhood, meeting new strangers week after week, but this place, with its weathered gray cedar siding and bright red door, would always be home. Grabbing the produce from the back of my worn pickup, I headed for the back door, hoping to give my guests time to enjoy their lazy day without me getting in the way. Being an innkeeper was a tricky business. Too much interaction with those staying in the house, and they felt awkward and out of place. Too little, and…well, pretty much the same outcome. It was a balancing act. One I’d perfected in the year since my parents’ retirement. Not that it stopped them from coming by the house every now and then to

check up on things. And by now and then, I really meant, every day. Every single day. Why couldn’t they just have retired to Florida like normal parents and bothered my younger sister for a change? It had become an ongoing joke between us but one I knew would sting if they ever really did leave. As much as it annoyed me to see their two little gray heads poking about, I knew I’d be lost without them. And, as I rounded the corner into the large kitchen bright with the afternoon sun, I shook my head at my predictable intruders. “Back so soon?” I said, noticing my mom was already elbow deep in bread dough. Flour covered the marble countertops as she made it entirely by hand. It was a sight I’d seen hundreds of times in my life. “Your dad wanted a scone and I knew you’d have some left over from breakfast.” She shrugged, barely glancing in my direction, as she continued to work on the dough, kneading it with care, as she’d done for decades. I could see the changes, the need for her and my father’s retirement. Mom was slower now as she placed the dough in a clear bowl to rise. There was determination where it had once been second nature. Her hands looked smaller, frailer. Yet she still showed up, wanting to carry on the tasks she’d reluctantly passed on to me. Neither of them had wanted to move on, and it had taken years of convincing them that I was ready. But my time was finally here. I smiled, knowing she was lying through her teeth about my father needing a scone, as I caught a glimpse of him through the window, dangling on the hammock. His eyes were closed, mouth hanging open, as he enjoyed his afternoon nap. “A scone, huh?” I replied, setting down several jars of jam and the bag of tomatoes I’d bought. “Yes,” she sighed dramatically as she placed the dough in the industrial-sized refrigerator. “You know, they have amazing scones at the coffee shop down the road from your cottage, right? And, last time I checked, I don’t seem to recall bread dough as a necessary ingredient.” She could hear the obvious laughter in my tone and turned around quickly, dirty hands and all. “Okay, fine,” she admitted. “I wanted to come over and visit, and maybe bake up a loaf of bread. Is it so wrong of me to want to see my eldest daughter? I mean, soon, you’re going to have Dean around here to help with all these things.” I scrunched my nose, imagining my Dean in my kitchen, trying his hand at baking. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

Grabbing a tea towel, I stepped forward and handed it to her. She looked down, slowly taking it before brushing away the remnants of flour. “What is this all about, Mom? You can tell me.” Her gaze firmly remained on the plaid towel as the tip of her finger traced a pattern. “Are you sure you’re making the right choice?” she asked. My instant response was one of anger, but the moment her blue eyes met my own, I knew she meant well. She always wanted the best for me. Even if it meant incessantly nagging me about it. “We’ve been over this, Mama. I know what I’m doing.” She nodded, but I knew she still had doubts. I could see them forming into words, even before she opened her mouth. “Are you sure? Because when you’re with him, it’s—“ “It’s what, Mama?” “It’s like you’re with your best friend,” she sighed. I got defensive. It wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned it. My sister called me weekly as asked how my BFF was. “Aren’t you supposed to marry your best friend?” I asked. “Well, yes baby. Friendship is important in a marriage. But so is heat and passion.” My arms folded around my waist as I began to turn away. “What about—” I held up my hand, immediately cutting her off. “No, we’re not talking about Jake, Mama. Not again and not anymore. It’s history. It’s been history for well over a decade now.” “But you know he’ll return now that his father has passed.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with Dean now. I love Dean. We’ve been together for four years. We’re happy,” I pressed, my mother appearing no less convinced than before. “And, besides, the way Jake tore out of here all those years ago, I doubt we’ll see his face around here again.” “He was hurt and still grieving his mother,” she explained. “Jake’s mother died after he started blaming this island for his problems. He just used it as an excuse to walk away. I just hope he’s found whatever he was looking for,” I said, my gaze shifting toward the window where my father slept. How many times had Jake held me in that hammock? Told me there would never be anyone else—right before he tore out my heart? “And have you?” my mother asked. “Found what you’ve been looking for?” I forced my gaze from the window to the woman who’d been by my side my entire life

and through every decision, even now, even when she didn’t agree with them. “Yes, I have,” I answered firmly. “Dean and I have something real and reliable.” She took my hands in her own, disregarding the flour and dough that remained. “Then, I’m happy for you, Molly. Truly.” “Thank you, Mama.” I gave a weak smile as I tried to forget the past. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not with his ghost following me around every corner of the house, under every oak tree on the property. Jake was ingrained in the framework of this house just as much as I was. I’d never be rid of him, no matter how hard I tried.

After finishing several loaves of banana bread and a healthy batch of peach scones for the morning, I wiped down the kitchen and made myself a drink. Nothing like a good glass of pinot noir after a long day. Finding a quiet spot in the garden, I leaned back into the comfy lounge chair that was usually occupied by guests, and I soaked in the view. By the Bay Inn had been in our family for generations. Long before my grandparents had decided to turn the large house into a place for visitors, it’d served as a boarding house for soldiers during the war. I still remembered the stories my grandmother would tell me from her childhood when she had a crush on a different officer every week. Lucky for my grandfather, a local fisherman in town, none of those crushes had lasted, and they had gotten married soon after he returned from fighting on the front line in Germany. How romantic it must have been back then. “Lovely night it’s turning out to be.” I turned, spotting one of my favorite guests walking up the path toward me. He was an elderly man, here with his wife of fifty years. They’d been regulars since I was a young girl, and it always warmed my heart to see the happy couple return year after year. After I gestured to the empty chair beside me, I watched him take a seat. “Yes, it is.” I smiled. “Where is your bride, Mr. Lovell? Are you ditching your traditional night of cards to stare out at the stars with me?” He chuckled, those dull green eyes of his disappearing behind his large cheeks. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly do that. My Anne lives for card games. We’ve played at least one hand every day of our marriage. She’s convinced it’s the key to our success.” “Card games, hmm? Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” “Your mama said you’d found yourself a nice fellow and a local boy? Big day coming

soon?” I nodded. “You remember Dean Sutherland? He used to run around with—well, he’s always been a good friend,” I said, clearing my throat. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” “Ah, yes,” he said, “I remember Dean well. Tall, lanky thing if I remember right.” He chuckled. “Haven’t seen him in ages, has he grown into a decent young man?” he asked, sounding more like a father than a houseguest. I laughed. “Yes, he’s great—hardworking and loyal.” He made a sound, something between a grunt and a laugh. “What?” I asked, glancing over in his direction. I could see a smile creeping up his face as he looked out onto the bay. “Sounds like you’re describing a dog, not a lover.” My cheeks reddened. “Mr. Lovell!” I laughed. “I didn’t know you could be so crude.” “I didn’t know you were such a prude.” A snort escaped my lips as his smile broke into a deep laugh. The two of us filled the entire backyard with our laughter. Tears were running down my cheeks. “I just feel sort of responsible for you in a way. You’ve always been special to Anne and me, and I don’t want to see you make the wrong decision. Marriage can be the most wonderful journey a person can take. Or it can be the most devastating. Whom you choose to share this life with truly makes all the difference.” “And you think my hardworking, loyal fiancé doesn’t fit the bill?” I asked pointedly. “I can’t say. I haven’t talked to the guy since he was a kid. But, even if I had, it wouldn’t matter what I thought of him. It’s what you think of him that matters. Is he worthy of you? When you look into his eyes, do you see the years melting away? Do you see a lifetime of happiness? Or years of struggle?” “I-I—” I stammered as his ancient eyes found mine. There was only one man in my life who had ever made me feel whole. Not a man, I corrected myself. A boy. A boy with unrealistic expectations that had demanded he walk away. From his home and from me. “Yes,” I answered. “Yes, I do. See happiness, I mean.” His gaze continued to bore into mine before a single blink broke our connection. “Well then, good,” he said softly. “I wish you nothing but the best, and I look forward to visiting you both next year.” I nodded, bidding him farewell, and he went back inside to find his wife.

No doubt, they’d stay up late into the night, laughing over cards, while the moon rose high in the sky. When was the last time Dean and I had done something so simple? I couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter. Dean and I had made a life together, one that made sense. One that would last. Or at least, that was what I told myself. But, as I walked back into the house, wine glass emptied long ago, I couldn’t help but remember the boy with the unrealistic expectations. The boy who had stolen my heart long before I knew it could be claimed. Was he really coming home? For the sake of my sanity, I hoped not. I wasn’t sure my heart, the mangled remnants of what he’d left behind, could ever survive another round with Jake Jameson.

Long after the Lovells had retired to their guest room, I found myself wandering the grand house. I lingered in the breakfast room, making sure chairs were tucked in their proper places and the settings were just right. I carried that attention to detail into the sitting room, fluffing pillows and refolding blankets. It wasn’t like me to primp so much. I’d been doing this routine for years, well before my name was listed as proprietor. So, why was I so eager now? Checking the antique clock, I squinted to see the tiny hands. It was late. Well past the time when Dean should have checked in. He’d been busy the last few days, grabbing supplies on the mainland as the Sutherlands prepared for an upcoming busy season. Dean Sutherland was from one of the most well-known families around. Born into a wealthy family who owned a commercial fishing company, he’d had his life planned out for him as clearly as mine had been. It was why I had been attracted to him in the first place—his dedication to his trade and his family…to this town. It was our common ground. It didn’t hurt that we’d known each other since birth either. Checking the clock again, I began to feel anxious. Surely, he’d call if he was running late? He always had, so why would today be any different? Realizing I was wearing a path across the floor, I went in search of my cell phone. I found it on the kitchen counter just as it began to ring. Taylor Sutherland—Dean’s younger brother.

I answered on the second ring. “Molly? It’s Taylor.” I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing Dean’s brother on the other end. They must be running late and Dean was making his brother call to avoid my wrath. “Hi, Taylor.” “There’s been an accident. I’m up here at the hospital in Virginia Beach.” “Virginia Beach? Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I asked, suddenly frightened. “I’m fine. It wasn’t me, Mols.” There was a deafening pause. “It’s Dean.” The dreadful feeling I’d had crept back up my spine. “What happened?” “An explosion on the ferry. They think the engine blew. Several people are dead, and —” I swallowed audibly. “And Dean?” Tears stung my eyes. “He’s in surgery now. They’re trying to save his arm. He’s in bad shape Molly.” My hand flew up to my mouth as sobs tore from my throat. “Oh God, Taylor.” “Listen,” he said intently, “I’ve arranged for a pilot to fly you up here. The ferry is out of operation until further notice. Do you think you can make it?” I nodded before answering, “Yes, absolutely.” I wrote down several details—the pilot’s name and where to meet Taylor when we arrived. My mind was going a mile a minute as I operated on autopilot, not giving myself a second to react. We said our good-byes, and I quickly sprang into action. Calling my parents, I filled them in on Dean. “I’ll be back by morning to serve breakfast,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Are you crazy?” my mom said. “Go take care of this. We can watch over things for a day.” “But—” I tried to argue. “You don’t have to take care of everything all the time,” she reminded me. “Okay,” I finally answered. I hated caving, but I knew she was right. I’d never missed a single morning since I took over the inn but Dean needed me and as hard as it was for me to admit—I needed help. I quickly thanked them before grabbing a light jacket and keys to my pickup. I drove as tears streaked my face, the reality of the situation finally kicking in as I willed myself to pay attention to navigating the dark roads. Finally, I arrived at the local airport. Like most things in Ocracoke, it was ridiculously small. After stepping out of the car, I was greeted by a man Taylor had mentioned. I recognized him instantly from countless encounters on the island. I often recommended his scenic tours to my guests. While we had many adventures to partake in across the

island, nothing was as beautiful as seeing it from the air. I had a feeling it wouldn’t elicit the same feelings at night, especially under these circumstances. “Good to see you Molly,” the pilot said, slightly yelling over the engine noise. I simply nodded. “I’m going to take us to Norfolk, and someone should be picking you up from there, correct?” I confirmed the details before we boarded the small prop plane. My nerves got the best of me as I took one of the few passenger seats. A woman I didn’t recognize was sitting nearby. “My name is Marin,” she said, holding out her hand. I took it, giving it a light squeeze. “Molly.” “Are you—I mean, do you…know someone on the ferry?” “Yes. My fiancé,” I managed to say. She looked down, a single tear falling from her cheek. “My husband,” she replied. “He travels a lot for work. This was supposed to be our anniversary weekend, but he got stuck at the airport and missed his flight. I was so mad,” she said, shaking her head. “I yelled at him on the phone. Can you believe that? I yelled.” I didn’t bother to respond. I could tell by her demeanor that she wasn’t talking for my benefit. In her mind, she was confessing her sins. “He left the airport and rented a car, drove all evening just to catch the last ferry. For me.” I unbuckled my seat belt, taking the spot next to her. Grabbing her hand, I said nothing. Just simply held it as we sat in silence, sending up prayers to the heavens. The flight itself didn’t take long, although it felt like a lifetime. Marin and I held on to each other for support, and I offered her a ride to the hospital when we landed, knowing Taylor wouldn’t mind in the least. “Thank you,” she replied. Taylor managed to arrive just as we deplaned, giving me a big bear hug the moment we reached each other. “How is he?” I asked, seeing the pain in his eyes over his older brother. “We don’t know yet. He was still in surgery when I left to pick you up.” Arm in arm, we walked to the car as I introduced Taylor to my new friend. His eyes lingered on her as understanding blossomed. We were all in this together. Local, tourist, brother, friend—none of it mattered when lives were on the line.

The ride to the hospital was quiet. None of us felt much like speaking. Honestly, I thought we all felt a little numb. Numb to what was happening, numb to what we might discover. Just cold, hollow, and numb. My hands shook as I opened the passenger door, seeing the flashing lights outside the emergency room. The air smelled salty and familiar, reminding me of summers long gone. My family had once vacationed in Virginia Beach, just to see how different it was from our own little island. It was the last beach vacation we took. I remembered, on the way back home, my father had said, “Why go to the beach when we have one in our backyard?” I brushed back my unruly blonde hair, but the breeze threw it back in my face. Dean loved playing with my hair. One night, over a bottle of wine, I’d even taught him how to braid it while we stayed up late playing board games. “You need to know this,” I said. “Oh? And why is that?” he asked, his husky voice betraying the amusement in his eyes. “Because, one day, you might find yourself with a darling daughter with hair just like mine, and being the princess she is, she’ll demand it be taken care of.” “Hair just like yours, huh?” I turned to him, smiling. “Just like mine.” It was the first time we’d talked about kids. It was the first time we’d talked about anything beyond that night. I’d thought he’d run away, scared, but he never did. Instead, he’d gotten down on one knee the following morning and asked me to marry him, just like that. That was how our relationship had been from that moment on, easy and uncomplicated. I’d thought we’d have forever to get to know each other like that. Like lovers rather than longtime friends. But, now, all that was up in the air. So fleeting. Everything was a blur the moment we entered the hospital. I said my good-byes to Marin as she dashed to the front desk, seeking answers. As I followed Taylor back to the waiting room they had especially for the surgical wing, I couldn’t help but notice the faces around me.

No one had routine surgery this late at night. There were tears, families huddled in prayer, and tired, confused children who had been ripped from their beds. Some, I recognized. Neighbors and friends from town. I wasn’t the only one who’d made it off the island to be here for someone. Surely, I wouldn’t be the last. Once news spread, every boat and plane would be put to use, carrying people back and forth. Those tourists stranded on the island would be helped, either given shelter or a way back home. We never left anyone behind. Most of Dean’s family was together in that small room, hunched tightly in the corner as they awaited news. Dean’s mother, Dottie, gave me a hug. “So glad you could make it,” she said, her distinctive Ocracoke brogue standing out against all the other voices. “I’m thankful for the arrangements,” I replied, holding her in my arms. I’d known Dean’s family for as long as I could remember. Everyone had. I used to ride past their large house on my ten-speed, wondering what it looked like. Eventually, I’d discovered what lay inside. It hadn’t taken long. Once school had started, the three of us— Dean, Jake, and I—had become inseparable. It’d turned out, the Sutherland house was just that—an ordinary house. Nothing as extravagant as my young mind had dreamed up, but it was lovely all the same. Sometimes, I wished I’d never stepped foot inside. Then, the mystery and magic of the place would still remain. But life had a way of letting us down sometimes. We grew up and lost the magic of our youth. We suffered loss. I only prayed that day wasn’t upon me.

I didn’t know how long we sat there, waiting for an update. Dottie explained the surgeons were trying to repair Dean’s arm. To save it. “And if they can’t?” I asked, scared to hear the answer. “Then, we will be there for him,” she simply said. I wanted to ask all sorts of questions, but instead, I fell silent. No one knew any more than I did. Finally, a doctor entered the room and calmly called out for us, “The family of Dean Sutherland?” He was still dressed in his scrubs and booties. “Here!” Taylor said, holding a hand in the air.

We met him halfway, eager for information, but his face said it all. “We did all we could to save his arm,” he announced regretfully. “But nothing could be done. The damage was too severe.” My heart sank. “Is he okay?” Dottie asked, grabbing my hand. “Yes, he’ll recover. Although it will take time. He has a broken ankle as well, probably from the initial blow that severed his arm. He’ll need to remain in the hospital for a week or two to heal, but eventually, we should be able to transfer him down to The Outer Banks Hospital for physical and occupational therapy, so he’s closer to home. There he’ll learn how to live as an amputee.” He paused to let that all settle. “It’s going to be an adjustment. For everyone.” Amputee. The word seemed so foreign to me. Thinking of it brought up images of wounded soldiers and veterans from wars long ago. But, to hear it now, it felt unreal and wrong. Surely, my fisherman fiancé, so normal and unassuming, couldn’t possibly be an amputee. He had so much more to do. We both did. “When can we see him?” Taylor asked. “He’s still coming out of anesthesia, but I can allow one of you in to see him if you’d like.” “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, shaking his hand. He nodded before instructing us on where to go. “I’ll wait here,” I said, assuming Dean’s mother would go. “No,” she replied. “We think you should be the one to see him,” she explained, placing a loving hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be a blubbering mess if I go and right now, he needs strength.” I gulped loudly, agreeing to her instructions. In the Sutherland house, Dottie was the head of the hardheaded family, and I’d learned very quickly that whatever she said was law. I always admired that courage within her, assuming it had come from her need to be a mother and father after her husband passed. But, now, I just ached for it. Ached for the calm resilience she wore. Ached for the knowledge that everything would work itself out even though my every thought screamed something else entirely. After saying a few good-byes to those still waiting for news on their loved ones, I journeyed down the long hallway until I found my way. I checked in with a nurse, and she escorted me through double doors to where Dean was recovering. My hands shook as we approached, as I was unsure of how I’d react to seeing him so frail and weak.

He’d always been larger than life. “He’s still asleep,” the nurse announced. “But feel free to take his hand and let him know you’re here.” “Will he be able to hear me?” I questioned as I followed her into the room. Several other nurses were around, but I barely noticed them. All I saw was Dean. “Honestly, I don’t know, but I like to believe so,” she replied before ushering me over to him. A quiet sob tore through my chest. He was battered and bruised but clean, hooked up to several monitors with wires everywhere. The cuts and gashes on his chest and legs had been bandaged and cared for, his ankle set in a cast. I couldn’t look. I wasn’t ready. But I had to. I had to be strong for him. Fighting back tears, I took a step forward and grabbed his left hand, his only hand. “Hi, it’s me,” I said lamely, not knowing what else to do. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know, I’m here for you. We all are.” I took a deep breath. “I made your favorite today,” I said, sort of rambling, forgetting that it was well past midnight and a completely new day. “Peach scones. Mr. Lovell loves them, too. I think I forgot to mention, he and his wife were visiting this week. They’re some of our regulars. You may remember them from way back. Anyway, he asked about you—or about my fellow, as he phrased it. He wanted to know if you were worthy of me —or maybe vice versa. I don’t know. Anyway, I’m not sure why I said that. Maybe I should just shut up.” “No, keep going.” My body froze instantly. Even after a decade, I recognized the rough cadence of the voice behind me, and who it belonged to. I remembered every word he’d said to me. From the shy hello in the schoolyard when we were no older than five to the unrelenting determination as he’d promised me the stars. My breath faltered. “Jake,” I breathed out in a whisper. A hundred different memories flooded my mind all at once as I fought to turn around. The first time I saw him—not the boy who had pulled my hair and called me names, but a man, full of possibilities and purpose. Our first kiss—an awkward meeting of lips that still, to this day, made my stomach flip every time I thought of it.

Broken promises and heartache as I’d watched him walk away, knowing I’d never be enough for him. Squeezing Dean’s hand one last time, I took a deep breath, steadied my thoughts, and turned around. At first, I was almost surprised by how much he’d changed. Dark blue scrubs covered his tall, lean body. His dark brown hair was shorter, and there was definite stubble across his chin and jaw. But he was still there. The boy with eyes as blue as the sea and a heart as big as the ocean. “He’s stable,” he finally said, his voice taking on a professional quality that I recognized from whenever I’d visited his father at the clinic. “The surgeon who tried to save his arm, he was good; I can vouch for that. But it was just too late after the amount of time it had taken the paramedics to reach us,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “There was nothing he could do.” “Us?” I asked in confusion. “Dean and I were on the ferry together. We sort of ran into each other beforehand. I’m here for my father’s funeral. He left me his practice,” he explained. “Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step in his direction before stopping myself. Before remembering who I was. Who he was. He held up a hand of reassurance. “I’m fine. I don’t know how or why, but other than a few bruised ribs and some superficial cuts and scrapes, I got out of there nearly unscathed.” “Lucky you.” I deadpanned. My attention returned to the man next to me—my fiancé, who’d just come out of surgery and who would spend the rest of his life without the use of one of his arms. “Well, thank you for assuring me that he was well taken care of. I appreciate it.” All my focus shifted back to Dean. My hand rested atop his as Jake moved closer. I could feel the heat of him, smell the smoke that still clung to his skin. “Mols, I—” I simply shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “Not here, not now, Jake.” Not ever, I failed to say. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, stepping away from the bed where Dean lay still. “Congratulations by the way. In the short time we spent together, I could see he was happy. I’m sure you had something to do with that.” I turned, seeing his tall frame hovering by the door. The light from above seemed to highlight every cut and scrape on his body, reminding me of how close they’d both been to death.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to meet his intense gaze. As I turned back toward Dean, I heard the door click closed. The sound of it was like the cracking of a dam in my rigid demeanor. I hunched over my fiancé and wept. Wept in thanks to God above for saving him. Wept for the loss of his independence and all it would mean for the future. And as selfish as it was, I wept for Jake…and all that could have been.



I COULDN’T DENY IT; I was rattled. I had known returning home would be difficult. I’d walked away with little to no desire of ever returning. Severing those ties had made it easier. I’d convinced myself it was the right decision for everyone, and eventually, the guilt had become nothing more than a distant memory. But running into Dean and the mess that followed had brought it all back. It’d brought everything back. My hands shook as I washed them in the doctors’ lounge after finishing an impromptu lunch. Or dinner. I wasn’t sure. Since arriving in Virginia Beach, I’d been doing everything I could to help with the victims and their families. Having privileges in Illinois and North Carolina only, I’d been granted emergency privileges in the state of Virginia to help with the ferry boat victims. This hospital was used to taking the brunt of emergencies from up and down the coast, splitting them with Greenville, North Carolina, but tonight, they were far from sufficiently staffed. I was more than glad to help and welcomed the short-term distraction wholeheartedly. It had been a long night, and it wasn’t over. Finding Molly…it could have been avoided. I could have spent the entire night at the hospital without seeing her. But I’d promised Dean I’d take care of her, so I had done the only thing I could. I’d tried to calm her fears, but instead, I’d found myself as the fearful one. “Jameson,” Dr. Fisher called out as he breezed in and collapsed on one of the couches, “you did good tonight.” “Just trying to help,” I said, grabbing a paper towel for my hands. “Crazy night.” His eyes were closed, but his hands continued to move in slow circles around his temples. I recognized the posture. Exhaustion.

After working my ass off through years of school and a never-ending residency, I knew the feeling. It seemed to be the only constant in my life. “Chief said you know some of the patients who came in?” “Yeah,” I replied. “I was on the ferry, headed home for my father’s funeral.” He immediately sat up. “No shit?” I simply nodded. “They’re saying it’s the first ferry accident around here in years.” “Decades, I’d wager,” I answered. Fisher returned to his horizontal position on the couch, and we continued to make small talk. He seemed unaffected by the events that had taken place tonight. Being a transplant from Ohio, he didn’t have the deep connections like some of us. To him, it was just another long night. I wish it were for me, too. Leaving him to his sleep, I made my way out of the lounge to check on a few patients. Since arriving, I’d mostly been working in the ER. My own minor wounds had been tended to, and then I’d gone to work. Idly sitting around never suited me. I much preferred the chaos of the hospital to the silence of my apartment. It was why I’d risen through the ranks at MacNeal. With the chief of surgery looking to retire soon, it would only be a matter of time before I was running the whole place. But, until then, I was here, fulfilling my father’s last wish. One I’d repeatedly told him I didn’t want to be responsible for. After checking up with the nursing staff and stopping by a few rooms, I knew there was still one thing left to do. Heading into the surgical waiting room, I found a set of familiar eyes. “Jake,” Dottie called out. The emotion in her voice was audible, and it broke my heart to see this woman I’d once considered kin in such pain. “I’m here,” I said as she rushed into my arms. My eyes squeezed shut as the tiny woman wrapped herself around me. She’d once been my mother’s dearest and closest friend. Since her death, Dottie had been a constant reminder of everything I’d lost. “It’s okay. He’s okay.” Her hands searched me, touching every scratch and mark the accident had left upon my skin. “Are you well?” she asked. “I’m fine,” I assured her. “I have news on Dean.” Her eyes found mine as Taylor joined his mother’s side. Although he was several years our junior, I always had a soft spot for this specific Sutherland. Dottie always said it was the only child in me because his own brother couldn’t stand the kid. I’d laugh and roll my

eyes, but secretly, I agreed with her. Taylor had been as much my little brother as Dean’s. And here he was, standing with his mother, looking me straight in the eye, begging for answers. “He’s been moved to a room,” I announced, having just checked on him during my rounds. A sigh of relief was felt between us. “He’s awake, and they’re doing their best to control his pain.” “Can we go see him?” Dottie asked. I nodded. “Yes, but don’t expect him to be very alert.” “We understand,” Taylor answered for the both of them. “I’ll take you now if you’re ready.” Dottie took my hand in hers, and it was as if the years simply began to melt away. I remembered the sound of her voice when she’d called out from the kitchen, announcing dinner. I could see the hurt in her eyes when I’d told her I was leaving. It was the same pain I saw tonight. “Thank you, Jake.” She squeezed my fingers between hers. “Of course.” I escorted them down the hall and up the elevator to one of the general patient floors. She never let go of my hand the entire way. When we arrived at Dean’s room, I stopped short, allowing them privacy. As he opened the door, Taylor sent me a heartfelt glance of gratitude. My work here was done. Backing away, I heard the sobs as Dottie took it all in. This part was never easy. The relief that he was alive, but the realization that things would never be the same. It was a war of emotions, and I’d seen it over and over with my patients over the years. Turning to leave, I found myself eye-to-eye with Molly once again. In her hand was a cup of coffee from the café down in the lobby. “He’s awake,” I simply said. She nodded. “I was with him,” she explained. “The nurse in recovery took pity on me and let me stay until they brought him up here.” “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” I said, stepping aside. My hands shook in my pockets as I turned to leave. In all my life, this girl—this woman—was always my one weakness, even after a decade apart. “Jake,” she said softly, making me turn back around.

“Yeah?” “Thanks,” she said, “for saving him.” My jaw twitched as I watched her walk away, joining her awaiting family. Life had moved on without me, and now, it was time I did the same.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, attending to those who had been injured in the ferry accident. With access to and from Ocracoke being so few and far between, I decided my skills were being put to better use in the hospital. Or at least, that was what I told myself, but really I was just overstaying my welcome at the hospital and avoiding reality. Most of the patients I’d attended to the night of the accident had either moved on to staffed doctors, been discharged or transferred to other facilities. I had officially become useless. Toward the end of the week, I finally made the decision to venture back down toward Hatteras. My father’s funeral was coming up, having been delayed several days due to the accident, and as much as I’d like to skip it and spend the day in a bar with a bottle of Jack, I knew that wasn’t an option. He might not have been the best father, but he was mine, and I’d honor his memory like the good Southern boy my mama had raised me to be, even if it killed me. I couldn’t bring myself to visit Dean before I left. I hadn’t been a significant part of his life in years. There was no use in pretending we were something more now. He was well attended to anyhow. The Sutherlands had been the model family, taking shifts and commuting back and forth to the island so that he was never alone. Dottie had made an effort to stop by and check on me after that night in the waiting room. I’d downplayed her affection, saying it was just part of the job. Her face had said it all. I’d hurt her. Once again. She hadn’t visited since. It was just as well. I hadn’t returned here to rekindle old friendships or make new ones. I had a life back in Chicago. A career I’d spent a lifetime to achieve. Two months in Ocracoke could never change that. So, with a fond farewell from the staff, I made my way down the coast. The ferry system had opened back up to the public while the authorities investigated the vessel. So far, nothing had been released regarding the explosion. I couldn’t decide if there was simply not enough information or if there was, and they just didn’t want to say. In any case, I boarded the ferry with confidence. After witnessing as many traumas as I had in the last several years, I was sort of numb to the idea of it happening again. Even after the first explosion had occurred while chaos broke out all around me, I’d operated on pure instinct, tending to the injured while giving no real regard to what was happening. I could have made an excellent soldier.

Stone-cold and laser-focused. That had been my motto during my residency. Everyone had feared me while secretly wishing they could take my place. Dean had said I’d always had a tender heart. But that had been the old me. There was no room for bleeding hearts and emotions in a surgical room. Just precision and endurance. That was the new version of Jake Jameson, and I’d do well to remember it over the next few weeks. Being here, in this place, would inevitably get to me, and I couldn’t risk getting too attached. Only a dozen or so cars bordered the once-packed ferry that carried tourists and locals alike. With high season approaching, I suddenly found myself wondering how the island would fare with so many of its people depending on this ferry to bring in revenue. No doubt, it would cause much concern and worry among the inhabitants. “Jakey Jameson? Is that you?” Hearing my old nickname had me stumbling back in time before I had a chance to respond. “I love you, Jakey.” Molly smiled. “Jakey? That’s horrible. It sounds like Minnie Mouse’s cousin or something.” She laughed, resting her head on my shoulder. “No, it’s endearing and adorable. Just like you.” I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. “Couldn’t you have thought of something endearing, adorable, and perhaps a little sexy? Manlier maybe? God forbid Dean hears that. I’d never live it down.” “Then, it will be our little secret.” It wasn’t. By noon the next day, I had been called Jakey by everyone I knew. From that moment on, it’d stuck. Jakey Jameson. I hadn’t heard it in years. I guess the fact that I was just hearing it now, after seeing so many familiar faces, meant something. I truly was an outsider. I turned from my hunched over stance on the railing overlooking the water. The sun was high and bright in the sky, offering little shade. But the breeze from the ocean gave a much-needed reprieve from the heat as I attempted to recognize the man behind me. “Mr. Lovell?” I said, noticing the familiar white hair and kind smile. He’d been a

frequent guest at the McIntyres’ inn. So frequent, I had known him by name, even now. “Good to see you, old boy.” He smiled, offering a hand. I took it and embraced him for a quick moment, noticing how frail and thin he’d become. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Surely, your week at By the Bay should have come and gone by now.” He joined me against the railing. “Oh, yes, last week,” he replied. “But, with the ferry being out, we ended up staying past our welcome.” “Highly doubt that. The McIntyres treat you like family. No way they’d get sick of you.” I said, remembering how much the McIntyres loved their guests, especially the ones who came back year after year. “Miss Molly said something of the sort as well. But we felt obliged to offer some assistance after hearing about Dean. She doesn’t ask for help much, you know. She’s always trying to run everything on her own.” “Molly’s running the B and B now?” I asked, not surprised at all. After all, it was what she’d always planned on doing. Nothing could have deterred her. Not even me. “Oh, yes. For about a year now. Her parents retired, and she’s been doing a fine job in their absence. A fine job,” he pressed. “Good. That’s good. So, what are you doing ferrying back and forth like a local?” He laughed. “Oh, running some errands for Miss Molly, of course. She’s been traveling up and down to the hospital to care for Mr. Sutherland, and I felt it was only right to help her out.” “Sounds about right,” I muttered. Molly always had a knack for exceeding her limits in order to aid everyone around her. “When my mother died, she visited our house every day for months, delivering casseroles and desserts. I thought my father and I would both die of diabetes by the time she was done with us.” He chuckled, a hoarse sort of sound rising in his chest. “Her mother never could keep her out of the kitchen. That sister of hers though? She couldn’t boil a pot of water.” I laughed out loud. “Millie? You’re right about that. She was never meant for the service life.” He paused shortly. “I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he said. I nodded, choosing to look out toward the water rather than at the old man beside me. “Thank you,” I managed to say. “He was a good man.”

“You knew him?” I asked, not realizing how close Mr. Lovell and his wife had gotten to the folks who lived on the island. “Oh, yes. There was one visit, several years ago, when I came down with the flu. Awful fever and chills. Just my rotten luck, but your father made a special house call for me—visiting me in our guest room at the inn. Kind fellow, your dad.” It wasn’t how I remembered him—at least, not the last few years—but I was relieved to hear he’d done his duty as a doctor, caring for those in town. “So, you’re headed to the clinic, is that right?” he asked as we ventured across the open water toward the other side of Highway 12. “Not right away. My…” I stumbled a bit. “My father’s funeral is today,” I explained. “Ah, you’re right. My apologies, Jakey. You’ve had a rough go at it this week.” I agreed, slowly nodding my head. “For all of us, I believe.” “True, you are,” he replied. “Well, I wish you well. It’s no easy thing—saying goodbye to a parent. But I guess you already know that.” I nodded, remembering the hollow ache I’d felt since the day we buried my mother. It had grown every day…until, finally, I couldn’t stand it. So, I’d done the only thing I could. I’d left.

There were very few things I’d prepared myself for when returning to my hometown. The least of all? My father’s funeral. I had known it was going to take place. I’d helped arrange the damn thing. But knowing and seeing were two entirely different words. Driving up to the old church he’d faithfully served most of his life felt almost surreal. Having dressed in the cramped bathroom on the ferry so that I could avoid returning to my childhood home for a few hours, I couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of cars. Mr. Lovell was right. My father had indeed been a good man, a hero in fact. To everyone but me. He’d served these people well, making them part of his family as much as his own flesh and blood. They were the weak and helpless, begging for help when they couldn’t find any themselves. And he had graciously granted it. With a prescription for the flu or a splint for a sprain, he had been the saving grace on this island. I only wished I’d felt the same about the old man.

Perhaps then, this wouldn’t be so hard. My face was recognized almost instantly among the crowd as they quietly took their seats. I nodded and shook hands with many, making my way to the first pew saved for family members. As his only living relative, it was quite empty. Just as well, I thought. I was an outsider as much as any tourist now. Hell, even Mr. Lovell had more of a connection to this place than I did. The reverend who’d delivered my first communion and put up with me for two solid years of confirmation classes took his place at the pulpit. After he gave a solemn nod in my direction, the organ began its sorrowful medley. I’d asked for a closed casket. No one needed to see him like this. Not even me. It was a small favor I’d granted him in his death. To be remembered as he had been. I’d been informed he’d gone quietly with little pain or fanfare. Cancer, they’d told me. He’d been living with it for years until, finally, it’d gotten the better of him. No doubt, he’d struggled until the very end. As the music finished and Reverend Brown stepped up to the pulpit, I felt someone slide in next to me. Molly didn’t say a single word as she took her seat beside me. She simply stared straight ahead, doing her best to ignore me as the reverend began to speak. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I just followed her lead, giving my attention to the front of the church. The reverend spoke of my father’s service and dedication to the community, his charity work, and his love for Jesus. He mentioned the deep devotion he’d had for his late wife and how proud he had been to see his son following in his footsteps. “May he find his everlasting peace with the heavenly father,” he said as a final thought. The church echoed with their amens. It was a nice service with people from all over speaking of his accomplishments and his love for the island. At the end, I sat, unmoved and rigid. As the music began, Molly rose, faltering for a brief second, and then she was gone without a word. I didn’t stay after that. I knew I should have, but in doing so, I would have had to endure the masses of people ready to offer up their words of condolence. And I simply wasn’t ready for that yet. So, instead, I snuck out the back while the little old ladies from the congregation rushed around, preparing the potluck that was to follow. Hauling ass to my car, I revved the engine, and I drove. I drove from one edge of the island to the other and then back again until, finally, I

made my way up the familiar street. The one I’d memorized after years and years of walking down its dusty trail. I knew exactly how many trees lined each side. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d ridden my bike up and down it during the sweltering summers while my father worked up the road. Pulling into the driveway, I took a moment to look up at it. Nothing had changed since I said good-bye. Same blue paint my mother had spent weeks agonizing over, determined to pick the perfect color. “I want it to look like the sky, Jake. Help me find the sky.” Being all of five years old, I’d happily pointed up, and she’d laughed and held me close. In the end, she’d done it because the house truly looked as blue as the horizon. But, like all things, the years had taken its toll on it. And what had once been a bright, vibrant color had now faded into something less than ideal. Stepping out of the car, I dragged my feet, not wanting to enter, knowing I had somewhere else to visit before I could do so. Veering to the left, I entered the small garden my mother had tended. To my surprise, it was just as full and green as the day she’d left us. “At least you got one thing right, Dad,” I murmured, grateful for the respect he’d given this place. No doubt our next-door neighbor was to thank for this. As I walked on, I found it. My mother’s memorial. It had weathered some since I was last here, but I could still see her name as clearly as the day it had been installed. Maggie Jameson. Kneeling, I brushed the front of the large boulder, feeling the grit of dirt beneath my fingers as I traced each letter, remembering the day we carved them. It was the only thing my father and I had agreed on—making sure her memory lived on in this garden. We’d spent days chiseling each letter with painstaking precision. And when it was finished, we released her ashes into the wind, spreading them amongst the flowers she’d loved so much. It was the last time I’d been in this place. “Looking good, Ma,” I said, fidgeting with a small flower that had been placed next to her name. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I hadn’t made it a habit to speak to the dead. Usually, I was doing my damnedest to keep them alive. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the church, young man?” The familiar voice brought a smile to my face as I turned. “Heard the ladies made a real nice spread. And you look like you could use a little

homecoming.” My hand rested on my flat stomach. “And maintain all this?” I grinned. “I don’t think so. Besides, you’re one to talk. Looks like you’re skipping out as well.” “Bad back,” she replied, her hands resting on her hips as she took a place next to me. Terri had been our neighbor since I was barely able to walk. Her husband had died before I could remember, and since then, it had always been just her. And her giant garden. She’d been my mother’s mentor when it came to growing, and a friend when it came to everything else. “Good to see you,” she said, not bothering to hug me like everyone else had. “I take it this is your doing?” I asked, pointing to the fresh vegetables and fruit popping up all around us. She shook her head. “No,” she answered. “This was all your father’s work. After you left, he came to me, drunk as all hell, and asked why all the plants were dead. I smacked him across his stupid face and told him you had to water the damn things. The next day, he returned, sober as a priest in church, and apologized, asking for help to honor your mom’s legacy.” I swallowed hard, trying to imagine it. “He didn’t touch the stuff from that moment on. But the damage had already been done. He got the cancer several years later.” I nodded, remembering the letter he’d sent after he was diagnosed with liver cancer. At the time, I’d thought it served him right. God knew I’d spent several years of my adolescence trying to pry a bottle from his hands. “He never told me he’d quit,” I said, not bothering to hide anything from this old woman. Neighbors knew everything. At least, on this island. “Doesn’t surprise me. It was a hard battle for him. He fought the temptation every day until his death. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You had your life by then. He didn’t want to disrupt it.” I let out a sort of snort. “That’s why he dragged me back now? Because he didn’t want to disrupt my life?” She bent down, tending to a few weeds intruding on the small lettuce crop. “Ah, well, I’d wager he was hoping you’d do it on your own. Guess he was wrong.” My body exhaled in a sigh. “I’m not sure I can do this, Terri.” “Fancy doctor like you? I imagine you’ll do just fine.” “Not maintaining the practice. I mean, I’m not sure I can do this,” I said, pointing to the house.

