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“You could probably do it,” he assured his grandfather. “Especially once you get a trim. Should we go?”
His grandfather shrugged into his coat and picked up his wallet but didn’t seem ready to let the topic of Hannah go. Unfortunately.
“You know she’s my neighbor, right? I guess your neighbor now, since I’m not living in the house. She bought Melva Pinkerton’s house earlier this summer. It’s nice to see life in that place again. It’s been empty for more than a year, since Melva passed on.”
He really did not want to talk about Hannah Goodwin. The man who had once loved her and talked about building a future with her was long gone.
“Grandpa,” Wes said, his voice tight, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but Hannah and I . . . That’s ancient history.”
Stanley’s blue eyes softened, a knowing look crossing his weathered features. “Sometimes, son, history has a way of repeating itself. And sometimes, that’s not such a bad thing.”
Wes sighed, reaching for the door. “Let’s just focus on getting you to your appointment, okay?”
“Okay, okay,” Stanley conceded, following Wes out. But as they stepped into the crisp late-autumn air, his grandfather couldn’t seem to resist adding one last comment.
“You know, son, it’s never too late for second chances. Just something to think about.”
Wes didn’t respond, but as they walked to his pickup truck, Kodiak limping along beside him, Wes couldn’t shake the image of Hannah’s face from his mind, or the nagging feeling that his grandfather’s words held more truth than he cared to admit.
Chapter 3
Hannah did her best over the next two days to put Wes Kenner out of her head. It wasn’t easy, especially with him living so close to her. Every time she passed his grandfather’s house and saw a light inside, she wondered what he was doing.
The day after she saw him at the Shelter Inn, she caught a glimpse of him shoveling snow as she was heading home from work. She hadn’t slept much that night.
Now as she drove to her first appointment of the day—a resource class at the elementary school, where she worked with children who had speech difficulties—she held her breath as she passed Stanley’s house and carefully averted her gaze. She didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of a shadow moving across a window.
Luck was not with her, though. A block from Stanley’s house, after she had finally let out a breath and relaxed, she glanced out the windshield and spotted two figures on the sidewalk.
Even if she hadn’t recognized the dog, she would have known that was Wes. His gait and form were painfully familiar to her.
When she saw the gorgeous Malinois limping along beside Wes, his hind leg still heavily bandaged, her heart squeezed with sympathy.
What happened to the dog? And why was Wes on leave?
She hadn’t heard any buzz around town that might explain the circumstances. Stanley hadn’t said anything to her either. Was Wes in some kind of trouble? Was he considering leaving the police force?
It was none of her business, she reminded herself. Nothing Wes Kenner did was any of her business now. He had told her that plainly years ago when he walked away from everything they once had without a backward glance.
The memory hit her like a physical blow, transporting her back to that cold winter night when her world had shattered.
She could still hear his voice, as cold as the air around them. I’m sorry but I can’t do this right now. You, this. I can’t be what you need.
She had been completely wrecked, unable to comprehend how he could dismiss everything they had meant to each other so easily.
She remembered returning to her college apartment in Utah feeling like a zombie, completely dead on the inside. Somehow she managed to function—to attend class, go to her various music practices, even perform as the lead singer in a popular local folk band. But she had only been going through the motions of life, as if her heart had been replaced by a metronome—still ticking but completely mechanical.
For months afterward, she would catch herself texting him but deleting before she could send, dialing his number, only to hang up before it could ring.
She kept thinking it was all a nightmare. That once he had his head together, he would realize how much he needed her.
But Wes never came back, and eventually, she had learned to live with the hollow space he had left behind.
Hannah took a steadying breath, forcing herself to look away as she drove past without meeting his gaze. She was stronger now, wiser. She wouldn’t let herself be that vulnerable girl again, pining for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want her.
Her phone buzzed as she was pulling into the parking lot at the elementary school. When she saw she still had a half hour before her students would be arriving, she answered her sister’s call.
She and Holly texted frequently throughout their respective days but sometimes nothing beat a phone call, especially since they hadn’t seen each other in several days as Holly and her daughter, Lydia, had flown to San Diego to visit Ryan the previous weekend for their own makeshift Thanksgiving celebration.
