THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
My SUV hugged the familiar curve of the mountain road. As I passed the Welcome to Cedar Ridge sign, I expected to feel relief, but my fingers stayed locked around the wheel, knuckles bleached white.
I forced my hand to release its grip so I could lower my window. Breathing deeply, I pulled the familiar scent of pine into my lungs. I swore I even got a hint of lake water. The mixture of the two would always feel like home.
A home that I hadn’t been back to in over two years. I swallowed hard.
That length of time hadn’t entirely been my choice, but it had been for the best for all sorts of reasons. All of that had been shot to hell, though.
Now, I craved the familiarity of home. Knowing these roads like the back of my hand, being able to paint the landscape in my mind, and knowing at least half the residents of the small community by name brought a feeling of safety. I needed that now.
There was something else I needed, too. Something my soul craved with a ferocity that nearly stole my breath. But I couldn’t find it in myself to even speak his name.
Maybe that was why I hadn’t managed to text my best friend and tell him I was headed home. Because I was terrified that one text from him would be the thing that broke me—and I couldn’t afford to break.
My SUV took the final dip that brought me into downtown Cedar Ridge. The lake peeked between the trees and buildings that held the standard offerings of a small, touristy town. Art galleries, gift shops, restaurants, even a little salon and spa. I was relieved that most hadn’t changed since I’d last been here. I needed the predictability right now.
My fingers flexed as I ran my thumb across the spot where a ring used to rest. My hand felt lighter since dropping it on the kitchen counter ten days ago. Maybe because the diamond had been ridiculously large. Maybe because it had been more of a shackle than a promise of forever and love.
I guided my SUV past my favorite pizza place. My mouth curved as I thought about the number of times Nash and I had sat in one of those booths, devouring a pie with all the toppings—aside from anchovies—and laughing our heads off. I passed the dock where I’d pushed Nash in the water when he told me that my crush on Cooper Sullivan was stupid. And Dockside Bar & Grill, where we’d stopped for milkshakes practically every day after school.
So many beautiful memories. But they made an ache take root in my chest—one of regret and longing.
Maybe it was dumb to come back here. I probably should’ve picked somewhere entirely new—a place where memories didn’t haunt me, both the good and the bad.
But when everything blew up in my face, this was the only place I’d wanted to go, even if it’d meant driving more than two thousand miles to get here.
I pulled off Main Street and onto a road headed into the forest. I welcomed the coverage the trees brought. As if they were a blanket that could hide me from the world.
My foot eased off the accelerator as I searched for the cabin. I knew roughly where it was, but I hadn’t seen it in over a decade. A gravel driveway held a mailbox with the address I was looking for.
I flicked on my blinker and turned into it. The trees grew thicker as I navigated the winding, makeshift road. Finally, a cabin came into view. It looked older and a little rough around the edges, but I’d be living off my meager savings until I found a job, so this would have to do.
Pulling to a stop, I switched off my engine and climbed out near another SUV parked in the drive. I assumed it belonged to Jordan Cohen. He ran a vacation company that was a one-stop shop for tourists: excursions, tours, and cabin rentals. The other places for rent were nicer, designed for those expecting a bit of luxury, but when I’d called begging for something more long-term, he’d said he had one he was waiting to fix up. I’d taken it sight unseen.
“Maddie?”
My head snapped up at the feminine voice.
A second later, a petite blond blur of motion approached, and she pulled me into a hug. I sucked in a sharp breath but bit back the flare of pain.
“Oh, my God! Are you Jordan’s new renter? Of course, he didn’t say a word to me. Just grunted as he told me to meet the new tenant to give her the keys. But he’s the boss.”
Grae chattered on as she released her hold on me. “Are you back for good?”
I gripped my keys tighter as I forced a smile. “Well, I signed a year lease, so I’m here for that long, at least.”
Grae’s mouth pulled down into a frown. “Are you sure you want to stay here? Jordan really shouldn’t be renting it out. It needs a ton of work and—”
“I’ll be fine. He warned me it was a little rough. But this late in the season, there wasn’t anything long-term on the market.”
Grae bit her lip and nodded. “Nash didn’t tell me you were coming back. I’m gonna junk-punch him for that.”
I winced. Of course, Grae would expect her brother to tell her that I was headed back to Cedar Ridge. We were two years apart in age, but I’d been close with her and her best friend, Wren Williams, because we’d all spent so much time at the Hartley home.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet. I was going to text him when I got settled.” The truth was that my conversations with Nash had grown few and far between. Every ounce of that distance with the person who’d known me better than anyone had killed more and more of my soul.