“Too many ghosts,” she said simply. “Well, I’d tell you just to buck up and face them, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. Best advice I can give: do what feels right, and just like your daddy, take it one day at a time. It’s all you can do.” She didn’t bother saying good-bye. Instead, she just briefly patted my shoulder and headed back out the way she’d come. Terri wasn’t big on formalities and always spoke her mind—whether I wanted to listen or not. Today, however, I chose to listen. Saying a silent good-bye to my mother, I pivoted on my heels in the direction of my rental car. And I never looked back.



THERE WASN’T A SINGLE PART of me that wasn’t tired. From my head all the way to my toes, I felt like a walking, talking zombie. Since the accident on the ferry, I’d slept a grand total of ten hours. It had been the longest week of my life, but I knew it was nothing compared to Dean’s. He’d awoken in the small hospital room, our eyes focused on him as he tried to remember how he’d ended up there. Suddenly, like a lightbulb had blinked on in his brain, his focus had shifted to the right side of the bed, and we’d watched in horror as that great big bear of a man cried out in terror. The tears had fallen down his bruised and battered cheeks as the realization set in. He’d never give one of his famous bear hugs again. He’d never drive his old stick shift jeep down the beach. Every single day would be a constant struggle. We’d supported him, taking shifts at the hospital, hoping he’d come to terms with his new reality. Several hospital officials had been to his room, counselors and specialists, all trying to help him cope. They’d spoke about what to expect during physical therapy and when he could expect a prosthetic. But he’d wanted none of it. His only request was to be left alone. And then the silence had begun. It was deafening. I’d begged and pleaded, asking him to open up. To just tell me what he was feeling. Instead, he’d stared straight ahead, never wavering. I’d placed a tiny kiss on his cheek and headed back down the coast. It had gone on like this for days, and now, as the weekend approached, I felt nothing but exhaustion in every inch of my body.

Thankfully, most of my guests had canceled for the upcoming week. With the reliability of the ferry service being up in the air the majority of the week, many travelers had decided to postpone or try again next year. The only couple who remained was the Lovells. After Mr. Lovell had demanded to stay, I’d comped their room for the week and allowed the old man to help as much as he was able. I thought it made him feel useful even though, in turn, it made me feel useless. He’d been going above and beyond, making trips to and from the island, gathering supplies like a bona fide local. It was more than I deserved. Now that the sun was setting and I’d collapsed in my favorite chair on the deck with a glass of merlot, I’d never felt more worthless and alone. Worthless that I couldn’t help Dean. Worthless that I couldn’t keep my business running without help. My parents had never needed it. And so alone, my body ached from the weight of it. Even amid this crisis, when everyone was pitching in to help—from guests to my parents—I sat on that deck, overlooking the water, and felt as if I were the only person on the island. And I had no idea why.

After two glasses of wine and an hour of feeling sorry for myself, I decided I’d had enough self-pity for one day. Rising from my cozy chair, I took one last look at the sparkling water as the moon rose high in the sky. How one could ever get used to a view like that, I’d never know. I’d been raised in this house, and still, it never ceased to take my breath away. After a quick stop by the kitchen sink to rinse out my glass, I headed to the large pantry, deciding I needed a little baking therapy to pass the time. Although the Lovells had offered to take care of their own meals since I comped the room, I decided to treat them for their help over the last week. As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t have done it all without them. Grabbing flour, sugar, and a few more items, I settled on a family favorite recipe— zucchini bread. I’d added my own little flair to it over the years, but the basic recipe was still the same. There was something almost restorative about the process of mixing ingredients. With no need for a recipe anymore, I found myself humming a song I’d heard on the radio earlier in the day, and my mood began to lift. That was, until the doorbell rang. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I checked my appearance in the hallway mirror, rolling my eyes at the flour that coated my cheeks. My mom always said I was a messy baker. I guessed some things never changed. Putting on my best face possible, I prepared myself, morphing into the hostess with the

mostest. It didn’t always happen, but every now and again, I’d have unexpected visitors. People who’d missed the last ferry and were in desperate need for a place to stay or others who had just fallen in love and didn’t want to leave. In every case, I always found a place for them, sometimes even giving up my own rooms to accommodate them. Pulling open the door, I greeted the late-night visitor with a bright smile. But, the moment I saw his face, that familiar rugged jaw and piercing blue eyes, my smile faded into something less than pleasing. “What are you doing here, Jake?” I nearly snarled. “Is that any way to greet a guest?” he replied sluggishly. He was clearly drunk. “Did you drive here in that state?” I asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure a car wasn’t wrapped around the neighbor’s tree. “No,” he answered. “Waited until I was parked outside before I popped open the bourbon. Did you know, if you park right there”—he pointed behind him, making his sloppy posture even worse—“you can see the backyard? You still like to sit out on the deck, huh?” My cheeks heated with anger as I realized my private moment of sulking had been witnessed by none other than hotshot Jake Jameson. I sighed, noticing the way his eyes followed mine. “What do you want?” I finally asked, averting his gaze. “I’m a wayward tourist in need of a place to stay.” My arms folded across my chest as he made himself at home, breezing past me to stumble into the sitting room. His large body seemed to melt into the couch as I tried not to think about all the things we’d done in this room while my parents were out of the house. “You have a place to stay, Jake,” I reminded him. “And, no matter how much you try to convince yourself, you’re no tourist. Not even a fancy degree could change that twang in your voice.” He laughed, a sound that made my spine tingle. “You’re right. I can’t seem to shake it. But it does do me some favors every now and then.” He gave me a quick grin and a wink, causing me to nearly spit fire. The idea of him using his stupid accent to get women into bed—it shouldn’t have affected me so, but it did. It really did. “Look,” I said, feeling my never-ending river of patience suddenly drying up, “it’s late, and I know you’ve had a rough day, but—” “I tried, Molly. God, how I tried.” “Tried what?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I tried to forget you. But I never could. I tried to forget this place and all it represented, but the memories never faded. You never faded.”

My heart galloped a little faster, but luckily my anger won the race. “You’ve got to go, Jake. You can’t stay here.” “But I can’t go back there, Mols. I can’t go back to that house. There are too many ghosts. Too many memories. It hurts.” The way he’d said it reminded me of the scared boy I’d once held in my arms as he wept for his mother. It tugged at the few remaining heartstrings I had for this man, and suddenly, I found myself caving. “Fine.” He instantly perked up, turning his head, as his bright blue eyes found mine again. “But you will pay double, and don’t expect any special treatment.” He nodded as he tried to stand, swaying back and forth. I ran forward, keeping him from crashing into my antique coffee table. The generosity I’d felt just moments before was already starting to bite me in the ass. “Got it,” he said as my hands wrapped around his muscled biceps. That intense stare of his was back as his fingers found mine. “You won’t even know I’m here,” he whispered, the smell of bourbon on his breath. “Highly unlikely,” I grumbled, pulling my hand from his. The heat of it remained, like a brand against my skin. “Now, you can take the—” “Yellow room,” he said, finishing my sentence. It had always been a favorite of his. Mine, too. “Fine,” I replied, trying to seem unaffected by his demand. “I assume you still remember the way?” He held up his palm in front of his face. “Like the back of my hand.” “That’s the front, Doctor.” He laughed, sounding drunker than I’d ever seen him. “Right.” Taking a few steps forward, his body brushed against mine. “I like it when you call me doctor.” I took a deep breath, putting some much-needed space between us. “You would. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have bread to bake.” “Bread!” he nearly shouted before chuckling under his breath. He said in a hushed tone, “I love bread.” “Go to bed, Jake.” “You first.” Those two words were like a cold bucket of water. His gaze suddenly sharpened as a tingle went down my spine. Both of us knew he wasn’t talking about sleeping, and for a moment, I let him know it. No eye roll or quick-witted comeback. I just stood there, letting myself indulge in a single moment that signified a lifetime of memories.

And then the jerk threw up on my shoes.

The next morning, things only got worse. After tossing my shoes in the garbage and cleaning up after my drunk ex, I’d helped him up the stairs to the yellow room. He’d fallen asleep before I could even flip on the lights. Unfortunately, sleep had eluded me, and I’d watched the sun rise the next morning, already several cups of coffee deep into the day. My head was pounding, which wasn’t fair because I hadn’t been the drunk one. But a week or more with little to no sleep had my body running on fumes, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. Especially when my mom breezed through the kitchen door as I was pulling out an assortment of jams. “Good morning,” she said, placing a sweet kiss on my cheek. “I wanted to come over and see if you needed a hand with breakfast.” I held back my sigh. Of course she’d chosen this morning to stop by. “I’m fine, Ma,” I replied, watching as she inspected the bread I’d finished up earlier this morning. She took a quick whiff, pride beaming on her face. Her attention moved toward the fridge, and she opened it for inspection. “You might want to keep drinks better stocked. Guests like to—” “Grab them before they head out to town,” I said, finishing her thought. “I know this, Mom. I did grow up here.” “I know, I know,” she said. “I just don’t want you to forget anything with all you have going on.” I sighed again, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m fine, Mama. Really.” “You’ve been through hell and back this week. And Dottie said he’s not talking? Why didn’t you say anything?” “I honestly didn’t want to worry you. I’m sure it’s nothing. Shock or something. He’ll be back to normal in no time.” She gave me a sad sort of stare. Even she knew I was lying to myself. “Have you been sleeping? You look exhausted.” “Thanks.” I laughed. “You look pretty special yourself.” “You know what I mean,” she said, placing a hand on her hip as she continued her relentless inventory of the kitchen. “I do, and I’m managing. It’s just been a lot.”

Her eyes softened. “I know. But you don’t need to take the brunt of everything on yourself. You can ask for help. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.” “I know, and I have. Mr. Lovell went out for supplies yesterday.” “Good,” she replied. “That’s good. He and his wife have always been like family.” Smiling, I nodded. “I know.” She could see my attention was wavering as I began my mental list of everything that needed to be done. Linens had to be washed, the floors were due for a serious cleaning, and I couldn’t forget about the gardening. “Okay, sweetheart, I’m going to trust you have everything under control.” “I do.” She didn’t look convinced as she continued, “And you’ll let me know if you need anything? Remember, we’re only—” “A phone call away. I got it.” Her eyes lingered on mine. The big, concerned eyes of a mother. I was about to reassure her once again. Anything to get her out of my kitchen. Until I saw her gaze shift and her eyes widen as heavy footsteps sounded behind me. The night before came back with a vengeance. My drunk ex showing up at my door. The way he’d stumbled in like he lived here, begging for a place to stay. The anger. The heat. The vomit. “Good morning, Mrs. McIntyre,” Jake said casually as my mother’s mouth fell open. “Good morning, Jake. Or is it Dr. Jameson now? Long time no see.” Her words were sweet as sugar, but the steely glare she shot me was anything but. “Just Jake is fine. Sorry to interrupt,” he said, obviously noticing the tension between us. “Thought I could sneak in the kitchen, undetected. I just wanted to grab a quick cup of coffee before I headed into town.” “Of course. Help yourself.” I finally turned toward him. The slight swivel of my hips felt like a monumental task. The moment my eyes met his, I felt a lump in my throat too big to swallow. No wonder my mom was frozen in place. As both of us watched the hot mess of a man head toward the coffee pot, I felt my eyes lingering over every inch. Every naked inch. He was dressed in only a thin pair of boxer shorts, and I could see every hard line of his stomach, the curve of his hips, and every mesmerizing inch of his broad shoulders.

Good God, he’d aged well. I blinked, realizing my blatant gawking and how incredibly inappropriate it was. “Jake is staying here while he gets set up at the clinic,” I said swiftly, feeling less like the savvy engaged businesswoman I was and more like a guilty teen getting caught with a boy in her room. “Mmhmm,” was all she said as she made her exit. I quickly followed behind, having to jog to catch up. She was already halfway to her car by the time I reached her. “You’re playing with fire, Molly.” I huffed. “What was I supposed to do, Mom? He showed up here, completely wrecked over his father’s death. I couldn’t turn him away.” “Of course you could have!” she nearly yelled. “You’ve had a soft spot for that boy since the moment you laid eyes on him, and while I understand why, do I need to remind you that your fiancé is hurt and alone—” Anger boiled in my veins. “That’s out of line, Mama, and you know it. I know exactly where Dean is. Jake is a nonissue for me. I blew out that torch I had carried for him a long time ago.” She nodded, deflating slightly, but I could still see the worry in her bright blue eyes. Her hands found mine. “Take care of yourself, will you, darling? And decide where your heart lies before others get broken. Including yours.” I took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, Mama.” She got into her car, the one I’d helped her pick out years earlier. It’d been an especially warm afternoon in February. We’d made a day of it after her fifteen-year-old Honda kicked the bucket. I still remembered her squeal of glee when they’d handed her the keys. My mama was a thrifty person, never doing anything for herself, due to the fear of a small business owner. On anniversaries, Daddy would take her out to a nice dinner, and they’d dance on the back patio, overlooking the water. But nothing more. I hadn’t fallen far from the tree, as they’d instilled that frugality in me. It was why I couldn’t nail anything down for our wedding, scared to take any money out of my small savings to buy something as extravagant as a dress. It had nothing to do with the half-naked man standing in my kitchen. Nothing. And I’d be damned if anyone thought otherwise.

By the time I made it back inside, the fury inside me was raging. As I marched into the kitchen, it only grew when I found the large space empty of my intended target. Stomping up the stairs, knowing the Lovells were thankfully in the third-floor suite and couldn’t hear my childish behavior, I went straight for the yellow room.

Not bothering to knock, I shoved the door open and let him have it. “How dare you walk around here like you own the damn place! Did you even think first before traipsing down here in your damn underwear, Jake? Do you ever? It’s a goddamn wonder you even made it through medical school.” “Top of my class actually,” he said calmly, seeming completely unfazed by my unexpected appearance. His cool demeanor caught me off guard, and the epic rant I’d prepared for him faltered. I watched as he moved around the room, pulling on a pair of pants and a loose Tshirt, as if my presence were completely normal. As if nothing had changed between us. Except that everything had changed. The mere thought of it had my anger abating into something closer to exhaustion. The room began to sway. He immediately noticed the change in me, moving swiftly to my side. “You need to sit down,” he said, his deep voice radiating through my entire body. “No, I just need you to not strut around my house in your boxers.” “I was not strutting. And, yes, you do need to sit down. You’re dead on your feet. Believe me, I know that look.” “Don’t get all doctory on me. I’m not one of your patients. Or your friend. This,” I said, making a motion between us, “isn’t a thing. You are simply another guest, okay?” A slight smirk formed on the corner of his mouth. “Got it.” “Good. Now, excuse me. I have things to do.” He gestured toward the door as I tried not to stare at the stubble forming around his chin. “By all means.” I rolled my eyes, storming out of the yellow room while silently calling him every rude name I could think of. In alphabetical order. I reached F halfway down the stairs and was feeling mighty proud of myself. Until my foot slipped, and my butt hit the hard corner of the oak step. I screamed, “Fuck!” as pain radiated from my turned ankle. Familiar footsteps sounded behind me seconds before I heard Jake say rather smugly, “Guess you’ll be needing those doctory skills of mine after all?” My mental list reached P for prick by the time he knelt at my side. So much for a grand exit.



“SO, I’LL ADMIT, WALKING AROUND the inn in my boxers probably wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve had,” I said to Molly as I carefully carried her into the sitting room. That had been a feat in its own right, considering how much effort it had taken to talk her into letting me pick her up. “No,” she’d said firmly. “Well, I guess I’ll just leave you on the steps.” “Fine.” She’d pouted. Until I’d begun to walk away, and she’d realized her predicament. It wasn’t exactly a cakewalk for me either. Feeling her smooth skin beneath my fingers as her arm wrapped around my neck—a feeling I’d never forgotten. Every molecule in my body was on fire. But she wasn’t mine. The slim gold engagement ring on her left hand made that crystal clear. I set her down on the sofa that I had occupied only a night before, drunk off my ass, as I begged her to take me in. Not my finest hour. “Put your foot up on these,” I instructed, grabbing several throw pillows and neatly stacking them on the coffee table. She did as instructed, her eyes never wavering from me. “Your mama always said you’d suffer the consequences of those stairs for all the years you flew down them.” Her arms wrapped around her middle. “Shut up.” “I could always call her,” I suggested. “Maybe she’ll be able to help you with this ankle. I mean, what do I know? It’s a wonder I even made it through medical school.” “Don’t you dare, Jake Morgan Jameson. God, I hate you,” she muttered. “Don’t call me by my middle name,” I fired back. “And, no, you don’t. Otherwise, you

would have slammed that door in my face rather than letting me stay.” Her eyes rolled—something I’d nearly memorized after the number of times I’d seen it. “Not like you gave me much of a choice.” My eyes met hers. “There’s always a choice, Molly. Always.” “Look, could you just focus on my foot, so I can get going? Some of us actually have things to do.” I grinned, loving the sass she was sending my way. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, trying to keep from chuckling. Kneeling next to the coffee table, I took a closer look, spotting some swelling already beginning to form around her anklebone. Slight bruising could be seen as well. “Can you move it?” I asked as my fingers inspected the structure, checking for any possible breaks. “No, not well,” she admitted. “I don’t think it’s broken,” I said, “but I can’t be sure without an X-ray. I know someone who might be able to arrange that for you.” “Are you serious?” she said. “Is this some kind of joke to you, Jake? This is my business. I have a list a mile long for today, people who depend on me.” Anger boiled to the surface. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last twelve years, Mols? Sitting around? No! I’ve been working my fucking ass off. Every day. For twelve years. So, don’t think I don’t understand hard work and commitment. You need a goddamn X-ray.” My firm tone obviously struck a chord as her once-rigid posture faded, and she leaned back into the seat cushions. “Fine,” she relented, her arms still firmly across her chest. I could see she wanted to say more, as if the words were hanging on the tip of her tongue. But she obviously reconsidered, turning her head from my heated stare. “I’ll go get the car,” I mumbled, hating this situation more and more. Why had I decided this was a good idea? Oh, right. The bourbon. But even I knew that was a lie. I’d made the choice to come here long before I spent the night with a bottle of whiskey. If faced with the same decision, I’d make it again. Because this was home as much as the faded blue house. The only difference? One wasn’t filled with the haunting memories of a life long gone. Or was it?

I hadn’t planned on walking through the familiar doors of the clinic until Monday. Taking advantage of the Closed sign on the front door, I’d hoped to slowly ease into this brief chapter of my life. With care. And a whole bunch of brooding during the days leading up to it. Instead, I had a hobbling woman clinging to my shoulder while simultaneously grumbling under her breath about how this was all my fault, and if I’d just stayed away, she could be pruning her rose bushes at this very moment. “I thought you hated gardening,” I said as I rummaged for the key that had been sent to me by my father’s lawyer. Although there hadn’t been an official reading of the will, I understood the gist of it. All of this was mine now. The building, the equipment… The burden. All mine. For the time being at least. “I do,” she finally answered. I shifted around, trying not to let go of her while I unlocked the small medical office. “Then, why do you do it? Couldn’t you just pawn it off on someone else? Like a landscaper?” “Couldn’t you just pawn off your consultations? To a nurse? Or an underling doctor?” I shrugged. “Touché.” “Not all of us can be heart surgeons, but it doesn’t mean what I do isn’t important.” I froze, turning toward her. “I never said it wasn’t,” I said. “I think what you do is very important. I always have.” Her gaze shifted. “Oh,” she answered sheepishly. “Good.” “How’d you know what I did?” I asked, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my mouth at the mere thought that she’d been keeping tabs on me all these years. “Your dad,” she replied. “He never gave up hope that you’d return. He never stopped being proud.” I twisted back around, forcing the door open, as I cleared my throat. “Well, it looks like he got his wish,” I said under my breath. “No one forced you to come back here, Jake,” she said as we walked slowly back to the X-ray machine, my arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Although I hadn’t been here in years, the place still looked the same. Sure, some upgrades had been made. New flooring and upgraded computers, but it still felt the same, smelled the same. “You’d think that, but it’s funny how family guilt can get a man running back to his

roots.” “Because it’s such a horrible place to be,” she said snidely. We reached the door leading to the X-ray machine, passing the few exam rooms that made up the clinic. “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. It was clear how you felt by your actions.” I let out a heavy sigh as I helped her onto the table. “Less than twenty-four hours, and we’re back to the same argument we were stuck on twelve years ago.” “Oh, I’m not stuck,” she insisted as those stubborn arms of hers folded in front of her. “I’ve moved on.” Adjusting her foot, I felt my own eyes roll around my head. “Obviously.” A palpable silence between us followed. I shifted her ankle around, trying not to hurt her any further, while she sat completely still, staring at the bland white wall in front of her. Grabbing the heavy lead vest from the closet, I paused, realizing what I had to do next. Clearing my throat, I tried my damnedest to get into the zone. The one where people became patients and nothing more. But, seeing Molly’s face, the obvious annoyance splashed across it and how hard she was trying to ignore me, I knew any semblance of professionalism was out the door. But I tried anyway. “Any chance you’re pregnant?” I said as casually as possible, placing the vest across her chest and abdomen after she moved her arms. Her eyes immediately darted toward mine. “Excuse me?” My lips pursed together as I held my hands up in the air, defending my innocence. “I have to ask,” I explained, “before I can run the films.” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.” “Is that a no?” “It’s a no, Jake. Do you have any more invasive questions?” “Nope, just the one.” “Okay.” “Okay,” I said. “Don’t move.” “Kind of impossible with this heavy thing lying on me.” I wanted to add some snarky comment but chose the righteous path for once, vacating the room to capture the images of her ankle. It took only a few seconds, and I returned once more, finding Molly in the exact position I’d left her.

And pissed, as usual. I, on the other hand, was considering which show tune to whistle. I didn’t know why, but hearing how sure she’d been about an impending pregnancy had me feeling lighter. Happier. Were there problems in paradise for Molly and my former best friend? Because the girl I had known way back when wouldn’t have been so sure. Even when we had been careful, which was ninety-nine percent of the time, she would still be paranoid. The yellow walls came back into focus as my body fell limp against the sweat-stained sheets. “Holy shit,” I managed to say as my lungs worked overtime, trying to catch up with the rest of my exhausted body. “You can say that again.” Molly laughed, curling into my side. “I thought you said we’d never do it in your parents’ house.” Her nose nuzzled into my chest while I drew tiny circles along her bare back. “I guess you have a way of changing my mind.” “Doing it on a bed sure beats the back of my truck.” “I don’t know,” she replied. “Making love under the stars is pretty epic.” “Everything with you is epic.” We enjoyed the few minutes of alone time, talking and cuddling, in the empty guest room we’d stolen for the afternoon. Molly’s parents would be home in a while, having caught the morning ferry to grab supplies for the inn. “What would you do if I got pregnant?” she said after a moment of silence. I froze, before rising up on my side. “What kind of question is that?” I asked, scanning her body like I expected some sort of telltale sign of motherhood. “Calm down,” she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. It was just a random thought.” “You know we’re being careful,” I assured her. I’d bought a lifetime supply of condoms from Hatteras last time we’d visited, for fear of buying them here since word got around fast. “I know,” she replied as she continued to stroke my shoulder. I tried not to fixate on her naked body. “But you know what they say; nothing is one hundred percent, except—” “Don’t you dare say abstinence.” “Abstinence.” She laughed.

“That’s what adults say to keep us from going at it like rabbits in heat.” I smiled. She playfully slapped my shoulder. “But, seriously, what would you do? I mean, it’s possible.” I rolled my eyes, something that was usually reserved solely for her. “It’s not, but I’ll play along,” I said, caving like usual to her never-ending persistence. “I’d be right here,” I vowed. “Right where I always am…where I always will be.” She smiled as I stretched back onto the mattress. She resumed her previous position, snug against me, wrapping a tan leg around my own. “And I’d name the baby Mortimer,” I added, making her snort with laughter. “You’re evil.” “Oh, you have no idea,” I said, pulling her back on top of me, intent on proving again and again just how wicked I could be. “We’re all done in here. I’ll help you to a chair in the waiting room and go grab the Xrays.” “Okay,” she said as I pulled the lead vest off her body. “How does a cardiothoracic surgeon know how to operate a simple X-ray machine?” she asked as I assisted her off the table. “Isn’t that below your pay grade?” I chuckled, glad to see she was back in fight mode. We’d always had the best banter between us. “You forget that, before I was the amazing man I am today, I was nothing but a little boy living in the shadow of his father.” “So, he taught you?” We took our time in walking down the hall, and I savored every moment of contact with her. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. “No.” I laughed. “I used to sneak in here and play around with the equipment.” “With the X-ray machine? God, you could be radioactive by now!” “I’m not, I assure you, but it wasn’t the smartest thing, I’ll admit.” “You’ve been doing a lot of unsmart things today,” she chided. “That happens a lot when I’m around you.” “Just trying to keep that ego of yours in check.” I helped her into a chair, propping her foot on another. The small room was littered with magazines and smelled like a mixture of bleach and mothballs. “Well, rest assured, you’re doing a great job. Let me go grab those films. Be right back.”

The happy smile I had plastered on my face continued as I went through the motions of checking each film for any abnormalities. It wasn’t until I saw her name on the computer screen that it wavered. Jesus, what was I doing? Bantering with my ex? The woman who was now engaged to my former best friend? I knew what I was doing—flirting with danger. And, if I continued, nothing good would come from my time here. Because there was one thing I was totally certain of. I was not over Molly McIntyre. Not even a little.

“Good news,” I announced as I walked back into the waiting room, finding Molly exact where I’d left her. She’d grabbed a magazine, probably decades old and was perusing it with little interest. “No broken bones, as I expected, but I do think you have a pretty good sprain on your hands. You need to stay off it for at least today and keep it iced.” “No,” she said, making my eyebrows rise. “No?” I asked. “To which part?” “I’ve said this before, but I don’t have time to sit around. I have things to do.” I threw one foot over the other, leaning against the doorframe as I took her in. “Okay, so how do you plan on accomplishing these tasks exactly? Are you going to hop around town? Maybe rent one of those ridiculous scooters the tourists are using these days? Or are you planning on just wiggling your nose like Samantha on Bewitched?” “You’re an ass.” “Well, you’re being unreasonable. And I’m serious, Molly. No work today. You’ll just end up making it worse, and then you really will have a problem on your hands.” “Like you care,” she sneered. “And don’t you have something better to do than harp on me all day?” “Actually, yes, but since I don’t believe you’ll actually do anything I just told you to, I guess I’m going to have to reschedule to babysit you.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. That’s not an option.” “Then, can I count on you to do what I said and keep a low profile today?” “Yes,” she replied softly. “You never were a good liar. I’ll go grab the car. Start thinking of that precious list of things you need done. Looks like I’ll be your wingman today.” “What?”

“If you’re not going to sit on the damn couch and rest, then I guess I’ll have to help you.” She opened her mouth to argue, and I immediately cut her off, “Whether you like it or not.” Her infamous eye roll went into full effect as I walked past her, not caring in the least that she was pissed off. Because, frankly, so was I.

“So, what’s on this super important list of yours?” I asked as the car revved to life. I’d managed to help her to the car, lock up the office, and start the engine without a single word from her. I had a feeling that was about to change. “You’re not running my errands.” “Well, neither are you.” She let out something between a growl and a huff. “You are not in charge here, Jake. I didn’t ask you for help.” “No,” I agreed. “You never ask anyone for help. God forbid you admit defeat and call in reinforcements when you happen to be the first one to come to the aid of anyone else.” “Don’t pretend like you know me, Jake.” “Oh, but I do,” I jeered. We were at an impasse. One where she wouldn’t give in, and I wouldn’t give up. Realizing how far down the rabbit hole I’d fallen wouldn’t deter me from making sure she was okay. I was still utterly aware of her every move, still completely transfixed by the woman who had once owned my heart. But that wouldn’t stop me from keeping her ass firmly planted in place. Because, no matter how much I tried to deny it, I did care. “Fine,” she finally replied. “But you’re not leaving me home. I don’t trust you that much.” I shook my head, taking the final road toward the inn. “Well, that makes two of us. But it doesn’t change the fact that you will rest today even if I have to strap you to that damn couch.” “I’ll rest but not on the couch. You can ice my foot and care for me right here.” “In the car?” I exclaimed. “Sure. Why not? You can grab the ice and a cooler. Maybe a pillow and, presto, a mobile sofa.” “You’re impossible.”

“Ditto.” Against my better judgment, I agreed to her foolhardy plan. I knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t give up. Running into the inn, I nodded a hello to Mr. Lovell, who was helping himself to lunch in the kitchen, and then I raced around, grabbing ice packs and pillows. After a few minutes, I had what I needed and headed back toward the car. “Pretty sure Mr. Lovell thinks we’re going on a romantic date.” “Pretty sure he doesn’t.” I chuckled, handing her the paper bag filled with everything she’d requested plus a few things I’d added myself. “Here you go, Your Highness.” “Thanks,” she replied flatly, immediately digging into the bag. “What is all this crap?” “Pain reliever, a pillow, some snacks and drinks.” “Good Lord, are we going on a vacation? Or running errands?” “Just say thank you,” I replied, pulling out of the driveway, realizing I had no idea where I was headed. “Thank you.” “So, where are we going?” I asked. She rummaged through the bag, getting herself situated with a granola bar and some water. A pillow I’d stolen from the sitting room went under her foot as she propped it on the dash. “Terri’s,” she said simply. “I need produce.” “Great,” I said under my breath, realizing the questions I’d have to answer after showing up at Terri’s with my ex. “You’re the one who demanded you accompany me.” “You’re the stubborn one who demanded to get all this shit done today.” She huffed once more, turning her head toward the window. Yeah, this was going to be all sorts of fun.



GOD, THIS MAN INFURIATED ME. He was overbearing and way too controlling. Where did he get off, telling me what to do? He was the one who had walked away and vowed to never come back. Why the hell did he care in the first place? Surely, there was some trollop back in Chicago he could bother. Of course, the idea of that enraged me even further. Jake Jameson had always been my kryptonite. He had a way of pushing my buttons and seeing through any wall I put around myself. He didn’t take shit, and he always knew how to get me off. In more ways than one. But two could play at this game, and I was just getting started. “Can’t you pick up produce another day?” he asked, but still heading toward our destination. “No,” I answered simply. “Really? Because, last time I checked, I saw an empty inn with no guests to feed.” I batted my eyelashes, enjoying his discomfort. He knew, the moment he showed up at Terri’s, he would get an earful. If there was one thing that old woman was good at, besides produce, it was telling the truth as she saw it. And Jake Jameson was no exception. “No, that’s not true at all. I have three guests. The Lovells and…well, you. And I can hardly let our new resident doctor go unfed, can I?” He didn’t bother responding, but I could see plumes of smoke rising from his angry, stupid head. Molly: 1 Jake: 0 “We’re here, princess,” he grumbled. I nearly giggled, loving his misery.

That was, until I saw the way his eyes averted the house next door. The way mine did when I came to this part of the island. Jake’s house had always been here, right next to Terri’s. I knew that. It was a key part of my childhood as a friendship had blossomed into so much more over the years. But, since he’d left, it had become a blind spot in my vision. A place I avoided even looking at. Because it wasn’t just Jake who had horrible memories of this place. “I can’t stay here, Mols. I can’t,” Jake said, his voice full of pain and regret. “I know it hurts, Jakey, but we’ll get through it. Together.” He took a quick glance toward the bright blue house behind me, and I could see the decision becoming clearer in his eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “This place, this house, it will always be where she died. It will be a constant reminder of my father’s failure. Of the poor excuse of a man he’s become.” My hand rose to meet his. “Your dad is sick, Jake. He needs help. And he needs you. Now more than ever. You aren’t the only one suffering a loss here. He lost his wife.” “He murdered her!” he screamed so loud it echoed through the trees. “He should have seen the warning signs. He should have done something. But he was too drunk and stupid to give her the attention she needed. And now…” His voice faded, as he was too pained to go on. “Come with me,” he begged. “To California? What would I do?” “Does it matter?” he said with gusto. “We’ll be together. Just like we’ve always planned.” “What we’ve always planned is that we’d go to college in state. But you’re making this decision to leave without me. This is your choice.” “But I can’t live without you,” he said. “I need you, Molly.” My heart broke over his words. Because I knew it wasn’t true. If he needed me, he wouldn’t leave. If he needed me, he would stay. “Go, Jake. Find yourself. Grieve and heal…but do it without me. Because I will not be your constant reminder of everything you lost.” He could see the truth in my words. He knew it, too. We were over, and there was nothing either of us could do to change that. I swallowed down a bit of regret, realizing how difficult it must be for him to be so close to it all. No wonder he’d run back to the inn—the one place that still felt like home.

“You stay here,” he instructed as he put the car in park on the gravel driveway. “Like hell,” I countered, pulling my swollen foot off the dash. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he argued, knowing it was no use. I was just as stubborn as he was, but the difference was this was my town now. My business. And I’d be damned if I let him stomp all over my hard work. “Well, at least use the damn crutches I grabbed from the clinic for you,” he said as he stepped out of the car, stopping by the trunk to grab the metal sticks of death. “I hate those things,” I whined. “I can just hop.” He laughed, like it was the most ludicrous idea on the planet. “No. Use them, or stay in the fucking car, Molly.” His voice sent chills down my spine as I remembered just how demanding he could be. “Fine,” I complied, taking the crutches from him. After adjusting them to my height and taking a few practice steps, I had to admit, they did help. Of course, I’d never tell him that. “So, what do you need from Terri?” he asked as he walked alongside me, making sure I didn’t fall. “Just let me do the talking. You…” I paused, turning my head toward him. “You just stand there and look pretty.” “And get interrogated by Terri?” “Naturally.” “Sounds like a blast,” he said sarcastically. He let me take my time going up the worn steps and pressed the buzzer. We waited for Terri to arrive. “It’s been taking her longer and longer to answer the door lately,” I told him. The door pulled open, and Terri appeared. “But I still have ears like an elephant. So, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Jake snorted in amusement next to me, and I shot him a death stare. “Come on in,” she insisted, stepping aside to let us through. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Jake. Figured you’d be cozied up with a bottle of bourbon by now.” “Oh, he’s already done that,” I said. “And what the Sam Hill is wrong with you? Tripped over your own feet, did ya?” He didn’t snort this time, but I saw a snide smile spread across his face. “What do you have for me today, Terri?” I asked, changing the subject. “Anything

good?” “Anything good?” she repeated. “All of it is good. Who do you think you’re talking to?” “Swallow an extra sassy pill today, Terri?” Jake said, chuckling under his breath. “If I’d known you were going to show up at my door, I would have taken three,” she replied, shaking her head. She offered us seats at the kitchen table, but Jake took his time, looking around. To him, probably not much looked different. But, for me, someone who visited this old house two or three times a day, I could see it. The modern step stool she’d bought last year to replace the antique one she’d had for years. The curtains she’d sewn last month to brighten up the dining room. We waited in silence as Terri went through her storage cellar, pulling out various things for me to look at—fruits and veggies and several canned goods. “I like the curtains,” Jake said, giving me a knowing look. Okay, so he did remember the little things. “Don’t sweet talk me, Jacob Jameson.” “You know that’s not my name.” He laughed. “Well, it should have been,” Terri grumbled. “Giving a boy a nickname instead of something proper. No sense in that. No sense indeed. Do you think Terri is my given name?” “We both know it’s not,” I answered. Jake turned to me. “Of course it’s not.” Jake and I mouthed the words along with her, trying not to laugh, “Theresa Victoria Chandler.” She caught us and immediately shook her head, mumbling under her breath. She talked mean, but underneath the icy exterior, Terri was nothing but heart. She loved deeply, cared sometimes too much, and was as loyal as they came. Watching Jake walk away all those years ago, the boy who’d been the closest thing to a son in her life, had been hard for her. But you wouldn’t have known it, looking at her. The days after he’d left, she’d continued on like any other day. But I had seen it. The pain and loss. It had been like looking in a mirror. Eventually, we’d both moved on. Terri had decided to turn her hobby into earnings, converting her small garden into something more substantial. And me? Well, I’d kept going.

What else was there to do? “You know, Molly and Dean Sutherland are set to be married this fall?” “I didn’t realize they’d set a date,” Jake replied, his eyes set on mine. “We haven’t. Terri just thinks a fall wedding is the best kind of wedding.” “Any wedding where I don’t have to sit around, sweating like a sinner in church, is a mighty fine wedding to me.” Ignoring her comment, Jake pressed on, “And why is it that you and Dean haven’t set a date? Cold feet?” My cheeks reddened in anger. “My toes are perfectly warm, thank you. And, if you haven’t noticed, we’ve both been a little busy recently.” “Seems to me like you’re waiting on something,” he said in a mocking tone. “Maybe a sign from God?” “Shut up, Jake,” I responded, feeling like he’d touched a little too close to home. To be honest, I didn’t know why we hadn’t set a date. This summer would mark the two-year anniversary of our engagement. Two years, and nothing planned. Surely, that wasn’t normal, but whenever we sat down to work out the details, we’d get sidetracked. Too many guests at the inn, or something had broken on one of the fishing vessels, and he’d had to run. Two years. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon,” I said more as an assurance to myself than anyone else. “Absolutely,” Jake said, clearly not convinced. Terri moved about the kitchen, quietly observing us. Being quiet wasn’t usually one of Terri’s abilities, and it only made the tension between us rise. Would this day ever end?

After two more stops that day, Jake put his foot down. Or made me put mine up. Driving back to the inn, he was quiet. Reflective even. I almost asked him what was on his mind, but that was the old Molly coming through. The one who still believed love could overcome anything, no matter what obstacle stood in its way. And then Jake had proven otherwise, walking away with no intentions of ever returning.

