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“Oh, you beautiful man, you.” Betty grabs his cheeks and plants a kiss on his lips.

“See, kid? I still got it.” Bill throws me a wink before disappearing into the kitchen while Betty bombards me with question after question about everything I’ve been up to over the last decade.

I’m actually relieved that none of our conversation touches on why I left in the first place. Instead, she wants to hear about my books, my life back in New York, and everything I’ve accomplished since leaving.

A fresh wave of nostalgia hits me when Bill returns carrying a towering plate of pancakes, bacon, hash browns, and his homemade sausage.

“Breakfast for dinner.” I grin. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. What kind of old coot do you think I’ve become, kid?”

“The endearing kind,” I tease before digging in.

Okay. This isn’t so bad. Perhaps coming back to Fairhope won’t be as awful as I’d convinced myself it would be. I’ve found a partner in crime in Sienna, and now I got to see the Cushmans again. For the first time since crossing the town line, coming home doesn’t feel entirely terrible. It’s actually kind of nice. More like the kind of homecoming people expect when they return to the place they grew up in. Maybe I’ve spent so long remembering the worst of Fairhope that I’d forgotten there was ever anything good here.

Then again, Fairhope never felt like home to me. It was, for lack of a better word, hell. So is it any wonder that all I expected to find when I came back was one nightmare after another?

But this? This is more than nice. It’s unexpected. A little piece of happiness from a life I never thought I’d get to revisit.

Betty and I spend the next hour talking about anything and everything, and whether intentionally or not, we somehow manage to steer clear of the memories that only bring pain. Another blessing. I’m having such a good time that I even offer to help them close up shop, just like the old days.

It’s then that I realize there are two people noticeably absent from tonight’s reunion—one I don’t want to ask about for fear of ripping open an old wound, and the other I’m not even sure I want to know the answer to.

Still, curiosity wins out. “I’m surprised Kayla isn’t helping you out. She always loved closing up on Saturdays.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before Betty’s smile fades and Bill’s demeanor hardens. Somehow, I’ve said the wrong thing, and for the life of me, I don’t know what it is. All I did was ask about their daughter. Surely that shouldn’t have dampened their good mood.

“Kayla—” Betty begins, but Bill gently places a hand on her shoulder, silencing whatever she was about to say.

“Kayla has her own life now.” Bill’s jaw tightens. “She doesn’t have time for the diner anymore.”

I’m definitely missing something, but whatever it is, neither of them seems eager to fill me in. And since I don’t want to end the night on a sour note, I let the whole topic slide.

“Well, I, for one, missed this. I guess it really is the little things you miss, huh?”

Betty offers me a little smile, but Bill doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me anymore.

Shit. What did I say that was so wrong?

I scramble for something to break the sudden tension.

“Maybe I could come have dinner with you guys tomorrow? If you’re not too busy, I mean?”

“We’re never too busy for you. You come by anytime you want, kiddo,” Betty says, giving me another hug.

I half expect Bill to let me leave without even saying goodbye, but he surprises me by pulling me into a hug too.

“Think about what I said, kid. It’s not too late for you to just leave. This town will only break your heart,” he whispers in my ear before letting go and threading his fingers through Betty’s. “Let’s go, wife. My feet are barking.”

“Aren’t they always?” She laughs before waving me goodbye.

All those nice, gooey feelings I had not a minute ago evaporate with Bill’s final warning.

I put on a smile while watching them cross the street and climb into their pickup truck, waving as they drive past me. I then walk over to my car, rummaging through my purse for my keys. But just as I’m pulling them out, they slip from my fingers and clatter onto the pavement.

“Damn it.”

When I crouch to pick them up, I hear a laugh—a light, melodic, familiar laugh. Every muscle in my body locks in place, fear seeping into every cell.