Grae’s jaw dropped open. “You didn’t tell him you were moving back?”
Guilt dug its claws in deep. “Things have been kind of crazy. Coming home was a last-minute decision.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed, but then her face melted into a smile. “He’s going to lose his shiz-nit when he finds out. He’ll be so happy.”
My lips twitched. Grae had been on a mission to clean up her foul language since the birth of Lawson’s first son. The result was the creation of some creative non-curse words. “It’s good to see you.”
She let out a squeal and did a ridiculous happy dance. “I’m so happy you’re back. Wren’s going to be, too. We have to get together for a girls’ night ASAP.”
“I’d love that. Just give me a few days to get settled.”
Grae crossed to me and extended the keys. “Here you go. Do you want me to stick around and help you clean?” Her nose scrunched. “It’s going to need it.”
I chuckled. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”
“What about cleaning supplies and groceries?”
“I stopped at a Target on my drive and got all the essentials to tide me over for at least a few days. But thank you.”
“Well, my number’s the same. Text me if you need anything at all. And you have to come to family dinner on Sunday.”
My heart cracked. How many family dinners had I gone to at the Hartleys’? Too many to count. “If I’m settled by then, I’d love to.”
Grae studied me, her gaze boring into mine as if she were trying to see all the secrets I’d buried deep. She started to speak and then shook her head. “It’s good to have you back, Maddie. We missed you.”
My heart squeezed. “I missed you, too.”
“I’ll let you get settled. But, remember, text me.”
“I will.”
Grae climbed into her SUV and headed down the driveway.
I took my first full breath since hearing her voice. On my exhale, I tried to let the tension bleed out of my body. But it was as if my muscles had grown so used to it that they didn’t want to let go. Everything in me was still braced for attack.
I rolled my shoulders back and started toward the door. The front steps creaked as I climbed them, and the railing looked as if it might topple over if I put any pressure on it. When I opened the screen door, the hinges squeaked with a high-pitched sound that would’ve made any dog howl. I mentally added WD-40 to the list of things I needed to buy. Maybe Jordan would give me a discount on rent if I fixed up a few things around here.
Stepping inside, I sneezed. The coating of dust was thick. And I didn’t want to think about what might be below it. I was sure the layers of dirt and grime had all but petrified. Still, beneath all of that, the bones of this place were gorgeous.
Typically, these older cabins had tiny rooms and a lack of light, but whoever had designed this place had been ahead of their time. The sun shone through large windows that looked out on the forest, and the entire living area was open and airy. While dated, the place had a good-sized kitchen with an island, a dining room with an old-school picnic table, and a living room with a massive fireplace. What it didn’t have was a couch.
I winced. Jordan had told me the cabin lacked furniture. He’d had a bed delivered for the primary bedroom, but I’d have to scrounge up the rest.
I could do that. There was a secondhand store in town that supported Habitat for Humanity. I could probably find a cheap couch there. With the dining table and a bed, that was all I’d need.
Moving through the space, I quickly checked out the four bedrooms and three bathrooms. They were all spacious, and the bedrooms had the same large windows as the living space. Once I’d thoroughly cleaned, this place could be a real home.
A bubble of excitement coursed through me. I could make this place whatever I wanted it to be. No bowing to someone else’s dictates or worrying over whether changes would set another person off. It was all mine.
I grinned and headed back to my SUV. Opening the hatch, I pulled out bags of cleaning supplies. My ribs ached with the movement, but I ignored them. I’d pop a couple of Tylenol and ibuprofen before I got to work.
Wandering through the cabin, I opened every window and door. The fresh pine air wafted in and cleared away the worst of the stale smell. Then, I got to work.
I lost myself in systematically dusting every surface, working from the top down. Sneezing attacks hit me every few minutes, but I didn’t care. Cleaning the space that would be my home was a meditation of sorts. Calming. Peaceful.
But I was so distracted by the process that I didn’t even hear someone enter. Not until a familiar, deep voice cut through the space. One I hadn’t heard in person for far too long. One that made my soul ache.
“Hey, Mads.”
I nearly broke then. I hadn’t when Adam had thrown me into a wall. Not when he’d slammed his foot into my ribs. Not when I’d crawled to the bedroom and locked myself inside. Not when he’d left me alone to: “Think about what I’d done.” Not when I’d packed up everything that would fit in my SUV while in so much pain I’d worried I’d pass out. Not when I drove all the way across the country alone and terrified.
But hearing Nash’s voice? I nearly broke then.
Because I’d loved Nash Hartley for as long as I could remember. Cedar Ridge was just a place. But Nash would always be home.