I’d become part of his recipe for disaster. Part of the place—our home—that had made him run. By the time we reached the driveway to the inn, we had barely said two words to each other. I guessed our reunion was over. “I’ll come around and help you,” he finally said, pulling the key from the ignition. “No, it’s fine. I can manage.” There was a slight pause in his movement, as if he were deciding whether it was worth it to argue. Whatever internal fight was going on in his head, he seemed to reach a conclusion, stepping out of the car without a single glance in my direction. It was just as well. By the time I hobbled into the house, he was long gone. Tucked in safely in the yellow room where he’d probably stay for the rest of the day. Guessed I was cooking for one tonight. It was Mr. and Mrs. Lovell’s last night, so they’d most likely eat out. They both loved to tour the local restaurants. Using my metal sticks of death that Jake liked to call crutches, I managed to get all the way to the kitchen without incident. “Stupid ankle,” I mumbled, hating myself for being dumb enough to fall down the stairs I’d been using since I could walk. “You always were a bit of a klutz,” Jake said, stepping into the kitchen. Usually, the large space felt spacious, but the moment he walked in, it felt like a vacuum. So small and tight, I could barely find air to breathe. “I seem to remember a little boy crying on the beach a time or two because he’d stepped on a jellyfish.” “That’s not clumsiness. That was just pure dumb luck,” he countered. “Well, and the fact that I never watched where I was walking—something you obviously still haven’t mastered.” I let out a long sigh, resting my hand against the cold gray granite. “I don’t have time for this again, Jake.” “Time for what?” “This walk down memory lane we keep finding ourselves on. I’m not the same doeeyed girl I was when you walked away. I have a life—one that I’ve worked hard for.” “I get it, Mols. I do. You’ve moved on. You don’t have to constantly keep reminding me. And yourself.” “I don’t need to remind myself,” I argued. “Are you sure?” he pushed, taking a few steps closer. I could see every lean muscle he owned peeking out from his tight black shirt. It made

my heart race. “Because I’ve only been here for about twenty-four hours, and you seem to need to defend your life and the choices you’ve made about every chance you get.”” I had no witty comeback. No words to shoot him down. “And the only time you’ve even mentioned your beloved fiancé is when I’ve brought him up.” I opened my mouth to respond, but still, I had nothing. Because, deep down, I knew he was right. “The kitchen’s all yours,” I said softly, stepping past him as I raced for an exit. “I’m going to bed.” He didn’t fire back with any smart-ass comments about the time of day or the fact that I still had a million things left on my to-do list. He just let me go. Like he’d done twelve years ago, making it even clearer that Jake Jameson and I were never meant to be. No matter how much I’d believed otherwise.

The next day, I woke up early. After spending the late afternoon and evening sulking in my first-floor bedroom, I was half crazy over the amount of stuff I’d ignored in my attempt to avoid a certain houseguest. But, the minute the clock hit six that morning, I was up and ready. Knowing the Lovells were leaving today had me in a perplexed mood. I would miss them, I always did, so it would be nice to spend a little time with them this morning, cooking up a large breakfast, like normal. I needed a little normal in my life right now. So, I got to work, chopping veggies and sautéing sausage for a cheesy casserole. I heated up croissants and muffins I’d made earlier, and I brewed coffee. It was a little cumbersome to do, having only one working foot. But I managed. By the time the Lovells came down to eat, I felt accomplished and halfway back to normal. “This looks divine!” Mrs. Lovell crooned before noticing my foot. “Oh heavens, dear, what did you do?” “I sprained my ankle yesterday on the steps. You’d think, after this long, I’d have figured them out by now.” A gentle smile spread across each of their faces. Mrs. Lovell forced me to sit and join

them, making her way around the eat-in kitchen like she belonged there. Over the years, I’d come to learn she was actually a very accomplished cook herself, even going so far as to run her own part-time catering business in their native state of Ohio. I wanted to protest, firmly believing that my guests should feel pampered at every moment of their stay, but my foot was aching. Had it been anyone but this specific couple, I would have. But sitting down did feel mighty good. Mrs. Lovell poured me a cup of coffee as I scooped up large helpings of the casserole and handed them out. Everything in this inn was served family-style. It was the one thing I’d never change. My parents had been big on creating a warm, family-like atmosphere in this place, and this was just one of the ways they’d accomplished it. “How is your beau?” Mr. Lovell asked, already digging into his breakfast. “I wish I could say he was good, but it’s been a rough road.” He nodded thoughtfully, those adorable old lines on his forehead moving right along with every expression. “Mmm, I can imagine. Quite a shock for a young man like that. Growing old, you expect to lose certain abilities. Simple tasks aren’t as easy as they once were, and don’t even get me started on all the new aches and pains I discover every day. But it’s gradual. I didn’t wake up one morning, having my youth ripped out from me. I wager that’s how your Dean is feeling. Like he was robbed and has no way of getting those years back.” Remembering the way he’d seemed to look right through me the last time I was there, I nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll pass on our sympathies? We’ll keep him and his family in our prayers,” Mrs. Lovell added, taking a moment to gently touch my hand. “I’m planning on driving up there to see him today. I’ll definitely let him know.” “You’re driving where?” a deep voice asked. Mr. and Mrs. Lovell turned their attention toward the doorframe. “Jake! Long time no see.” Mr. Lovell grinned, rising to greet him with a firm handshake. “Glad to see you’ve settled in.” “You, too, Mr. Lovell,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to sit and chat with you yesterday. This one had me running all over the island.” Both men turned their heads toward me. “Ah, well, I can understand that. Can’t leave a friend in distress, can you?” I loved how Mr. Lovell naturally assumed we were nothing more than friends rather than prodding and meddling for information on the nature of Jake’s stay. It was the natural good nature of the man that always assumed the best in people. I wished it would rub off on me. I couldn’t help but eye Jake with his tall frame and milky-blue irises and wonder what he was up to.

As if his sole purpose here were to ruin my life. But the Lovells simply greeted him as an old friend rather than a man who’d run away from everyone he loved because he couldn’t quell the darkness in his soul. “What was this I heard about you driving today?” Jake asked, not waiting for an invitation as he sat himself down next to me with a steaming cup of coffee and an empty plate. I forced myself to be nice. After all, he was a guest. Who was paying double. “I have to drive up the coast and visit the hospital today,” I explained. He took a moment before answering, taking several bites of casserole. I watched as he took his first bite and smiled slightly when his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Maybe he wasn’t half bad after all. “And just how do you expect to drive with that foot?” Moment over. I was back to wanting to kill him. “I’ll manage,” I said, feeling like a child in front of my guests. How many times had this man berated me since his arrival? Why did he even care? “Yeah, I don’t think so. Your right foot is imperative to operating a motor vehicle. I can’t in good conscience let you drive with that sprain.” Both Mr. and Mrs. Lovell nearly melted over his gentlemanly behavior. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Well, it doesn’t change the fact that I need to go there.” “Then, I guess I’ll just have to be your chauffeur. Again.” I moved to respond, but his finger landed on my lips, stopping my words from ever leaving my mouth. The heat from that single digit almost burned, the sensation lasting far longer than the mere second it rested there. “Jake, I—” “Well, that sounds like a lovely idea, doesn’t it, Anne? We should get out of their hair, so they can get going with their day.” The old woman smiled back at her husband. “Absolutely. You kids have fun. We’ll see ourselves out.” She briefly stopped at the doorframe, turning back toward me. “As always, thank you for the wonderful stay, Molly.” I smiled warmly. “Anything for you two. Come back soon.” She gave a quick nod in our direction before following her husband up the stairs to their suite. Once again, it was just Jake and me. Alone. “What time do you need to leave?” he asked, taking the last sip of coffee from his mug.

“You are not coming with me,” I seethed, rising quickly before remembering my ankle. With lightning-fast reflexes, Jake was at my side, keeping me from hitting the floor and causing more damage to my poor, neglected body. “I had planned on a trip up there anyway. Might as well be today.” “I find that highly unlikely,” I grumbled, steadying myself so that I could wiggle out of his grasp. Every time he touched me, it was like stepping into a time machine. My body remembered his—every brush of skin, every single kiss—and the more I remembered, the more it hurt to be around him. Knowing he’d chosen a life without me. “You find it highly unlikely that I, a surgeon, would like to visit a hospital?” I huffed. “Fine,” I said curtly. “Be ready in an hour.” “Fine,” he replied, leaving his dishes on the table where he sat. “I’ll leave those for you since you’re so able-bodied now. Wouldn’t want you to think I was babying you…or interfering with your perfect life.” I growled under my breath as he walked away. I’d never wanted to go back to bed more than that moment. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wired that way, so I got to work. And prepared myself for another up close and personal day with Jake. God help me.

Little was said between Jake and me as we traveled out of the little town of Ocracoke and toward the ferry. I turned my attention toward the sand dunes, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Since breakfast, his mood had changed. Darkened. The snarky, joking tone I’d come to know of him had moved aside, giving me a glimpse into the real Jake. The one who seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. And the closer we got to the ferry, the more I understood. A week ago, he’d been coming home to say good-bye to his father, and instead, he’d almost lost his own life. What had it been like for the two of them on that boat in the middle of the ocean? I couldn’t imagine. I’d been so wrapped up in the shock of it all that had happened and the constant need

to keep everything and everyone together that I hadn’t really let it sink in since that night. I could have lost them both. “Are you okay?” I asked as the car lurched forward, moving from land to sea. He followed directions, taking a parking spot toward the middle, and cars fell in line on either side of us. “I’m fine,” he replied, cutting off the engine. The roar of the ferry combined with the many cars that hadn’t yet powered down left a loud ringing in my ear. Something I never got used to. Living on the island since birth had given me a special childhood. A secluded one. The roaring sound of traffic and city noise was foreign to me, and it always felt strange, leaving the island for the hustle and bustle of the mainland. Slowly, the cars around us quieted, and people began to exit toward the outer rails for a better view. I sat silent, watching Jake stare at the dusty truck in front of us. “What was it like?” I asked softly. “The explosion?” He turned, his eyes thoughtful. “It was horrific,” he said plainly. “I thought I was over it. I’ve dealt with dire situations like that before, but this time, it was different.” “Because of Dean?” He nodded. “It was too close to home. Usually, I can take a step back, creating that much-needed barrier between patient and doctor so that I can do my job. But sitting there, next to Dean, as he bled out, my hands shook, and my vision blurred.” “You saved him, Jake,” I reminded him. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” “You did the best you could,” I said, wanting to reach out to him but knowing I had to keep a safe distance. For both of us. “He’ll never be the same again. If I’d gotten to him earlier…done something different, maybe it would have helped.” “You sound like someone else we both knew.” His eyes searched mine. “My father?” I simply nodded as his face turned from mine. “I’ll never be like him. Never.” The door handle clicked, and just like that, he was gone once more. I watched as he disappeared through the surrounding vehicles, wondering when, or if, he’d be able to face all those demons from his past. And what that would mean for me when he did.



SINCE ARRIVING HOME, I’D BEEN making one bad choice after another. And all of them seemed to revolve around one person. Molly McIntyre. I’d convinced myself that, after all this time, I wouldn’t feel for her the same way I once had. But, the moment I had seen her standing over Dean, her heart bleeding out with pain and regret, I had known I was a goner. Being a glutton for punishment, I kept making it worse by placing myself in her way as much as possible. That was why, at this very moment, I was assisting her in walking to Dean’s hospital room. Dean. Her fiancé. Yep. Definitely a glutton for punishment. That, or all those years of sleep deprivation during medical school were starting to catch up. Either way, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Dean’s room, allowing Molly to enter first. A quick moment of indecision passed through me as I contemplated staying in the hallway. But I wasn’t that shitty of a person. Not yet anyway. So, I followed behind her, making sure she didn’t fall on the crutches she hated so much. Honestly, I’d seen ninety-five-year-olds do better on a pair of these things than her. It was a wonder she hadn’t reinjured herself yet. The room was still and void of light. At first, I wondered if Dean was sleeping and we should possibly come back, but then I stepped in full and met his eyes. It was like looking into the glassy irises of a corpse. No recognition, no reaction. Just a mere glance in my direction and then nothing. I’d heard he was struggling. But this? This was more than that. He’d given up.

“Hi, Dean,” Molly said with clear hesitation. She went to his bedside, reaching out for his left hand. Dean stared straight ahead. “I brought Jake. He wanted to say hi. We all miss you so much!” I appreciated her spin on our arrangement. I guessed saying something like, Jake forced his way into the car after I fell down the stairs, was a little too much information for the moment. Not that it made a difference. I stood on the opposite side of Molly, both of us solid anchors around him. I thought about grabbing his one good hand, but for the first time, I didn’t know how to handle this specific situation. What did you do when the patient was family? How did you separate the emotions from the truth? You didn’t. At that moment, I had to decide. What was I to Dean? A doctor or a friend? I chose the latter, reaching out for his bruised hand and giving it a gentle pat. That single touch was like a lightning bolt in our lifeless friend. Suddenly, he looked around, taking in the scene before him. “Guess things are working out well for you, huh, Jake?” Instantly, I was taken aback. In all my years of growing up with Dean Sutherland, I’d never heard him utter a single hateful thing. To anyone. “Pardon?” I asked. Molly and I looked at each other with confusion. “Get on the ferry, Dean,” he mocked. “Nothing bad will happen.” I took a step back, my expression as blank and clueless as it’d ever been. “I couldn’t have known this would happen, Dean. I didn’t want this,” I said, pointing to his broken body. “No one wanted this.” “No,” he agreed. “But it all seemed to work out well for you in the end, didn’t it? It always does, I guess.” “Dean, what are you talking about?” Molly asked, placing her hand on his thigh. He looked down at her perfect hand, a pained expression moving across his familiar face. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It was inevitable—you two, I mean. Just a matter of time.”

“Buddy,” I said, trying to lighten the conversation, “there’s nothing going on between us. That’s water under the bridge. Mols just sprained her foot, and I offered to drive her. Nothing more.” He went on talking, entirely ignoring me, “I guess it’s better this way. Clean. Easy. God knows I’m going to be a handful from now on and no one needs to deal with all that. At least we can just skip to the end and move on.” “Dean!” Molly cried, tears starting to fall from her cheeks. “Stop this. Please. I’m here. You and I are all that matter. Don’t you see that?” His eyes darted between Molly and me. “I see a lot right now. I see the way you look at each other. Nothing’s changed. Maybe you don’t see it yet, but, frankly, I just don’t care anymore.” “You can’t mean that, Dean. This is a setback, I agree—” “A setback, Jake? A fucking setback? Look at my arm. Look at it!” he demanded, forcing me to turn my attention to his right side. I’d been avoiding it since we walked in. I had known it’d happened. I’d spoken to the surgeon who’d made the choice. There was nothing that could have been done. My quick thinking on the ferry had saved his life, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him whole. Part of him would always belong to that sunken ship. “You should have just let me die on that boat,” he said, his eyes rising to the ceiling as his head rested against the stark white pillow. “You don’t mean that,” Molly said, the anguish clear in her voice. “I mean every word of it,” he seethed. “This isn’t the life I wanted. This isn’t the life I chose, and now, they’re telling me they can give me a new arm, like a goddamn robot! Like that will fix everything…” “You have so much more to live for, Dean,” she sobbed. “I know it’s different, but we’ll adapt. We’ll adjust. But please don’t give up. Please don’t give up on us.” He didn’t say another word. He returned to the stoic man we’d found when we entered. No amount of pleading from Molly or rationale would bring him out of it. He’d dismissed us. From the room and his life. The only question was, where would we go from here?

I didn’t know how long we’d stood there, waiting for Dean to say something. Anything. Eventually, Molly’s tears dried up, and determination spread across her face. She marched outside, and I followed behind. “I need to speak to his doctor,” she said.

“I’m not sure you can,” I replied, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “You’re not family.” She opened her mouth to respond, but I could see the light fading from her eyes. “You’re right. I’m not. I should have never brought you here.” Her words cut me like a knife. “I’ll see what I can do,” I offered. “Take a seat over here,” I said, pointing to a small lounge. “And I’ll come back for you when I track him down.” She nodded, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “Hey,” I said in a last-ditch effort to offer some semblance of solace. “We’ll figure this out, okay? And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” She nodded once more before turning toward the tiny seating area. It was empty, only used by family members of patients for coffee refills and extra seating. Her gaze fell to the floor the moment she took a seat, and I knew what she was thinking. Whom she was blaming. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Molly McIntyre, it was her need to make everything right. Whether it was working on weekends with her parents or delivering food to the ill, she always had this constant desire to fix things. It was why she was dead on her feet most of the time, not taking proper care of herself when there were so many other things to do. So many others who, in her mind, came before anything else. So, rather than arguing with her, I made the most of our time and went in search of someone who could possibly help. Dean’s doctor. Or one of them at least. God knows, he’d probably seen a dozen by now. But I had one person in mind. The implant from Ohio, Dr. Fisher. He was one of the surgeons who had attended on Dean’s surgery to save his arm. Although they hadn’t succeeded, I knew Dr. Fisher and his team had done everything they could, and I was hoping he could at least shed some light on his weary patient. Heading into the doctors’ lounge I’d found him in before, I managed to luck out and catch him sitting down for a quick bite. “Hey, Jameson. Didn’t expect you back so soon. Checking in on us?” he joked, rising quickly to shake my hand. I took it, giving him a nod as we parted and took our seats. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he was taking it in stride, cozied up to a bowl of leftovers and the latest thriller in paperback. “I’m here visiting a friend actually—Dean Sutherland. I think he’s a patient of yours.”

He nodded, setting the book aside. “Ah, yes, Dean,” he said, as if he already knew where I was headed. “Can you give me any updates?” He set down his fork and gave me his full attention. “Honestly, I only see him once a day on rounds, but I recognize that familiar look in his eyes. He’s giving up.” I nodded in agreement. “Has he had a psych evaluation or met with a counselor?” “Yeah, we’ve done all the typical things you do with an amputee, and this is normal, as you might know. A patient can go one of two ways—bound, and determined to fight or they retreat.” “Dean’s retreating,” I let out a sigh. “He’s had a good life. An easy life, as far as I know. No major uphill climbs to test his strength.” “Until now,” Dr. Fisher replied. “You can’t blame him. I’m not sure I’d respond much differently. The loss is a great one—knowing your life is forever altered.” “But he has a life. That’s what I don’t understand. So, he’s missing an arm. It doesn’t mean he should just roll over and play dead. There is still plenty he can accomplish.” “And maybe he’ll realize that in time, but for now, he needs to go at this on his own.” “Even if it means breaking the heart of the woman who loves him?” I asked, clearly frustrated. It caught Fisher’s attention, and I found him leaning forward. “Like I said, it’s something he needs to figure out—” “On his own,” I said, finishing his sentence. “Thanks, Fisher.” He gave me a quick nod. “Sure thing.” I got up to leave but stopped by the door when Fisher called out for me. “Yeah?” I said, feeling disheartened by the entire conversation. “Take care of her,” he said. “The girl.” I took a deep breath. “I will,” I replied, hating myself in that moment. Because I knew it was the last thing I needed to hear. If there was any man on the planet who should be keeping a distance from Molly McIntyre, it was me.

Little was said on the way back home. After returning to Molly with nothing but more infuriating news, I felt my presence was just making things worse. So, I tried to be invisible, speaking only when spoken to—which wasn’t much. Only a request for a bathroom break and radio station adjustment. It was a long trip, made longer by the influx of people waiting for the ferry. The initial fear of the ferry system felt by many had worn off with the flood of tourists taking advantage of the lovely spring weather. It wasn’t as hellish as summertime, but a definite uptick in bodies and cars.

By the time we made it to the inn, we were both tired and famished. I offered to make us sandwiches, but Molly declined, forgoing food for the sanctuary of her room. Seeing her walk off toward the family side of the house brought back many memories. Sneaking into her room at night. Sneaking out of her room at night…and all the things we had done in between. Molly had once been my entire world. My past and my future. Until, one day, she wasn’t. I’d made the choice to put myself first—or at least, that was what I told myself. In reality, I’d only buried the past, like one of those hopeless pirates my mom had always spoken of during bedtime stories. After my poor excuse for a ham sandwich, I decided to retire to my room for the night also. Taking the stairs to the yellow room, I was stopped abruptly when the doorbell rang. What should I do? Do I answer it? Looking around for some sort of answer, I quickly made up my mind and turned around. Molly, the ever-present and overworked hostess, however, beat me to it. And she found herself face-to-face with Dottie Sutherland. Realizing my presence might make it difficult for her, I melted back into the stairwell and headed for my room. Until I heard Molly burst into tears. Twisting back around, I stuck my head around the corner. Dottie had stepped inside and was holding Molly as she fell apart. Oh God, what happened? He couldn’t have… “He wants the ring back?” Molly said, disbelief woven into every syllable. “Why, Dottie? I don’t understand.” For a brief second, I was relieved. Relieved my friend hadn’t done anything drastic, like taking his own life. It was common for victims of post-traumatic stress disorder, and based on his mood earlier today, I wouldn’t put it past him. But this? This was like a twist of a knife straight into Molly’s heart. “I don’t know, hon, but he demanded I visit you today and call it off. Otherwise, he’d do it over the phone, and I couldn’t let him be that cruel.” “I was just there. I just saw him.” She nodded, the warmth and understanding of a mother showing through the depth of her eyes. “He called right after you left. I argued with him over it, asked him to think it over and not make any rash decisions. He said he’d thought it over, more than any of us could realize, and it was the best choice for everyone.”

“What did his doctors say?” Molly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I called his psychiatrist right after we hung up, and he said that this was all part of the journey.” “What journey?” she cried. “How can this be helpful? Pushing people away? Pushing me away?” She buried her head in the loving embrace of Dottie as I watched the heartbreaking scene below. Part of me felt like I was intruding on a personal moment, but I knew, once Mrs. Sutherland left, someone would need to be here to help pick up the pieces. “He wants you to move on with your life,” she instructed. “And what about his life? Does he care about that at all?” “I think he’s trying. The doctor said he was making clear strides toward acceptance, but they were small steps.” “Including, but not limited to, dumping his fiancée?” “I’m not happy with him either, and believe me…when this is all said and done, he’s going to get an earful from his dear old mother for putting her through this. You know you are already a daughter in my eyes? You always have been.” “For me, too,” Molly said. “Let’s not forget that, hmm?” I chose that moment to walk away. They could say good-bye without prying eyes. Unlocking the yellow room, I found myself flooded with the memories it held. It happened every time I entered. But, today, I couldn’t help but think about the future. Molly had had hers all planned out—a handsome husband, a thriving business—and that had all been crushed the moment I ran into Dean. Was I to blame for this? And, if so, what could I do to fix it? Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I did the only thing I could think of. I called the hospital and asked for Dean’s room. He picked up on the second ring. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” “Nice to talk to you too,” he replied, a distinct note of amusement in his tone. “This isn’t a damn joke Dean. I just had to watch Molly get dumped by your fucking mother. What the hell is wrong with you?” “A lot,” he said simply. “She’s downstairs crying because of you.”

And it’s breaking my damn heart, I failed to say. He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry for that, I really am and had I been thinking clearly I would have done it when she was here, but seeing you together today,” he paused for a brief moment. “Well, I’m allowed a little residual jealousy.” “We’re not together,” I pressed. “Hell, we barely even looked at each other.” “That’s the fucking point Jake. You had to make a concerted effort to look away, but you couldn’t help it, could you? Neither of you ever could.” “Are you out of your mind? You’re talking nonsense. What kind of pain meds do they have you on? I’m here for one thing Dean—to get my father’s clinic in order. When that’s done, I’m out of here.” “She still loves you.” My breath caught in my throat. “She can barely stand me,” I countered, the cadence in my voice faltering. “Look Jake,” he said. “I was here when you left and every day after. I know that girl better than most. She hasn’t spent one day since that ferry pulled away from the dock hoping that it wouldn’t someday bring you back. But days turned into years and eventually she tried to move on. “With you,” I added. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s what happens when two best friends get lonely. We thought we’d be happy. But you can’t force love or passion Jake.” “So what are you saying? I have your blessing to go after your fiancé?” “She’s not my fiancé anymore,” he reminded me. “And she was never mine in the first place.”

By around ten that same night, I’d been staring at the yellow walls of my room for nearly three hours thinking over the words that had been spoken between Dean and I. Sleep had somehow eluded me, leaving me edgy and bored. After years of grabbing sleep whenever and wherever I could, it was an odd feeling. But then again, anything having to do with Molly always left me feeling like I’d been flipped over ass-backward. So, I went in search of something to do. Hell, I’d even settle for senseless late-night television at this point to get my mind off things. But there was only one TV in the inn—a rule made up long ago by the McIntyres to promote family time and outside activities. Mrs. McIntyre had always said, “If you’re on vacation, what do you need a television for?” It had been an annoying rule as a teenager, but I saw the value in it as an adult. Even if it did mean having to leave my room in the middle of the night. At least I could grab another sandwich from the kitchen.

Heading downstairs, I was surprised to hear the TV already on, especially since I was currently the only guest in the place. Peeking my head into the living room, I found the culprit. Molly…and a bottle of whiskey. “Hey there, Jakey!” Scratch that. Half of a bottle of whiskey. Picking up the bottle, I took a quick sip, feeling the cheap liquor burn all the way down my throat. “Been busy, I see.” “I got dumped,” she announced, holding up her empty cup for a refill. “By Dean’s mom no less. Bastard didn’t even have the balls to do it himself.” I obliged her request, going against my initial instinct, which had been to dump it down the drain and carry her sorry ass back to bed. But this wasn’t my Molly anymore, and I’d already done my fair share of intruding today, first by eavesdropping on her and Dottie and then by calling up Dean. So, I decided to join her. Why the hell not? Taking a seat next to her, I took another sip of liquor straight from the bottle as she indulged in the full glass I’d refilled. “I’m sure he had his reasons,” I said. She stared at the amber-colored liquid in her glass, swishing it around the ice. “Yep,” she said adamantly. “He said we’re not right for each other. Or at least I think that’s what he said when I called him a bit ago.” I looked over and saw her phone next to her. Apparently I wasn’t the only one making phone calls to the hospital. “Besides, I didn’t want to marry him anyway. What women gets engaged and never plans the actual wedding?” “A busy one,” I answered. “Nooo,” she replied, letting the word drag until she was giggling senseless. “One with cold feet. So, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe he’s doing me a favor—sending me back into the dating pool. I mean, I’m a hot commodity around here. I know you’ve been gone a long time, but I can get another guy like that,” she said, snapping her fingers to prove her point. Dear Lord, she was hammered. “I don’t doubt that for a second,” I replied honestly. “It could have been you,” she said. “But you left. And then so did Dean and my sister and everyone else. You remember Millie, don’t you? The younger, hotter version of me? Millie and Molly…good God, what were my parents thinking?” “Silly Millie. Of course I remember her. She caught us doing it in your room one time, and I had to pay her ten bucks every week for the rest of the year to keep her quiet.”

She snorted, laughing loudly. “You’re kidding!” Shaking my head, I joined in. “Nope. Quite the entrepreneur, your sister.” “Probably suits her well in Florida, the traitor.” Her words were spoken in jest, but I could see the subtle hurt in her eyes. “She never was cut out for the simple life. Kind of like you.” “I don’t know about that,” I replied. “I did a pretty good job of it for a while.” She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. “And do you love your new life? Was it worth it all?” I looked around the grand old house, memories hidden in every floorboard and piece of furniture. The couple shots of whiskey I’d helped myself to were starting to kick in, and I felt the truth rising to the surface. “Sometimes, I’m not sure,” I answered. “There are days when I truly feel like I made the right choice.” “And the other days?” “Those are the days when I step out into the waiting room and deliver the good news my patient’s family has been waiting for. I watch as they all huddle together, crying tears of joy in each other’s arms. They shake my hand and thank me for my hard work, and then I walk away. I go back home to an empty apartment, filled with things I don’t want or need, and I remember what it was like to have a family. A best friend. A soul mate.” Her breath caught as she heard my words, and in that moment, I felt it. The connection. The need. The ache I’d had for twelve long years without her. I didn’t know who’d lunged first. Her or me. But, the moment our eyes met, she was in my arms, and I was in hers. Our lips connected in a frenzy of lust and desperation. “You taste like whiskey,” I groaned as her fingers wove through my thick brown hair. Her teeth tugged at my bottom lip as all thoughts vacated my brain, and I acted on impulse. My hands found the hem of her shirt. Her legs straddled my hips. And, suddenly…like a runaway train hitting a brick wall, I came to my senses. Not like this. Never like this. “Molly,” I said, my breath heavy. “Mols, we can’t do this. You don’t want this, believe me.” She pulled back, heat and ire written across her face, as her chest heaved. “Don’t you dare tell me what I don’t want, Jake. You are not in charge of me. You don’t own me.”

She moved off me, and the loss of her flesh on mine felt like some sick, tragic comedy. I’d pushed her away, and now, all I wanted was her back in my arms. Walking to the edge of the living room, she stopped briefly. “This meant nothing,” she spit, tears running down her cheeks. “No, you’re wrong,” I countered as my finger brushed along the place on my lips where she’d bitten me. “It means everything because it proves that there’s no hope for either of us if I continue to stay here. We’ll just end up broken and hurt all over again.” “Then, I guess you should leave.” I nodded, a wave of sadness rushing over me. “I’ll be gone by morning.” She didn’t respond, and instead, she walked away. I listened to her footsteps echo down the hallway, toward her room, limping the entire way because she was too stubborn to use the crutches anymore. I savored every sound, every moment she was still near. And then I did the only thing I seemed to be good at when it came to Molly McIntyre. I left.



THE SUN PEEKED ITS HEAD through the clouds, sending a bright beam of light directly through my bedroom window. “Fucking sun,” I groaned, feeling like death warmed over. It had been years since I drank straight liquor. A rum and Coke? Sure. Wine? Hell yes. But straight whiskey from the bottle? That was something I’d attempted in high school and quickly given up right after. I was not a fan of hangovers. The problem was I didn’t have an off button. I just kept going. Like the damn Energizer Bunny. Binge-watching Netflix? Sleep in till noon? Nope. I was a get-up-at-the-crack-ofdawn-and-get-shit-done kind of girl. I didn’t have time to nurse hangovers and spend hours on the couch. There were people depending on me. Well, most days. Today, however, as I pulled myself out of bed, I realized I was in a completely empty house. No guests. No family. No Jake. Just me and a pounding headache. And then the doorbell rang. “Who the hell comes visiting at—” I checked my watch. Ten in the morning? I’d slept in until ten in the freaking morning? I did my best to smooth out my hair and settle my queasy stomach before I got to the door. I then said a quick prayer, begging God for mercy. If this could just be a salesman or something, I’d really appreciate it. Anyone, except my mother. Or a guest. Okay, thanks. Pulling open the door, I felt a mixture of relief and shock as a young blonde who

nearly mirrored me in every way stood at the threshold. “Millie!” I screamed, reaching forward to pull her into a giant bear hug. “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here? And why are you ringing the doorbell? This is as much your house as mine!” She pulled back, smiling. “No, it’s yours now. Besides, I didn’t want to barge in”—she looked me up and down, clearly judging my appearance—“and interrupt your busy morning.” I rolled my eyes, stepping aside so that she could drag in all the suitcases she had sitting behind her. “It’s a long story,” I explained, taking my own judgmental appraisal of my appearance in the foyer mirror. “Good God, I look like hell.” “I hear there’s a good reason for it.” Her face said it all. Sympathy, understanding, warmth. “Jesus, who told you?” “Mom,” she confessed. “She called last night after getting a phone call from Mrs. Sutherland. Dottie was a mess. She felt terrible for what that boy had made her do.” “So, you’re here for what? Reinforcements?” “Obviously. After all, when you suffer a breakup, who better to pick you back up again than your sister? Mama thought she’d step back for once and let a professional handle this one.” I gave her a long once-over. She’d most likely flown an early morning flight or a redeye to get here, and she looked like she’d just stepped off the runway rather than a stuffy plane. Where had all this sophistication come from? “I can’t believe she called Mom,” I said. Millie followed me to the living room. The bottle of whiskey I’d plowed through was thankfully gone. But the memories weren’t. I swallowed hard as my body remembered exactly what had transpired. A bit of heat, some pent up lust and a whole lot of bad decisions. Yep. That about summed it up. “What do you expect?” she said, taking a seat on the couch beside me. “She was worried about you. It’s not like she wanted to come over here and spring this on you, and why wouldn’t she call Mom? Her and Dottie have been the best of friends for ages.” “I know,” I agreed. “But I’ve barely had a chance to process it, you know? One minute, I’m engaged, and the next, I’m handing back the antique ring I was given to my fiancé’s mom. It’s just a lot to take in. I thought I’d have at least a day before it spread

across the island.” Her hand fell on my shoulder. “I doubt it’s gone that far yet.” I gave her a dubious stare. “Really? Because even Jake didn’t seem surprised when I sprang the news on him last night.” My baby sister’s eyes lit up. “Hanky-Panky Jakey?” she said, suddenly looking around. “He’s here?” “No,” I instantly replied, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. “I mean, yes, he’s here on the island. But not here, here,” I explained. “And that is a terrible nickname.” She laughed, a lovely lilt that I couldn’t emulate if I tried. It perfectly matched her designer jeans and blouse, as if she’d handpicked it right off a runway in Paris. I’ll take that gorgeous silk blouse and the angelic laugh, please. Can that be delivered? “It’s a joke between us.” “I heard all about the lucrative deal you made with my ex. No wonder they call you the shark at work.” She smiled wide, like a Cheshire cat. “He helped pay for my summer wardrobe that year.” I rolled my eyes. “Who are you? Clearly not the lanky brat of a sister I had who once spent an entire night up in the trees just to prove a point to Mom and Dad.” “The very same, and they had it coming.” “Do you even remember what you were fighting for?” I asked, remembering my tiny sister way up in the tree with her pillow and stuffed unicorn. “The slaughter of pigs, I believe. Mom served ribs one night, and a guest commented, saying it was the best hog she’d ever tried. Mom had never told me where meat came from. I felt like my whole life was a lie.” “You didn’t last long. I seem to remember someone chowing down on a barbeque at the Fourth of July festival the following month.” She shrugged. “Sleeping in a tree is no fun, and I realized I didn’t care much for protesting. Or being a vegetarian. I’m much more suited for the finer things in life.” “Apparently.” We continued our small talk, catching up on each other’s lives and whatnot. She’d been promoted within her company, taking on another territory. “My goal is to one day gain parts of Europe. Wouldn’t it be awesome to travel to Spain or England for a career?” “I guess,” I replied. “But doesn’t it get old? The never-ending flights and hotel stays?” She shook her head. “I love it. My day is never boring. I’m not sure if I could ever adhere to a fixed schedule. I love being on my toes.”

“You always were the adventurous one,” I said, smiling at another memory of that pigtailed darling dangling above me in the old oak tree. “You’re adventurous,” she insisted. “Look at this place! You took it all on by yourself. Even with Dad’s help, Mom could barely keep up. I don’t know how you manage.” “I have no life; that’s how.” “Well, that’s why I’m here!” she announced proudly. “Oh, no,” I said, holding my hands up in a desperate plea. I knew what my sister’s idea of fun was, and after last night’s hangover, I wasn’t sure I could handle any more. “Oh, come on, Mols. This is why I’m here—to pull you out of this obvious funk you’ve drunk yourself into and to remind you how fun it is to be single!” “I don’t want to go out into town today. Everyone will look at me with sad eyes. Poor Molly. She got dumped again.” “Please,” she said. “With me in tow, no one would dare do such a thing. Besides, would you rather skulk around here all day?” I looked around at my house, the place where I spent nearly every waking moment. Cleaning, cooking, and bookkeeping. I was exhausted. “Sure,” I finally answered. “Why the hell not?” “That’s the sprit!” Millie hollered. “Now, let’s go get you decent.” Pulling on my hand, she dragged me toward my room, hell-bent on a makeover of epic proportions. Dear Lord…I could use just a bit more help.

“So, this is day drinking?” I said, holding up my beer bottle. It was nearly half-empty, and I could see the blue horizon of the bay through its crystal-clear glass. “Please tell me this isn’t your first time grabbing drinks during the daylight hours.” I shrugged. “Does sneaking shots of vodka from the liquor cabinet after school count?” She shook her head, a light chuckle under her breath. “God, you missed out on a lot.” “That’s what happens when you don’t go to college.” “You could have,” she pointed out. “You were accepted all over the state.” “I know, but after…” I paused, remembering the lengthy fight I’d had with my parents. “What do you mean, you’re not going?” my mom said, a look of horror flashing

across her face. “I mean, I’m not going,” I repeated. “Not everyone goes to college.” “You think I don’t know that?” she shouted as my dad looked on in pure shock. “But you, of all people, owe it to yourself to try.” “Why?” I asked. “Why me, of all people?” “Because you’ve worked so hard for it. All those late nights of studying to make the grades. And the tears when you opened those acceptance letters. How can you walk away now?” I shrugged. “Because I just don’t want to go.” “Is this because of Jake? Because he left?” I held up a hand, hating the sound of his name on her lips. “This has nothing to do with him,” I insisted. “I just think I’m better suited here.” The hope died from her eyes in that moment. Every wish for a better life for me vanished as she realized my inevitable fate. I was never getting off this island. “After graduation, I just realized it wasn’t the right path,” I said, finishing my thought. “Besides, if I’d left, I probably would have married the first frat boy I saw, and then who would be running the inn for Mom and Dad?” “I’m sure they would have worked something out. You’re not responsible for all of us, you know.” “I know.” “Are you sure?” she pressed, taking a sip of her own beer. She’d changed clothes before we left the inn after forcing me into a gorgeous coralcolored dress from her bag. It was low-cut and short and made me feel all sorts of uncomfortable. But I had to admit, it didn’t look half bad on me. “I’m sure,” I said. “I mean, I know Mom and Dad would have found someone to take the inn on if it wasn’t for me, but I love what I do. Honest.” “I know you do. It shows in the house. But try not to forget, a job isn’t your entire life. You have to have more.” “I did have more. I had Dean.” She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. “Did you really? I mean, you guys were together for, what? Four years? And you were no closer to the altar yesterday than you were when you first got together.” “Yes, we were,” I argued. “We were engaged!” “With no plans for a wedding.”

