It was Friday night.

Normally, on a Friday, Wade Farrow could have been walking down South Street, headed to some show at the Trocadero Theater or to grab a cheesesteak at Gino's. He could have been sitting in his apartment, staring out at the city streets, grateful that he wasn't bundled up in his fall coat and bustling down the alleys like the rest of his fellow Philadelphians.

But this Friday night--and all of his Friday nights in the near future--he was going to be here. Driving past the lights and the packed parking lot of the Come Again and cringing internally that, in spite of all his best efforts, he'd wound up in Sapphire Falls again.

For years, he'd avoided this town--had invited his sister and her son to spend their holidays with him on the east coast instead. And, when his parents had still been alive, before his sister had had her kid, they'd even spent a few Christmases there. But then his parents were gone, then Meg had a family, and they were all still here. Constantly, eternally stuck here like everyone else who'd come to inhabit this little hamlet of Nebraska.

It was the kind of place that didn't let you forget what you'd looked like when you'd had a back brace ten years before or, even twenty years later, still discussed with pride the "miracle" catch someone had made to win a football game against a neighboring town. But those weren't the worst things. Those things he could live with.

The fact that everyone--and it really was everyone--you'd ever dated would cohabitate the town with you, never leaving, and never forgetting was the real problem. Because, well, when he'd been here...

But that wasn't his main concern, and even if it was, it wasn't like he had much of a choice now.

He was stuck here, just like everyone else, and for a moment he wondered if that was the curse of this place. That, no matter how well you did, it always pulled you back, desperate to keep its clutches around your throat until you started volunteering for harvest festivals, winter parades, and community knit-a-thons.

That was, after all, what had happened to his sister, Meg. In high school, she'd been determined to leave and become a fashion designer. She'd even sewn her own clothes back in the day. But then it was like Sapphire Falls had bled into her, gotten under her skin, and she was spending her weekends line dancing at the Come Again or drinking booze down by the lake with Jimmy.

Wade's stomach turned at the thought of the other man. If it wasn't for Jimmy...

Well, there was no point in dwelling on that, either.

As it happened, the facts were simple: His parents were gone, Meg was gone. And Jimmy? Well, for all intents and purposes, he was gone too.

Which, of course, left only two members remaining in the Farrow family tree. Himself and his seven-year-old nephew, Samuel. And now, whatever Jimmy and Meg had done, Wade was the only person the little by had left.

So, Wade was going to come back to this town whether he liked it or not and get this little boy's love and affection. They were going to be friends. And then, when Sam was nice and comfortable, Wade was going to be able to head back to his life in Philadelphia and leave this town behind once and for all.

And god only knew that couldn't happen fast enough.

With a deep breath, he pulled onto the street where he'd grown up--a row of average-looking suburban homes with blue, green, and white siding and lined with poplar trees that had already begun to turn red and orange. From the branches hung little plastic spiders, and he wrinkled his nose, thinking that one committee or another had probably gone around to every neighborhood to make sure that each street was as festive as the last. That everyone was involved--whether they wanted to be or not.

At last, he pulled up to the final house on the street, a little yellow bungalow with white trim and someone's tiny orange fiat parked in the driveway. Wade frowned at the car, but parked behind it all the same before grabbing his bag from the backseat, making his way to the red front door, unlocking it, and swinging it open to find a pair of wide, hazel eyes staring back at him.

He started at first, though he was grateful he hadn't jumped, but she appeared completely unsurprised to see him. In fact, based on the way she leaned back against the cushions and sipped the hot mug of something in front of her, it seemed like she'd almost been waiting for him.

"Wade," she said, and though it wasn't altogether cool it was definitely not the warmest welcome he'd ever received. He closed the door behind him, and then scanned the house, half-expecting to see another man named Wade standing nearby. But no. As far as he could tell from glancing into the dining room on one side of him or the living room where she was sitting, there was only the two of them.

"Um, hey. The place looks nice." He paused. What he'd said was not untrue. It was neater by far than he knew his sister would have left it, and there wasn't a toy in sight. He dropped his bag on the ground and, seeing no other course of action, joined her on the leather couch opposite the one she was sitting on. "I don't mean to be rude but...who are you?"

The woman's eyebrows disappeared behind her long, chestnut bangs. "Violet."

"Right. And, uh, Violet...why are you here? And where is my nephew?"

