Page 10 of Falling Back to You

“Long story, but Ruby told him I was coming, and now he’s escorting me into town.”

Macy’s shocked face was priceless. “You’re one tracking anklet short of town arrest.”

“You need a new obsession, my friend.”

“You have no taste. Flip the camera so I can see.”

I obliged her.

“Is everything always so . . . brown?” she asked after a minute of scenery whizzing past.

“Brown is a way of life here.”

Macy hummed. She’d never lived in a small town, having been born and raised in New York City, where life was vibrant with concrete and steel.

The smudge of buildings came into focus, and she squealed as I officially entered downtown.

Dallas tossed a wave out his window and turned off towards the local coffee shop. I breathed a little easier without my designated babysitter.

Time hadn’t seemed to leave a mark on Serenity Springs. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume time travel was possible because nothing looked different. The same charming lampposts with autumn-themed pennants lined the red and tan brick downtown. A handful of kids biked down Main Street. The W was still missing in the diner’s neon sign reading Donovan’s Downto’n.

It was . . . home. Exactly how I’d remembered it.

Outside of downtown (all two streets of it) led into the small suburbs before it turned into farmland, with sparse patches of trees littered among the overwhelming brownness of the landscape. Macy offered lighthearted commentary on everything, shrieking when we passed a small herd of cows.

Cows, the delight of women everywhere.

And I get it, they were adorable. Especially these ones because they were of the miniature, fluffy variety. If there was a sign that said “Pay $20, hug a cow,” I would be there. And Macy would probably catch the next flight out, too.

Hugging bovines—the cure for heartache.

Maple Lane, the home of my biggest regrets and tenderest dreams, flashed by, and two tears slipped over my cheeks against my will. I’d give almost anything to knock some sense into younger Noelle. But we didn’t get to rewrite history—only live forward.

Checking the address Ruby sent me for the tenth time, I pulled into a long winding driveway a mile past Maple Lane. The unpaved drive kicked up dust even though I was practically moving at a snail crawl. At the end of a small tunnel of trees, a large whitewashed farmhouse with green shutters emerged. The kind of house my dreams were made of before light pollution and rent prices drove them away.

“So pretty!” Macy chirped. “Send me pictures!” She got a little excited to see anything that wasn’t made of steel, glass, and concrete.

“Ruby, what have you done?” I muttered, parking in front of a white picket fence blocking in a large brown lawn.

Originally, she’d offered to let me room with her, but since she was still living at home, I’d opted out of that option. I wasn’t sure how clearing the air with my dad would go.

So I’d given Ruby a budget and asked her to search for a small rental within my price range. My only stipulation was no stairs—easier for my limited mobility—and she’d come through. If it wasn’t Serenity Springs, I’d be worried she was getting scammed with the low price she’d scored for a darling little cottage.

Which this white farmhouse definitely was not.

The cottage was tucked into a grove of trees and shrubbery a few hundred feet to the right, looking every bit as picturesque as the photos. But I hadn’t anticipated having a neighbour on the same property.

Ruby had conveniently left that information out. What else had she failed to mention?

“It’s beautiful,” Macy breathed. “Your sister has taste.”

Taking in the gorgeous house in front of me, I swallowed hard and fiddled with the silver butterfly pendant around my neck. I hadn’t thought my baby sister was a schemer, but I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought. You’ve been gone thirteen years. Of course you don’t.

“Elle, talk to me,” Macy said gently.

“I . . . I . . . What am I doing?” I rasped, fingers gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ached. Like if I held on tight enough, I could keep my heart from shattering. It was a lot, coming back here. So many memories haunting my mind in vivid technicolour detail. So many regrets.

“You’re rebuilding bridges. One at a time.” She hummed soothingly. “Lord Jesus, I ask you now to bring Noelle peace and courage about this homecoming. You’ve called her back to her roots—give her the strength to bloom there for your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.”