I let out a small huff. “No, you’re right. It just never felt like the right time.” “Perhaps because you were secretly waiting for something…or someone?” I gave her a hard stare “Jake? I have not been waiting for Jake. Believe me. Especially now.” Intrigue painted her face. “What do you mean, especially now?” “I can’t believe Mom didn’t tell you.” “Tell me what?” she asked. “Jake was sort of staying at the inn. Well, until last night.” Her interest piqued, she leaned forward, hoping for all the juicy details. “Oh my gosh, you totally slept together!” My face blanched. “We did not!” “Okay, but something happened.” A flash of that singular moment from the night before came reeling back. His skin, so hot and familiar. The heavy breaths that floated between us. His— “Whatever is going on in that head of yours right now…can I borrow some? ’Cause damn.” Her words brought me back to reality. “It meant nothing,” I said, repeating my words from the night before. “Absolutely nothing.” “Good, so you won’t mind me inviting those sexy tourists to our table?” She pointed to a group of guys two tables over. One of them, a seriously smoking-hot surfer type with sun-kissed hair and dark skin, gave her a smooth smile. I felt my insides flip upside down. “Sure,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “Why not?” Millie gave me a look that suggested she didn’t quite believe me, but she quickly replied, “Great. I’ll go invite them over.” I was in awe of her confidence, her swagger. She rose with no hesitation, the sexy green halter dress making her stand out like some exotic creature out in the wild. Her hair, pulled into a loose side braid, blew in the breeze, tossing tiny pieces of blonde hair around her face. The messy look somehow only enhanced her beauty. No doubt she was the envy of every girl in a ten-mile radius. I listened in as she approached the men. Their faces lit up the second she appeared, like they’d suddenly stumbled upon an angel. She leaned over, annoying the crap out of me as she flaunted her assets—one in particular. The men stared up at her in wonder, laughing, as she casually asked them where they were from. Her North Carolina drawl, something she usually watered down since moving to Florida, was out in plain sight. “New Jersey,” one replied. “Out for a bachelors’ weekend.”

“Oh, and which of you handsome gentlemen is getting married?” The three of them pointed to the fourth, a gangly sort of guy who reminded me of a kid I had gone to school with. He was the nicest guy in the world, but when it came to anything outside of a textbook, he was horribly awkward. The same could be said for the groom-to-be. He smiled up at her with a sheepish sort of grin, but held back when his friends were all but drooling by now. “Sounds like you are in for some fun. Can we join you? Or vice versa?” she asked, adding a little Southern twang for effect. It worked because, instantly, the three single guys were grabbing chairs and making room for us. “Oh Lord, here we go,” I muttered to myself as she waved me over. Following directions, I grabbed my beer and did my best sashay toward the other side of the patio. Not nearly making the impression my sister had, I still managed to get a few grins. Not bad for a girl seriously out of practice with the art of flirting. And, in all honesty, I’d never really mastered the skill anyhow. My sister, on the other hand? Total pro. It was a wonder we were related. I took a seat between two of the guys—the sexy surfer and his preppy-looking friend. My sister was already cozying up to the self-proclaimed leader of the pack. “Jesse,” he said, holding out his hand to mine. I politely took it, ignoring the territorial glances from my sister. “You two local?” he asked. The sexy surfer known as Gabe flagged down the waiter. I tried to hide my face as a guy I knew from high school sauntered over. Hitting on tourists was an offense likely to land me in the local gossip mill. And as the butt of about a hundred different jokes. Thankfully, Millie had this situation handled and took charge. “Hey, Billy. These are our friends from out of state. Think you could do us a favor and start a tab?” Billy gave us a wry look, shaking his head with a smirk across his face. My sister wasn’t nearly as convincing as she believed. “Sure thing, Millie. Good to see you,” he said, starting with one end of the table and working his way down. “You, too,” she replied. I ordered another beer as a cool breeze worked its way through the open patio. At anytime of the year, this place was packed. Even in the dead of summer when the air felt so heavy you could scoop it, tourists and locals alike would flood this place for the view alone.

It helped that they had amazing food, too. “So, are you two twins?” Gabe asked, his eyes set on me. “No,” I replied, “but I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m the oldest, by a few years.” “Must be good genes because I can barely tell you two apart.” “Well then, I guess we’ll just have to stick around, so you can stare a bit longer.” I nearly choked on my beer bottle. Looking up at my baby sister, I gave her a hard stare. She smiled innocently and mouthed the words, Loosen up. I honestly didn’t know how to loosen up. Maybe back in high school when life had been simple and drinking beer from our parents’ fridge had been the most exhilarating moment of my day. But now? Now, my life was filled with bills and priorities. Being an adult had sucked all the fun right out of me. Another beer was set down in front of me, courtesy of Billy, and I took a moment to stare at the shape of it. Loosen up? Grabbing it with my left hand, I downed it, taking several large sips. I met my sister’s wide eyes, and she giggled. “So, which one of you handsome gentlemen wants to buy a girl another drink?” Sexy surfer guy laughed, eagerly holding his hand up. Guessed I was jumping on board. Time for some fun.



IT HAD BEEN A LONG first day at the clinic. After leaving By the Bay late last night, I’d found myself heading toward the clinic rather than the home I was trying to avoid. I’d flipped on the lights as soon as I walked in and ventured down the empty halls until I reached the door of my father’s office. Taking a step inside, I could smell the worn books and cologne he’d always used. It’d hurt—a visceral pain that dug deep into my gut —as I walked around this familiar space, knowing he’d never grace this building again. We might not have been a perfect father-son duo—far from it actually—but I couldn’t discount how much he’d meant to the people of this island. That night, I’d settled into my dad’s old wooden chair, placing my feet on the solid wood desk, and counted down the hours until morning. Sleep had once again evaded me. In the few moments that I had drifted off, I’d dreamed of a blue-eyed baby with hair the color of the sun. She’d looked up at me with wonder and trust, knowing I’d do anything to keep her safe. When I’d awoken, I’d ached all over, hating the creaky chair more than I had as a kid. My dad had always been the type to keep everything until it was literally falling to pieces. He’d approached his clinic and office with much of the same. Every piece of furniture in this office was worn and filled with memories. I could still see him, sitting in that shabby leather chair, worrying over the patients he’d seen. Had he made the right decision? Should he have done more? Could he have done more? The stress of the job had eventually gotten to him, and he’d turned to the bottle for comfort. When you were drowning your worries in alcohol, the choices of the day didn’t seem nearly as heavy. This one decision had changed our lives forever. And I hadn’t been sure how to return here, as if nothing had happened. But, somehow, I’d made it through the day. I’d introduced myself to patients, most already knowing my name. Several old ladies had pinched my cheeks, saying how handsome I’d turned out. And everyone had offered their condolences on the death of my

father, who was, in everyone’s opinion, a stellar human being. If they’d only known. My father’s drinking habits had been kept a secret from most of the residents of the town. Finding out their only doctor was a drunk wouldn’t have been exactly the best idea for keeping the clinic in business. Those who had known kept their mouths shut, and those who hadn’t known never noticed anything out of the ordinary. A widower was entitled to his privacy after all. During my first day, I had seen around fifteen patients. A full day of allergy meds, sprained wrists, and the common cold, both locals and tourists alike. Of course, they’d all wanted to know if I was staying. “It’s up in the air at the moment,” was all I’d say. I didn’t want to breach their trust in me on my very first day by announcing I had no intentions of staying and that I couldn’t wait to get back to my normal life. There’d been a Jameson doctor on this island for decades. Naturally, everyone assumed nothing would change. And, for now, I’d allow them to believe it. It had been a stressful day, and that meant a lot coming from a man who performed twelve-hour surgeries. I felt emotionally exhausted. I’d done a stellar job of convincing myself that this wasn’t actually happening. With the delay from the accident and the weekend with Molly, I could almost believe my stay here was temporary—a simple vacation back home. But, the moment I’d walked into the clinic last night, reality had slammed back in place. I was here. My father wasn’t. And, somehow, I had to move on from that. But, first, I needed food. Knowing I’d likely stay at the clinic until I had the time to face the faded blue house again, I ventured out into town after the last patient said their good-byes and the staff all headed home. I let myself wander down the main drag, noticing what had changed. And what hadn’t. There was a scattering of tourists walking about, grabbing ice cream or a light dinner at some of the outdoor restaurants. Deciding I was in the mood for a burger, I headed for an old favorite. Knowing they had plenty of beer on tap didn’t hurt either. Driving toward the bay, I found myself going in circles as I attempted to find a parking spot near the restaurant. I’d forgotten how busy it got around here, even in the off-season.

I spotted a happy family of four walking toward their car, and I slowed to a crawl. The husband and wife held hands while the two kids skipped and jumped over tree stumps. It was a picture of perfection—something that would normally make me roll my eyes and wonder who the father was banging in his spare time. But, tonight, I couldn’t help but stare as the jealousy rose in my veins. It had been ages since I envisioned myself as a family man—someone who would devote himself to one person for the rest of his life. Someone who would look at his children, beaming with pride. I’d seen the downfall of marrying a surgeon. We were unreliable outside of the hospital. Unrelenting workaholics, we would choose our patients over a family any day. It was why my dating life had been reduced to torrid affairs and one-night stands. I couldn’t do complicated. Yet, somehow, I’d stepped right back into the middle of it. I stalked the jovial family all the way to their car and patiently waited for them to leave. Once parked, I locked up the rental and headed in the direction of food. What I found instead had my blood boiling.

I’d always known Molly’s younger sister was a wild card. From the moment she’d blackmailed me out of cash after catching Molly and me in bed together, I had known that pigtailed little girl wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth as the rest of the McIntyres. When I walked onto the covered patio of the restaurant, my suspicions were confirmed instantly. “It’s Jake Jameson!” Millie hollered, her fingers roaming through the hair of a tall stranger. It took only minutes to find her sister. While I would normally expect to see Molly planted firmly in the corner, drinking a sensible amount of alcohol while mentally creating her to-do list for the next day, I instead found her in the thick of things. And in the arms of another man. “What the hell?” I uttered. “Come join us, Jake! We’re celebrating our youth!” Millie announced while the rest of the bar cheered. What had once been a low-key place to hang out in after work, Millie McIntyre had managed to turn into an outdoor club, complete with loud music and horny men. I turned toward the bar as I tried to keep myself from ripping the guy wrapped around Molly in half. The bartender, a guy I recognized from high school, gave me a look that

was filled to the brim with desperation. He’d clearly lost control of the place, and with Millie here, I didn’t blame him. “Hey, Jake. Heard you were coming back,” he said, greeting me with a firm handshake over the bar. “Sounds like you’ve got a rough crowd tonight, Billy,” I said, looking behind me. Molly was looking up at the tall surfer dude with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. The guy, who I now wanted to kill had a fat, happy grin plastered across his face. My fist tightened in anger. “Yeah,” he said with hesitation. “Any way you could help a guy out? Otherwise, I might be forced to call in Macon.” I nodded in understanding. Macon was a rising star with the county police. He was young and hungry for action, having grown up here with the rest of us. I’d never been a fan of the guy. He’d been one of those kids who threw guys in the dumpster just because he could. From what I’d heard, not much had changed since then. Except for the badge. “I’ll see what I can do,” I replied, turning my attention to the task at hand. Molly’s slow dance with the surfer heated up as I watched his fingers nudge toward the hem of her dress. “Oh, hell no,” I muttered, stalking forward. “Hey, Jakey!” Molly shouted, her arms firmly around the dude’s neck. “Have you met my new friend Gabe? He’s from New Jersey.” “No,” I deadpanned. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” Gabe didn’t even turn in my direction, his glossed-over expression clearly focused on my girl. My girl. The thought nearly stopped me in my tracks, but I didn’t have time to contemplate it. Because the truth was, Molly would always be mine whether or not either of us cared to admit it. “Can I cut in?” I said, not bothering to wait for an answer. Molly’s eyes widened as I stepped in the middle of them, pushing the idiot aside, not caring in the least for the guy’s feelings. He mumbled something about ruining his night, but I didn’t give him one ounce of attention. He was lucky he was still standing. “I thought I told you to go away,” Molly said. “I’ve never been great at listening, especially when it comes to you,” I said, pulling

her close as the music went on around us. Her breath caught, and I couldn’t help but grin. She was annoyed with me. I could see it in the warm flush across her cheeks and the way she tried to avoid my gaze. But she didn’t pull away. “Why are you here, Molly?” I asked, doing my best to lead her around the dance floor when all I really wanted to do was tear her away from the place. “Having fun,” she said indignantly. “That’s what a girl does when she’s been dumped. Gotta show the town I’m single and ready to mingle.” “This has never been your kind of scene,” I reminded her as her eyes finally met mine. “How would you know?” she said, pushing back. Her arms wrapped around her waist, a telltale sign she was feeling insecure about herself. If only she knew she had no need for that type of emotion. She was breathtaking. She always had been. “You don’t know anything about me,” she continued. “Don’t walk in here, thinking you know me and everything about me.” I held up my hands in protest. “I know, I know. You’ve grown. You’ve changed. But tell me something. How many times have you thought about leaving this bar? How many times have you thought about the bread that needs to be baked or the plants that haven’t been watered? You might have gotten older—we both have—and priorities might have shifted, but believe me, you’re still the same girl I knew. The same one who worried about term papers months in advance, who told on herself for glancing at Dean’s paper in math class.” “I was looking out the window and accidentally glanced down,” she mumbled. I couldn’t help but laugh, taking a step forward. She didn’t retreat. “You’re still the same person, Molly. Still my Molly.” I took another step forward with her wide eyes focused on mine. There, in that brief moment, I saw a flicker of hope. A glimpse at a future I’d never anticipated. “No,” she said, breaking our connection. “No, I’m not, and you’d do well to just leave me alone. You might be back, Jake, but you’re not home. This place moved on after you left. So should you.” The thing was, she was right. Life had moved on. I knew this better than anyone. But, the moment she turned from me, reaching a hand out for the Jersey boy she’d been fooling around with before I got here, nothing else mattered. Not the practice or the job I’d left behind. Not the twelve years that we had been apart.

Just her and me and the ache we felt for each other. I reached out for her, taking the outstretched hand. “Come home with me,” I said in one breath. “What?” she said, forgetting about the surfer and his unfinished dance. Her eyes met with mine, and everyone else drifted away. It’d been like that for as long as I could remember. “One night. You and me. For old times’ sake.” It was a crazy idea, one I’d just come up with in that single moment of need. But I wasn’t going to take it back. I knew she felt the same. I knew she needed me as much as I needed her, and I couldn’t keep denying myself the one thing that could make me whole again. Even if it was only for a single night. “I’ve been drinking,” she protested as she tried to push away from me. “You and I know you’re probably the most sober person here besides me,” I said, glancing over at the one beer on the table behind her. No doubt, it had been sitting there for hours. “And, before you argue and say something like, I don’t know you anymore, let me just remind you how much you do.” She opened her mouth to do just that, but I pulled her toward me once again, closing my mouth over hers. She froze in shock for a single second before she let go, giving in to the mutual need we felt. I tasted fear and sadness in her kiss. Lust and need. Passion and possibilities. She leaned into me, surrendering, as I gave her everything, not giving a damn about the crowd of people around us, staring. I’d stake my claim for her, if only for a night. My tongue slid against hers, and it was a damn miracle I didn’t lose it right then and there. Because this was what I’d been waiting for. Her lips, hot and wet, on top of mine. The urgency for more. “Anyone take bets on these two?” someone shouted. “Because we could have made a fortune on how long it would take. God knows I need the cash.” It was like a bucket of cold water down the back. I felt Molly stiffen, her senses returning, as she pulled back, retreating from me. And my touch. I looked around, ready to pounce on the poor townie who had ruined this for me. But I

faltered. Circled around us were people I recognized. People I’d grown up with. And then, as my vision cleared, I saw him. Macon Green. The kid who loved to mess with everyone, including me. He had his hands wrapped around himself, a shiny gun hanging from the holster, as he grinned a sinister smile in our direction. “Macon,” I said darkly. He tipped his hat toward me as my chest heaved. “Heard there was a bit of a disturbance in the area. Should have figured it involved you, Doctor.” The way he’d said doctor sounded more like an insult than a greeting. I chose to ignore it, placing a casual arm around Molly. She went rigid, her mind probably spiraling with possibilities. How long would it take for this to make it around town? To Dottie and the rest of the Sutherlands? What about Dean? What would he say? How much would it hurt him? I knew because it was exactly what was going through my own mind. I’d been stupid. Careless. And, in the process, I might have ruined everything for Molly. “Nope,” I replied, my arm still firmly wrapped around Molly. “We were just leaving. Weren’t we, Millie?” Molly’s sister’s bright blue eyes met mine in surprise. I gave her a look that could stop traffic. Her gaze darted from the guy next to her and back to me. Finally, she relented, giving me the win in our mini staring contest. “Right,” she replied hesitantly even though I knew she was silently damning me to hell for crashing her evening plans. “Heading back to the inn,” she explained. “Long day tomorrow.” Taking Molly’s hand, I headed for the exit. She struggled until I let go of her grip. Once the three of us were out of earshot, both women were on full attack. “How dare you!” Millie shouted. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Molly yelled. I ignored them all the way to the car, yanking the door handle so hard, it groaned under my touch. “Get in,” I instructed.

I could see the doubt in their eyes. “Do you want to explain to Macon why you decided to drive home drunk?” “I’m not—” Molly protested. “I’m not talking to you.” I leaned into Millie, watching as she stepped up, ready to battle. “I’m not your girlfriend or your little sister, Jake. You can’t order me around like some naive child.” “Then, stop acting like one, especially when it involves Molly.” “Hey!” Molly piped in. “I can stick up for myself.” “Then, do it!” I barked, as both of them took their places in my car. “You were clearly uncomfortable with your surroundings, but did you do anything about it? Would you have just let that random stranger with his hands all over you take you to bed before you had the courage to walk away?” I saw her eyes widen as she sat in the passenger seat next to me. “You make me sound weak.” “You’re not weak. That’s my point. You’re strong and hardheaded. You’ve known where you were headed since we were kids. You’ve always had a handle on who you are.” “Boring and dull apparently,” she scoffed. “Determined and fearless,” I corrected. “But this? Hanging over some guy, pretending to be drunk so you can what, feel sorry for yourself? That’s not you, Molly.” “And so you thought you’d make it a point and show me? Along with the rest of the town?” I took a deep breath, remembering our unforgettable kiss. “No,” I said, as I drove onto the gravel driveway of the inn, stopping by the front door. “I’m sorry about that. I forgot my place. It’s just—” When I’m with you, I forget who I am. Who I’ve become. I held my tongue, withholding that specific truth. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, not knowing what else to say. “Look, I’ll get out of your way. Go get some sleep.” She nodded as Millie took the lead, stepping out of the car toward the inn. I watched as Molly hesitated next to me. “Where are you sleeping, Jake?” she asked, the need to help outweighing the anger she felt toward me. “It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Where, Jake?” she repeated. “The clinic.”

She sighed, opening the car door only to pause on her way out. “Take the yellow room,” she instructed. “But you owe me.” I smiled sadly. “I’m okay, Mols. I don’t need you to save me.” Her demeanor changed, turning back around to face me. It was that determination I’d spoken of earlier making an appearance once again. “I’m not asking, Jake Jameson. Now, get inside.” My lips pursed together as I tried not to laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” “Don’t you dare sass me,” she muttered, making a beeline toward the front door. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and followed quickly behind. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laughed. “God, I hate you,” she muttered. I shook my head. “If only that were true.” Life between us would be a whole lot easier.



THAT NIGHT, I DREAMT OF Jake. I’d like to say it was the first time, that all the nights before, I’d fallen into a blissful slumber, thinking only of Dean and the life we’d soon share. But it wasn’t like that. It never had been. While I had been spending my days with Dean, going fishing and out to eat, as we tried to force a friendship into something more, I had secretly been sharing my dreams with a man I hadn’t seen for well over a decade. Until now. The moment Jake had stepped back into my life, walking into that hospital room, looking like one of those hot doctors on TV, it didn’t matter what hour of the day or night it was. I couldn’t stop thinking of him. First, it had just been memories. Little things, like our first kiss. The sweet innocence of it as he’d placed his lips on mine. He had been so unsure, so tentative. Meanwhile, my heart had been ready to burst right out of my chest from the sheer restraint I showed. I’d wanted to kiss him so badly for so long that, when it finally happened, I never wanted it to end. The memory of our first kiss had given way to that first day we showed up at school, declaring ourselves an item by holding hands in between classes for the whole world to see. Again, my heart had been beating wildly, but this time, it had been pure pride. This boy, the one I’d loved since I barely understood the word, was finally been mine. I’d sworn I’d never let go. But that was the thing with young love. Like a first kiss, it was so sweet and pure. We’d thought we could fight the whole world as long as we were together, but at the first sign of battle, our shields had fallen, and our walls had crumbled.

I dreamt of the day he left, the moment my heart followed him across the sound. I’d told myself I wouldn’t go to see him off. It was his decision, his choice, and I wouldn’t be a part of it. But even I had known that was a lie. It was my decision as much as his. I’d stayed behind. I’d chosen this life just as much as he chose his. His father said he was taking the morning ferry. No one was going with him. He’d asked everyone to stay behind, even Dean. Even me. Our blowout of a fight had solidified everything. I wasn’t going to chase after him, giving up my life so that he could start his. And he refused to stay. A crossroads—that was where we were, where we’d stay forever, I imagined. I was so angry. So angry, it hurt. My chest ached from the pain of it. I wanted to go after him to that pier and hurl all the anguish I felt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how we’d planned it. But, as I’d recently learned, life had a way of screwing you over just when you thought everything was settled. So, rather than screaming the rage in my heart, I silently let him go. I watched as his beat-up truck boarded that ferry, tears staining my cheeks, and I let him sail away. For forever. I awoke, the pain so real, I was sobbing. My ribs ached, and my throat stung as my body reminded me exactly what it felt like to lose Jake Jameson. I couldn’t do it again. I had to find a way to let go of him. For good…even if it meant destroying myself in the process.

“I can’t believe you let him stay here again,” Millie said the moment she entered the kitchen that morning. I’d already been up for several hours, trying to calm myself down from my vivid night of dreaming. I’d managed to bake two loaves of banana bread, and I was already elbow deep in cinnamon rolls. I gave her a hard stare, not bothering to validate her question with an answer.

“Damn, what’s up with you? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” she asked. “Or maybe the wrong bed entirely?” I held up my dough-covered hands in her direction. “In about two seconds, I’m going to take my sticky fingers and run them through your hair.” She rolled her eyes, something she’d learned from me. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. But, seriously, what were you thinking?” she asked, her sights set on the coffee pot. I wasn’t sure her version of leaving me alone was quite on par with my own. I watched as she poured herself a tall cup of coffee, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a tight tank top and flannel shorts. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I answered, focusing my attention away from my little sister and back on my cinnamon rolls. “He has a house!” she exclaimed. “A pretty nice one if I remember correctly.” “Clearly, you haven’t been by the Jameson place lately. It’s gotten pretty run-down.” I placed the dough in a large bowl and set it on the counter to rise. “That’s a shame. It’s a beautiful house. But that doesn’t discount the fact that it’s still Jake’s—run-down or not.” I really hated talking about this with Millie. One, it was really none of her business, and it felt like gossip. Two, I hated being his defender. “Look, like you said yesterday when you waltzed in here, this is my house now, and I’ll say who stays in it, okay?” A sly smile spread across her gorgeous face. “Okay.” We continued to move around in silence as I finished my morning chores in preparation for the new arrivals this afternoon, and she roamed around, looking for something to eat. I thought we’d moved on from the topic of Dr. Jameson until five minutes later when I found my little sister staring at me. “What?” I said in frustration. “It’s just…I can’t figure you two out. Are you into each other or not?” “Not,” I said, hearing a male echo. I looked over toward the entrance of the kitchen and found Jake standing there, his hair all messy from sleep, wearing a tight black shirt that left nothing to the imagination. “Definitely not,” I lied, unsure of if I was trying to convince Millie or myself. “Because that kiss last night—” “Drop it, Millie!” I shouted, making her jump. The thunderous boom of my voice made her realize a second too late that I was beyond her taunting and usual teasing. “I think I’m going to head into town for breakfast. Maybe I’ll find Billy and get in an apology for last night.” “You do that,” I said flatly.

She scurried out of the room, leaving Jake and me alone in silence once again. As I tried to ignore the sinfully hot man in the room, I attempted to make myself busy, scrubbing down counters that didn’t need it and checking my to-do list for the hundredth time. I felt his eyes on me the entire time. “Look,” he finally said, “if it’s a problem—me being here—I can leave again. I don’t want to cause any strife between you and your sister.” I turned, leaning against the counter to face him. He’d taken a seat at the kitchen table, a place I’d seen him in often. When we had been together, he’d often sneak over here in the mornings for my mother’s world-famous pancakes. Or whatever else she’d happened to be serving. He’d loved his mom to the moon and back, and he would be the first to admit that her cooking left something to be desired. “It’s no big deal,” I said. “You need a place to stay, so you can stay here. We’re adult enough to make this work.” His eyebrow cocked in pure denial of my statement. “But are we?” he asked. “I’ve been here for less than a week, and we’ve had our tongues down each other’s throat twice. And I’m not going to sit here and lie, saying I don’t want to do it again.” I gulped, trying not to replay those particular memories in my head or create new ones. “It’s just leftover lust,” I said. “It will pass.” “See, that’s what I think, too,” he said. “I sat in bed last night, trying not to think of you in nothing but a flimsy nightgown—nothing separating us but a single set of stairs. It was goddamn torture. I gulped trying to keep a clear head as I thought about my own torturous night. The aching pain I’d awoken with as my body and brain remembered the soul-sucking moment he’d left. “I don’t want to talk about this, Jake,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “You do. You just don’t want to admit that you feel the same way.” My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I tried to deny it. “So what? So what if I feel the same way? Who cares, Jake? You want me, I want you, but nothing has changed. You still have a life in Chicago, and mine is here. Don’t tell me that somehow doesn’t matter anymore.” “Only if we let it,” he replied. His eyes were fixated on mine so intently, I could feel them burning all the way down to my very soul. “What are you saying?” He stood, leaving his coffee on the table, and took several long, slow strides forward. It was like watching a lion out in the wild. Every lean muscle in his body moved, flexing, as he came toward me. God, he was beautiful.

“I’m saying, I want you, Molly.” My breath hitched. “And maybe I can’t have you forever like we planned all those years ago, but I won’t deny the chemistry we still have, that we’ll always have. Nor will I demean the life you’ve created and ask you to change it. But I will say this: give me a night, one night, to get this out of our systems, to say good-bye properly. Because, let’s be honest, we never gave ourselves the chance before.” “One night?” I found myself repeating. “One night,” he confirmed. My mind reeled with his proposition. On one hand, I knew in the depths of my soul that one night would never be enough with this man. That one more night would probably destroy me, leaving me just as broken as that eighteen-year-old girl on the pier. That dream last night had reminded me of how much it had hurt, losing him the first time. So much that I’d vowed I’d never do it again. But seeing him standing here…I couldn’t deny the pull. The need. How I wanted to say yes. How I wanted to give in to this burning ache inside me, to quench the fire for this man who’d once been my everything. “No,” I finally said, breaking eye contact as I made a run for it. As much as I wanted to say yes, I’d made a promise to myself. For myself. For my sanity. And, for once, I was putting my own needs first.

The next day, after avoiding a certain houseguest like the plague, life decided to punch me in the gut once again. Most of the time, I loved living in a small town. When I was sick, people would bring me food. When there was a death in the community, everyone would gather and lift each other up. But, when there was gossip, man, did it spread like wildfire. And my kiss with Jake could have set a world record. After serving my new guests, an adorable newly married couple from Oregon, my phone buzzed, showing a number I recognized instantly. Dean. Picking it up on the second ring, I heard his familiar voice summoning me to come visit him.

“We need to talk,” he said. My heart plummeted, and although he didn’t say what it was regarding, I could only assume based on the timing. I had nothing to feel ashamed about. After all, he had broken it off with me, using his mother no less as the messenger. But I felt ashamed all the same. The man I’d planned on marrying only a few days earlier was sitting in a hospital bed just hours up the road, and I’d acted like a fool in front of the entire town. I left for the hospital that afternoon, feeling like the worst sort of creature on the face of the earth, and after the long drive up the coast, trying to come up with what I was going to say, I still had nothing as I walked through those double doors and asked for my visitor pass. Part of me just wanted to turn around and run, but I didn’t. Dean and I had always been open and honest with each other. As much as I deserved answers for how he’d treated me, I owed him the same. The trip up to the patient floor felt like an eternity. I was stuck in the elevator with an elderly couple going to meet their first grandchild. They were giddy, full of anticipation, with a huge bouquet of flowers for their daughter-in-law. By the end of the thirty-second ride, I knew everything about them, including the name of the little girl, her weight and length, and how much she looked like their son— based on the pictures they’d seen. I wished them good luck and hobbled out of the elevator. My ankle was still sore from my fall, but I refused to use the crutches Jake had given me. I’d limp my way toward recovery even if it took twice as long. Feeling my heart leap as I rounded the corner toward Dean’s room, I was surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from it. Considering I had been worried for his mental health the last time I was here, this was an abrupt turn of events. Peeking my head in, I found his head pointed toward the TV, a bowl of ice cream in his lap, as he laughed at a rerun of That ’70s Show. I gave a light knock on the door to let him know I’d arrived. His head turned away from the TV, and his eyes met mine. “Oh, hey!” he greeted me cheerfully. “Come on in.” Not exactly the welcome I’d expected, but I went with it, giving him a friendly smile and warm hug. He returned it in spades, and I relished in the feeling of his arm around me, knowing how close we had come to losing him. I pulled back, taking a seat near his bed. He curiously eyed me, setting his half-eaten bowl of ice cream on a nearby tray. Watching him use his one hand so efficiently was like seeing another person entirely. He’d shaved since I was last here, and he’d switched out the hospital gown and blanket for some of his own clothes—a graphic tee bearing the logo of his family’s business and an old pair of athletic shorts from high school. “You look good,” I said, meaning every word.

He smiled. “Thanks. I feel good. Or, at least, I’m getting there.” His eyes roamed over me just then. Not with the usual perusal of a male staking his claim, but more of a curious glance, as if he were taking stock of my well-being. “How are you?” he asked as his gaze steadied on mine. “Good, I think,” I answered with honesty. “How are things at home?” I shrugged. “My sister is home for a while.” He smiled. “So, crazy then?” I laughed, followed by a nod. “Yes, definitely. She nearly got us arrested the other night.” He shook his head, not appearing shocked in the least. “That sounds like Millie. Anything to liven the place up.” “Well, she is used to a faster pace of life nowadays.” “I think she was born at a faster pace than the rest of us.” I nodded, laughing in agreement, and then a silence settled in. I looked around, noticing several things from home. His iPad and several paperbacks. A deck of cards he loved to play solitaire with even though I’d shown him a hundred different apps on his phone and a cheap spiral notebook he used to jot down thoughts throughout the day. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you here,” he said, bringing my attention back to those dark green eyes of his. I nodded but added, “You don’t need a reason for me to visit Dean but I was kind of hoping for some answers.” He nodded, looking down at his fingers as he rubbed his thumb. “You deserve that much.” I allowed him time to gather his thoughts, as I tried not to stare at the right side of his body. It was hard not to. I’d known this man since I was barely able to form complete sentences. If I had any artistic ability at all, I could trace out his likeness down to each freckle on his face, every laugh line around his handsome smile. The stump, as the doctors called it suddenly made him so different. So foreign. I couldn’t help but fixate on it. “It’s okay to look at it,” Dean finally said. “I wasn’t, I mean—“ A smile spread across his face. “Yes you were. But it’s fine Mols. I know it’s weird. Hell, it’s strange for me too.” “Is it getting any better?” I asked hesitantly. He looked down at his arm, severed harshly across the middle of his bicep. It was covered neatly in white gauze but eventually, it would all be removed and there would be

fresh clean skin covering the wound. “A little,” he replied. “I still wake up everyday and it feels like that moment after the surgery. Like I’m coming out of a dream. But then I look down and I realize it happened. This happened.” I grabbed his left hand and squeezed. He gave me a sad smile in return, threading our fingers together. “But I didn’t ask you to come here so you could feel sorry for me. I asked you here to apologize for being such an ass the other day. There were a hundred different ways I could have made that easier on you, but instead I chose the worst possible option.” I bit my lip to keep the emotions at bay. “Your mother says she’s going to give you a piece of her mind when she sees you next.” He let out a chuckle. “Oh she already has, don’t worry. Jake too.” “Jake?” I said in surprise. He nodded. “He overheard you and my mother that day and must have stomped up to his room and called me.” “What did he say?” “Well there was a lot of yelling involved.” I found myself smiling a little. “He’s a good guy Molly.” “I’ve never doubted that,” I said. “But we’re not here to discuss Jake, are we?” He laughed, a full boisterous laugh as I tried to change the subject. I asked him how he was getting along, and he told me about his trials and accomplishments over the past few days. “You have no idea how hard it is to get into a wheelchair with one arm and a broken ankle,” he said grinning just as a knock on the door was heard. “I can’t imagine,” I replied, watching as an adorable redhead walked in. She gave me a polite smile but didn’t truly light up until her eyes met Deans. “And how is my favorite patient today?” she asked. “Pretty good Cora, thanks.” I watched as he sat up straighter and answered all her questions, checking his vitals as they made small talk. I faded into the background so I could observe them together. There was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there. An excitement. I saw it within her as well. She soon finished up and said her goodbyes, and like a vacuum, all sound followed her as she left. Dean fiddled with his blanket for a full minute before I spoke up. “You totally have a crush on your nurse!”

He didn’t bother denying it. “God, is it that obvious?” I laughed. “What that you’re completely besotted over her? No, not at all.” He chuckled. “I missed this,” “What?” “Our friendship,” he answered, making my breath catch. “What do you mean? We’ve always been friends.” “Yeah, but it changed when we added the intimacy. When there should have been more transparency between us, I think it only served to distance us. Remember when we were kids and the three of us—you, Jake, and me—could tell each other anything? When you and Jake got together, that didn’t change between the two of you.” “But it did for us,” I agreed, seeing it now. We’d once been the three amigos. So inseparable, our parents had become best friends as well. Everyone had known Jake and I had a thing for each other, but we refused to act on it, scared the friendship between us would somehow sever if we became romantically linked. But, eventually, we couldn’t deny our feelings, and when freshman year had rolled around, we’d finally given in and discovered that not only were we wrong, but we were also actually stronger because of it. That was, until Jake’s mother had died. “So, tell me about this nurse of yours,” I said, allowing my friend to indulge himself for a moment. Because he was right. Somewhere along the way, we had lost this—our friendship, the part of us that was most sacred. Where Jake and I had been strongest in love, Dean and I were most suited for friendship. Something we’d both forgotten. Until now. “She’s like Mother Teresa—with a nice ass,” he said, making me laugh instantaneously. He went on, explaining her other special traits and assets. The way she read to the elderly man in the room next to him or how she always arrived in his room with a smile. I was happy for him Truly, I was. I didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of jealousy, listening as he spoke about another woman. It was then that I realized just how wrong we were for each other. While jealousy should never be in the forefront of a relationship, having a healthy amount of it wasn’t always bad. In our sophomore year, there was a senior who had gotten it in her head that Jake was delusional in his love for me and should instead date her. After her relentless letters in his locker and surprise visits at his house, I’d had enough.

I’d shown up at school, ready for war, wearing the hottest dress I owned. Looking back, it was probably something my sister would consider juvenile, but to my sixteenyear-old self, I was a badass in that outfit. I’d strutted down the halls, found my man, and marked him with a fiery kiss right in front of that bitch. She never talked to him again. Jealousy. Sometimes, it had its advantages. Thinking back to all the passing glances in Dean’s direction, all the cheesy pick-up lines I’d heard from beautiful young tourists out by the docks, I’d never had an ounce of jealousy with Dean compared to that one instance with Jake. “I’m happy for you,” I said. “She sounds heavenly.” He smirked, and I couldn’t help but smile back. A few days ago, I had been scared I’d never see that smile again. “Look, I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting the last few days. I know it’s been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and it wasn’t fair to you—what I did or the way I did it.” I nodded, thinking back to that moment when I had seen the hurt in my eyes reflecting back in Dean’s mother’s as she asked for the family ring back. I’d been so caught up in the shock of it all that, when it was all said and done, I’d come to the conclusion that, besides the raw hurt over the way he’d gone about it, the only other emotion I’d felt was relief. “You just went through something horrible, Dean. No one expects you to be perfect,” I finally said. “And I haven’t exactly been displaying model behavior over the last few days either.” “No one expects you to be perfect either,” he reminded me. “Can you at least explain to me why?” I asked, leaning back in the uncomfortable hospital chair. “Why I thought we should break it off? I thought that would be obvious by now.” “No,” I said, holding up a hand. “I understand that. Really, I do. Maybe I didn’t at first, but I do now. What I mean is, why did you send your mom after me when I’d just been at the hospital hours earlier?” He let out a rough breath and attempted to adjust his position in the bed, trying to prop himself up with only one arm. I watched as he struggled, and my heart went out to him. Until his accident, I hadn’t really thought about how much a person used their arm muscles. Not just for lifting, but also for simple movements like holding hands or reaching for something. Every motion and action I performed on a daily basis was a constant reminder of how different Dean’s life was now. How would I take the news? How would I handle the loss? I wasn’t sure, but I knew I didn’t have the foundation or ability to judge him.

So, I did what a friend would do. I listened. “When I woke up from surgery and realized I hadn’t died on that ferry, my first thought was elation. I’d survived. Somehow, God had spared my life that day and, Lord help me, if I wouldn’t spend every day after trying to convince him I deserved it. But then I found out about my arm, about the fact that I’d never be able dress myself—or make dinner for my Mom again—without assistance or a damn prosthetic. How every day would be a constant struggle. “Someone mentioned the word handicapped. They were talking about me. I was the handicapped person. And, suddenly, it wasn’t praises I was sending up to God; it was condemnation. I cursed him for leaving me here, broken and useless. I begged him for answers. Why didn’t he just take me home that night because I didn’t want to live like this? I didn’t want to be alive if this was the only alternative.” “Oh, Dean,” I said, tears falling down my cheeks. I reached out for that one perfect hand once more and felt his large fingers intertwine with mine. “I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t entertain the idea of just ending it. It’s been a rough road. I spent hours in this bed coming up with ways I could do it. When you and Jake came to visit, I came up with the perfect plan. I was going to take one of the fishing boats, a small one that no one would immediately miss, and ride it out to the middle of nowhere —one-handed, mind you. When I made my peace with the world, I’d finish off a bottle of pain meds from the doctors and watch my last sunrise.” I didn’t say anything, but I wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much he still had to live for, how much he meant to those who loved and adored him—like his mom and brothers. Like me. But, instead, I let him talk because sometimes, listening was the most powerful thing you could do. “I sat back in this bed, my prison, watching the two of you, noticing the way you constantly fought the need to look at each other. Touch each other. It only fueled my hate —not for the two of you, but for myself. In my toxic little world, I decided everything revolved around me and for some reason the universe had turned its back on me so I’d do the same to it. “That’s why you called your mom,” I stated, watching him nod. “I’m so sorry. It didn’t take but a day for me to realize how crazy I was behaving. I told you I’ve been on a roller coaster. I meant it. It’s a nonstop up-and-down kind of thing with my emotions.” “And the sexy saint of a nurse? How does she fit into all of this?” I asked. He let out a long sigh. “She doesn’t. At least for now. I can’t afford to bring anyone else into this mess right now. I feel good today, but tomorrow, who knows? I need to work on getting better, both physically and mentally. And then we’ll work on making lovely

Nurse Cora mine.” He grinned a mischievous sort of smile that I recognized instantly. “Poor girl.” I smiled. “So, you forgive me?” he asked, our eyes meeting once again. “Only if you forgive me. And, besides, it would be hard not to, sitting next to you in this hospital bed.” I laughed with a sly smirk across my face. “Good. I’d hate to send my mom after you again.” I chuckled. “I thought she was going to have a stroke, Dean. Shame on you!” We continued to talk while he polished off the rest of his ice cream. He told me about his recovery. He was honest, saying the pain was intense and he was scared. I completely understood. I was scared for him. “So, what’s new with you—besides Millie giving you grief?” he asked. I bit my lip before blurting out, “I kissed Jake.” His eyes widened before he burst into another fit of laughter. “That didn’t take long.” “Shut up!” I said, trying to keep from smiling. “If you weren’t in that hospital bed, I’d chuck something at your head.” “Hey, my head is still as solid as a rock. It’s the rest of me that’s a little beaten up. Is that why you looked so damn nervous when you walked in here? Because you thought I’d somehow found out?” I shrugged. “Well, word does get around quick. I figured you’d heard by now, and you were going to call me out on it.” “And what would I have said? Hey, I’m really mad that you went after the love of your life, especially when I let you go with such gentlemanly tact.” I rolled my eyes. “He is not the love of my life.” “Oh, okay, so we’re still in the denial phase. Sorry, I’m just trying to get caught up.” “You know, I think I liked it when you were less talkative,” I said, immediately hating myself for the comment. He apparently didn’t because he smiled like a Cheshire cat and threw a comeback before I could even blink, “Oh, come on, Mols. You two are crazy for each other. When are you going to realize that? When is he?” “He meets one hot nurse, and suddenly, he’s a love expert,” I mumble. His hand found mine once again, but he was doing the squeezing this time. “Look, I’m not trying to give advice here—no, scratch that. I am trying to give advice here because I’ve watched you guys play this hit-or-miss game for far too long. And, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole ferryboat ordeal, it’s that our lives are not infinite. You don’t always get a second or third chance for these kinds of things.” “Is that why you let me go?”