Violet blinked, and then crossed one long leg over the other. He had to hand it to her, if she didn't look so cool, calm, and collected, he might have been a lot more nervous about finding some stranger in his sister's house. As it was, though, she made it almost seem like he was the one who'd busted into her front door without warning.

"Jimmy didn't tell you about me?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Are you his girlfriend or something?" He eyed her again. He wouldn't put it past Jimmy to start dating again so soon after Meg's death, but this woman didn't exactly seem like his type. Where Meg had been lithe and blond and smiley, this woman had an air of complete seriousness around her. It wasn't that she was unattractive, though. Far from it, if he was being completely honest. But, still, he couldn't picture her with her athletic frame and her blunt, brown hair standing beside Jimmy and his Harley.

"Of course not. With Jimmy?" Violet wrinkled her nose. "No. I'm the nanny. Jimmy hired me after..." She stopped short, but he knew what she was going to say.

Jimmy had hired her after Meg's accident, when his sister hadn't been there to be the only responsible parents in her son's life. It was either get his act together and be Sam's father, or find someone else for the job. So, he supposed, Violet had been the answer. But then, Violet hadn't been enough, had she? That's why Jimmy had turned tail and left. That's why Wade was here.

He nodded. "Right, okay. Well, thanks for looking after Sam. I really appreciate it. Um, where is he?"

"In bed. It's past 9:30." She took a sip of her drink, but didn't elaborate.

"Right. Well, I'm really glad you were here to look after him."

"You said that." She nodded.

He waited for her to say something, but a silence stretched between them, so dense that he could hardly breathe.

"Well, it has been a long night and--" He stretched his arms out to yawn, hoping to lay the hint on a little thicker, but she only surveyed him again with those calculating hazel eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure." She took another sip of her drink. "I'm glad you made it in okay."

She glanced over to his bag, narrowed her eyes for a fraction of a second, then added, "Look, I don't want to overstep here, but, well, have you ever spent much time with Sam?"

"What? Yeah, I mean, he's my nephew."

Her bow of a mouth tilted to the side. "It's just that I've been here a year and I've never heard Sam mention you. Except when you send gifts at Christmas and birthdays."

"It's a good thing you didn't mean to overstep otherwise you might seem pretty rude right about now," Wade said. "And, of course, I don't mean to be rude, but maybe it's time you head home so I can get some sleep."

Violet sighed, apparently ignoring his less than subtle dig. "God, I hate Jimmy. He really didn't tell you anything, did he?"

When Wade didn't answer, Violet said, "I'm already home. I live here. I'm a live-in nanny."

"Oh. Good." Wade gritted his teeth. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

Violet wanted to scream.

No, screaming wasn't good enough. She wanted to kick her dresser, knock over her lamp, slam her hand against the wall. Who knew? She might have even done those things if she hadn't been so aware that Sam was sound asleep in the room beside hers.

Who in the hell did Wade Farrow think he was?

He thought he could just sweep in here and be part of Sam's life? Like it was so easy to just become a parent of a sensitive little seven-year-old?

Hadn't it been hard enough to handle the death of his mother? The neglect of his father? Now poor little Sam was expected to just accept yet another parental figure into his life?

No. That was clearly what Wade didn't understand. What Jimmy had never understood.

In Sam's life--in this house--there had to be constants. Things that Sam could depend on. Like Violet.

And a guy waltzing into town with a single suitcase was a clear sign that he hadn't even bothered to consider Sam's situation. After all, how many times had he called Sam to get him ready for Uncle Wade's sudden appearance in his life? How many times had he taken an interest in the little boy's adjustment after he'd lost his mother?

But then, wasn't this typical of Wade Farrow?

Everyone in town knew--she more than anyone--that he got whatever he wanted regardless of the consequences. He'd dated half the girls in Sapphire Falls and practically fooled around with the other half while he'd been here. And then? When the town was just too small for his big city ambitions? He left his sister with her deadbeat husband and newborn baby.

Maybe she should just be grateful that Wade remembered her nephew's existence at all. After all, he sure didn't seem to remember her.

Violet blew out a long breath and laid down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She'd never felt more foolish in her life. All the time she'd spent getting ready to confront Wade, to tell him what had happened between them was in the past, and then for him to look at her like she was a complete stranger?

It didn't hurt. No, definitely not. It was just... typical. Disappointingly so.

And, okay, maybe there wasn't so much to remember. So they'd kissed once. It was just that...

There was no way of explaining it in a way that sounded sane. Not for a twenty-something woman who'd moved on with her life and dated. He hadn't been her boyfriend. He hadn't even been her friend.

