“Of course I did, I figured the more of us there are, the less likely Ellie is to hightail it out of here and never look back,again,” she responds, shooting a pointed look in my direction.
I roll my eyes exasperatedly but don’t say anything. She’s not wrong– the second I crossed the county line, my brain started screaming at me to run like my life depends on it. Turning around to close the door, I let myself glance at the soft blue ranch-style home across the street. A sharp pang in my chest has me closing the door with more force than I intended.
“Who in the hell is slamming my door?” a booming voice calls from the back of the house. Aaron comes around the corner, wiping his hands on the “Kiss The Chef” apron he’s wearing over his bare chest and sweatpants. “Ellie!” he says, all annoyance fading instantly.
“Sorry, Aaron, you know I have violent tendencies,” I say in mock contrition, leaning in for a side-hug to avoid getting whatever it is he’s making on my clothes.
“Well, let’s put them to better use, come help me beat the biscuit dough.”
“You are not putting her to work, honey,” Abby says in a sickly sweet voice laced with a threatening undertone. “I am going to monopolize her for as long as she’s here.” Jack lets out an indignant scoff, which makes me laugh as Abby rolls her eyes at him. “Fine,wecan monopolize her time, Jacky boy.” Grabbing my hand, she yanks me down the hall to the living room, Jack shaking his head as he follows behind.
“I would ask if you found the house okay, but you could probably do that drive with your eyes closed,” Abby says, sitting cross-legged in the corner of the emerald green velvet sectional. “Lord knows how much time you spent over here.”
When Jack shoots her a sharp look, her eyes widen, and she stammers out, “Just in the sense that Larkspur is so small and you lived here your whole life and everyone knows where everything is–”
“It’s okay, Abby,” I say, cutting her rambling off. “We don’t have to avoid it. I know exactly what street you live on.”
She gives me a pained, apologetic look. “I’m sorry, if there had been any other house available…but this one was so perfect–”
Plopping down next to her, I lay my head on her shoulder and pat her thigh. “Don’t apologize for buying your dream home, my ginger angel. I’m happy for you.”
I feel her relax in relief, then immediately tense up again as she asks the question I knew would come, but was dreading anyway.
“Do you think he’ll be at the reunion?”
I don’t say anything, looking to Jack and holding my breath as I wait for his answer.
“Yeah, he will be,” Jack says in a quiet voice, like he’s trying to soften the blow. It doesn’t help. “We talked about it yesterday.”
Jack and Abby are both looking at me nervously, and I inhale a deep, shuddering breath, forcing a smile onto my face.
“Guys, it’s fine,” I say in an overly cheery voice. “I can handle being in the same room as Griffin Hart for a few hours.”
Liar.
Chapter 2
Ellie
October, Age 28
It took me a minute to remember where I was when I woke up in an unfamiliar bed the next morning. I’ve spent so long shoving thoughts of Larkspur down as far as they would go that it didn’t register that I was really and trulyhere.
Beams of the early morning light stream through the lacy curtains, bathing the room in a pale glow I’ve only ever seen in a Texas sunrise. Boston is beautiful in its own right, but without even seeing it yet, I just know the sky is bigger here.
I feel like I can breathe again.
Before I have time to enjoy it, my chest clenches, because being back home means I have to confront things I’ve been avoiding like the plague. Memories of the last time I was in this town–when everything went to hell–crawl to the surface, and from the moment I decided to come back, they’ve been getting harder and harder to ignore.
Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I give myself thirty seconds to feel the crushing weight of anxious dread before forcing it back down, dragging myself out of bed. I follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen and find Abby sitting at the table, engrossed in whatever romance novel she’s reading this week.
“Good morning,” I say with a yawn, opening and closing the cupboards until I find a coffee mug. I pour myself a cup and take the seat across from her, smiling as she holds up a finger in a silent command of “hold on, let me finish this page.”
“Good morning sunshine,” she says, placing her bookmark and setting it down on the table. “Sorry, I wanted to finish that last night, but once it hit 2 AM, Aaron made me put it down and go to bed.”
“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I just needed coffee.”
“No way, Jo and Ellis can wait,” she says, waving her hand impatiently. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