“Not for my second chance,” he said. “For yours.” I took a ragged breath. “He’s going back to Chicago, Dean. Nothing will keep him here. Not even me.” “Then, take what you can get, Mols, even if it’s a week or a month. Hell, take a day. Love doesn’t have an expiration date, and God knows, you two prove that point. It’s been so many years, yet when he looks into your eyes, Molly, there’s no one else. Just you.” “I can’t lose him again,” I said, my voice cracking, as tears flooded my vision. He pulled me close, and our foreheads met. “My heart would never recover.” “Love is messy. You and I know that most of all. Sometimes, it’s good, and sometimes, it’s so bad, your heart feels like it’s been dragged across the ocean by a hook. But, looking back, would you be more regretful over what you didn’t do or what you did?” I looked up into his eyes, my lips pursing together to keep the tears at bay. “When did you become so wise?” I asked, sniffling, as I wiped away the moisture from my eyes. He shrugged. “Part of the package of a near-death experience. I can also glow in the dark.” I laughed as he pulled me onto the bed for a side hug. We stayed like that until visiting hours were nearly over, and it was time to go home. I wished him good luck with his nurse and promised to visit again soon. He told me to be brave and take a risk every now and then. And then we said good-bye. It was the breakup we should have had, and I was so thankful I had come. My heart felt light and heavy at the same time. So weightless from the hours I’d spent with Dean, chatting like old friends again, but then the heaviness settled in on the ride home as I thought about Jake and the offer he’d given me. One night. Could my heart handle it? What about every night after?



ONE NIGHT. What the hell had I been thinking? The truth was, I hadn’t. The whole speech about thinking it over and coming up with this perfect plan? It was all crap. Absolute fucking garbage. The truth was, when I’d walked in that kitchen, taken one look at Molly with that sexy just got out of bed look as she argued with her sister, the thought of not doing this over and over, the idea of not waking up to her beautiful face the next morning, haunted me. It had torn me up. So, my mouth had opened, words had begun to spill from it, and soon, I had asked her to spend a night with me. Again. One unforgettable night. We both knew it would never be enough. I could spend a thousand nights with this woman and still be ravenous for her touch, parched for the sweet taste of her lips, and begging for comfort only she could offer. But none of it mattered now. What had been offered was quickly rejected, and now, I was sitting alone in the yellow room, like I had done every other night since I arrived home. Home. What a ridiculous word. It was said that home was where your heart was. Where was my heart? Here? Chicago? Somewhere in between? Maybe nowhere. Perhaps this room was my home. Its sunny-yellow walls, so bright with promise and possibilities. They haunted me with what could have been. What would have been.

This whole damn island did. But, unlike the faded blue house of my youth, I found comfort within these four walls. I rediscovered old memories that brought smiles instead of tears, laughter instead of pain. So, for now at least, this was where I’d remain until I was ready to face the rest of it. I’d drown in the warmth of these walls until I found the strength I’d left somewhere in my past. Even if I had to do it alone. I heard the door creak open around sunset. I’d given up on reading and called it a night about fifteen minutes prior. Island life was turning me into a boring old man, but after another long day at the clinic, I welcomed the idea of sleep. That was, until I heard a light knock at the door as light spilled in from the hallway. Sitting up, I caught the shadow of Molly’s slim figure as she slipped inside. She carried a plate of food and a steaming mug into the darkened room. But we both knew why she was visiting me. “I brought you some leftover pie I had Millie set out tonight while I was at the hospital.” My eyes widened, waiting for an answer as I checked her for any bumps or bruises. “I was visiting Dean,” she clarified. Settling slightly, I reached for the dish she held out to me and watched as she set the steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand next to me. “How is he?” I asked, afraid to broach the subject. “Good,” she answered. “He met a nurse. He’s pretty smitten with her.” My brow rose in surprise as I took the first bite of peach pie, nearly weeping with joy as the combination of sweet and tart hit my taste buds. “He what?” “I think he’s got a little crush. Maybe a Florence Nightingale thing,” she explained. “Or who knows? Maybe it’s the real deal. Either way, he was smiling for the first time in weeks.” “That’s a definite improvement,” I agreed before asking tentatively, “How are you handling it? The other-woman thing, I mean? Even if it’s a crush, it must hurt a little?” She broke eye contact with me, scanning the walls, and she took her time perusing the familiar paintings that lined them. Finally, when she had enough time to stew over the question, she answered, “I think you and I both know that Dean and I would never have made it to the altar. Was I upset that he’d sent his mother over here to dump me? Sure. Any woman would be, but after the liquor cleared my system, I realized it was my pride more than my heart that was truly wounded. And that…well, that just wasn’t right, you know?” I didn’t expect she wanted an answer, so I didn’t throw one out. Instead, I reached for

the coffee, letting the heat warm my body, as my eyes lingered on her. “Why are you here, Molly?” I finally asked, setting the half-eaten pie and cup down on the nightstand beside me. “You know why,” she answered, her blue irises searing a hole into mine. “I do, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to hear you say it.” She took a deep breath, her breasts rising as her lungs filled with air. The loose-fitting tank top she wore did little to cover the tiny movement, and I was instantly captivated. So much so that I felt my fingers ball into tight fists at my sides, trying to keep myself from leaping across the bed and ripping that flimsy piece of fabric from her body. But I couldn’t. Not yet. This had to be her choice. She’d come to me, and now, I wanted to see her follow through with that decision. I wanted to hear the words. I needed to hear her say how much she wanted me in this moment, even if it only lasted through the night. She took a seat on the bed, her bare knee brushing mine. “I didn’t want to feel this way,” she began. “The moment you stepped back in town, I wanted to hate you, Jake. You tore my heart out the day you left. But I can’t deny the feelings I still have for you, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend like it’s some stupid itch that needs to be scratched.” I looked away. “And, if this means I’ll hurt ten times more tomorrow, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she continued, reaching out to grasp my chin. She turned my head back, so our eyes met once more. “But I won’t blame it on you,” she vowed. “Not anymore. I’m not that tearful girl on the dock watching you sail away. And I know what I want.” My eyes squeezed shut as I contemplated what I was doing. I’d never known she was there that morning when I left Ocracoke all those years ago. Had I known, would I have made the same decision? Yes. The sad truth was, I would have looked at her tear-soaked face and turned the other way until my feet were planted firmly on that ferry in the middle of the ocean. I hadn’t cared about anyone back then, except for myself and my own preservation. Was it any different now? “Are you sure, Molly?” I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked down at it before I added, “You know I’m not staying. I’m going to find someone to replace me in a couple of months, maybe sooner. I have a job to return to in Chicago.” Her demeanor changed just then—from soft and comfortable to something a bit more edgy. “You don’t think I know that, Jake? You don’t think I’ve already figured out that,

given the opportunity, you’ll be on the first ferry out of this place? I know you just as well as you assume to know me. And I’ll be fine by the way. I watched you walk away once before. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it by now.” “You still haven’t said it,” I reminded her. If I was going to be the heartless rat bastard who slept with his ex, I might as well play the part. Rather than roll her eyes, which was her typical move, she bent forward on her hands and knees, giving me the perfect view of a barely there lace bra as she moved closer. I felt movement down below as my dick stirred to life at the tiniest glimpse of her breasts as she brought herself in front of me. Her hot breath on my neck sent shivers up my spine, causing all sorts of things in my body to stand at attention. “What exactly do you want me to say? Oh, yes,” she said softly, her mouth mere inches from mine. “I want you, Jake Jameson. I want you to fu—” I couldn’t handle it anymore. One more word, and I’d fucking blow right here. How many hours—hell, days had I thought about this? Throwing my hand over her rosy-red lips, I lifted her with the other, causing a giddy yelp to escape her as I flipped her underneath me. Her eyes widened as she came in full contact with my body and everything she’d done to it. No witty comeback for that. Instead, I felt her melt, limb by limb, as my hand left her mouth to rediscover everything I’d missed over the last twelve years. She did the same, her hands grazing the pecs of my bare chest, across my arms, and down my back. “You’re different,” she whispered. “Different bad?” I asked, placing a tender kiss along her collarbone. “Different good,” she explained. “Less gangly boy, more beefy man.” I grinned, my hand skimming her thigh. “You’re the same,” I said, her eyes meeting mine. “But the same in a good way,” I amended. “The first time I saw you again, I swore you hadn’t aged a day. And this body?” I said. “It still feels just as amazing.” She shook her head as we continued to just touch and roam each other’s body. It was as if we’d been holding back from doing so for so long that the simple act was enough. For now. “Believe me, I’ve changed. I see that change in the mirror every day,” she replied, her fingertips brushing my bare stomach. “I don’t see it,” I said. “I only see you—the crazy girl who went back to the bait shop and left money on the counter when she realized she’d walked out with two lollipops instead of one.” “I felt terrible!” She laughed. “Most people wouldn’t have bothered. They were five cents each. You had to ride your bike all the way across the island.” “Mr. Marco still tries to give me a free one every time I go in there.”

“And I bet you leave five cents every time he does.” “No,” she argued before adding, “I leave ten. He marked them up. Inflation and all that.” We laughed, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in each other. No strings, no complications. Just the two of us. It was a lie we’d allow ourselves to indulge in for the night. But, soon, cuddling and reminiscing over the past wasn’t enough. Soon, the small talk and the feather light touch of fingertips and hands had us both antsy for more. And, God, did I want more. My nose brushed hers as her gaze found mine. Her breath quickened as I leaned down ever-so slowly. It was torture, no doubt. But, sometimes, agony was worth the reward. Her fingers dug into the sheets next to mine. I hovered there, our lips nearly touching, the sweet air from our lungs joining a mere second before our mouths finally touched. A content sigh fell from her lips as our kiss deepened. A flick of her tongue against mine, and I was damn near gone. My hands were everywhere—under her tank top, tugging at the waistband of her tiny shorts. I just wanted it all gone and nothing between us but skin and sweat. She obviously understood my frantic movements because she began to aid me, lifting her arms as the tank top went up and over her head before falling to the floor. The same happened to the shorts as I dragged them down her silky legs, throwing them across the room so that I could get a look at what I’d uncovered. “See? I told you—different,” she said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. I watched as she tried to cover herself, something I immediately stopped. “Maybe,” I answered, placing her nervous hands at her sides. The purple lace bra I’d been admiring through her shirt moments earlier looked amazing close up. Sheer in all the right places, it gave tiny glimpses of her creamy white skin underneath. Seeing the twin peaks of her rosy nipples had me salivating with need. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had sex. But, honestly, with Molly in front of me, it could have been a month ago or last week, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. All other women disappeared from memory when she was in my arms. Their faces, the sounds of their voices, or the way they’d laughed. No one else mattered but her. I’d been delusional, believing anything else. “Fine, I’ll agree,” I finally said after my eyes spent far too much time lingering over every inch of her skin. “You are different. But, like you said before, in regard to me, it’s in a good way. For example…” My head dipped as her eyes fell on mine. I kept her gaze for as long as possible until I

couldn’t wait any longer. Not even bothering with removing the bra, my mouth fell on her tender peak, and a long hiss of pleasure released from her lips. I sucked through the lace, loving the feel of her body moving beneath mine. Wrapping my large hand around her breast, I gently squeezed. “These have greatly improved,” I said, grazing my teeth along the wet lace. “You always loved my boobs.” She smiled as I looked up from my perch between her breasts. “Oh, I did, and I still do. But I was a teenage boy. I would have given my left nut to touch any pair of tits. I really had nothing to compare them to.” “And, now, you do?” “Let’s just say, I’m much more appreciative now,” I replied, running my hands over her curves. “Well, please,” she purred, “show me more of this newfound appreciation.” “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, using my best Southern accent. She smiled in return as I bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. As always, it went from sweet to searing in mere seconds. Just as before, she began to tug at my clothes, and I gladly played along, thanking God I hadn’t bothered wearing a shirt to bed. One less thing to worry about. When I rose to my knees, she surprised me by reaching out for my flannel boxers. In high school, she’d always been slightly shy about touching me in this way. It was something we’d worked up to, but as was the prevailing theme of the evening, she’d changed. For the better. Her nails lightly scratched the skin underneath my waistband as she eased it down from my hipbone, sliding it oh so slowly. It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever witnessed. She took her time, her eyes lingering over my tight thighs, waist, and, yes, my dick. It stood proud, as if it were waiting to shake hands. “Do you have—I mean—” “I’m clean,” I said. “Tested every six months. I’ve seen and heard a lot of weird things being in the medical field, I—“ She held out her hand to stop me. “It’s fine Jake. You don’t have to explain yourself. One night, remember?” I nodded. This little bit of awkwardness had never been a thing between us before since we were each other’s one and only. But, now…

“I’ll grab a condom…before,” I said, clarifying. She nodded as I reached out and stroked her cheek. The movement seemed to break the spell, and I could see her coming back to me. Her eyes flickered a dark flash in those bright blue irises, and her focus turned downward once more. She reached out for my cock, tentatively at first, and I almost wept with happiness. The moment the tips of her fingers fell on the silky, smooth skin of my cock, I swore I saw stars. Then, she wrapped her whole hand around it and gave a few solid pumps. “Jesus, Molly,” I cursed. “Save some of the fancy stuff for later. Too much of that right now, and I’ll fucking lose it before the party even starts.” She gave me a wicked grin and slid her hand back and forth one more time as my head fell back in delirium. Where had my sweet, innocent Molly gone? And who was the vixen who had replaced her? She thought my words were just playful banter, but I was dead serious. I’d thought about this moment forever. In the shower, late nights in bed. I was ready. Too ready. And, now that it was a reality, like hell I was going to lose it all over her guest sheets. At least, not the first time. Ready to take charge once again, I moved. Taking her by surprise, I grabbed her waist and flipped her underneath me. If we had just tonight, I’d damn well spend every minute buried deep inside her. Starting now. She said nothing, her eyes never leaving mine as I made quick work of ridding her of her lace bra and panties. “You buy those especially for me?” I asked, a twinge of jealousy gnawing at my gut at the thought of her wearing them for anyone else. She nodded sheepishly. “Good,” I grinned. The moment of jealousy had distracted me from what was right in front of me. Molly. Naked. “God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered. “So are you.” Her words were so heartfelt, my chest tightened as I choked back the words on the tip of my tongue, words I’d never be able to say to her. Ever again.

“Are you sure, Molly? I don’t want to—” “I’m sure, Jake,” she assured me. I smoothed back her blonde hair, kissing her forehead, as she nestled between my arms. She felt so small, just like she had all those years ago. But, unlike then, she had the gaze of a woman. A strong, take-no-prisoners fierceness I found not only admirable, but also incredibly sexy. She held that dirty girl stare, meant for no one but me as I pulled a condom from my suitcase. Whatever had made me throw a couple of these in here last minute was surely nothing short of a damn miracle. Quickly sliding it on, my hands shook in anticipation as Molly’s hands ran up and down my thighs, her fingertips skimming the curves of my ass. “Something else about me that’s different,” I finally said, after I’d finished with the condom. My hands slid across her hips, savoring the silky softness of her skin. I made a path down the backs of her thighs until finally I reached the backs of her knees. “What’s that?” she asked, her breath catching as I suddenly pushed her legs back, exposing her in the most erotic way. My eyes flashed red, catching a glimpse of that tight, wet heat. “This,” I said, thrusting forward with little warning. She instantly cried out, and our bodies joined together for the first time in over a decade. “Shit, you feel good, Mols,” I groaned. Stopping for a moment to allow her body a second to acclimate to my size, I let my head fall back. My hands gripped her knees as my cock buried itself deep into her slick, wet folds. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing. Reaching forward, I pulled her gorgeous body on top of mine, her legs straddling me tight. Now, we were connected everywhere. Kissing. Fucking. Touching. This truly was everything. Molly wrapped her arms around my neck, riding my cock, as I kissed her so deeply, it nearly killed me. Because I knew this would hurt in the morning. Walking away. Acting like it never happened. This would hurt, and there was no running this time.

This time, I’d have to endure—at least for a little while. But, for now, I’d enjoy every damn minute. Every sigh. Every moan. Every drip of sweat. And, when morning came, I’d tear out my heart and leave it beside her on my way to work because there wouldn’t be any use for it in the future. She owned it anyway.



SEVERAL THINGS SEEMED TO HAPPEN all at once when I awoke that morning. First, my eyes opened, and I saw the yellow of the walls. Where was I? Second, I moved, stretching slightly to get a better view of my surroundings. A blissful sort of pain hit me. It was the kind of soreness I felt after a run around the island, but as my brain hopped on board, I found myself smiling. Running had never been that fun. Third, I rolled over, reaching out for Jake, only to find an empty cold spot where he’d once been. Fourth, my smile died, and the sunny color of the walls faded as cloud cover fell over the island. Our night was over, and so were we. Reality had crept back into our lives. I found myself resting against the borrowed pillow in the borrowed guest room, feeling lost and alone. I’d told Jake I was prepared for this. I’d said I was a grown woman who could handle all the pitfalls and implications of the two of us coming together like this. The truth was, I was still the same sad girl on that dock, crying over a boy who didn’t love her enough to stay. Or, at least, part of me was. I had known this was going to hurt. I had known it would burn deep down to my very soul, but to say no—to reject love, even for a fleeting moment—would have been a lie to everything we’d had. And maybe I liked the idea of self-sabotage. Hell, I’d done it over and over again. First, with Jake and then with Dean. I was on a roll. Maybe I should just head on down to the bait shop and hit on that nice old man with

the lollipops next. I mentally rolled my eyes, and then the flashbacks from the night before began. The look in his eyes when he’d come. How confident he had been when I told him there was no possible way a woman could come that many times in one night. He’d proven me wrong and then some. How gently he’d held me after every time, like he was cherishing the short time we had as much as I was. I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay as I rose from the bed, the smell of him following me. It was then that I noticed his things were missing from the room. Only a thin yellow rose from the garden remained on the nightstand along with a check for the room. Nothing could keep the tears in after that. And who was I to stop them? There, in the yellow room, I let myself cry. I let the loss of him hit me full force. Both then and now. Jake wasn’t a man you could let go of easily. I’d done so once before. So, I’d do it again. But, for now, I let myself cry and mourn all that could have been…if we’d just believed.

Successfully sneaking out of the yellow room without being seen by guests, I made my way down to my own room on the first floor. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I was in the kitchen, working on my morning routine. Thankfully, I had this down to a science, and I’d done the bulk of the baking the night before, but I always liked to make something fresh. There was nothing better than waking up to the smell of freshly baked pastries. Well, maybe except for actually eating them. I’d reheat the things I’d made the night before, but this helped create the ambiance of homeyness the inn was known for and a reputation and standard I intended on keeping. Not to mention, all the busywork kept my mind off Jake and all the dirty things we’d done the night before. “Well, there’s my sister, the whore.” My eyes widened as my attention shifted away from the industrial mixer I’d been fixated on. Turning, I saw a wicked grin on my little sister’s perfect face as she waltzed into the kitchen, wearing her usual morning attire of a tiny tank top and shorts.

A fashion choice I’d chosen to borrow last night when I visited Jake’s room. Worked like a charm, too. Putting on a blank face, I replied, “I have no idea what you’re referring to.” “Oh, please,” she said, placing such emphasis on the second word that it sounded more like puh-lease. “The whole damn island could hear you two knocking boots last night, and don’t try to blame it on a guest. Romeo must have called your name about a thousand times.” My heart raced. “I am not talking to you about this.” “Well then, you should have been a little more discreet,” she declared, taking advantage of my morning pot of coffee. I watched as she poured the largest cup I’d ever seen, drowning it in heavy cream and several spoonful of sugar. “How is it possible that you’re skinnier than me?” I mumbled. “I work out, like, twice a day at home. This is a vacation.” She shrugged. “Stop distracting me, and give me the deets. Are you two back together? Fuck buddies? What’s the deal?” Snatching a cinnamon roll from the plate I’d just put out, she took a seat at the large rustic table, making it clear she wasn’t leaving until I spilled. “It was just one night,” I clarified, trying not to imagine the horrified stares I’d no doubt be getting from my guests this morning. My sister was right. I should have been more discreet, but I hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. Call it lust or pent-up need from far too long ago, I didn’t know, but I’d stormed into that yellow room with only one intention. And I’d accomplished it in spades. Now, I had to deal with the consequences, starting with my nosy sister. “So, a booty call then? Nice,” she said, nodding her head, as she broke apart the roll into several bite-sized pieces. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” “I don’t,” I said. “I can’t really explain it, but it needed to happen. Now that it has, we can both move on.” A snort escaped her pixie-like mouth. “Oh, honey”—she laughed—“I really thought you were smarter than this.” I stopped what I was doing and leaned against the countertop, giving her my full attention. “What do you mean? I thought you told me to let loose and have a little fun.” She nodded, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. The whole process made her look dainty and sophisticated. When I did the same thing, it resembled something closer to an animal being hosed off.

“I did,” she explained. “But I meant with someone you had no strings or previous attachments with. Someone you could bang and then sneak out the next morning, not caring if you ever saw him again. Jake is not that person for you, Molly.” I folded my arms across my chest in defiance. “We talked it over beforehand. It wasn’t spontaneous. I knew what I was getting into and what it did and did not mean. I’m fine, Millie, really.” Her eyes met mine, and I could see them round ever-so slightly around the edges before she forfeited her fight. “Fine,” she said. “You’re a grown woman, and you obviously know what you’re doing. Now, come help me pack.” The tension broke between us, causing me to nearly topple back from the force of it. If there was anyone on the planet who could see right through my bullshit, it was my little sister. “I’ve got to serve breakfast but afterward?” “Sure. I’ll go for a run first. Don’t get too busy though. I want some quality time with my big sister before I go.” I shook my head. “You mean, you want me to pack your stuff before you go.” “Well, sure, if you’re offering.” She shrugged, a sly grin stretched across her face. “For a girl who travels for a living, it’s a wonder you don’t have this down to a science.” “Maybe I do, and I’m just using this as an excuse,” she said before rising from the table. I watched her saunter across the kitchen, cleaning off her plate and mug with a quick rinse before dropping them in the dishwasher. She hopped over in my direction and placed a sweet kiss on my cheek before running off toward the room adjacent to mine in the family wing. Just as I saw the last wisp of her platinum-blonde hair disappear around the corner, I heard the first of the guest doors open. Letting out a sigh, I muttered to myself, “Time for those consequences.” Let the fun begin.

In the South, there were usually two ways a bad situation could go. It could be ignored, and life would return to something close to normal with the added bonus of new gossip to talk about over iced tea on the porch. Or it could be attacked headon, causing a scandal so great, you had no choice but to bury your head in the sand until it all blew over. Knowing my guest had heard me in the throes of passion on multiple occasions had me hoping for option number one and a freaking miracle.

Thankfully, someone up there had heard my pleas, or maybe I’d somehow lucked out since I wasn’t quite sure how the whole prayers-for-help-when-you’d-had-super-loudearth-shattering-sex thing went. I somehow doubted that particular request was high on the priority list for the big guy upstairs. I didn’t blame him. Either way, I was breathing a sigh of relief by the end of breakfast and soon after when all three of my guests checked out, thanking me for a wonderful stay. I got a wink from one of the husbands, which I tried desperately hard to ignore. But, all in all, I called it a win. Wanting nothing more than to leave the pile of dishes in the sink and crawl back in bed, I, of course, did the exact opposite, forcing myself back into work mode for another hour. I scrubbed the kitchen, made snacks for my new arrivals that afternoon, and began the process of cleaning the upstairs. I left the yellow room for last. As I was hauling the remaining linens down to the first floor for washing, my sweaty sister made her reappearance through the front door. “Man, it is a glorious day outside!” she declared. “Not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is perfect.” “You say that now. But come back in a month or two, and you’ll be wiping so much boob sweat, you could fill a pitcher.” “That’s an image that will stick with you.” She laughed. “Besides, you forget where I live now. Florida is the land of year-round boob sweat.” Her face was flushed, and her body was slick with sweat. On most people, the overall look would be less than ideal. For Millie, it was like she’d just walked onto a photo shoot for sportswear. If she could ever settle down, she’d make some man out there incredibly happy. “Meet me in Mom and Dad’s old room?” she asked, punching several buttons on her fancy watch. “Sure. Let me just start these.” “Okay, I’m going to hop in the shower. My suitcase will be waiting for you.” She smiled, heading off toward the family wing. It didn’t take long to get the laundry started. The hard part was juggling all of it and navigating my way to the washer. I’d never understood why my parents had placed the laundry room all the way on the other side of the house, tucked away behind the kitchen, when it made perfect sense to place it near our personal bedrooms where no one could see it. Maybe, one day, I’d ask them.

But, for now, I pressed a few buttons on the futuristic machine I’d had shipped in last year, replacing the ancient one my mom had been using since we were kids. This one was quiet and super efficient. I’d done a small dance in the living room the day it arrived. Probably something to keep to myself, I thought. By the time I made it to the room my sister was occupying, I was dead tired. Scooting aside several of her designer clothes, I curled up with one of her pillows. “Tired from all your lovemaking last night?” She snickered as the steam from the shower wafted in from the attached bathroom. She pushed the door completely open, and I could smell her fruity shampoo— something she’d been using since high school. It was nice to know my super-sophisticated sister still clung to some of her roots even if it was just shampoo. “Do you ever miss it here?” I asked, sitting up to lean against the headboard. “Of course I do,” she said. “I’m not a robot. This is and will forever be my home, but right now, I need to stretch my legs and explore. We’re young only once, Mols. Don’t you ever want to travel? See other places, meet new people?” “No,” I answered quickly. Too quickly. She gave me a hard stare as she took a seat next to me, still wrapped in a towel. Taking her time, she began the process of rubbing lotion over her legs and arms before responding, “There was once a girl I knew. Not nearly as spunky or pretty as her little sister, but wonderful just the same.” I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or she chose not to. “This little girl dreamed of faraway places, meeting exotic people, and eating everything under the sun.” “That girl grew up,” I said. “She got a life.” Turning her attention toward me, she set the lotion bottle down. She didn’t have any makeup on, and I could see the scattering of freckles across her face. We’d once lain in bed, counting each other’s freckles, trying to see who had more. I’d won. “You do,” she replied. “But is it the life you want, Molly?” My face went blank. “You know I’ve always wanted the inn. It’s been my dream since we were little.” A soft hand fell on my shoulder. “I know, but you’ve had other dreams, too. Don’t forget those.” “It’s too late for those,” I said, looking away.

My gaze settled on an old photograph of my parents. I’d done little to this room since they moved out, choosing to stay in the smaller room I’d shared with Millie instead of moving. Besides, the idea of it just never felt right. This would always be their room. It was still filled with their memories, things they’d left behind because of the small size of their new place. Or so they’d said. Maybe they just liked leaving a piece of themselves here. Honestly, I didn’t mind. “Did Mom and Dad ever tell you what they did before they had you?” “No,” I replied. “But I guess I never asked.” “Well, I did,” she said. “It was right around the time I was looking at colleges. I hadn’t told them I was considering something out of state, and I was terrified to tell them. So, I casually asked what they’d done before settling down. I admit, I’d never asked either. I’d just always assumed they’d gotten married, and they’d literally become a family the very next day because parents didn’t have sex, right? Immaculate conception.” “Right,” I agreed, laughing. “But, as it turned out, a baby didn’t fall from the sky the day after their wedding, like I’d imagined, and it was actually several years before you arrived.” “Were they in college?” “No—well, I mean, I think they did that before. I don’t know. I didn’t get the entire biography. But I did find out that our parents were quite the adventurers. Rather than buy a house and unpack all those small appliances and china settings they’d received from their wedding, they sold it all to a pawn shop and hit the road.” “What?” I said, nearly choking on my own spit from the shock. “I know, right? But it’s totally true. They traveled all over the United States, working in small kitchens, learning the trade, and they even made it all the way to Europe. They stayed in cheap motels and saved what they could. Our parents were nomads!” “Wow, I always thought Mom had just learned everything from Grammy and Pop Pop like I did.” “I’m sure she did, but they wanted to make their own mark, as much as you do. Don’t you see it? You’ve got to do the same. You need your nomadic time. I’m having mine. Mom and Dad had theirs. Now, it’s your chance.” The whole idea sounded thrilling. Going where the wind took me, perfecting my skills as a baker, maybe even making it to France like I’d once hoped. But it was nothing more than the dream of a girl, and as I’d reminded myself the night before, I was not that girl anymore. “I can’t,” I said solemnly. “And, more than that, I don’t want to. You and Mom and

Dad might have felt the need to get away, but I’m perfectly happy where I am. I know what I’m doing here.” A sad look crossed her face as I rose from the bed and headed for the door. “Then, I wish you all the best, Molly. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” That same photo I’d been staring at caught my eye once more. My parents’ faces were smiling back at me, their clothes dated and bleached of color from years of exposure. They were wrapped around each other, so young. So carefree. I wondered briefly where this photo had been taken. Colorado? California? Maybe even Rome? My chest tightened. “I have everything I need right here, in this house,” I said before fleeing. A half an hour later, she left, a half-hearted hug and a promise to return for Christmas. I took a deep breath and thanked God for the bond of sisterhood because, even though we were both upset with each other, we’d never let it get in the way of what truly mattered. Because sisters were for life.

Life returned to something close to normal the days following my sister’s departure. New guests arrived and departed while I did my best to avoid thinking about that memorable night with Jake. Unfortunately, my ankle still hadn’t healed, a consequence of my inability to follow directions from an overbearing albeit hot doctor, so literally every damn step I took was a constant reminder of him. But I refused to see someone about it. Particularly since the only doctor in town was the same man I was currently trying to avoid. Life had been so much easier a few weeks ago. But happier? I wasn’t so sure. What I was sure of was my dwindling supply of produce. I’d had a full house over the last few days, and I’d depleted nearly every fruit and veggie I had, fresh and otherwise. This meant only one thing—a trip to Terri’s. Jake’s next-door neighbor. I let out a sigh, grabbing my purse from my dresser. Taking one last look in the mirror, I tucked my light-blonde hair behind my face, noticing a faint tan across the bridge of my

nose and brow from weeding the garden earlier that day. I had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. The gray shorts and flowy top hugged my curves but not too tight. The floral shirt gave the slightest hint of cleavage without appearing too revealing. My sister had dragged me out into town to one of the few places with clothes that didn’t have the words Ocracoke or Outer Banks written all over them and talked me into several new things. Although I’d stomped my feet and pouted, demanding we had completely opposite style preferences, I was actually enjoying what she’d picked out. For once, glancing in the mirror, I didn’t look like a rushed maniac in three-year-old flip-flops and a messy topknot. I’d never taken stock in my appearance, always believing it was what you put out, what you did in this world, that truly mattered. But I’d never thought about how my appearance affected that. Before my guests arrived, sure, I’d clean up a little, but did I represent my business well enough? Surely, when Millie went in to visit clients, she was polished to a high-gloss shine, and her company expected no less. So, why was I selling myself short? My business deserved more. Hell, I deserved more. Feeling a new sense of purpose, I headed out the door, ready for anything. Even if it meant running into a hot doctor along the way.

My newfound confidence died a little when I drove past the dull blue house. Since Jake had left, the once-vivid hue had faded into something sad and tragic. It perfectly summed up the Jameson family. Pulling into the gravel driveway, I turned to the right, giving the green car that was already parked there room to back out. Terri was a busy woman. I waited in my car, playing a game of solitaire, while she finished up with her client— a local restaurant owner who was avid over supporting local businesses. Terri’s small supply couldn’t keep up with his business but it was the thought that counted. She repaid him with frequent visits to his restaurant with, of course, plenty of suggestions regarding his recipes. Once they were through, I gave a quick wave as he pulled away, and I headed for the door. “Please tell me he didn’t take all the good stuff,” I said, placing my purse by the front door. She closed the screen door behind me, leaving the heavy wooden one open to let in the spring breeze. It felt heavenly—something I’d miss when summer rolled around. “Nah,” she muttered, leading me through the front foyer and toward the kitchen. “He

just likes to come over and charm me, I think. He never buys more than a bag of corn most weeks.” “Maybe he thinks you’re cute,” I said with a wink, laughing. “Oh, hush yourself. That man is young enough to be my son!” “He is not,” I replied. “He’s older than my daddy, which makes him nearly the same age as you!” “Ah, well, what would he want an old broad like me for?” she said, making herself busy. She’d already pulled out two tall glasses and an ice-cold pitcher of sweet tea. She never asked if you wanted some. She just served, and you were expected to drink it and the forty-seven cups of sugar she’d dumped in there. “What do you mean, old broad? And what’s wrong? You look tired.” It was something I’d noticed since the moment she opened the door. It was subtle, a hand at her waist, as if she were covering a pain, bags under her eyes where there weren’t any before. For once, she looked her age. “Just a bit under the weather.” Just a bit? “Leave it to you to downplay everything. Do me a favor and visit Jake at the clinic. He’s there full-time now.” She let out a laugh, still holding on to her side as she sat down in the seat next to me. We each took long sips of our tea, and I tried not to die from sugar shock. “You and I both know that boy is not here full-time. He checked out a long time ago.” My heart tightened. “I know,” I replied. “Has he been around?” I asked, my attention turning toward the house next to hers. “No,” she answered. “Not since that first day I found him in the garden. I thought he was with you. Something happen?” I bit my lip. “Let’s just say, we decided it wasn’t a good idea.” A snicker fell from the old woman’s lips. “Was that before or after you rattled the bedposts?” “What?” My eyes widened in shock. “Oh, please. Do you think I’m dumb, young lady? Do you know how many times I saw you two making out in the back of his pickup when you were supposed to be studying at the school or running errands for your mama?” My checks reddened. “You’ve had it bad for each other for as long as anyone can remember. It was just a matter of time before you landed back in the sack like two horny teenagers again.” “You’re quite the spy, Miss Terri,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I might be old, but I’m sharp as a tack. Always have been. That’s why I’m so

disappointed in you for giving yourself to that boy after all he’s done.” “I didn’t,” I said, protesting. Her hand left her side, reaching out for mine. “He’s not going to stay, Molly. You know that, don’t you?” I nodded sadly. “Do you? Because I see you nodding your head, but I know you don’t believe it in your heart. I can see it in your eyes. You truly believe, somewhere deep inside, you can change his mind. But the thing is, that boy is broken. And, until he figures out a way to fix himself, ain’t no one gonna be enough. Not even you. Are you ready to chase after him? All the way to Chicago?” I didn’t say much after that, the weight of her words settling around me like boulders. Was she right? Did I really think he was going to stay? That, somehow, in the eleventh hour, he’d change his mind, show up at my doorstep, and declare his everlasting love for me? A single tear fell down my cheek as she bagged up a few of my usual things. I did. Dear God, I truly did. She bid me good-bye, saving the usual banter for another time. She knew I’d seen the light, and it would take time to process. Unfortunately, processing time would have to wait. Because, the moment I stepped out of Terri’s, I came face-to-face with Jake.



“JAKE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING here?” Molly asked, her hands full of leafy greens and brightcolored fruit. She was still on the porch, her long legs in perfect view, as I stood below her in the clothes I’d worn to the clinic—a collared shirt and a pair of jeans. I’d given up on business wear around the second day when the old ladies from my parents’ church kept pinching my cheeks, telling me how cute I looked. “Came to see Terri,” I said before taking a deep breath. “That’s a lie. I was driving by my dad’s house. I’ve been doing it every day since I got here. But I never stop. I just drive past like a creepy stalker. Or a coward. Take your pick.” “You’re not a coward,” she said, stepping down to my level. She looked different today. It was a good different once again. Her hair was down, something I hadn’t seen in a while. The sun-bleached sections brought out the blue in her eyes, even in the dim light of the fading sunset. “I feel like it. It’s just a house, Mols. Just two-by-fours, nails, and a bunch of old paint. Why is this so hard?” “You and I know it’s more than that, Jake. Maybe you’re not ready.” I snorted, taking several of the canvas bags off her hands. She didn’t object. “You should tell that to my back. After sleeping in my dad’s office for the last few nights, I’m ready to check in to a hotel like a tourist.” She laughed. “You’d never live that one down.” I nodded. “I know. That is why I’m here. Or at least, it’s why I was driving by, doing my creepy-stalker thing again. And then I saw your car, and I found myself stopping.” “You two had better get off my porch if you’re gonna keep staring at each other like that! Otherwise, I’ll get out the hose!” Terri hollered from her front door. We both turned to see her giving us an appraising gaze, which we knew meant she wasn’t kidding. At least about the hose part. We scooted across the driveway and toward our cars. Suddenly, Molly turned around, holding the two bags she had left. “Let me make you dinner.”

“What?” I said. “You need to get in that house, Jake. You can’t keep avoiding it, and you can’t sleep in your dad’s office forever. We’ll address the fact that you still refer to it as your dad’s place later, but for now, I’m going to go into that house and make dinner. You can either follow me or drive around a couple more times.” She walked a few paces, leaving me shocked and stunned, before turning around again. Holding out her free hand in front of me, she sheepishly said, “Key, please.” I swallowed deeply, unsure if I was ready for this. Digging down into my pocket, my fingers gripped the cold steel of the house key and presented it to her. “Thank you. Oh, and when you finally decide to come inside, bring those bags with you, will you? I’d like to make a tart.” I looked down at the bags I had with several different fruits inside, and suddenly, the dread of what I was about to attempt lightened a little. Nothing could be that bad when a tart was involved, right?

