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I shake my head. “I haven’t spoken to him in years, not since…”
Jeremy’s funeral.
I can’t say it out loud, and luckily Zoey doesn’t need me to. She doesn’t know everything, but she knows enough—how Lucas, Jeremy, and I were inseparable.
Before everything changed.
2
I’ve clearly lost my mind because I swore I’d never come back here. Back to Sun River. To the past.
But here I am, seated at the counter in Annie’s Pie Shoppe. Like a living time capsule, everything is exactly the same. Even the dent on the wall by the kitchen window from a baseball I’d dared Jeremy to throw to me. I’d been in the kitchen, as usual, cleaning after my shift. Jeremy and Celeste had stopped by—also as usual—to hang with me until I was done.
“Have you seen her yet?” asks Joan, her gravelly voice triggering powerful sensory memory. She’s been a fixture at Annie’s since I was a toddler.
I look up from the scramble I’m pushing around my plate. I don’t pretend to misunderstand. There’s only one person in this town, besides my mother, I give a shit about. Or used to. And I already told Joan I was heading to my mom’s after here.
“No,” I answer, sliding my plate toward her, hoping to distract her.
Joan’s heavily lined eyes narrow, ignoring my attempt. “Don’t make it awkward, hon. She’s over at Main Street Flowers. Say hello.”
“I will,” I lie, then pull out my wallet and drop several bills on the counter. “Thanks, Joan. Great as always.”
She snorts. “You barely ate.”
I pat my stomach. “Had a bite before I came.”
“Uh-huh.”
Sliding off the stool, I throw her the grin I’ve been using with effect since puberty. But she only grunts.
“Try that on someone who didn’t change your diapers.”
I laugh. It feels surprisingly good. “I’ve missed you, Joan.”
She squints at me. “You staying in town?”
“Just tonight. I have a trailer coming up tomorrow so I can oversee the groundbreaking at the site.”
For the first time, Joan looks uncertain. “And you’re sure you want to do this, Lucas?”
She’s not the first person to ask me that, but the others were only concerned with the financial risk of the venture, or flabbergasted by my decision to oversee the entire development personally. Having worked hard to build a strong, talented team around me, I haven’t taken a hands-on role in years.
But this one is different.
“I’m sure.” I try the grin again.
She rolls her eyes and waves me off. “Get lost.”
I head outside, then pause on the sidewalk, my gaze veering to the next block. Main Street Flowers is obvious from the bins of colorful blooms stacked outside. I don’t have the guts to walk over there. Awkward doesn’t scratch the surface of my baggage with Celeste Miller.
No, I remind myself. Celeste Torres. She has my best friend’s last name.
I imagine seeing her, wondering how she’s changed in twelve years. She doesn’t use social media, so I have no idea what she even looks like these days. And the bulk of what I remember belongs to the past.
Skinned knees and sharp elbows. Blond hair that turned nearly white in the summer, skin that darkened to bronze. Bright blue eyes, an improbable near-turquoise. Sweaty hands and sweet breath. Whispers and secrets and a confession that destroyed us.
My heart pounding, I turn away.
