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So she’d been a little hard on him.

No, Skye. That’s the lie you’re supposed to feel. Keep your grip.

She knew better. If her parents wouldn’t admit it, accept it, and deal with it, she would. This was why she came back. To fix it.

And by it she meant her parents’ undeniable life situation.

Proof one: the slowly dilapidating double-wide behind her. There was no denying that for all his flaws, her father was one of the hardest working, loyal men in all of Whitetop, perhaps the state. He’d watched over Evergreen Farm for the past thirty years as though he owned it. He treated the land and business with such respect, frankly, he should’ve owned it. Heaven knew he was the only one who kept the farm alive and well all these years. Whereas the Watkinses liked to “play country” and roll up on the occasional weekend in their flawless, spun-by-Norwegian-mountaintop-villager-where-bells-chime-across-the-town-announcing-every-vegan-sweater-finished outfit to make s’mores over their granite-top fire pit, her father was out there in blizzards or heat waves, rain or shine, keeping that farm going. Getting it done. The Watkinses owed the success of Evergreen Farm entirely to Ralph Fuller.

And yet a sixteen-year-old babysitter would be offended if offered the salary rate she’d seen on that piece of stationery.

Signed by Theo himself.

Theo was the Fullers’ employer, and despite all the fond memories of Skye’s childhood, despite his undeniable charm and the care for her family he appeared to show, her parents needed to grasp the truth: he was the reason they lived this way. He, with his luxury cars and tailored suits, who for several years now had been capable of providing a living wage but didn’t.

Forget the grievances of two decades ago.

That experience may have pained her enough to run away to Seattle, but this? This was a whole new brand of infuriating.

He could try to fill the gaps with platitudes, but since he didn’t back them up with action, they were only empty words.

In the meantime, she had a farm to run.

She stepped into her yard, and the honeysuckle bushes overtook the scent of Theo’s cologne. Following the cobblestone path, she slipped the key out of her pocket, then moved onto her slate porch step.

“Skye, wait.”

Skye pressed her lips together.

Forced herself to turn.

Theo stood at the head of the path, surrounded by heady earth and dimpled leaves collecting teaspoons of mist, alien to her world in his pressed tie and the beige overcoat swaying lightly at his calves. If he thought he could possibly handle her world . . .

“Do you think the old path is still there?”

“What?” She followed his nod toward the swath of trees between the back of her cottage and Evergreen Farm. Beyond it, at least half a mile away, stood the dark silhouette of the Watkinses’ cabin backing up to the foot of the ridge. She didn’t want to say it. Right now, she didn’t want to remember the memories they’d had. But the silence grew.

“It’s been a long time,” she said at last. “I doubt it.”

He started loosening his tie. “I’ll give it a shot anyways.”

She blinked. “You’re . . . going to give it a shot. Walking into those woods. At night.”

A smile played on his lips as the tie uncurled and slipped off his neck. “At night,” he repeated.

A few seconds passed as Skye tried to hold her firm expression in place. She would not bite. She would not take the bait.

In fact, she would walk into her cottage right then. Say Suit yourself and shut the door.

But even as she edged toward the door, she couldn’t help watching him stride over and stop at the perimeter of the woods. Her frown turned to a squint as he began stretching one arm over the other.

She suppressed the bucking smile trying to escape as he began doing squats.

After he started taking what appeared to be practice steps into the black woods, only to step back in search of another entry point, she couldn’t help calling out, “Theo, what are you doing? The last time you attempted to walk through those woods in the daylight it took you two hours.”

A stick tapped his ankle and he jumped back a solid three feet into the safety of her yard.

She rolled her eyes.