It took me a good fifteen minutes to reach the threshold of the old place. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and my hands shook. I was a fucking disaster. I seriously contemplated whether I was having a mental breakdown as I thought back to my psych rotation all those years ago in my residency. Nope, probably not. Just stress. Serious stress brought on by a crazy, hot blonde who was currently humming to herself in my parents’ kitchen as she casually caramelized onions and sautéed garlic. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do to her first. Kiss her or kill her. Probably neither, as I’d most likely be hurling my guts in the pink powder room down the hall once I finally got up the balls to enter. “Gonna really need those peaches soon, Jakey,” she crooned, like this was the most normal thing in her day. Like badgering me into this place was common practice. “I know what you’re doing, Mols. I’m not dumb.” She ignored me and continued humming. “Anyone tell you that you’re a horrible singer?” I hollered loud enough that Terri next door could probably hear. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re not very nice when you get scared?” “I’m not scared.” “Mmhmm,” she said, her voice getting closer. “You look pretty damn scared. Are you sweating?” “It’s hot out here,” I lied.

“Take my hand,” she instructed, holding it out in front of me. I did as I had been told, placing my large hand in hers. It felt warm and safe, like the sunset on your face after a long day. “Tell me something good, Jake. A memory. Not the bad stuff you’re trying to push deep down inside, but the good ones. I know you have plenty. Pick one.” “I can’t do this,” I said, my deep voice cracking, as I pulled away. Her fierce grip tightened. “You can. You will,” she encouraged. “It’s just one memory, Jake.” Every fiber of my being was telling me to run. Every memory in my head was anything but cheerful. The day I had come home to an empty house, only to run outside and find Terri rushing to find me, was the only time I’d seen that old woman cry, apologizing for having to deliver the news of my mother’s death since my father was too torn up to do so himself. The years of slow, torturous neglect. My father had never been a sloppy drunk. Never an abusive father or husband. He’d never made a scene in public and always stayed sober enough for work. He’d played the part so well and for so long, he deserved an award. My father had covered his addiction well. But we had known. My mother, Terri…and me. We all had known. “I can see it in your eyes, Jake. Those are not happy memories you’re drumming up.” She squeezed my hand harder. “Come on, try. For me.” A sweet smile spread across her face. “Dinner will burn if you don’t.” I took a deep breath, nodding, as I gathered what little strength I had left. With one hand wrapped around Molly like a lifeline and the other braced against the doorframe, I willed myself back. Back to a time I’d soon rather forget because to do otherwise hurt so bad, I could barely stand it. “Milkshakes,” I finally said. “What?” She laughed, her hand still firmly in mine. I rubbed my thumb over hers, clinging to the connection. “I’m going to need a little more detail.” “When I was younger—well, honestly, ever since I can remember—my mom, like most Cokers around here, and I would have to make frequent trips up the coast for things we couldn’t get here.” “Naturally. It isn’t exactly normal—how we live around here. Keep talking.” “Well, those were our days—just mom and me. We’d hop the early morning ferry and drive up to Nags Head to one of the few big department stores, and every time, she’d take me out for lunch. But not any kind of lunch.”

“Fast food,” we both said in unison. Shaking my head, I looked up at her with a wide grin. “Seems silly now,” I said. “I hardly touch the stuff. But, for that ten-year-old boy stuck on an island that didn’t even have a grocery store, let alone a McDonald’s, it was like going to Disneyland for me.” Her smile warmed, our eye contact never wavering. “Look down,” she whispered. My gaze shifted, and my breath caught. While I’d been going on about long drives up the coast and fast food, I’d stepped over the threshold. Without even noticing it. “See? That wasn’t too hard, was it?” she said. “Now, take off those dirty shoes and help me in the kitchen, will you?” I watched her walk away, the warmth of her touch still radiating in my fingertips. She’d done it. Maybe home wasn’t so bad after all.

“Worried about things burning, huh?” I said the moment we walked into the kitchen, noticing immediately that she’d shut off all the burners on the stove. “Do you think I’m stupid? I didn’t know how long it’d take to get you in here. I wasn’t about to ruin a perfectly good dinner—or worse, cause a fire over you.” “Thanks,” I grumbled, taking a seat at the old wooden table where I used to eat my Rice Krispies. The familiar click, click, click of the gas stove sounded as she relit the burners and continued her relentless dinner preparations. “Why are you doing this? Going to all this trouble? Sitting next to me at my father’s funeral?” I asked, taking my time to look around. Nothing had changed. Well, a few things maybe. The outside of the refrigerator was nearly bare. It had once been filled with school art and, later, straight As from school. But, now, just a few random magnets from local businesses were there. And one solitary photo of my mother and me. My eyes squeezed shut as I turned away. “Because that’s what friends do for each other,” she said quietly. My eyes opened back up, focusing on her. She swayed back and forth, bringing her sautéed onions and garlic back to life, and then she began the process of chopping vegetables. “Is that what we are now? Friends?” Her knife stopped, and she turned. “I hope so. I mean, if we can’t be anything else, Jake, we can at least be there for each other now.”

I nodded, unable to find any fault in her logic. Except that I didn’t want to be just friends with Molly. I never had. Even in elementary school, when flirting had consisted of chasing girls around the playground, I’d always found myself getting jealous when other boys picked on her, knowing they had secret crushes on her as well. Molly had always been mine. “Friends,” I finally said, not knowing what else to say. “I guess we’ll give it a go.” She didn’t seem convinced, and neither did I, but we carried on. After a few minutes of catching my breath after my terrifying battle with the front door, I rose from my place at the table and decided to help. “What can I do?” I asked, not really understanding what she was doing, but hating the idea of sitting around while she waited on me. “Well, I’m making a simple pasta,” she explained. “It’s all I could come up with based on what I had from Terri and what little was left in your dad’s kitchen.” An audible pause was felt. “Anyway,” she carried on, “if you could continue chopping the tomatoes, I’ll get started on the pasta.” “Sure.” I did my best to dice several homegrown tomatoes just like Molly had. “So, I take it, you don’t use tomato sauce from a can?” I could feel her eyes on me as she watched. “No,” she answered in an almost bewildered state. “And I take it, you don’t cook much in Chicago?” A chuckle escaped my lips as I turned to find her amused expression. “No. Is it that obvious?” “Look at those tomatoes, Jake. What did they ever do to you? I mean, seriously, they look mutilated.” She wasn’t wrong. To my left were the perfectly square pieces she’d diced, and next to them were the mushed versions I’d created. “Where did I go wrong?” “I don’t know, but I thought a heart surgeon would be better with a knife. Remind me to ask for someone else if I ever have a heart attack.” My face blanched as the knife clattered to the counter. “Why? Are you okay?” My eyes began to skim her body, checking for signs and symptoms. Her smile immediately vanished as her hands reached for me. “I’m sorry, Jake. That was a terrible joke. I didn’t mean it. I’m fine, I swear.” My heart was pounding in my chest. The walls around me were closing in.

I just arrived home from Molly’s. We’d been studying—a code word we liked to use for anything besides actual studying. I was running late and had pushed the limits of my beat-up truck to get here, only to find a dark house. I felt an eerie chill when I entered the house, like a warning for what was to come. “Is anyone home?” I hollered. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stay inside. The darkness, the cold…something about the otherwise comforting home felt off somehow, and I ran out the front door. Only to be met by Terri, my next-door neighbor. “Jake, I have some bad news,” she said, her voice hoarse and sad. “What is it?” I asked, backing away from the old widow. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know. “Your mom,” she said, a tear falling down her cheek. “What about her?” I said, still stepping back. My foot hit the first step of the porch, and I tripped, my butt hitting the ground. She knelt beside me, her old knees creaking from the movement. “She’s gone son. She died an hour ago. Your daddy, he tried. He tried everything to save her. But it was too much. Her heart…it just couldn’t take it.” “No, she’s healthy and young. She’s fine. She’s fine.” I said softly. “No,” I repeated, the truth settling in my gut. The word just kept falling from my lips over and over until I was shouting it. “No!” I screamed, tears falling from my face. Terri held me, apologizing over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. None of us could have known.” I didn’t know what she had to be sorry about. She wasn’t the doctor. My father was and he should have saved her. But instead he’d let her die. “Jake!” Molly’s voice cut through the panicked memory. My vision sharpened, and the pale green walls of my parents’ kitchen came back into view. “It’s okay. I’m right here.” “What happened?” I asked, feeling dizzy. “I think you had a panic attack,” she replied, her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I nodded in agreement. “Sounds about right. Sorry.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who made the insensitive joke. I know what you went through. I was there. I should have known better,” she said. “I know you were there, but still…it shouldn’t affect me like this anymore. It was a long time ago. Must be the house.” She helped me up—or at least she tried. I weighed about a hundred pounds more than her. There was no way she could lift me, but I appreciated the thought. “It was a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt.” I gave a curt nod as I let the air settle in my lungs. There was a war still going on in my head as I tried to fight out the memories I’d just relived. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought of everything that had happened here a thousand times since that day. I had. It was just that being back here, in this place, made them a thousand times worse. I felt the pain like it was only yesterday rather than twelve years ago. But, like I’d said, it was a long time ago, and I needed to move on. My eyes settled on Molly. “Weren’t we cooking?” I asked. She seemed a little rattled by my abrupt change in attitude but rolled with it, turning back toward the stove. “We were,” she replied. “Let’s make spaghetti.” “Sounds great.”

“Dear God, this is amazing. I forgot how good your cooking is,” I said, shoving another heaping forkful of spaghetti in my mouth. “It’d be better with a side of homemade garlic bread.” I looked up at her, mid bite, watching her carefully gather up the perfect bite, twisting the pasta over a spoon. “You can’t just talk about garlic bread like that in front of me. That’s just plain wrong. Evil temptress,” I growled, giving her a wicked grin. A fork clattered to the plate as her eyes dodged mine. “Sorry!” she nearly squealed, seeing the pasta sauce flying everywhere. My words had obviously gotten to her, a fact that had me nearly puffing my chest in pride. Looking down I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the two of us covered in the red sauce we’d just spent the last hour painstakingly making. “It’s not a problem, really,” I said, grabbing a napkin to wipe us both down. Her body froze as I attended to her shirt. It took me a minute to realize why. “You’ve been stroking that same spot on my chest for about sixty seconds,” she said I looked up at her to see a mixture of amusement and shock painted across her

beautiful face. “Attention to detail,” I said. “I’ve got to make sure it doesn’t stain. That’s what friends do, right?” I backed away, giving her a lazy grin. She rolled her eyes, throwing her napkin at my head. I caught it midair and used it to clean up my own shirt. Unfortunately, the sauce was persistent and wasn’t budging. “We might have to soak these,” I said. “Pretty sure, based on the unchanged status of the downstairs, that I probably have some shirts stashed away in my room. That is, unless they were eaten by moths.” Her gaze turned serious. “Are you okay to go up there?” she asked. I could read between the lines of what she was asking. My parents’ room was right next to mine. She knew it would be difficult. Probably the hardest room of the whole house. “Better now than never,” I said. She cocked her head to the side, giving me a hard stare that I instantly recognized. It was her don’t-mess-with-me-Jake face, and I got it whenever I was being less than honest with her…or using humor to mask my pain, which was often in my case. “Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands in defeat. “No, I’m not going to be okay. But that’s what I have you for, right? Friendship and all that shit?” “You really hate that word, don’t you?” she asked as I followed her up the stairs. “What word? Friendship?” She laughed. “Yes, even then, it sounded like you were saying something else entirely, like dirty tire or wet dead fish. Definitely not something as innocent as friendship.” I pulled on her hand, stopping her in the middle of the staircase. “Exactly. Friendship is innocent, Mols. And us? We’re not. We’re about as far away from innocent as two people can get. I fucked you so hard the other night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole island knew by now. And you know what? It’s all I’ve thought about since. Every damn second.” “What are you saying?” I pulled her close, her feet stumbling down a step until we were nose to nose. I could feel her breath against my face. “We’ve never been just friends Molly and I sure as hell don’t want to start now.” I grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her toward me. Our mouths fused together like live wires, sending electrical shocks down my spine to the tips of my toes. We were clumsy, knocking into the wall uprooting family pictures, and stumbling over steps, as our kiss deepened, and our hands roamed. “Bedroom?” she moaned, against the wall, my mouth on her neck as my fingers undid her shorts. “No time,” I growled.

I shoved her shorts and panties down with one swift movement, dipping into that sweet heat that only her body could give me. She cried instantly as my fingers danced along her clit. “Oh God, Jake!” she yelled. Dropping to my knees, I thanked my earlier self for all those visits to the gym, never imagining I’d need my strong leg muscles for balancing myself on uneven stairs to get a girl off. Not just a girl. My girl. She looked down at me. Her floral top was askew, showing off that purple bra I loved so much. She was breathless and so goddamn fucking beautiful, and I knew I couldn’t wait much longer. Placing my hands around her thighs, I lifted her just so, wrapping those gorgeous legs around my shoulders, giving me the perfect view. The first taste was like coming home. Her hips bucked against me as I tried to steady us. With one arm against the wall and another around her waist, I continued running my tongue over the tender flesh of her body. She moaned, deep and guttural, the sounds only egging me on. I felt like a damn quarterback in the championship game, about to make the winning touchdown. “Jake!” she cried. “Oh, shit, I’m going to come!” I grinned against her, wetness dripping down my face. I held her tight against me, her body rocking hard, intensifying her own pleasure. Her hands gripped her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples through her top. So fucking hot. “Oh, yes, please!” she begged seconds before her body came apart in my hands. I felt the trembles, the quakes, and the detonation against my tongue. She threw her head back and cried out to the heavens. It was the hottest damn thing I’d ever seen, and it was then, in that moment, that I knew I was never going to leave that island without her.



“IT’S LIKE A MUSEUM IN here,” I said, snuggled up against Jake’s naked chest, as I stared up at the ceiling that was still covered in the same band posters I remembered from years gone by. “I know,” he replied. “Down to the books on my desk. I don’t know whether to be sad or a little creeped out by it all.” “Sad,” I said. “Your dad missed you. I know he did.” I felt him stiffen. It was his automatic response anytime someone tried to humanize his father, a man Jake only saw as the villain of the story. Nothing more, nothing less. Terri’s words came back to me just then. “Until he figures out a way to fix himself, ain’t no one gonna be enough. Not even you.” I swallowed audibly. Deep down, I knew she was right. I’d known it the moment he kissed me on that staircase, desperate and hungry, when he carried me upstairs after squeezing every last orgasm I had right there, on the steps, against all his family pictures. I knew he was damaged. I knew I’d get hurt. But I didn’t care. He was Jake, and I was Molly. No matter what, this was where we’d always end up— back in each other’s arms, destroying each other from the inside out. “What are we doing, Jake?” I asked, turning slightly so that I could see his face. He did the same, and when our eyes met, I felt it. That same flutter in my stomach whenever his gaze settled on mine. It had been this way as far back as I could remember. In kindergarten when we’d been paired together for spelling partners and, later, in junior high whenever I’d caught him staring at me in gym. It had always been him—this tall, dark-haired boy with the megawatt smile and heart of gold. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But I don’t want to stop.” His arms tightened

around me, pulling me closer. “But you’re still leaving. How can this end well? This is exactly what we were trying to avoid.” He let out a long sigh, shifting his position. “Look,” he said, rubbing his hand over his chin and stubble, “if you’d asked me a day ago—hell, even a couple of hours ago—what my plan was, I would have told you it was exactly the same—to get the hell out of here. But now? Shit, I don’t know, Mols. What you did tonight, helping me like that? No one could have done that but you. You are it for me.” My heart beat wildly in my chest. “I’ve tried to deny it for a long time, and I’ve been running forever. Do I like the idea of living here for the rest of my life? Not really. But, even more, I don’t like the idea of living without you for another day.” “You’re staying?” I said, amazed and completely stunned. He shrugged. “I survived on this island for eighteen years. I guess I can manage a little longer…that is, until I can talk you into something else.” I laughed. “Good luck with that.” He leaned in, a devilish smirk splitting his handsome face. “I’m very convincing.” “Oh, yeah?” The taste of his lips was addictive, so much more than any substance on earth. Now that I’d been reunited with his mouth, the feel of his body against mine, the thrust of his hips, I wasn’t sure I’d survive without him. And I didn’t want to. “Let me show how convincing I can be,” he purred in my ear, making my belly flutter once more. When he made love to me this time, it was slow with expert care and attention. He took his time, worshipping my body like I was the most precious person on the planet. “Come for me,” he demanded, his hips rocking in a hypnotic rhythm, my body so lost to him, to blindly bending to his will I would give up anything for these moments with him. My back arched as I cried out, so caught up in my release that I didn’t care who heard it. “I don’t think I can move,” I murmured several minutes later, every muscle so limp from exhaustion. “If you can still talk, we’re not done yet,” he said, slowly spreading my legs for another round. This time, he took me fast and hard until I was crying out his name over and over, begging for mercy I didn’t really want. “You’re insane,” I finally said, feeling wonderfully sore in all the right places.

“I’m making up for lost time,” he replied. “Besides, you’re still talking. It seems I haven’t done my job properly yet.” “Oh my God, you’re going to kill—” I managed to say before he was inside me once again.

“Oh, shit!” I shouted the moment my eyes cracked open the next morning. I sat up, my body aching everywhere from the combination of marathon sex with Jake and the two of us crammed on his tiny twin bed. “What time is it?” I asked, jumping out of bed in search of my clothes. Jake did the same but forgoing clothes and instead looking for his iPhone. “Crap, it’s almost eight.” “Eight?” I screeched. “In the morning?” “Well, it isn’t eight at night,” he said, tossing the phone on the bed and dashing around me to grab his clothes. “Do you think Betty will notice the fact that I’m coming in, wearing the same clothes?” he asked, taking one glance at his childhood closet that was still filled with clothes. “Probably, but if that old nurse hasn’t said anything about the fact that you’re sleeping there, I doubt she’ll say anything about the pasta sauce on your shirt. Besides, don’t you wear a lab coat or something?” “Not usually. Makes people feel uncomfortable. Wonder if my old Green Day shirt is still in here.” I snorted, pulling on my shorts and bra. “I guess that’s one way to make a statement.” “Hey,” he said after pulling his shirt over his head. “Are you going to be okay? I know this is kind of your shining moment during the day.” I gulped. “Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t exactly prep last night like I normally do, and, well, I’m running about two hours behind schedule.” “Do you need help?” he asked, his face full of warmth and compassion. “That’s sweet,” I said, reaching out to place a tender hand on his chin. “But I’m not letting you anywhere near my kitchen after that tomato massacre last night.” He rolled his eyes, making me laugh. “Give me a scalpel, and let me redeem myself.” “You want to cut tomatoes with a scalpel? That’s just weird.” “Weird and hot?” He smiled as we each pulled on our shoes. We headed downstairs. The kitchen was still a mess, and there were several pictures knocked off walls on the staircase. I ignored the last question, suddenly feeling awkward as I stood near the front door. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, unsure of what to say now.

He smiled, grabbing my hand and pulling it to his chest. “I’ll stop by after I’m done at the clinic, okay? You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I could feel the tightening around my heart lessen. “Okay.” “Although I might be a little late. I think I have a bit of cleaning to do here before I get there,” he said, taking a look behind me, toward the kitchen. My cheeks flared with heat. “Let me walk you to your car.” I quickly nodded, and we did just that. The crunch of the gravel was loud against the quiet calm of the early morning. He kissed me good-bye before I turned and hopped into my small car. I watched him do the same, driving away in the opposite direction as I headed for the bay. Suddenly, the happy glow of the evening washed away and was replaced with panic. Complete and utter panic. I had a houseful of guests and nothing to serve them. Tears were beginning to pour down my face as I tried to work out any possible game plan. Cereal? No. Besides, I didn’t have any. Eggs and toast? Maybe. Although they would be expecting more. Did I have anything in the freezer? Oh God, what had I done? What had I been thinking? I hadn’t. That was the problem. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d convinced myself that Jake and I together was the dumbest idea on the planet. In fact, me being with anyone was just plain stupid. I didn’t have time for a life. This inn was all I could focus on. It was my life. The only thing that mattered. Walking in the back door, I rushed into the kitchen, only to find the house filled with laughter and the smell of freshly baked pastries and bacon. What the hell? There, in the middle of everything, I found my parents manning the morning rush, chatting up guests and serving cups of coffee. My dad waved happily in my direction. “Hi, honey!” my mom said cheerfully. I stood there, stunned. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or pissed. Happy or embarrassed. My mom obviously saw the conflict in my face. Setting the coffee pot on the counter,

she came to my side, placing a warm arm around me, and guided me into the living room. “How did you—I mean, what is this?” She sat me down on the sofa, sitting in the seat next to me. “Terri called us last night, said you had come to visit her and ended up having dinner with Jake.” My face heated up once more. “Oh, honey, don’t get embarrassed. You’re a thirty-year-old woman. I don’t expect you to be a nun. And, honestly, what did you expect when that boy showed back up in town?” “So, you’re covering me because you figured I’d be out late on a booty call?” Her head shook back and forth as she made a sour face. “I don’t like that phrase. You and I both know this was bound to happen. Why do you think Dean stepped aside? This is just you listening to your heart, like I told you to do.” I sat back on the sofa, feeling emotional and tired. “Is it? Because, right now, I feel like a total failure.” Her hand touched mine. “You’re not a failure, sweetheart. You’re just in love. Just let it happen. You two have been running for so long. It breaks my heart.” “What if we still are?” I asked. “Then, make sure it’s at least in the same direction,” she replied, patting my knee the way only a mother could. I watched as she reached up behind her neck, pulling a silver chain from under her blouse. “What’s that?” I asked, not recognizing the dainty necklace. She undid the clasp and held it out in her hand. There, encased in silver, I saw a tiny charm, black and white. I immediately recognized it. Yin and yang. “I picked this up years ago, before you and Millie were born. Before your father and I took over the inn from Nanny and Pop Pop. At the time, it was just a cute little trinket your father thought looked nice on me and wasn’t worth much. Still isn’t. But I held on to it. Over the years, I’ve found myself going back to it when I need a little breather. I’m sure you know the meaning behind this symbol.” “Balance?” I guessed, looking down at the way the white side held a small circle of black the same way the black side held a tiny ring of white. “Right.” She nodded. “You don’t see it now because this place is your entire life, but someday, maybe someday soon, you’re going to need to find a way to have balance. Maybe that starts with Jake. Maybe it’s learning you don’t have to do everything yourself, and it’s okay to ask for help.” She gave me a hard stare, making me laugh.

“Today isn’t a failure, Molly. It’s just a lesson in balance. Know when you need help because we’re here for you. It’s okay to have a life outside of this house. In fact, it’s encouraged. We did. Your grandparents certainly did. It’s what makes this place a home rather than just a business. It needs warmth, and only you can give it that.” I nodded as she placed the necklace in my hand, closing my fingers over the cold metal, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I understood where she was going. I really did. But what would happen when Jake got bored of the slow-paced life of Ocracoke and wanted to go back to Chicago? How would balance fit into that equation? Jake and I loved each other. That much was certain. But had our second chance already passed us by? If he wouldn’t stay and I wouldn’t go, where did that leave us? Back at ground zero, ready to implode.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went along without incident. Guests checked in and out, happy and content, while I ran around, doing my usual chores after shooing Mom and Dad back into retirement. Although I’d been highly embarrassed, especially at the idea of my parents knowing where I’d been all night, I did appreciate their help. I’d have been ruined without their intervention, and my mom did have a point. If Jake was going to be in my life, I did need to work on finding balance. And a way to keep him here. Like he’d said, he’d grown up here, lived in this gorgeous little town for eighteen years. Surely, he could learn to love it again. He loved me after all. Didn’t he? These thoughts had been racing through my mind all afternoon. After Terri’s warning last night, I was terrified over the possibility of watching him leave again, so now, I was determined to make him stay. But how? Take him on a picturesque tour of the island like some visitor from out of town? Rattle off stories about pirates and long-ago settlers? He knew all of that. Flopping down on the sofa in the living room after making the beds for the day, I was out of answers. For now, I’d just have to take a leap of faith. Jake was back in my life. Everything else was just details.

Around mid-afternoon, after giving directions to the lighthouse to an adorable couple visiting from Maine, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Watching them walk out the door, hand in hand, I pulled out my phone, instantly recognizing the number. Jake and I had exchanged phone numbers when he first came to town and showed up at my door, drunk and alone. It had been part of the deal for him staying here in case I needed to kick him out to make room for a real guest. Although I’d never had to use the number, I’d memorized it, staring at the foreign area code on the slip of paper with his familiar handwriting. It had somehow cemented in my mind the fact that he’d really been gone. I hadn’t imagined it. Pulling up the text message, I found myself smiling like a lovesick fool. Jake: Not sure this will go through. Do Cokers have cell phones? Or Wi-Fi? Or are y’all still stuck in the Stone Age? Shaking my head, I replied immediately, loving that he still remembered the slang term for a local here. Molly: Of course we do. We’re not heathens. We had to modernize for all those pesky mainlanders and their selfie addictions. Jake: Don’t knock the selfie. Everyone does it. I laughed out loud, trying to picture Jake posing in front of his phone with his rugged good looks and piercing blue eyes. Ridiculous. Although the idea of having said picture made my stomach flutter. Molly: Nope. Not me. Too cliché. Jake: Liar. Take one for me. Right now. Molly: What? Why? Jake: Let’s just say, I’ve forgotten what you look like. Molly: I’m rolling my eyes right now. Jake: Okay, you caught me. I need a picture for my spank bank. Molly: JAKE! Jake: Picture, Molly. Now. Make it a sexy one. I need something to get me through the rest of the day. My face was in flames as I looked around the room. I felt embarrassed, excited, and erotic, all at the same time. I’d seen plenty of girls around town posing for such pictures. They’d play with their hair, make funny faces. Over and over, they’d go on like this in front of their phones until they took the perfect photo. I thought photos were about capturing a moment in time. There was something about selfies that always felt so fake and contrived. But sitting here, knowing Jake was waiting for a photo of me, I felt empowered and

sexy. Listening for any creaks or footsteps up above, I quickly turned my phone to photo mode, flipping the camera toward me. I pushed around my hair, forming a deep part to one side. Tugging on my shirt, I made sure the angle of the camera caught just the right amount of cleavage. And, for the finishing touch, I angled my body and turned my head so that my collarbone and neck looked graceful and elegant. Click. I took several, slightly changing the angles as I went. It turned out to be more fun than I’d anticipated. I had a newfound respect for the tourists and their selfies. Although it felt a bit phony, it was still a moment in time. And it did make me feel beautiful. Relaxing back into the sofa, I took a look at my photos, feeling like the Ansel Adams of selfies as I chose my favorite. Not bothering with editing, I sent it to Jake, feeling an equal mixture of nervousness and trepidation. Less than a minute later, my phone buzzed. Jake: If I didn’t have a million more patients to see today, I’d be over there so fast. Goddamn, you’re sexy. I smiled, feeling like a giddy teenager again. Molly: So, where’s mine? Tit for tat, remember? Also, shouldn’t you be working? Jake: Did you say tit? Molly: Jake! Focus! I want my picture! Jake: Okay, okay. Give me a few minutes. Need to primp. Also, I am working. Multitasking. I had no idea what a few minutes in Jake’s world meant, so I decided not to waste it, and I got up to take care of a few things around the house. I still had one reservation that hadn’t arrived, and I needed to add a few things to their room. Taking the stairs up to the third floor, I unlocked the door to the suite and doublechecked the bathroom to ensure it had an ample number of towels and toiletries. I made sure the bed was crisp and made properly, and because I knew the couple was celebrating an anniversary, I placed a single rose between the pillows on the bed. Feeling accomplished, I headed back downstairs to the sound of the doorbell. Just in time. Putting my best hostess face on, I pulled the door open and greeted the happy couple. They’d flown into Virginia Beach from Oregon and already spent a week in the Outer Banks. “This is our first time in Ocracoke,” the wife explained. “It’s so quaint. I feel as if

we’ve stepped back in time.” “Yes, we’re definitely remote,” I said. Remembering Jake’s flippant comment about Cokers living in the Stone Age, I said, “But don’t worry; we still have Wi-Fi and cell service.” “Oh, good,” the husband said. “Wouldn’t want to be out of touch from work.” I noticed a slight annoyance flash across the wife’s face, but it disappeared quickly. I’d learned to ignore these types of things, and I rolled right into my introduction. Walking them into the parlor, I showed them where they could find board games and the only TV in the house. “I don’t think we’re going to be watching much TV,” the wife said, grabbing her husband’s hand. He took one last longing look at the TV before we moved on. “Breakfast is served family-style in the kitchen. I make everything from scratch daily. I also put out afternoon snacks and drinks if you happen to be around. Special arrangements can be made for dinner as well.” “Wow. And you do it all by yourself?” the husband asked, his brow arching over his dark-rimmed glasses. I nodded. “Just me,” I said. “Would you like to see the grounds before I take you upstairs?” “Yes, that would be lovely.” I turned toward the door just as my phone buzzed in my hand. I’d completely forgotten I still had it. Remembering why, I tried to discreetly take a look. I held the phone down low, my thumb on the round button to unlock it. Jake’s text came right up. Oh, dear Lord. He’d sent me a selfie all right. A naked one. My face instantly went beet red as I tried to remember how to work my fingers the right way. How did I close this thing? “Are we going outside?” the wife asked. I realized just how long I’d been standing at the kitchen door. “Yep!” I said a little too enthusiastically. “Just checking a reservation email that came in. Sorry. Sometimes, I have to multitask. My apologies.” Lies. So many lies falling from my lips. My hands shook. My mouth was filling with drool.

Good God, that man was hot. Focus, Molly! Close. Must close phone. This was simple. There was a button for this. Upper right side. I just needed to slide my hand up and— The phone clattered to the floor. Face up. We all looked down and saw Jake’s penis staring up at us. The wife gasped. The husband laughed. I died. The end.

Jake hadn’t stopped laughing since we sat down for dinner. I’d been glowering at him ever since. “It’s really not that funny,” I said. “No, it really is. You’ll realize that once you have a drink or two.” He pushed the menu toward me, pointing at the red wine selection. “How are you okay with this? It was your dick on display. You’re not the least bit embarrassed?” He shook his head, leaning back in the seat, the full embodiment of relaxation. “Nope,” he answered. “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed about. Pretty proud of that particular part of my body. Go ahead and roll your eyes.” I did. “So, how come you chose this restaurant? You didn’t seem to be a fan the other night when you dragged Millie and me out of here.” I asked, settling back in my chair as I enjoyed the scenic view. It was a tad warmer today, as summer was getting closer. I could feel the humidity mounting making me both happy for the prospect of a full house of guests and not so happy over the three long months of never ending sweat. “I have nothing against this restaurant,” he said. “I just have problems with you being here with other guys.” Billy came and took our drink orders, giving us a friendly hello. It had only been a handful of days since that night I epically failed at sabotaging my life. My sister had always been the crazy one. The one who danced on bar tops and slept with strangers. I’d always been more suited for the quieter life.

Maybe that was why I never left home. “So, besides showing everyone my dick, how was your day?” Jake asked, a devilish grin plastered across his face. There were several days’ worth of stubble along his chin and jaw. He’d in fact found his long lost Green Day shirt and was proudly wearing it, reminding me of the boy I’d once known. The one who used to hold my hand between classes and kiss me good night. “I did not show it to everyone!” I laughed. “And, thankfully, they were pretty gracious about it after I explained you were my boyfriend and it wasn’t some run-of-the-mill Internet porn. The husband waved it off, saying they’d done the same when they were dating. The wife nodded although she looked kind of sad.” “Sad?” he asked. “I think it had to do with the past tense he’d used. As in it was something they had done.” Jake nodded. “But don’t anymore. That is sad. There should always be room for dick pics in a relationship.” I laughed once again. “Do you ever take anything seriously?” He smiled as Billy brought us our drinks. A pinot noir for me and a beer for him. “Of course I do. I’m just in a good mood today. Can’t remember why though.” Leaning forward, he grabbed ahold of his beer and gave me a wink. I couldn’t help but smile back. I liked this side of Jake. The levity. The casual happiness. The sexy texts. Everything had been so moody and emotional since he arrived, and it was like a whole new world, sitting across the table from him tonight. No discussions about the future or what any of this meant. Just him and me and a view to die for. So, of course, it all had to come crashing down. I immediately noticed when Jake tensed. His laid-back posture vanished as he sat upright in his seat. His eyes narrowed, glaring toward the entrance of the patio. I turned my head and found the source. Macon Green. Didn’t that man know there were other restaurants to bother? Dressed plainly tonight in jeans and a loose-fitting plaid shirt, he still carried all the swagger and dominance of his station. Ever since we were kids, he’d wanted to make something of himself. Something powerful. He’d found it in the police force and continually abused his authority on locals and tourists equally. Surrounded by a few of his buddies, the group took a table close by, seeing Jake and me from across the deck.

Please don’t come over, I chanted silently to myself. I looked up at Jake, who was deadlocked in some sort of testosterone-fueled eye war with Macon. Great. They’d never been the best of friends in high school, but they had always managed to stay away from each other. Mostly due to my urging. Jake had had so much going for him. I hadn’t wanted to see him throw it all away over a petty fight with the town bully. The same could be said now. My focus shifted from Jake to Macon. A sly Cheshire cat grin spread across his face as he saw me staring. He rose from the table and sauntered our way. My heart beat wildly. I wasn’t sure why. Surely, we were all adults now. This mini feud between them had to be done and over. Right? “Evening,” he greeted, tipping an imaginary hat on his head. I said a polite, “Hello,” back, noticing Jake did nothing of the sort. He just stared at Macon, his body still tense like a live wire. “I realized I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to welcome the new doctor in town, but then I see you’ve already done that,” he said, his head sweeping across the table from Jake to me. I swallowed audibly, knowing exactly what he was alluding to. “So nice of you to offer yourself up as the official welcoming committee, Molly. Can we count on you for every new resident or just the single ones?” The high-pitched sound of Jake’s chair sliding against the concrete echoed across the patio. His eyes were wild as he rose from his chair. My hand reached across the table for his. The moment our fingers touched, his eyes met mine. I could see the rage and utter need for vengeance. All those years of pent-up hostility for this asshole had finally come to a head. But he couldn’t. Not now, not while Macon was in a position of power. He’d send Jake to jail without a second thought, and within an instant, everything he’d worked for could all be gone. My pride wasn’t worth all that. Squeezing his hand, I steadied him, forcing him back down in his seat. I could see the overjoyed look of triumph on Macon’s stupid face, knowing he’d won yet another round in this age-old rivalry between them. One I still didn’t understand. “Be sure you say hi to Dean for me, will you?” Macon said in my direction, making

sure he got one last jab in before he left. I saw the pain in Jake’s face. The anguish he still felt over Dean’s injuries. “Will do,” I replied. “I’ll also be sure to say hi to your wife when I visit her next month. Ex-wife, sorry. When is she getting back from her honeymoon?” His face blanched, the confidence deflating out of him like a runaway balloon. Funny how much it stung to have the same shit slung back in your face. “I’m sure she and the sheriff are having a wonderful time in Mexico.” After that comment, he scurried off like the cockroach he was. I wasn’t sure I felt good about myself, usually taking the high road rather than stooping to his level. But, this time, he’d gone too far. When I turned back to Jake, his eyes were filled with a sort of reverence. “That was brilliant,” he said. I just shrugged. “Sometimes, a bully needs to be reminded of what it feels like to be bullied.” “It won’t stop him.” “No,” I agreed. “But it kept you from making a bad decision.” He didn’t say anything, but I could see the thanks in his expression as his thumb rolled over mine. After a quick glance in Macon’s direction, Jake turned back to me. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, throwing a couple bills down on the table for our drinks. Grinning, I nodded. “I thought you’d never ask.”



“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING me,” I said, staring wide-eyed into the garage. “Nope.” “When did you get this?” “A little while after I took over the inn. I got sick of referring all my guests to the rentals on the island and thought it might be a way to make some extra money.” “Or have some fun on the weekend,” I said, running a hand over the sleek black paint. Jeeps in Ocracoke were like the shiny new toys at Christmas. Every kid wanted one. Sure, you didn’t need it, but if you got it, it was a total game changer. There were several rental places up and down the banks where tourists and locals alike could rent a Jeep. But having one of your own, it was the ultimate grown-up toy. I’d wanted one for as long as I could remember. Hell, even when I’d left North Carolina, I’d drool every time I saw a Jeep driving by on the busy streets of Chicago. There was just something ingrained in my DNA that made me want to jump in, rev that engine, and get those tires in the sand as quickly as possible. “You look exactly like a kid in a candy store right now,” Molly said, dangling keys on the other side of the garage. I laughed. “This is so much better. How could you keep this from me? I demand a refund.” “I’ll let you drive,” she offered, taking one giant step closer. “Deal.” I leaped forward and grabbed the set of keys from her hand. She laughed as I lifted her off the ground and spun us around. I felt weightless in this moment. The shit with Macon? Forgotten. The unsettled future with Molly? Unimportant.

Right now, I was entirely focused on this moment. Right here, right now. For so long, I’d been so fixated on reaching some distant goal that I completely forgot how to live. To appreciate the time I’d been given. To live in the now. We hopped in the Jeep, armed with enough provisions to supply a small army, thanks to Molly, and headed out toward the beach. “I can’t remember the last time I sat out under the stars,” I said loudly, the wind flying around us, blowing our hair, as the town became smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. There were several spots in Ocracoke that allowed Jeeps. Picking our favorite one, I headed off-road and onto the sand. It was hard and compact from the constant use, but thankfully, the area was empty today. Driving toward the beach, I hit the water, giving a little splash on the passenger side. “Jake!” Molly screamed. I laughed, loving the sound of her happy squeals. Taking advantage of the long days, we drove for a while, in and out of the water, until I found a good spot to watch the sunset. It was nearly eight o’clock by the time we set up our picnic on the sand. “We’re going to get invaded by ghost crabs when the sun sets,” Molly whined. “Then, we’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” I instructed, not caring in the least if a million of those freakish white crabs joined us. Today was perfect. Molly had once again outdone herself in the area of food, pulling out some leftovers from a boxed dinner she’d made for the West Coast couple who were involved in PenisGate. They had booked a kayak lesson and hadn’t felt like coming home to shower, so feeling incredibly embarrassed, Molly had made them dinner to go. Free of charge, of course. “You should have charged them double,” I said. “That was a good picture.” She nearly spit out her food. “I can’t believe you sent me that. When you said you needed to primp, I did not know it meant that.” I laughed. “Well, I definitely wasn’t picking out lipstick shades or finding my best side. Because, let’s face it, every side is good.” “You’re incorrigible.” “Only when I’m around you. Besides, sometimes, you need a little spontaneity in your day, especially when you’ve treated your third urinary infection. What is it with the elderly on this island, Molly? Is it something in the water?”