But, as a fragile fourteen-year-old, that moment had meant everything to her, and as much as she didn't want to dwell on it, she found the memory bubbling up to the surface again and playing through her mind.

Closing her eyes, she thought back to the night in the middle school gymnasium/cafeteria/auditorium. It had been covered in streamers and long, glittering silver strands--the epitome of every middle school dance experience. The DJ had finally played a slow song and she was standing in the corner in a dress her mother had sewn just for her, watching as her crush, Jimmy, danced awkwardly with her best friend. Or, rather, her former best friend.

The day before, she'd plucked up the courage to ask Jimmy to go to the dance with her and he'd--very publically--declined. Not that she could blame him. She'd been awkward and gawky with stringy brown hair and coke bottle glasses. All her clothes were hand-sewn upcycles from the resale stores in town. Still, that small part of her that held out hope that she was the only one who saw herself as a loser had died away when Jimmy and his group of hateful sycophants had laughed at her.

The following night, her mother had forced her to go to the dance. She'd worked too hard on her dress to allow Violet to sit it out, and while Violet stood in the corner and watched everyone around her in their brand-new clothes two step and swig punch, she'd silently pondered how the hell she was going to get through another four years of high school with all of them.

That, of course, was when Wade had appeared. He'd offered her a cup of punch and when she sipped it, she wrinkled her nose.

"This is spiked," she accused.

"I prefer the term 'improved'." He winked. "Besides, something has to help make this party fun, don't you think?"

"I guess." She took another sip.

For a moment, she expected him to walk away, but then he leaned against the wall beside her and followed her gaze to where Jimmy stood, his hands creeping lower down the waist of the girl he was dancing with.

"What's the deal?" Wade asked.

"What do you mean?"

"With Jimmy?" He pointed covertly.

"Oh." She took another swig of her punch, quickly growing accustomed to the rush of warmth that followed each sip. "Nothing."

"Ok, fine. Don't tell me. Force me to a live a life of wondering, but if I had to guess, he did something shitty."

She blanched and took yet another gulp of her drink, this one even deeper than the last.

Wade nodded. "Thought so. Well, if it helps, he's an asshole. Always has been, probably always will be."

"That's not fair. It's not his fault that he..." She took a deep breath, forcing herself to say the words, "That he turned me down. He just didn't want to go to the dance with me."

"Ah," Wade nodded. "I see. And I suppose he was really nice about letting you down?"

She swallowed hard.

"Look, the best way to get back at people like Jimmy is to have a good time and show them what they're missing. For example, try smiling."

"Smiling?"

"Yeah, smile at me. Like I just said something funny."

She did, and was surprised by how easily the grin came to her. In the background, the slow song was winding to an end.

"Good. Now, everyone is going to break apart in a minute, and when they do, we're going to shock them."

"Shock them?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Just trust me. Ready?"

She nodded, staring into his eyes with unmasked curiosity. And then, the music ended and from the corner of her eye she could see Jimmy breaking free of his partner and turning back to the floor. She was on the verge of opening her mouth to tell Wade as much, but then his hand was resting gently on her cheek and he was pulling her closer, kissing her lightly, but not timidly. Astonishment permeated the whole of her body, but then his lips pressed against hers more firmly and she responded without thinking, moving closer to him to deepen the kiss.

Still, after a moment, when they were sure all the onlookers had noticed them, Wade pulled away and whispered in her ear, "See? Now you're golden." He kissed her on the cheek again and her skin burned as he disappeared through the crowd, probably off to spike the newest bowl of punch.

It had been ten years since that moment. Eight years since her skin and hair had cleared up. Six years since she'd been able to buy her own clothes. Still, with every little change, nothing had been able to wipe that memory from her mind. Her first kiss.

Afterward, though, it was clear that that night had meant far less to Wade than it had to her. The next time she saw him in school, he hadn't even acknowledged her, and the time after that she'd had to remind him of her name again. That, somehow, had stung worse than anything Jimmy ever could have done.

Not that any of that had to do with the situation she was in now. No, now she was an adult with one mission: to protect the sweet little boy she loved from getting hurt. And maybe Wade Farrow thought he knew what he was doing, but Violet sincerely doubted it.

After all, it wasn't like Sam was like other kids. He was special, far more special than someone like Wade could understand. But then, well, she guessed that was simply a discovery he'd have to make for himself when the morning came...