She giggled, and then a finger went up next to her face, like a lightbulb had suddenly gone off in her head. “That reminds me. Did Terri come by to see you? She wasn’t feeling well yesterday.” I nodded, taking a bite of my sandwich. “Yeah, she did. She’s fine. Nothing serious.” A noticeable sense of relief spread across her face. “Thank goodness. I was worried about her. Nothing ever seems to get that old broad down, but yesterday, she just seemed off.” I wished I could tell her more, but doctor-patient confidentiality prevented me, even if it was Terri. It was nothing more than one of those urinary infections I’d mentioned. But she’d had several in the last year, so I’d ordered some lab work just to be safe. A round of antibiotics, and she’d be as good as new. “She’ll be fine. Even the devil himself couldn’t take Terri down.” There was a comfortable silence between us as we ate and watched the waves billow in. The sun began to set behind us as the water grew dark. Pulling Molly into my arms, I felt more content and happier than I had in years. “Why a heart surgeon?” Molly finally asked as we sat together, listening to the roar of the ocean waves. “Is it because of your mother?” “Yes,” I answered honestly, maybe for the first time. “I’ve wanted to be a doctor ever since I could remember. That’s nothing new. Practically the entire town knew I wanted to take over the clinic when I got older. Of course, that’s because I went around and told anyone who would listen.” “You were a very precocious kid.” “I seem to remember an equally precocious little girl who’d bring her Easy-Bake Oven to church functions and serve cookies to all the old ladies to test out her culinary skills.” “Hey!” she said, turning in my arms. “Those ladies said I made the best Easy-Bake Oven cookies they’d ever had!” I laughed, loving her just a little bit more in that moment. If that were even possible. “But all that changed when my mom died. All the symptoms had been there, Mols. I saw her file.” “You did? But how? You weren’t even eighteen.” “I snuck a peek when no one was around. For months, she’d been complaining to my dad of fatigue, loss of appetite, and shortness of breath. He had checked her out and said it was nothing more than seasonal allergies or a touch of asthma.” “Jake,” she said, her warm hand on mine. “He should have known. She was his wife. He should have run every damn test there was. If you were sick, that’s what I would do. I wouldn’t rest until you were better.” “But, sometimes, it is just allergies.”

“And, sometimes, it’s heart failure.” “Is that what you tell your patients?” she asked, looking up at me with those deep blue eyes. “No,” I answered. “The patients I receive are already past the diagnosis phase. I just fix them—from simple repairs to triple bypasses. But I make sure they’re alive. I don’t screw up.” “Your father was human, Jake. Just like all of us. No doubt, he carried that mistake with him every day for his entire life.” “Good,” I replied, feeling the levity of the day slightly wearing off. “Come on,” she urged. “Let’s go snuggle in the Jeep before the crabs eat us alive.” I nodded, seeing several of them along the shore. Their eerie white bodies that looked like skeletons were scuttling along the waterline in search of food. I remembered chasing them along this very same beach when I was young, my father running alongside me, laughing during a long day of fun. Those were the days when he had still been a superhero in my eyes. Still someone worth looking up to. But, he had been just a man, and like most mortals, he’d been full of holes and regrets. And irreversible mistakes. I wasn’t sure what I hated more—the death of the superhero I’d once worshipped or the mistakes he’d made afterward. We hopped into the back of the jeep, taking full advantage of the small space and the open rooftop. Molly shifted in my arms, finding a comfortable position as she turned her head skyward. Without the glow of city lights, dozens of stars could be seen from this beach. I’d forgotten how stunning it all was—the simplicity of living here. Stars, Jeep rides on the beach, home-cooked meals with the ones you loved. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. I pulled Molly closer into my arms, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Cherishing it. Savoring it. We sat like this for a long time in peaceful silence, enjoying our little slice of heaven. There was no time limit for once. I didn’t have to rush off to be somewhere, nor did Molly. Her guests were taken care of. She’d done her prep for the morning. Tonight was ours. “Why did you wait so long to take over the inn?” I finally asked. If we had all night, I wanted to get to know Molly now—as a woman, not just the girl I remembered. We owed that much to each other if we were going to make this work. She didn’t turn; she kept her focus forward. “I tried,” she said, “as soon as you left,

and I decided to stay. I think my parents held out hope that I’d change my mind and go to college.” “Why didn’t you?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I could blame it on you, but ultimately, it was my decision. Even when it had been the two of us going together, I had felt scared. Scared to leave this place and go somewhere new. What if I hated it? What if I didn’t fit in? When you left, I guess all those fears just came rushing to the surface, and I panicked. I told my parents I didn’t need a degree to do what I’d been training to do since the day I was born. But they disagreed. They wanted me to travel, to grow up. So, our decade-long debate began. I spent years assisting them, slowly earning my keep while they kept hoping I’d go and spread my wings.” “They weren’t wrong,” I said. “Giving you the inn so young would have just chained you to this place. You needed the option to leave if you wanted.” “But I never did,” she said softly. “Did you ever want to?” I asked, rubbing my hands along her bare arms. “It doesn’t matter. I had the choice, and I stayed here.” “It’s not too late,” I reminded her. A silence fell just then. Not a comfortable one like before. A tension, reminding me of the years we’d spent apart. The lives we’d led without one another. There was still so much we didn’t know about each other. So much left to explore and talk through. But we had time, right? Time to figure it all out. Starting with this moment. Right here, right now. “I think we’ve done enough talking tonight,” I said, my hands dancing across her belly and drifting even lower. “I couldn’t agree more.” I’d spend forever getting to know this incredible woman Molly had become. I wanted to hear everything that had happened while I was away. The good, the bad, and everything in between. But there was more than one way to reunite myself with my long-lost love. And, right now, I’d let our hands do all the storytelling while the ocean and stars set the perfect stage for the opening scene to our epic sequel.

After spending a night stuffed in the twin bed from my childhood, we’d decided the inn was a better choice for now—until we could figure out something better. Something better. The words made my stomach hurt because I knew it meant change. Until now, I’d been a visitor on this island, living like a vagabond from one place to the other.

I knew it would soon have to end. I couldn’t live in my dad’s office. Hell, I couldn’t keep calling it my dad’s office if I was planning on staying. Was I planning on staying? I knew I couldn’t leave without Molly. Would Molly leave? Maybe eventually, but not now. Staring into the mirror of Molly’s vanity in her small bathroom, I took a big, soothing breath. I was staying. For how long, I wasn’t sure. A year, five years. Maybe longer. I tried to imagine the future. Molly round with our child as we walked along the worn paths of the island, nestled between live oak trees, the bay in the distance. Years later, our children running ahead of us, laughing and playing, as we headed off to dinner at one of the local restaurants. I found myself smiling. Not a bad future. Not bad at all. But could I find merit and worth in becoming a family doctor after everything I’d achieved? I was on my way to becoming chief of surgery in Chicago. Could I leave it all behind to give out antibiotics and flu vaccines? My head swam as I got dressed that morning, thankful we’d stopped by my parents’ house to grab provisions. My head still swam with visions and nightmares whenever I entered the place, the memories still heavy on my chest, but it seemed to get easier with every attempt. I knew I’d have to eventually do something with the place. Watching it fall apart felt like an injustice to my mother’s memory. Sliding into my shoes, I took one last look around the room. Last night was the first time I’d been in here since high school. Although she’d made some changes, it mostly felt the same. Her sister’s stuff was gone, which made it feel larger and less adolescent, but her old bed remained along with the antique dresser with the mirror that reminded me of something from the state fair. So much of the girl I remembered still lived here. Was there room for me? Stepping out into the hallway, I headed for the kitchen. Breakfast was in full swing with the guests all gathered around the table, drinking coffee and enjoying Molly’s homecooked treats. It grew quiet when I entered. Not knowing if I should have snuck out the back, I suddenly felt awkward. I didn’t know what the protocol was for sleeping over. I wasn’t a guest, but I was hungry. “Good morning,” Molly said, not appearing out of step in the least. “Do you want coffee?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, noticing two sets of eyes following me more than most. She gave me a warm smile, pulling out a mug before turning back around. “To go, or do you have time to eat?” “I’ve got time,” I said, kind of bewildered by the whole thing. So were some of the guests. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” Molly said cheerfully. “This is my boyfriend, Jake Jameson,” she announced to the guests sitting around the table. “He’s the local doctor in town.” A few heads bobbed up and down. Several others showed signs of relief, probably after wondering if Molly was serving coffee to her latest booty call. The couple who’d been eyeing me just smiled. “That’s the couple who saw your dick pic,” Molly whispered in my ear as she handed me my coffee. I coughed slightly, instantly regretting my decision to stay for breakfast. “Why don’t you take that empty seat over there, Jake, by the Andersons? They’re from the West Coast.” She grinned wickedly, knowing she was getting me back for yesterday when she’d dropped her phone in front of the couple. Now, I’d have to suffer through breakfast, sitting next to them. “No problem,” I replied, giving her a wink, as I dropped down next to the wife. She was easily in her late forties but attractive. They both looked active and fit, the kind of couple who worked hard and traveled a lot. “Where on the West Coast? I went to school out there for my undergraduate work.” “Oregon,” they answered in unison. “Beautiful state,” I replied. “I’ve only been a few times, mostly coastal areas, but I loved the rugged beauty of it. Very different from here but equally stunning.” They nodded in agreement, sparking a conversation about travel. We compared the places we’d been. We stuck mostly to beach locations since that seemed to be where their passion resided. “Greece? No, I’d love to go though,” I replied to the latest question. “I’ve heard it’s amazing. Maybe I can get Molly to make the trip with me,” I said, giving her a quick smile. It was then that I saw her hesitation. The fear she’d talked about. I tried not to notice. I pretended not to see it. But it was something I couldn’t unsee. Was a life with Molly a jail sentence? Was I condemning myself to this island indefinitely?

By the afternoon, my head was swimming. Thankfully, it was Friday, and the office closed at noon. There was only one place I wanted to be. Hopping into my rental, I rolled down the windows as I left Ocracoke behind, heading for the ferry once more. It was once again a beautiful, sunny day in North Carolina. Rain was forecasted for the evening, but for now, locals and tourists alike were soaking up the sun, riding bikes along the paths, flying kites, and doing everything and anything they could out in the waves. It didn’t take long to get to the hospital. The fact that I thought four hours wasn’t a long amount of time showed just how acclimated I’d become to the island lifestyle. Taking the first spot I could find, I took one last look at the clear blue sky and headed into the building, ready to greet my friend. And make amends. It was something I’d been avoiding for too long. I’d forced myself to believe none of this was my fault, that it was just some tragic comedy of errors that Dean and I had landed in during that ill-fated ferry ride together. But the truth was, if I hadn’t talked him into it, Dean would still be whole. He’d still be happy. I signed in, grabbed my visitor badge, and did my best to blend in. Today was not about catching up with the colleagues I’d met during my brief period here. I only wanted to see Dean. Taking the elevator up to his floor, I felt trepidation. Had he meant everything he said to Molly and me? Did we really have his blessing, or was that just something he’d said to ease our conscience? Stepping out, I navigated down the hall with ease. I always felt at home in a hospital. The twists and turns of the halls reminded me of late-night triumphs and hard lessons learned. It was a place like this where I’d found myself, where I’d discovered exactly how much I was capable of. And where I’d found a new home. A quick knock to the door, and I heard his voice say, “Come in.” The room was quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional nurse or visitor passing by. The room was fairly spacious and exactly as I remembered it. A small bathroom to the left, creating an alcove before the rest of the room. It initially blocked my view of him, and I wasn’t sure what to expect at first. Would he be happy to see me? Angry? Would he send me away? “Jake!” he greeted me the moment he saw my face.

The anxiety I had felt lessened slightly as I stepped up to the bed and met him with a friendly handshake. With a book in his left hand, and a wide smile spread across his face, he seemed to be in good spirits. It was a far cry from the silent doom and gloom I’d seen the last time I was here. “You’re looking good, man,” I said, taking a seat in the chair next to him. “Each day gets a little easier,” he said. “It’s a process.” “Mind if I look?” I asked, pointing to his arm. He shrugged, and I took a short walk to the right side of the bed. “It’s healing up nicely. What’s the plan of attack?” I asked, bending down to look at the wrapped wound. He’d lost his left arm, just above the elbow. The debris from the explosion had torn through so clean, I’d known the moment I saw the injury, he’d lose it…if he didn’t lose his life first. Seeing him sitting here, alive, smiling up at me, was nothing short of a miracle. “I’ve been in therapy, of course. They’ve got to make sure I’m not going crazy.” “And are you?” He laughed, a familiar sound I’d grown up hearing. “Nah. Maybe at first. But the doc said that was normal. He said I was allowed to have a full-blown pity party for myself as long as it didn’t last too long.” “And now?” “Now, I’m dealing. That whole one-day-at-a-time thing. It’s kind of a mantra around here. Can’t run before you learn to walk. Can’t walk before you learn to crawl and all that other poetic bullshit. So, for now, I’m healing and figuring out how hoist myself out of this bed and into a wheelchair without falling on my ass. Once I accomplish that, I’ll move on to something else. Maybe, someday, I’ll find myself back in a fishing boat casting a net next to my brothers.” “You will. Guaranteed.” He seemed to agree, slowly nodding his head. The deep cuts from the accident that had once marred his face were now a light pink. Nothing but memories now. “So, what are you doing all the way up here? Surely, you didn’t make the trip just for me? I mean, I know I’m good-looking and all, but come on, you need to move on.” I chuckled under my breath, glad to see his humor was still intact. Giving him a light shove in the shoulder, I replied, “Of course I drove all the way up here for you, asshole. Why else would I suffer through all that traffic?” “Traffic?” He burst out in laughter. “You’ve been here too long already if you consider

Virginia Beach traffic. Aren’t you living in Chicago these days?” I looked away. “Someone a little homesick?” “It’s Molly,” I confessed, unable to look my friend in the eyes. I’d wronged him in so many ways. I’d talked him onto a doomed ferry, taken his freedom, and forced him into a life he would never have had to face. Then, I had taken his girl. “I’m not mad, Jake,” he said. “If anything, you should be upset with me.” “What?” That got my attention. I turned to face him once again. “I knew she was yours. Even after you left, it was always Jake and Molly. But I was lonely. She was lonely. We were best friends who thought we could be more, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew, if and when you came back, she’d go running back to you in an instant.” “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this—” “Like what? It doesn’t matter, Jake. You’re back right where you’re supposed to be. Life is good.” “But is it?” I demanded. “If I hadn’t come back, you’d be back home with your mom and brothers, managing rigs and talking shit with the crew, not stuck here in a hospital bed because your childhood best friend convinced you to take the last ferry home.” Dean’s green eyes darkened. “Let’s get one thing straight, Jameson. I am not some poor pity project you get to use to beat yourself up. I made a choice that night to take that ferry home with you. Hell, I made lots of choices that day. I could have taken one of a dozen family boats to the mainland, but I was feeling lazy and didn’t want to think, so I took the ferry in. So, technically, we could blame this whole thing on me. Or what about the fact that I stopped to eat? I could have easily skipped it and picked up something at home. My fault again.” He leaned in closer, his expression full of conviction. “So, don’t ever blame this shit on yourself again, got it? It happened. It sucked, but it’s what’s real, and the cards have been dealt. You’re not doing me any favors by taking the blame for this,” he said, pointing toward his arm, “or for Molly.” I sat there, stunned silent. I’d expected a beatdown. I’d been prepared for yelling. But not like this. I didn’t know what to say. “So, are we cool?” he finally asked after several moments of silence. I simply nodded. “Good. Now, go get me a pudding from the snack room. I’m starving.” I laughed out loud, thankful for the clever tension break he’d created. I rose from the uncomfortable seat, stretching my back, and did as I had been told. Knowing Dean all too

well, I grabbed several cups of pudding, a package of cookies, and a bottle of water. By the time I returned, I discovered Dean was no longer alone. By his side was an attractive nurse checking his vitals and making small talk. She was tall and slender with short crimson hair and she had Dean’s full attention. A knowing smile spread across my face as I snuck in behind her. It did no good because she caught sight of me the second I sat down. “You must be Jake!” she exclaimed, holding out her hand. I took it, politely shaking it. “I’m Cora, one of the nurses here. Dean’s told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you!” “Nice to meet you,” I said, giving Dean a sideways glance. “Thanks for taking care of my friend here.” “Of course.” She giggled. “He’s easy. Now, the old man down the hall? Don’t get me started!” We all laughed. I liked her. She was bubbly and sweet, and most of all, she made Dean smile. I took a backseat, letting her finish up what she was doing. I quietly observed the two of them, noticing how much Dean watched her while she wasn’t looking. “So that’s your nurse, huh? She’s cute.” I said the moment she left, shutting the door behind her. “I know,” he sighed. “But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I exist past that damn chart she brings in each day.” “Well, it would be pretty unprofessional of her to fall for a patient, no matter how cute and adorable you might think you are.” “I won’t be a patient forever.” “No, you won’t, my friend. You get better and then bang your nurse. Solid plan.” He shook his head, laughing. “It’s not like that. Well, not entirely.” He grinned. “I want her to meet my mom, and I want to take her out on one of the boats. I’d love to see how her fiery red hair blows in the breeze along the water. God, I really do have it bad. Is that what you feel like with Molly?” I nodded. “That, and a healthy dose of trepidation, fear, and doubt.” “Why?” he asked. I sighed. “Molly and I have done this before, and look where it left us. Broken and alone. What if our second chance expired long ago? What if we’re trying too hard at something that is just doomed to fail? We’ve had twelve years apart. That’s a long time, Dean. We’ve established totally different lives in that time. Can we create one together?” “Do you love her?” he asked.

“What? Of course I do. I never stopped.” “Then, nothing else matters. You’ll figure it out. You always do. It might not be easy. In fact, it could be the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done. But, if you truly love each other, you’ll work through it. You’ll find a way.” “Like you and your Florence Nightingale?” He chuckled under his breath. “Maybe. If you two can finally make it work, then I sure as hell can.” I met his gaze. “I don’t know, Dean. Do you see me making a life in Ocracoke? Because Molly won’t leave. I know that much. I mentioned the idea of taking a vacation this morning, and she nearly had a panic attack right there in front of her guests.” He nodded. “Aside from small trips up the ‘banks, she never leaves the island.” “Why? I don’t understand.” “I don’t think she does either.” I let out a long sigh. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done, huh?” He nodded, smiling. “When did you become so damn wise?” I asked. “Happens when you lose an appendage,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. “Like those people who lose their sense of smell, and their taste buds heighten. I lost an arm, so now, I’m wise like Buddha.” I shook my head, laughing. “You’re an idiot.” “A wise idiot.” “Thanks for not dying out there on that ferry.” “Anytime,” he said. “Thanks for saving my life.” “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

I left Dean’s room in high spirits, like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. There was a reason Dean and I had always been friends. We had an uncanny ability to connect with each other, no matter the distance or time that separated us. The fact that he shared my unique sense of humor didn’t hurt either. Before leaving, I’d promised I’d check in on his mother. He’d said she was having a hard time with him being so far away. She visited whenever she could, but it was not nearly as much as she liked. She felt like she’d somehow abandoned him up there in that lonely hospital even though Dean assured her nightly that he was well taken care of. Hopefully it would get better when he moved down to Nags Head for in-patient therapy. Two hours was better than four and at least he’d be in the right state again. With a little extra time on my hands, I decided to check in on those colleagues I’d been trying to avoid on my way in. Now that I’d succeeded in my first priority, there was no

harm in saying a quick hello to everyone else. Especially if I was going to in fact stay in Ocracoke. Establishing a relationship with the area hospitals would be essential for the small-town clinic and the patients I served. I hit the surgical floor first, chatting with a few doctors I’d teamed up with following the ferry explosion. Several asked how the investigation was going. I sadly had no answers. “No one really knows anything,” I replied to one of the nurses. “Is that normal? For it to take so long?” she asked as others gathered around the nurses’ station. “I don’t know honestly. The sheriff’s station has been pretty tight-lipped with any information they give out to victims and their families. I don’t know if that means something more is going on or if they simply don’t know at this point.” I shrugged. We moved on to another topic. I asked about several of the patients I’d worked with. All had now moved on, either to other hospitals or rehab facilities or back home to be with their families. It was good to hear they were moving forward with their lives. “So, you’re staying?” Dr. Fisher asked, joining our small group. I was glad to see his familiar face. I nodded. “I think so,” I said. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I could do it, man. Living here has been an adjustment, and I live five minutes from a Target.” Laughing, I replied, “It’s not for everyone; I’ll give you that. But I grew up in Ocracoke. It’s an easy lifestyle to adjust back into.” “Well, we wish you the best,” he said. “And, hey, I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” “It does. Take care of my patients when you get them, will you?” “Sure thing. And you know, you’ll always have a home here if you get the itch to be in the OR again.” I nodded. “Thanks. I might just take you up on that.” I said my good-byes, still slightly shocked with myself that I’d actually committed to staying. Out loud. I knew what it meant. It meant a lifetime of staying in one place. Never moving. Never changing. But it also meant a lifetime with Molly, and if I had to choose one or the other, I’d choose her. This time, I’d make the right choice and choose her. Making my way toward the elevators, I headed back down to the main floor. It was

packed. Several patients were being transported, and there were a few visitors and staff. I stood in the back, staring at the floor numbers like everyone else. I had one more stop. As everyone filed out from one floor to the next, I made my way to the ER, wanting to see a few people before I left. Again, it was a multipurpose visit. I’d worked with many staff members after the explosion, both as a patient when they’d cleaned up my wounds and as a doctor. Also, with the limited resources on the island, this was where my patients would usually end up when a major event occurred. I needed these people to know I appreciated and trusted everything they did. Being a visitor to the hospital, I didn’t have the clearance I had several weeks ago. Headed to the check-in desk to flash my credentials and get access to the back of the emergency room, I instead ran into a familiar face. I didn’t know his name, but he was a Coker for sure. He was a patient of my father’s and owned a local restaurant. The moment his eyes landed on mine, he jumped up, a feat nearly impossible for his old frame, and came running toward me. “Dr. Jameson, thank goodness.” “Hey,” I said, feeling horrible because I couldn’t remember his name. “Everything okay?” “It’s Terri,” he said. My eyes went wide as I looked past him. There, in the back of the waiting room, was my next-door neighbor. The woman who’d helped raise me, who’d been more of a grandma than my own relatives. As she was slumped against the chair, her eyes were closed, and she was clutching her abdomen. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t anyone call me?” I said, grabbing his arms too tightly before running toward Terri. “I did. We did,” he answered. “I came to visit her late this morning and found her like this. I called the clinic, but you were already closed. I called the inn, thinking you might be there. Molly’s been trying to get ahold of you ever since. I didn’t know I’d find you here.” “You tried to call me?” I asked, kneeling beside Terri. My hands went to my pants pockets, checking for my phone. It wasn’t there. “I fucked up,” I said under my breath, my eyes squeezing shut. A few weeks ago, I had known where my phone was every second of the day. It had been my lifeline to the hospital. They needed me, and I was ready. I’d been here a few weeks, and I’d somehow managed to leave my phone in the car for hours without even noticing. And, now, Terri was in the ER because of me. “Terri,” I said, reaching for her hand.

Her eyes opened and found mine. “Hey, Doc.” She smiled weakly. “We’re going to get you fixed up, okay? Just give me a minute to get you back there.” She nodded. I stood, my hands closed into tight fists, as I swore under my breath. I’d seriously fucked up.



“HEY, JAKE,” I SAID, HOLDING the phone to my ear, feeling like a complete idiot. “I’m not sure how this boyfriend-girlfriend thing works between us now, but I was just wondering what you were doing for lunch today since I know the clinic closed early, and I haven’t heard from you, which is fine,” I quickly added, “I’m not trying to be stalkerish or clingy. Just hungry, I swear. Okay. Bye. Oh, and I love you.” I gave myself a giant eye roll, ending the call and shoving the phone in my back pocket. “Way to go, Mols,” I said out loud. “That was smooth. He won’t think you’re crazy at all.” Letting out a giant sigh, I roamed around the empty inn, feeling an odd sense of boredom. It wasn’t something I was used to, usually excelling in the art of keeping myself busy from dusk till dawn. But knowing Jake had gotten out of work early today, I’d rushed around the house, taking advantage of my guests early morning activities around town. I’d cleaned their rooms with gusto and finished all my tasks before eleven, hoping to make use of my boyfriend’s open afternoon schedule. But, now, it was well past one o’clock, my stomach was growling, and I was short one handsome doctor. Boyfriend. I’d said it this morning, and he hadn’t flinched. He was my boyfriend, right? I mean, when you started talking about moving halfway across the country for someone, it was well past casual dating. It wasn’t like Jake and I could ever be called casual anyhow. We’d been voted Most Likely to Get Married by our high school class, for God’s sake. And was it too early to say I love you out loud? I mean, we did. We always had. But to actually say it was different somehow. Everything was just moving so fast. Too fast? I wasn’t sure. Realizing I was walking circles in the living room, I decided to go ahead and eat. Waiting for a man was pathetic, right? And I had a kitchen full of amazing leftovers calling my name. Heading into the kitchen, I was interrupted by the phone in my pocket.

Smiling, I reached behind me and grabbed it, expecting to find my missing doctor. Instead, I saw a local number I didn’t recognize. Being a business owner, I didn’t have the luxury to screen calls, so I answered on the second ring. “Hello. By the Bay Inn,” I greeted cheerfully. “Molly? This is Henry Miller.” “Oh, hey, Henry,” I replied, instantly recognizing the elderly restaurant owner’s voice. I knew most of the local restaurateurs well, having made numerous reservations for my guests over the years—before and after I had taken over the inn. Henry though, I had a special place in my heart for him, as he was the sweet man who always stole my vegetables from Terri in a feeble attempt to steal her heart. “What’s up?” I asked. “It’s Terri,” he said, immediately grabbing my attention. “I stopped by her place just now to grab a few things, and she looked like hell in a handbasket. Said she visited Jake earlier this week and was waiting for lab results. Do you know where I can find him? I think she needs to be seen right away.” “Did you try the clinic?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “Gave the emergency number on the answering machine a try, too. But it just went to his voice mail. Thought I’d try you next, seeing as you two are an item again.” Sometimes, I forgot how quickly word got around this place. “Um, I don’t actually know where he is, but I’ll see if I can track him down. How bad is she?” I asked, now back to my circular pattern in the living room. “She doesn’t look good,” he answered honestly. I could hear the worry in his deep voice. “Then I’d go ahead and see if someone could give you a lift up to the hospital. Emergency services will do an airlift if needed, but there are several locals with private planes or boats who call in favors in situations like this. Don’t wait for Jake. If it’s as bad as you say, he’d be sending you that way, too. I’ll text you a list of names to try.” “Right. Okay.” A silence fell over the phone line. “Do you want me to take her?” I asked. “You don’t have to do this.” “No,” he answered. “I want to. I mean, I need to. Terri is special to me even if she’s too bullheaded to notice. I’m just worried, is all.” I smiled warmly. I knew the old man had a crush on my Terri. I knew it. “Then, take care of her,” I said. “And keep me updated. I’ll let you know if I hear from Jake.” “Thank you, Molly.”

He hung up then, and I looked around the room, so silent and empty. I bit my lip, full of worry. I felt useless, and I had nothing to do. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Jake’s number. Like Henry had said, it rang and rang and finally went to voice mail. “Where are you?” I asked out loud. Of course, no one answered. I called around, asking anyone I could get ahold of if they had seen Jake. I asked the nurse, Betty, who worked at the clinic. She reported he’d left right around the same time as her, wishing her a good weekend, and that was it. He hadn’t been seen around any of the restaurants or stores. I even drove by his parents’ house and the clinic to be sure he wasn’t in the middle of some sort of mental breakdown. But he was nowhere to be found. Returning to the inn to take care of my afternoon duties, I put out the usual spread of light hors d’oeuvres and wine for the few guests who’d returned while I continually checked my phone. Nothing. Finally, I got a text from Henry’s number. Henry: We’re here. Found Dr. Jake. He was already here at the hospital. Praise God! Getting checked in. Call in a bit with updates. Jake was at the hospital? It dawned on me why. Dean. The only reason he’d drive all the way up the coast was to visit his best friend. He hadn’t spoken much about Dean since that day he offered me a ride to the hospital. And I’d never asked. I’d been so caught up in my own issues that I never thought to take a moment to walk in his shoes. Did he feel guilt over the accident? Remorse? There had once been a time when we confided in each other completely. Hours and hours had been spent exploring every thought and dream. We had known one another inside and out. But, now, it seemed like we might be skipping a few steps in our rush toward our happily ever after. Our night on the beach, I’d felt it—the pull back to where we’d once been. But we’d both severed it, refusing to discuss the hard topics in favor of what was easy. Because of that love that still lingered so fiercely between us. I didn’t know how long I sat in the empty living room after my guests retired to their rooms or ventured back out into town for dinner. I was lost, without a clue on what to do. I moved through the motions of the rest of the evening, going on autopilot as I prepped for

the following day. Until, finally, I had nothing left to do but wait. It wasn’t until I was about to head back to my room when I saw the headlights from Jake’s car. What normally brought a jolt of excitement to my heart suddenly brought something closer to dread. It had been hours since I heard any news from Henry, and I couldn’t help but fear the worst for my dear friend Terri. I watched from the stained-glass window near the front door as he made his way inside. He looked tired and weary, like the weight of the world had just been dropped on his shoulders. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Our eyes met. It was like staring into a deep well of emotion. Pain, regret, sadness. It was all there. He brushed past me, his fingers clinging to mine for the briefest of moments. He smelled of soap and disinfectant, his hands rough from meticulous scrubbing. I gave him time to get settled. He did so silently, taking off his coat and dropping it off in my room. He returned a second later and hovered in the entryway, his tired gaze settling on mine. “Have you eaten?” I asked hesitantly, taking a single step forward. He nodded. “On the way back,” he replied. Not on the way home. I noticed the difference. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, feeling awkward in front of him for probably the first time in weeks. He was standoffish and rigid, nothing like the man I’d laughed with under the stars. “Something to drink would be great,” he said. Glad for the distraction, I nodded, turning toward the kitchen. I heard his footsteps headed toward the living room. The old sofa creaked under his solid weight as I grabbed some iced tea from the refrigerator, pouring it into a large glass piled high with ice. By the time I made it out to the living room, he was resting on the sofa, his head leaned back toward the ceiling with his eyes closed. Was this what a typical day at the hospital back in Chicago was like for him? Setting the glass on the coffee table in front of him, I quietly took a seat in the chair beside him, allowing him time to decompress. Finally, he sat up, stretching his neck, and reached for the iced tea. He drained nearly half of it in one gulp. “Thank you,” he said softly. We sat in silence as he finished his tea, and I pretended not to watch. Eventually, the quiet got to me, and I couldn’t wait for him to regain his ability to speak. “Terri…is she…” I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. “How is she?”

“She’s okay,” he said, finally turning toward me. It was like he’d suddenly remembered who I was, beyond the bearer of beverages. His hand reached out for me. “She’s fine. Promise.” I nodded, my tears betraying my need to stay strong. “It was a heart attack,” he went on, his eyes almost blank as the words fell from his lips. “She’ll be in the hospital for a while, but she’ll be okay in the long run.” “A heart attack, but how?” I asked. “I thought you said she was fine the other day?” “I thought so too,” he mumbled, the pain evident in his voice. “Nothing more than a urinary infection like every other old person in this town. But cardiac disease doesn’t always present like it should in women.” He took a deep breath. “And I missed it.” The pit of my stomach dropped. “You couldn’t have known, Jake.” He turned away, his gaze distant and without emotion. “It’s my fault,” he whispered softly. “What?” “The whole thing. I’m her doctor. I should have seen it. She came to me, and I should have seen it.” He turned around to face me, and I could see the haunted look in his eyes. I’d seen it once before in my life. On someone who’d shared those same bright blue eyes. Jake’s father. I stood just then, realizing both of us could use a bit of fresh air. Taking his lifeless hand in mine, I pulled him upright. He barely noticed, so focused on nothing and everything in his blank, far-off stare. But he followed nonetheless as I led us toward the patio, in the direction of the water. The bay was still tonight, and like always, it gave me the strength I needed to carry on. With his hand nestled between mine, I squeezed it tightly. “Jake, look at me.” It took a few more times, but eventually, he did, turning his gaze toward me. “Terri is fine, do you hear me? She’s still alive and kicking, and she will be for a long time. That woman has more gusto and stubbornness than a mule in heat. She’ll outlive us all.” A weak smile bloomed across his face but died just as quickly. The change in setting didn’t seem to faze him at all. “I don’t even have her test results back yet. In Chicago, I could have had those tests run the same day if I needed to. Better yet, I could have sent her to the damn hospital ten minutes away, not three fucking hours. I’m useless here, Molly. Terri could have died while I waited around for those test results. And the worst part of it all is, me. In the few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve become complacent—leaving my phone in the damn car when I’m supposed to be on call, missing signs of an impending heart attack. I’m a fucking heart surgeon! I sent her home when I should have driven her to the damn hospital myself.”

My soul ached for him. For the boy who would always check on my scraped knees and twisted ankles. Jake had been a doctor long before he went to school or took the Hippocratic Oath. “I know where you’re headed with this, and I won’t allow it, Jake. You’re an amazing doctor. This is not your fault—” “Don’t say it, Molly,” he said, taking a few steps away from me. “Don’t say I’m not like him.” “I wasn’t going to,” I replied. “But surely this isn’t the first time you’ve secondguessed yourself. We’re all human, Jake, even doctors. You can’t tell me there isn’t a single moment of your career you can’t look back at and wish you’d done something differently.” “Of course. Dozens of them. I’m a perfectionist. I second-guess everything,” he said, his voice rising. “Then, what is different now? Why is this moment sending you over the edge?” “Because, this time, I care!” he shouted to the heavens. All those emotions he’d carried through the door with him, so carefully boxed up inside him, broke open in that moment. The rage, the pain, and most importantly, the regret. He fell to his knees. That great big bear of a man I’d loved since I could barely walk crumpled to the ground and roared as the tears fell to the grassy sod below. The sound echoing from his mouth, out of his lungs, destroyed me. I’d heard him cry only once—when his mom died. He’d sobbed in my arms as he told me the story, crushed under the weight of the news. Back then, I’d been holding a boy grieving over the lost years with his mother that he’d never get back. But, now, as I knelt on the soft green grass next to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I was holding on to a man. A man deeply crippled and heartbroken over his own mistakes. Feeling my arms around him, he turned, eyes rimmed in red. He planted himself on the ground, like we had done as kids. I noticed the knees of his jeans were stained green as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I can’t stay here,” he said softly. “What?” My throat went dry as my mind tried to make sense of his words. Just twenty-four hours earlier, I had been flying high at the idea of him waking up in my bed, greeting guests, and making his mark. And, now… “I can’t go on like this, Molly. I wasn’t trained for this kind of life. I’m a surgeon. I thrive on chaos and speed. Sitting around and waiting for lab results while my patients are slowly dying? I can’t do that. I need to know I’m making a difference.” “You are making a difference,” I pushed. “You saved Terri’s life today.” “No,” he countered. “Henry saved Terri’s life today. If he hadn’t stopped by her house today, who knows what would have happened? And I couldn’t have done shit to stop it

while here, on this godforsaken island.” “So, you’re going to run because, suddenly, your patients have names and faces you know and recognize? So that you don’t have to feel anymore? Because we’ll still be here, Jake. We’ll still need prescriptions for the flu and someone to check on our lab results. The only difference is, it won’t be you.” “Exactly!” he said with conviction. “I’m too close. Too close,” he repeated. “I can’t be the one to do this. I need out. I—” His voice cracked, fading into nothing. We both looked out onto the black water. The moon above highlighted its tiny movements, making it almost shimmer before us. “So, what does this mean for us?” I asked softly, turning away from the pristine view, as my heart slowly began to crumble. His eyes explored mine. Those wild blue irises that had haunted me for years studied every inch of my face, as if he were searching for answers somewhere deep inside me. “Come with me,” he finally said. My chest tightened. “Come with me,” he repeated, this time with a resolute clarity behind his words. “What? I can’t just—” His hands wrapped around mine as he shifted in the grass, pulling me closer. “You can, Molly. Come with me. Let’s not make the same mistakes of our past. Make a life with me in Chicago. You’ll love it there. We’ll eat at a different restaurant every night. My apartment is big enough for the both of us, and if you hate it, we’ll move. Hell, if you hate Chicago, we can go anywhere in the world.” Except here. He didn’t say it, but the words hung there, in the air like a puff of smoke. Leave my hometown. Leave my family and career, everything I’d ever known, for the one thing I’d always wanted. Him. All I had to do was say yes. I could see the light and excitement burning bright in his eyes. The word was right there on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t do it. So, instead, I kissed him. I kissed him hello and good-bye, all at once. In that kiss, I gave him my heart and my soul and whatever else I had left. He took ahold of my sadness, mistaking it for enthusiasm. With his hands on the sides of my face, he kissed me back just as passionately. And, as tears of loss fell from my eyes, tears of joy fell from his.

I should have stopped it. I should have told him it was the end. But I was greedy and hurting and clinging to every moment I had, still wrapped up in his embrace. So, for a few more minutes, I let him believe in the possibility of forever while I let myself drown in certainty of our tragic end. His smell, his taste, and the warmth of our bodies moving together. We took our time in undressing each other. We used the moon as our night-light, the lazy waves as our music, and the grass as our bed. I let my head fall back, savoring every sensation of his lips as they left a wet path everywhere they touched. Somewhere in the midst of our passion, our eyes met. His full of hope, mine void of any. He saw the truth in my eyes, the words I had yet to say. “Molly, no,” he whispered, the hope draining from his eyes like a sieve. My tears turned into tortured sobs as he pulled me closer, tightly squeezing me against him. “I can’t let you go,” he said, stroking my hair between his fingers. “I won’t do it.” Pulling back, I could see the conviction, the determination, the zeal in his eyes. If he couldn’t convince me with words, he’d do so with his body. And, God help me, I’d let him. Spreading me wide, his hands caressed every part of me. From the hollowed recesses of my collarbone to the tender flesh of my thighs, he made sure he left his mark everywhere. Like a brand. If only he knew I’d been his and his alone from the moment we met and every second thereafter. Even when it’d hurt. No, especially when it’d hurt. Because that was when I had known it was real. It was in those dark hours, when I’d cursed his name for not loving me enough to stay, that I had known it was true love and not some silly high school crush I’d eventually get over. What existed between us was undeniable, and no matter how much it’d hurt to watch him walk away, I knew the happy moments we shared, it made all the pain worth it. It made it all worth it. When our bodies joined this time, for the very last time, I closed my eyes and relished the feel of him inside me. The power of every thrust. The pleasure of each caress. The unconditional love I felt in his embrace. Our eyes met, his baby blues locked on to mine, as we made love. He didn’t beg, but I

could see the uncertainty written across his face. He knew I wouldn’t leave home. Not now, maybe not ever. And he couldn’t stay. Just like before, when a heartbroken eighteen-year-old girl had watched the love of her life board a ferry and leave her behind, this grown woman would be doing the same. How cruel fate had turned out to be. But, like Dean had said that day in the hospital when I told him of my never-ending love for Jake, sometimes, you loved someone for as long as you were given. A day, a month, or a lifetime. Even if it hurt. So, I’d love this man for a lifetime even if we were given only a fraction of it. When it was over, I couldn’t bring myself to move. To do so would mean facing the reality of what was happening between us. So, I just let him hold me there, on the grass, with his heat still wet inside me as we cursed the hours and minutes for stealing our last moments of happiness. Finally, when a chill began to crawl across the ground, Jake lifted me into his arms and carried us into my room. He gently set me on my bed before disappearing for a moment to grab our clothes. He dropped everything on the wood floor by the door and slipped under the covers beside me. He smelled of earth and heat. I snuggled into his warmth, afraid to close my eyes, for fear sleep would claim me. “If my mom hadn’t died,” he whispered into the darkness, “if I’d stayed, what do you think our lives would have been like?” “I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess I always thought we’d come back here after graduation and take over the inn and the clinic.” “Would we be married?” “Yes,” I answered. “Do you think my mom would let you live here otherwise?” “My mom would have loved a beach wedding,” he said. “She always told me you’d make the prettiest bride.” “Really?” “Yeah,” he said softly. “That always followed some sort of safe-sex talk. ‘Don’t get that poor girl pregnant. She’s too pretty to be walking down the aisle in a muumuu.’” I laughed, remembering how much I loved his mother. It had been a while since I thought of her in that way, as someone I’d lost rather than someone who had taken him away. “I always pictured us getting married here,” I said. “Just friends and family out on the lawn with the bay in the background. I’d wear my mom’s simple lace gown, and you’d be

waiting for me in a crisp linen suit. We’d say, I do, and exchange rings. It would be the perfect end to our fairy-tale story.” “It would have been. But life didn’t work out that way for us.” “So, what do we do now?” I asked. “I don’t know how to leave this bed, knowing I’ll never see you again. Will I ever see you again?” “I wish I could say yes, Molly. I do. Because, leaving this bed, not knowing whether I’ll ever see your face again…” He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “But you and I need to live. I see that now. We’ve spent twelve years apart, and what have we accomplished? You’ve cemented yourself to this place in hopes that I’d return, like some knight in shining armor, so we could make that backyard wedding fantasy a reality. Hell, you even tried to marry Dean in a desperate attempt to replace me.” His words stung, but they were true. I might have stayed here at first because I had been afraid to venture out on my own, but then it’d become my home base, hoping eventually he’d return here, to his home, to me. And when he hadn’t, I’d tried to marry my best friend. “And I’m the worst one of all. I ran away from home rather than facing my grief. I stuffed it so far deep inside me that, now, every patient I work on is just another faceless part of the job. And, to make matters worse, I chose to work on heart patients in some deranged attempt to connect with my dead mother.” Silence fell between us. “We’re total nutjobs,” I said softly. “No, we’re just a little broken, and we’ve been depending on one another for far too long to pick up the sharp edges of our broken lives and put them all back together again.” Tears stung my eyes as I nodded in agreement, nudging my head into his shoulder. “I don’t know how to move on from you.” “Nor I, you,” he said. Taking a deep breath, I pulled back, finding those bright blue eyes once more. “But we’ll try.” A sad smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll try.” “I used to write you letters,” I confessed, “when I was angry or sad or just plain missed you.” “You did?” he asked. “But I never—” “I didn’t send them,” I explained. “But it helped me stay connected to you, even when I couldn’t. Even when I shouldn’t. Moving on doesn’t require letting go of everything we shared. I realize that now. We can honor our past while creating a future.” “So, you’ll write me again?” he asked. “Yes, and you’ll do the same. As many unsent letters as it takes. I’ll be your Dear Diary and you’ll be mine. Tell me everything. Tell me nothing. But, knowing, somewhere out there, you’re thinking of me, even for the briefest moment in between your shifts at

the hospital or before a blind date, it will make moving on easier.” My heart burned, like fire tearing at my soul. “For me, too,” he whispered. “And maybe, one day, we’ll be ready to see each other again with a pile full of unread letters and a lifetime of memories, and we’ll finally be ready to share something real together.” “Even for a day.” “You can do a lot in a day.” “I’m never going to forget you,” I said, each word more ragged than the one before. He swept the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, his gaze never wavering. “I’m counting on it.” I didn’t know how long I lay in his arms that night, willing sleep away. But, eventually, the night claimed me, and I awoke to the crisp morning sun peeking through the window. Birds chirped, and a truck drove by on the gravel road. Life moved on. I looked to my right, the place where Jake had been just hours earlier, holding me while I wept. The salty stains of my tears were gone. And so was he. All that remained was a single sheet of paper. Mols, I know we’re not supposed to send these letters we write to each other, but watching you fall asleep tonight has left me aching to leave you with something. Maybe I feel guilty, knowing you’ll wake up in the morning and find me gone. Call it the pragmatic in me, but I think it’s easier this way. If I spend another day here, I’ll never leave. And you deserve better than what I’ve become. You deserve so much more, Molly. Stop waiting for your life to begin and live it. Whatever that means to you, do it. Don’t ask anyone’s permission or opinion. Go be young and wild. Do all the things you were meant to do, and maybe, someday, we’ll find each other in the same place at the right time. For the last time. Yours always, Jake I crumpled up the piece of paper in my hand, hot, wet tears once more falling to the

bedsheets. What was I doing? Letting him go? Again. Racing around, I threw on my grass-stained clothes from the night before and grabbed my phone. Jogging across the foyer in as quiet a fashion as I could accomplish, I snuck out the door and dialed my mother’s number. She picked up on the second ring, bright and happy, like it was noon instead of barely sunrise. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked, attempting to mask the emotions tugging at my vocal cords. “Sure, hon, anything. You know that.” “Can you open the inn this morning? I need to go do something.” She seemed a little taken aback by my abrupt request. But seeing as it was the first time I’d actually asked for something like this, it was understandable. Hell, even when Dean had been placed in the hospital, they’d had to nearly knock me out from driving back down here to make breakfast for everyone. “Of course,” she replied in an obvious attempt to keep her cool. “Everything okay?” “Yep,” I said, hopping into my car and firing up the engine. “Just need to go grab something from the ferry. Be right back.” I didn’t give her a chance to ask any questions. I was sure she had a dozen. Wiping the last remaining tears from my cheeks, I backed out of the driveway and headed out of town. I hoped I wasn’t late.

Jake, I hate you. I hate you and this stupid letter. I hate the moon and the stars and every single thing that goes on without you. I hate how much I hurt right now, how many tears I’ve cried, and how weak it all makes me feel. But, most of all, I hate that you left and that I didn’t have the courage to follow you. Because, if I did, I’d be in your arms right now. Maybe in that apartment you spoke about in Chicago. Maybe somewhere in between. Maybe you would have changed your mind and come back. Will you ever come back? I followed you to the ferry today. I drove so fast down the road, I thought for sure I’d end up with a speeding ticket from Macon himself. When I pulled into the parking lot, I realized I was too late. You’d already left. When? I don’t know. It could have been minutes or hours, but you were gone all the same. I yelled, and I screamed. I cried and begged myself to get on that damn ferry and find you. But I couldn’t. Because, as much as I hate you in this moment, I love you more. And I know you’re right. We need time apart. Maybe a month. Maybe a year. Maybe a lifetime. So, I’ll write the letters, shed the tears, and hate the world for a while, knowing it’s all part of the process—a process of getting over the hurt. And finding myself…wherever she might be. Love, Molly

Molly, I can’t do this. I can’t write to you and act like my fucking heart isn’t smeared all over Highway 12. I’ve barely made it to Hatteras, and I’ve already talked myself out of doubling back twenty times. What are we doing? Why am I sitting in a car on the side of the road, writing a goddamn letter I’ll never send, when I could turn around and be with you instead? How can love be rational? Maybe we’re doing this wrong? I can’t write any more today. It hurts too much. —Jake Jake, I drove to the ferry dock today. I’ve driven to the ferry dock every day this month. Some people take afternoon walks to clear their minds. I drive fifteen minutes out of town, get in line for the ferry, wait, and then swiftly turn around when it begins to load. Yesterday, I was recognized. A returning couple from Kentucky is visiting the inn, and they were unloading as I was making my mad dash. They waved. I waved back. It was then I realized what I was doing was insane. This isn’t moving on. Hell, I don’t know what this is, but it’s certainly not healthy. My mom asked me why supplies in the inn were so low when she came to do her daily check-in. I made up an excuse about being busy, but she saw right through me. She sat me down and asked how I was doing. I didn’t have the strength to play games anymore. Honestly, I don’t know if I have the strength for anything anymore. Was it this hard the first time, Jake? Did it hurt this much? Maybe we were wrong. Maybe love isn’t supposed to hurt like this. Perhaps we were toxic from the very beginning.

—Molly Molly, I’m home. I’m back in Chicago. It doesn’t feel like home. But I guess I never allowed it to be. I moved here right after my residency finished up. It was the highest offer I’d received of several. That was how I based my decision. That, and how far I could rise. I didn’t look at the location or proximity to friends or social events. I merely saw a number on the offer letter that agreed with me. And that was that. Sitting here, at a desk, I barely remember choosing the apartment I rent for its proximity to the hospital. I realize I don’t know a damn thing about this place. Or me for that matter. It took me twice as long as it should have to drive from Ocracoke to Chicago. I thought every mile I pushed between us would make it easier, but with each passing state line, the pain only doubled. I pulled off to the side of the road and stayed in shabby motel rooms, dreaming of you. And our backyard wedding. Somewhere around Pittsburgh, I gave myself one hell of a pity party and spent the next twenty-four hours hungover and miserable. But, somehow, I made it back here. And, now, the hard part begins—starting over. I hope you’re better at this than me. —Jake

Two Years Later

“IT’S A BREAK,” I ANNOUNCED the moment I entered the exam room. Both mom and son were seated exactly as I remembered. The young boy, all of eight years old, was propped up on the exam table, his foot carefully on its side, while his mom sat beside him, both sets of eyes focused on me. “Not only did you break it, but you also broke it in four different places,” I said, placing the laptop I’d brought in with me on the counter. Opening it up, I waited for the screen to boot up and then proceeded to show them the X-rays that had just been captured. “There, you can see the metatarsal bones that run along the top of the foot,” I explained, pointing with the end of my pen. Both mother and son nodded. “See those three right there?” “Yep,” the boy replied. “Notice how they’re kind of wavy on the X-ray?” He nodded. “They don’t line up.” I smiled. He was a bright kid. Kind of clumsy but bright. “Exactly. That’s where your fractures are. Well, three of them at least. The other is in your heel, and that’s the one that’s probably causing you the most amount of pain.” His mom squeezed his hand. “So, with four breaks in that one tiny foot, do you know what that means?” I asked, closing the laptop and turning toward him. He looked up at me, his wide eyes focused on the name on my white coat, before he softly answered, “Cast.” “Yeah,” I replied, placing a hand on his shoulder. “A temporary one for now. My nurse will hook you up.” He looked nervous.

I knelt to his level. “I promise, it won’t hurt.” “Are you sure?” “Positive. And, hey, maybe you can get a couple of your friends to come over and decorate it before you have your appointment with the orthopedic doc next week.” “Yeah? Like, with anything I want?” I tossed a look in his mom’s direction. She nodded. “Yeah.” “Sweet.” His spirits lifted after that as his mom and I went over last-minute directions. I gave her a referral for an excellent orthopedic doctor in the area and advice on how to manage the pain, as it would get worse over the next two days, and then I told her to call if they had any questions. “Thank you, Dr. Jameson,” she said. “Anytime. And, Tobby?” I said, calling out to the kid. “Maybe lay off the BMX biking for a while,” I suggested. “At least until the cast is off.” He pouted a little but agreed, “Okay.” His mom and I exchanged a knowing smile, and I left them to the capable hands of one of my nurses. Stepping into my office, I took a seat between seeing patients to quickly take some notes and update the kid’s chart. As I was doing so, my phone began to vibrate. Looking at the caller ID, I found myself smiling. “Haven’t I done you enough favors lately?” I said, not bothering to even say hello. “I’m not calling to ask for another one. Just making sure you’re still showing up tonight,” the familiar female voice said on the other end. “I haven’t forgotten, Makayla. I am somewhat responsible,” I reminded her. “Yeah, now. I mean, you’ve always been present and accounted for in your professional life, but when we met, you were basically a train wreck.” I shook my head in disbelief. “So, I have you to thank for the leaf-turning?” “Nope,” she said adamantly. “It was all you. I just gave you the healthy best-friend nudge you needed.” “And, to think, I thought you were nothing but a gold digger on that plane so long ago.” “Oh, I was,” she replied, clearly amused. “If you’d given me a reason, I would have attached myself to you like some parasitic organism and drained you dry.” Laughing, I replied, “Clearly, you’ve been studying.” “Until my eyes bled.”

“Good. And, hey, I’ll be there. With bells on. Promise.” “Thanks, Jake. I really appreciate it. With finals coming up, I think we could all use the motivation of a success story right about now.” I let out a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do.” She reminded me of the time and place once more even though she’d texted it to me several times and given it to every member of my staff. Makayla was efficient. It was what had made her the top-grossing pharmaceutical sales rep in the area, using her charm over men and women to bank tons of cash. But, after our fateful plane ride together to North Carolina, one that would cause each of our lives to spin on its axis, I’d found a completely changed woman less than a year later. It’d turned out, I wasn’t the only one searching for answers on that flight. Makayla had left someone behind as well. She’d thought it was a college fling, something she’d move on from, but fate had had other plans. The moment she had seen her ex-girlfriend and roommate, Mara, everything had changed. The petty life she’d been living dissolved, and she’d remembered who she was again. Makayla had quit her job, enrolled in medical school to become a doctor rather than marrying one, and had been busting her ass ever since. As for her and Mara? They’d just celebrated their first wedding anniversary. It was one of those fairy-tale endings Molly always talked about, and I was grateful to have witnessed it. By a stroke of luck, and a shared addiction to a particular coffee house in the area, the three of us had become fast friends. The rest of the day went by in a haze. I had a few patients with colds and a couple of positive strep tests, and I had to send one poor woman to the ER after she went into labor in my exam room when she’d brought her two-year-old in for a checkup. “Well, that was an eventful day,” Carly, my head nurse for the last year, said. “No kidding,” I replied. “I haven’t delivered a baby in years. Wasn’t sure I was prepared for that today.” She laughed. “Well, we could have pulled in Dr. Kellogg. I’m sure he’s delivered a few in his time.” I chuckled. “No doubt.” “You headed out?” she asked as we finished up for the day, the usual chatter of the large office growing quieter by the minute. “Yeah, I’ve got—” “The talk tonight. I know. Makayla made sure we all knew.” “She’s going to be one hell of a doctor,” I said. “She’ll make some poor attending miserable when she heads off to her residency in a few years.” “Just be glad it’s not you.”

“I’d kill her. Or vice versa. Anyway, have a nice weekend, and don’t forget the barbecue at my house on Sunday. Bring your husband and kids.” “Absolutely. Can we make anything?” she asked, grabbing her purse to head out with me. “Nope. I’ve got it this time.” We said our good-byes as I locked up. Looking up at the sign that proudly displayed my name, Jameson Family Practice, I tried to come up with something to say tonight to the group of medical students I’d be talking with. How would I inspire them to keep going? To stay motivated? When I had been in medical school, I had been a beast. I’d just kept going because I didn’t know any other way. Studying had been my form of crack. It’d kept me from dealing with all the shit that had happened in my life, stuff I spent years desperately trying to ignore. Hopping into my car, I drove the short distance to the restaurant. Makayla had rented out the entire back, using money she’d talked out of me. But I was more than willing to help. This gave the students a chance to get out of their apartments and dorms and away from the city. I still remembered the first time I’d actually driven into the suburbs of Chicago. It had been like stepping into another world. As much as I still loved the hustle and bustle of the city, it was sometimes nice to slow down and enjoy something a little more chill. And that was exactly what these stressed out medical students needed—chill. So, Makayla had picked a casual place with fresh food and drinks. People could eat and drink as I talked, and afterward, it would be the perfect atmosphere for socializing. As soon as I walked in, I knew she’d nailed it. If we’d settled on something like a classroom or meeting room of a library, it would have only upped their stress level. Waving hands immediately caught my attention. “You’re early!” Makayla nearly screeched, pulling me into a giant hug. Dressed in casual jeans and a college sweatshirt, she looked nothing like the sexpot I’d sat next to in first class. But then again, neither did I. “Where’s Mara?” I asked, looking around for her other half. “At home with the dog. She’s still potty-training, and if we leave the little shit alone for more than a few hours, it’s like hell on earth when we get home.” “Gross,” I replied. “You have no idea, but I figure it’s good training for a baby, so…” She shrugged. “Baby?” I asked. “Are you talking kids already?”

She shook her head as she searched the crowd for others. “No, not yet. But someday. Maybe when I finish med school. All I know is, I want them.” I smiled warmly in her direction. “You’ll make great moms.” “Yeah?” she asked. “I think so, too.” “Can I be the godfather?” “What?” She laughed, hitting me on the arm. “You can’t just ask to be the godfather.” “Why not? If it wasn’t for me, you two wouldn’t even be together.” She looked at me, stunned. “Are you kidding me right now?” “I’m not,” I deadpanned. “If I’d given in to your wild advances that day on the plane, you would have fallen so deeply in love with me, there would have been no room for Mara. You’d have been totally smitten.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” I shrugged. “It’s true.” Grabbing my hand, she pulled me toward the back of the restaurant. “Come on, stud. It’s time to talk to the kiddos. Try not to overinflate that ego. Don’t want it to explode.” I chuckled as we found the rest of her peers. It was a smaller group. Maybe thirty or so. I couldn’t remember what class they were from, but I knew they’d developed a tight connection through studying during this semester. And, now, I was going to bestow my wisdom. Right… Makayla gathered their attention, and all eyes turned toward the two of us standing in front. She introduced me, and I began to sweat. “This is my good friend Dr. Jake Jameson. Jake has his bachelor’s and medical degree from Stanford. He did his residency in Boston and worked as a cardiothoracic surgeon for several years before giving it all up to become a family physician.” Several murmurs of surprise spread across the group. “And he’s going to tell you all about that crazy decision now. Jake?” A bit of polite applause greeted me as Makayla took her seat next to a few of her peers. I cleared my throat, feeling incredibly nervous as everyone looked up at me. “So, I know you’re all wondering…what kind of mental breakdown did that guy have, right?” Everyone chuckled. Myself included. Placing my hands in my pockets, I took a slow walk to the left and right, gathering my thoughts. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “As a doctor, you’ll excel at a lot of things on a daily basis. By the end of the day, you’ll be tired and exhausted, but you’ll feel like a goddamn superhero—or at least, that’s the way you should feel.”

More laughter. “And I did all that. I flew through medical school and my residency—top of my class by the way. I was on my way to becoming the youngest chief of surgery MacNeal had ever seen. But then my father died. And I know what you’re thinking. Oh, great. Here comes the tragic plot twist. So, I’ll spare you the details. “When I came back to Chicago after his death, I had a serious come-to-Jesus moment. And, for those of you not from the South, that means, I had a sort of epiphany. “I’d been living in this city for a handful of years, and I had no friends. Not a single one. I had no life outside of the hospital. And I know you’ve all been told the speech about how hard it’s going to be. How much your personal life will suffer. But, sitting in my bare apartment in a city I didn’t recognize, this is what I learned in that one moment: none of it matters if you don’t have meaning.” The room had grown silent. I wasn’t sure if they were hanging on my every word or waiting for me to shut up so that they could grab more drinks, so I carried on. “I’d gotten to the point where my job was simply that—a job. That’s a dangerous place for a dude who holds a scalpel for a living. It wasn’t that I didn’t care whether my patients lived or died; it was that I didn’t even regard them as anything beyond a job. The operating table was a conveyor belt. And my patients? They were just products coming down the line.” I caught Makayla’s gaze, and she smiled. “If you’re doing this for the glory or the money, just stop now because that will be you in ten years. This job will tear you up and spit you out over and over again. Have passion. Have a heart. Damn it, care about your patients because no one else will. Go the extra mile —whether that’s doing a triple bypass or mending a broken foot. “Makayla said I’d explain why I gave up the good life, why I traded half a million dollars a year for lollipops and growth charts. It’s how I go the extra mile, guys. It’s how I keep my heart in it. And let me tell you a secret,” I said, smiling wide. “It gives back tenfold.” There was wide applause, everyone rising from their seats. I felt my cheeks heat slightly as I caught Makayla’s proud smile. Thank you, she mouthed, coming to join me. “Thanks, Jake!” she said loudly as everyone took a seat. “Now, does anyone have any questions? Jake will be here for a while afterward, but I figured I’d open the floor now before we all started getting hammered.” I joined the laughter as several hands went up. Makayla pointed to a short Asian guy wearing a Pink Floyd T-shirt. He stood to ask his question. It all felt very adolescent, minus the beers floating around. Well, maybe not. “You spoke of the benefits of your switch into family care. Can you speak about any downsides?”

I nodded. “You mean, aside from the money?” He laughed. “Right.” “Okay, sure. So, one of the benefits of working the way I did in cardio was, I had very brief contact with my patients. An hour or two of appointment times before and after surgery, and then they were gone. That’s the life of a surgeon. And, for some, that’s fine. They like the hands-off approach of it all. I know plenty of doctors who have stunning careers as surgeons because they need the separation. “Ask any of my friends or family back home, and you’ll find, I’m a bit of a tender heart. I’m the guy who tried to nurse a jellyfish back to life after my best friend poked it with a stick even though I knew I could get stung. I need the personal contact with my patients to thrive. Take it away, and I wilt. I grew up in a small town, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of people. The downside to all of that? Honestly, the caring,” I answered. “Seeing your patients suffer…die, it’s incredibly hard. So, yeah, the caring part will always be the hardest. It’s far easier not to.” “So then, why do you do it?” a burly fellow in the back shouted. “Why not?” I replied. “Why do we go into relationships without the guarantee it will succeed? Why do we make friends and hold our families close? It’s human nature to care,” I answered with a shrug. A timid girl a couple of tables back raised her hand, and Makayla gave her the goahead. She stood up, all six feet of her. She had lovely red hair and freckles. She shyly looked at me and smiled. “We’re dying to know…are you single?” A roar of female laughter took over the place as I looked down at the floor, my shoulders shaking as I joined in. “That’s a long story,” I finally answered. “But the short answer is no. I gave my heart away a long time ago.” A few disappointed sighs rang across the restaurant before someone else chimed in, “Does she know?” Those three words…and my mouth went dry as I looked around the room. I searched every face. Makayla obviously noticed my distress and called it quits. “Okay, I think that’s enough questions. Let’s hit the bar!” she announced. I continued to scour the room for that familiar female voice. “You okay?” she asked, a comforting hand on my back. “Yeah,” I said. “Go grab a drink. I’ll be right behind you.” Her Spidey best-friend senses were tingling, but she obviously knew when to give me space. She moved toward the bar with the rest of her class, and I was left alone, searching around for a ghost from my past. Suddenly, as though she’d materialized out of thin air, I saw her.

My Molly. All the air from my lungs escaped as my eyes converged with hers. Standing in front of me, wearing a simple red dress and heels, she looked like a fucking vision from my dreams. “You’re here,” I said, barely able to speak. “How?” “Your best friend over there publicized the crap out of this little talk on her various social media outlets. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Besides, I seem to remember someone saying I’d love Chicago,” she said, taking a single step forward. “Although I think I was promised high-rises and busy streets. This all seems a little tame.” It was her coy smile that did me in. Stalking forward, I did the single thing I’d been dying to do for over two years. I kissed her. I didn’t know why she was here or for how long. I didn’t care. All I knew was, I loved this woman. I always would. Pulling back, our foreheads still touching my breath faltered, I heard the crinkling of paper. Looking down, I saw she had an envelope in her hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Jakey,” she said. “You wrote me a letter?” She nodded. “I wrote you a hundred letters, maybe more. From all over the world.” I let out a relieved breath. “You traveled.” A tear fell from her cheek. “I did, and you were right. I needed to find myself, and I did. I learned to cook from little old ladies in Italy. I baked bread in France and swam with dolphins in Hawaii. Jake, it was wonderful. But, now, I have one letter left. Will you read it?” Reaching into my wallet, I pulled out a carefully folded envelope, one I’d been carrying with me for several months now. It’d taken an online tutorial in origami to figure out how to get it into this shape, but I had known I would have to have it with me at all times. And this was why. “Only if you read mine,” I said, unfolding the letter I always carried with me and placing it in her hands. My hands shook as I opened it, and found only a handful of words. Dear Jake, Come home. I’m ready now.

Love, Molly My eyes lifted as she opened mine. I smiled because I knew exactly what it said. Molly, You are and always have been my home. Forever yours, Jake I wiped a tear from her cheek as she rose onto her tippy-toes. “I love you, Jake Jameson,” she whispered. “For a day, a month, and a thousand lifetimes. Welcome home.” Taking her in my arms, I breathed in her scent, felt her real and alive against me and I smiled. We’d finally found it. Our home. Our happiness. Our happily ever after. Now the rest was just details



“HOW CAN YOU STILL OWN a practice in Chicago but live down here?” Terri asked after forcing Jake and me to sit down for tea. I’d only come by to pick up a handful of corn for some bread, but I should have known better. Even after a heart attack and several surgeries, this woman was going one hundred and ten percent—on her bad days. “How could I own a practice down here, in Ocracoke, for the last two years when I was living in Chicago?” Jake countered. “You don’t have to live where you own, Terri.” She made a disgruntled sound. “Well, none of it makes a lick of sense to me,” she said. “But, nonetheless, I’m glad to have you back. Didn’t like the guy you brought in to replace you. He wasn’t one of us.” “He was perfectly fine,” I argued. “You just didn’t like that he wasn’t Southern.” “He talked funny.” “He spoke completely normal,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Exactly,” she grumbled. “So, when is the big date?” Jake asked, having just found out that Terri and Henry, the produce-stealing restaurant owner, were getting hitched. I’d only heard the news recently myself having been abroad for most of the last year working my way around the world. Now I was bursting with new ideas and recipes for the inn. “Next month maybe.” She shrugged. “I haven’t decided. Maybe when we grab the next ferry for supplies.” I shook my head. “Well, that sounds romantic.” “I’m eighty years old,” she argued. “He’s lucky he’s getting me to that courthouse at all. Getting married at my age? Ridiculous.” Jake and I laughed, loving to see her squirm. She might be complaining up and down about getting married to Henry, but both of us knew otherwise. She loved that man more than all the produce in the world. And that was saying a lot. “Speaking of getting hitched, what about you two?” she asked, blankly looking at both

of us. I opened my mouth to answer but had nothing. “Oh, um, we’re taking it slow this time,” Jake said. “Doing it right. Don’t want to mess things up.” I nodded. “Right.” “Mmhmm,” was all Terri said before gathering up my veggies. “Well, take care of yourselves. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Don’t skip out of town again, Jakey. Got it?” He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed tightly. “Got it. I’m here to stay. Promise.”

“Ready to go?” Molly asked, our hands intertwined as we stepped out of Terri’s small house. “Yeah, you go ahead,” I said, looking toward the old blue house. “I need to do something first.” “Sure,” she replied, squeezing my hand. “Are you going to be okay?” I turned toward her. “Yeah,” I answered. “For the first time, I think I am.” She leaned into me, placing her warm lips on mine. I couldn’t resist. It had only been a few weeks since our reunion in that crowded restaurant in the Chicago suburbs. Since then, it had been a whirlwind of activity. I’d packed up my house, put it on the market, and made all the arrangements to move. The hardest part? Leaving my friends and patients behind. Makayla and Mara had promised to visit, both being huge fans of the Outer Banks, especially Mara who was a native of our state, and I had several work friends who now had the place on their bucket lists. As for the patients, that was harder. I would miss the parents and their kids and watching all of them grow and change. Luckily, I had other doctors I’d brought into the practice along with several nurse practitioners. They could take the load until someone else was hired. When I’d called to let the guy I’d hired to replace me in Ocracoke know I was returning, I swore I’d heard his screams of delight all the way in Chicago. He’d never

taken to the island and stayed out of duty. But I knew he was happy to let it go. And I was happy to return to my roots. And Molly. But there was still one thing I needed to do. So, with one final kiss, I let her go and headed over to the old blue house where I’d grown up. I quickly ran inside for a small box I knew was waiting for me and then I headed straight for the family garden where there were now two memorials instead of one. It had been ages since I was in the garden, the last time being the first week I’d arrived for the funeral of my father. Since then, Terri had taken on the task of preserving his memory, placing a large stone to match my mothers. She’d hired someone to etch his name. Walking up to it, a twinge of guilt hit me firmly in the gut when I saw it, knowing I could have done more. I should have done more. Kneeling in front of both, I found myself drawn to my father’s side more, knowing I had much to say to the man I’d shut out for most of my life. I took a moment and gathered my thoughts. Talking to a giant boulder wasn’t the easiest thing to do. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I finally said. “I’m sorry for everything really. For blaming you. For casting you aside.” I let out a ragged breath. “I get it now. I do. The guilt you must have felt. I can’t imagine what kind of life you had after she died, especially with an asshole of a son like me.” My eyes squeezed shut as I remembered all the hateful things I’d said to him. “Instead of gathering together as a family, I pushed you away, and you died lonely and broken. I guess I was lonely and broken for a long time, too. But I’ve been working on it. Thanks for never giving up on me, Dad, even when I gave up on you. And I hope you and Mom are together and happy. I promise to try to do better by you, to give back to this island as much as you did. And to make a difference every day. And when you and mom are looking down on us from Heaven, I hope you’re proud of the man I’ve become, of the life I’ve chosen. And don’t worry mom, I promise to give you grandbabies soon. I’m working on it.” I smiled to myself. Rising from my seat, I placed a hand on each stone. “I love you guys,” I said, rising from grassy spot I’d chosen. With the box still in my hands, I opened it, a single tear falling down my cheek as I looked down at the last remains of my father, a man who left this world too soon. With little fanfare, much like the man himself, I spread his ashes over the garden he’d loved so much, knowing he’d now share it with the love of his life. With one last look, I bid my parents a fond farewell. “See you later. I love you.”

Walking out of the garden, I patted the siding of the old blue house, feeling it crumble slightly beneath my hand. I stopped suddenly, an idea forming so quickly I knew I had to act on it right away. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I dialed a local number and made some plans.

“Are you worried he’ll run again?” my sister asked, her pushy voice blaring over the phone. “No. Well…no!” I replied adamantly. “It’s different this time. We’re different. We both did our much needed soul searching, and now, we have our yin-and-yang thing down.” “Your what?” “Our yin and yang. It’s something Mom told me. She gave me this necklace a few years ago—a yin and yang. She explained how she and Dad had to find their balance in life, and so did I.” “And you think Jake has, too?” she asked. “Oh, I know he has. You should see him in the clinic now. He loves it. It used to be a prison, and now, he is like the damn Santa Claus of the Ocracoke Medical Clinic. The kids love him.” “Well, good. I’m glad you found your yang or whatever. Finally. But I will miss our girls’ trips.” “Who says I’m not going on girls’ trips anymore? I’m in a relationship. I’m not dead.” She laughed. “Good answer. I was just testing you!” The doorbell rang as we were finishing up. “Oh, I’ve gotta go. I think those are my new guests for the weekend.” “Okay, tell Mom and Dad I love them. I’ll be there next month!” “Love you!” We hung up, and I got my phone in my pocket just as I opened the door. But, instead of finding a middle-aged couple from Virginia, I found Terri, holding a single red rose. “Um,” was all I could say. “There’s a note on it. My job is done.” She handed over the rose and turned around without another word. Completely confused, I pulled the small tag tied around the stem. “Go to the yellow room.”

It was written in Jake’s familiar yet incredibly messy script. I found myself smiling. “Okay,” I said out loud, “I’ll play along.” I ran up the stairs, my rose still clutched between my fingers, and I plowed through the door of the yellow room. There, on the bed, was another red rose with a note attached. Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, I jumped on the perfectly made bed, not caring in the least that I’d have to redo it, and I read the note. “Here, in the yellow room, we gave each other our bodies, knowing our hearts would never be the same. One night, we said. But we knew it’d never be enough. Now, go out to the patio.” I took a moment to sniff the perfect red rose. My eyes closed as I breathed it in, remembering the red corsage he had given me for prom that smelled just as sweet. Now holding two flowers in my hand, I charged down the stairs and out the back door. It took a moment of searching, but out toward the water, on a bed of grass, was another single rose. I hurried down the path and snatched it up. “Here, under the stars, we let each other go, knowing two broken shards could never make a whole. Find your next rose at the blue house.” My eyes widened, as I was excited my little goose chase was continuing. Grabbing all three roses, I ran by the kitchen, snatched my purse, and headed out to the car, knowing he could only be referring to one specific blue house—his parents’ place. I thought briefly about running the short distance, but then I laughed at the idea. It was the middle of summer. I wasn’t fond of melting. Driving down the old road, I caught sight of the blue house almost immediately. It was nestled between several old trees and had a grand entrance. Pulling to the front, I hopped out of the car and began hunting around. I found what I had been looking for on the porch. Picking up the rose and I read the note. “But we took the time, and went our separate ways. But now I’m ready to for an adventure. Are you? It requires a hammer, a few nails, and one other important piece of equipment. Meet me at the beach. You know where.” My heart was hammering in my chest. Was he asking me to move in with him? Here? I looked up at the old house, and suddenly, I could picture it. Kids in the yard, their happy laughter as I cooked dinner, and Jake building them a tree house. Running back to the car, I drove like a maniac down to the spot where I knew I’d find him. It was the place we always went as kids when we wanted to be alone at night. No tourists. No parents. No prying neighbors.

Just the two of us. Parking the car in the sand, I slipped off my shoes and headed out to the dunes. There, in the distance, was Jake, holding one last rose. I ran as quickly as I could in the deep sand. With a wide smile spreading across my face, I leaped into his arms, feeling happier than I had ever felt. “You haven’t read my last note yet.” He laughed. “I love you,” I said, kissing his face all over. “Well, I love you, too, but would you let a guy talk?” I laughed, letting my feet sink into the sand. A smug smile tugged at his lips before he sobered slightly. “A long time ago, I buried something on this beach. Something precious to me. I always swore I’d come back for it one day.” He pulled something out of the pocket in his shorts—a small wooden box. My eyes darted to the side of us where a large hole had been dug in the sand. “Wasn’t this your art project senior year? You really buried this?” He nodded. “Fourteen years ago.” “What is it?” I asked. Placing it in my hand, he whispered, “Why don’t you open it and see?” My hands shook as I did exactly as he’d said, pulling open the top of the intricately carved box. There, inside, was another box. But not just any box. A velvet ring box. My eyes instantly flooded with tears. “But, fourteen years ago, we were—” “Babies, I know. But I still knew, Molly.” I pulled out the tiny box and cracked open the rusty hinges and my hand instantly went over my mouth as I gasped. He was serious. A single diamond ring sat nestled inside. “I saved up every cent since the day I was fourteen, and I bought that ring on my eighteenth birthday. I buried it the morning I left, unsure of what the future held for us but positive about only one thing—that you and I belonged together.” He carefully took the ring from my shaking hands and dropped to one knee in the sand. “Will you do me a favor and read the note now?” he asked, handing me the last rose. I sniffled, grabbing the note that hung off the flower. Tears fell harder as I read the words aloud, “Will you marry me?” All the emotions poured out of me into one giant crying mess. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes!” He placed the ring on my finger and wrapped his arms around me. We spun around on the sand, laughing and crying together, enjoying our moment.

Because it had finally arrived…our forever. Maybe not the fairytale the two lovesick teens had envisioned so many years ago on this very beach, but this was real. This was honest and every choice we’d made had brought us to this very moment. A moment of endless possibilities…together.

Dean Sutherland had his entire life ahead of him. A wedding, a career, a family who adored him. Until one night changed it all. Now he must learn to adapt to a new life, one that is far more complicated since he’s met Cora Carpenter, a nurse with mysterious past. Will she be the answer to his prayers or just another complication on his road to recovery? The Scars I Bare…A By The Bay Novel, coming February 2018.

Other Books by J.L. Berg The Ready Series When You’re Ready Ready to Wed Never Been Ready Ready for You Ready or Not The Walls Duet Within These Walls Beyond These Walls Behind Closed Doors The Cavenaugh Brothers (includes Within These Walls, Beyond These Walls, and Behind Closed Doors) Lost & Found Forgetting August Remembering Everly The Tattered Gloves Fraud

Now Or Never – Halsey Breathe (2 AM) – Anna Nalick Come Home – OneRepublic Red – Taylor Swift Whatever It Takes – Lifehouse Home – Michael Buble Hurt – Lady Antebellum It’s Not Over – Daughtry I Ran Away – Coldplay Landslide – Dixie Chicks Slow Hands – Niall Horan Never Say Never – The Fray Stay – Zedd, Alessia Cara Time After Time (Acoustic) – Cyndi Lauper, Sarah McLachlin Too Good At Goodbyes – Sam Smith Wicked Games – Chris Isaak

After thirteen books, this section starts to feel a little redundant, mostly because I find myself thanking the same people over and over. But you see, that’s why it’s so important. Because after thirteen books, these amazing people are still here, cheering me on, helping me create and being part of a team I couldn’t imagine having when I first started. So indulge the emotional author for a page or so as I thank all those special people in my life. Again. To my wonderful husband who always reads my books. Thank you for being my best beta reader—seriously, you’re gifted. And on the flip side, thank you to my daughters for not reading my books, but being super supportive anyway. I couldn’t do what I do without my crazy, geeky family. To the rest of my family, thank you to my parents who are never embarrassed to say their daughter is a romance author, even my dad who proudly shows off my smut books to anyone (not that he gets out a lot but it’s the thought that counts). A big thanks to my brother and sister in law for always encouraging me AND for giving birth to the most adorable little boy ever. Our family needed another baby and I’m so glad you supplied one so I didn’t have to! Now on to thanking my team. I could thank these people a hundred thousand times and it would never be enough. First, a huge thanks goes to my personal assistant Jill Sava. You are amazing, both personally and professionally. You kick ass at life and I don’t know how I managed for two years at this author thing without you. Nina Grinstead, my wonderful publicist. Thank you for constantly having my back. You have consistently reduced my stress level since taking me on and for that, I adore you. Also a huge shout out to everyone at Social Butterfly PR for supporting this release. Ami and Jovana, my amazing editors. After thirteen books, I’m not sure I’d ever trust anyone with my words but you two. I know when I send my manuscripts off to one of you, it’s in good hands. Plus, you’re both amazing people.

Sarah Hansen and Regina Wamba! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You made my cover dreams possible and I am embarrassed to admit how many hours I’ve spent looking at this one. It’s truly stunning. Stacey Blake, thank you for always making the inside of my book as pretty as the outside. Your skills with formatting is genius. Lastly, thank you to my readers. Those who consistently come back, book after book to dive into another story and those who are just starting out. Thank you for making my dreams a reality. Never forget, each day is a blessing. <3 JL

J.L. Berg is the USA Today bestselling author of the Ready series, the Walls duet and the Lost & Found series. She is a California native living in the beautiful state of historic Virginia. Married to her high school sweetheart, they have two beautiful girls that drive them batty on a daily basis. When she’s not writing, you will find her cuddled up, watching a movie with her family, obsessing over minions or devouring anything chocolate! J.L. Berg is represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC.