Rigby gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove past the welcome sign of the sleepy coastal town of Clementine, Alabama. The groups of yellow and purple mums and neatly trimmed trees in the landscaping were a new addition, giving the entrance a quaint, stately feel. He vaguely remembered his grandmother mentioning the town council creating initiatives to revitalize the historical district to give it a similar feel to picturesque Fairhope, Alabama. Once Rigby got past the sign, everything else looked the same as he remembered. Rigby wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He looked at the Dixie Freeze drive-in and the lit sign shaped like an enormous vanilla ice cream cone. It had been there ever since Rigby could remember. High school kids were leaning against their cars, blasting their music, trying to prove how cool they were. Rigby had done the same. It was in the front seat of his Mustang after a football game that he’d asked Scarlett Foster to go steady with him. He’d been floating so high, he could’ve sworn his feet hadn’t touched the ground for two solid weeks afterward. Not only was he going steady with the girl of his dreams, but he’d thrown the pass that won Clementine the state championship. Rigby and Scarlett were the golden couple—the quarterback and the homecoming queen. Everything had been so exciting, a whole world of possibilities unfolding for the two of them. Rigby had wanted to venture out, conquer the world. And from a worldly perspective, he’d done just that. After three years of college at Gulf Coast University, he was picked up by the Tampa Bay Titans in the fourth round of the draft. Being a middle-of-the-road pick gave Rigby the unique opportunity to climb the ranks without having the intense pressure of the first and second round draft picks. In the opening game of the season, the starting quarterback was injured. Rigby stepped into the spot and started making a name for himself. Everything seemed to be working in his favor then. He led the Titans to the Championship Game his first year and was still riding high the second year when he met Sadonna and was taken in by her stunningly beautiful looks and glamorous life. Then everything fell apart. Rigby’s thoughts went back to the Dixie Freeze and Scarlett. She’d been his first love—his only real love, if he was completely honest with himself. If she’d gone with him to Tampa like he wanted, they’d probably be married by now, have a couple of kids. A pang shot through him as the old familiar hurt settled over him like a dull toothache that never fully went away.

He drove past the local bank and dry cleaners. The town square was an offshoot of the main drag, making up the heart of town with its charming shops and a pavilion in the center of the green space. He caught a glimpse of the top of the courthouse. The Magnolia, Scarlett’s restaurant was just across the street. Rigby wondered if she was there today. He briefly thought about dropping in to say hello, but decided against it. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him coming by unannounced, considering they’d not kept in touch. And he had no idea what to say to her. They hadn’t ended on the best of terms. No, it was better to lay low. That was the point of this whole visit.

His phone buzzed. The caller’s name displayed across the radio. He clicked the button on his steering wheel to answer it through the Bluetooth. “Hey, Monroe.”

“Rigby, man, how ya’ holding up?”

“All right … considering.” That wasn’t exactly true. After he’d punched Devlin, things spiraled downward fast, and he was still reeling from the backlash. About the only good thing Rigby had going for him at this point was Monroe, a black guy from Seattle, Washington. Monroe Williams was one of the most highly sought-after agents in the country and a close friend.

“I hope you took my advice, man, and went somewhere off the grid.”

“Yep, you could say that.” Clementine was only seven and a half hours away from Tampa, but it might as well have been a different world. He’d cool his heels and lick his wounds. Plus, it would be good to spend some time with his grandmother. While he made a point of calling her every Sunday, he felt guilty for not visiting more often. Rigby entered his old neighborhood in the historic section of town. It felt so quiet and still compared to the hustle and bustle of Tampa. He’d forgotten how quaint this section of town was with the antebellum homes and stately live oaks lining the streets like something out of a movie—small town America at its best.

“Where’d you go?”

“Clementine.”

“You went back home?”

“Yeah, I figured it was a good time to come back and check on my grandmother.” There was more to it, but Rigby didn’t want to tell Monroe the rest, it was too private. He’d been pretty low after the Devlin thing and found himself on his knees, praying for help. The answer had been as clear as day—go home. He’d learned not to question inspiration, so here he was.

“All right, man. That sounds good. Just make sure you keep your nose clean. You’ve got two strikes against you.”

“I know.” Punching Miles Devlin was stupid, especially considering that the incident with Sadonna and the other player was still hanging over his head. In hindsight, Rigby figured he’d played right into Devlin’s hands. Devlin was suing him for dislocating his jaw. And worse, he’d gotten suspended for a whopping eight games. The average suspension for each offense was four, but because this was his second offense in a matter of months, the commission upped the penalty. Additionally, they fined him $70K and mandated that he attend anger management classes.

“You’ll have to find an anger management coach,” Monroe said, as if reading his mind.

“Yeah, that might be hard to do in Clementine.”

Monroe chuckled. “You’ll probably have to drive to a neighboring town.” He paused. “I tell you what—let me do some research and I’ll find you a good place.”

“You’re the best. Thank you.”

Long pause. “You’ve got more ability in your little pinky than most people have in their entire body … if you can just learn to control your temper.”

“I’ll work on it. I promise.” Rigby’s diehard temperament was what gave him the torque to keep pushing to be the best, but it was hard not to go too far. It was irritating how everyone loved his do or die approach on the field, but then they wanted him to turn it off and become a door mat off the field. Devlin deserved what he got. Heck, Rigby didn’t even mind forking over the money for a settlement—because punching Devlin was so worth it. But suspension? That was bad, especially since his performance had been slipping. Then again, money wasn’t an issue. He’d gotten a seventy-million-dollar contract, with thirty-million guaranteed. His grandmother had taught him the value of investing his money so he’d be set for life. And while Rigby certainly liked the money, it wasn’t just about that. Football was in his blood. If Rigby wasn’t playing football, he didn’t know what else he’d be doing. Eventually, his career would end and he’d have to find something else, maybe finish his degree. But he hoped to keep playing as long as he could.

“Rocket, you have to promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”

“You have my word.” He chuckled. “After all, I’ll be hard-pressed to find trouble in Clementine. This place is like Mayberry.”

“What’s Mayberry?”

“You don’t know what Mayberry is? You know, The Andy Griffith Show?”

“Never heard of it. But believe me, if there’s trouble to be found you’ll find it, for sure.”

“What, are you afraid my grandmother will impale me with her knitting needles?”

“It’s not her I worry about, but you.”

“Hey, that’s hitting below the belt.”

“No, it’s the truth. Seriously, Rocket, if you value your career at all, you’ll take the next eight weeks to get your head straight so you can go out a winner the final four weeks of the season. Your future is riding on the end of this season. Between the two of us, I was surprised the commission didn’t ban you for good, considering this is your second offense. What I’m saying, man, is that you need to hold your blessing close and run it to the end zone for a touchdown.”

“I hear ya’.” Rigby was growing tired of the conversation. Monroe had no idea what it was like to continually struggle to stay at the top with people fighting you at every turn to take it all away. Every practice and game, Rigby was one potential injury away from retirement. And even if he managed to stay injury free, he had to outperform the other quarterback contenders. Furthermore, his marriage was a dismal failure, whereas Monroe was happily married with two kids.

“Promise me, you’ll lay low and stay out of trouble.”

“I will.” He pulled into the driveway of his grandmother’s home. “I’ve got to let you go, Monroe.”

“Okay, I’ll be in touch soon … the minute I have a name for anger management for you. See ya’.”

“Later,” Rigby said, ending the call. He let out a long breath, taking in his grandmother’s house. The place looked shabbier than he remembered with the yard overgrown and paint flaking in spots. He frowned. He’d hired a lawn service to mow the grass, but hadn’t thought to get someone to weed or trim the shrubs. On the upside, slapping on a fresh coat of paint and sprucing up the place would give him something to do to occupy his time. Otherwise, he’d go nuts cooling his heels for eight long weeks. Nothing all that exciting happened in Clementine. Keeping himself out of trouble should be easy peasy. He’d suffer through the anger management classes, get his head straight, and come back stronger than ever. He was a fighter, it was the only thing he knew. And aside from his grandmother, football was the only thing Rigby had to hold onto.

He got out of his Porsche and went around to the trunk to retrieve his luggage. He was walking into the house when he saw Douglas Foster, next door, coming down his front steps. Douglas looked older and frailer than Rigby remembered, but he was still a striking man with his olive skin and shock of silver hair. As a youth, Rigby had been intimidated by Mr. Foster’s stern demeanor. The situation got even more sticky when Rigby started dating his granddaughter, Scarlett. Like him, Scarlett had been raised by her grandparents. But Scarlett’s parents died in a car accident when she was a baby, whereas Rigby’s mom had gotten pregnant at seventeen. His father was never in the picture, and Rigby’s mom left home shortly after he was born, leaving him to be raised by his grandparents. Rigby and Scarlett played together as children, and went through the phase of hating each other in junior high. Then in high school, their attraction for each other jumped into high gear and they started going steady. For some unknown reason, Mr. Foster had never cared for Rigby. All the resentment he felt toward the man rushed to the surface as he offered a curt nod. “How ya’ doing?”

Mr. Foster only grunted and walked right past him to his car. Typical. A dark cloud descended over Rigby, making him wonder if coming home was such a good idea. He’d considered renting a cabin in Colorado or a place on the beach to wait out the eight weeks, but then he’d gotten the clear answer to his prayer, probably because his grandmother needed him. And she wasn’t getting any younger. She wouldn’t be around forever.

His thoughts returned to Scarlett. Was she still living at home? It would be awkward having her right next door. He’d been a little surprised that she hadn’t married. Was she involved with anyone? He’d have to find a casual way to ask his grandmother about her.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d come home,” a shrill voice said from behind.

He turned as the neighbor from across the street trotted over, her hands waving. Sadie Lynn Armstrong was the mother Rigby’s high school buddy Chris, one of the greatest running backs to ever come out of Clementine. He’d gone on to play college ball at Ole Miss. Sadie Lynn was a stocky woman with blonde hair streaked with gray. She threw her arms around Rigby, giving him a tight hug. “How are you?” she cooed. Before he could answer, she pulled back at arm’s length looking him over. “Look how handsome you are. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

“How’s Chris?”

“Great. He married a real nice girl from Daphne. They live there and have three boys.”

“Wow.” Rigby always felt a little sad when having this type of conversation, like he was missing out on having a family.

“Tell him I said hello.”

“I will.” She eyed his luggage. “Are you gonna stay a while? I’d heard that you got—” Her face turned tomato red as she started backtracking. “Um, I mean, I wasn’t sure that you’d come back here. It’s been so long. I know Coralee will be glad to see you. Bless her heart, the poor thing has been having a hard time keeping up with the maintenance of the house and yard. Willie and I try to get over and help all we can, but with Willie’s back the way it is, he can’t do much.”

Rigby gave up trying to add to the conversation as Sadie Lynn’s mouth moved a mile a minute. She could talk the hind legs off a mule. She’d been about to mention his suspension. Rigby was sure news of it was buzzing around town faster than a jet engine. He’d forgotten how intrusive small town life could be. In Tampa, he hardly knew his neighbors. “Well, it was good to see you,” he inserted when Sadie Lynn paused long enough to draw a breath. “I need to get inside and say hello to my grandma.”

“Oh, of course you do,” Sadie Lynn cooed, her double chin jiggling. “Y’all should come over one night for peach cobbler. I’ll invite Chris and his family too.”

“That would be great.” Sadie Lynn’s cobbler was legendary, and it would be good to see Chris.

“Alridy, then. I’ll let you get back to it.” She started walking away, then stopped as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “You’ve probably heard the news about Scarlett already.”

“No.”

She flashed a toothy grin. “She’s engaged.”

Rigby’s mouth went sandpaper dry, and he got that same sinking feeling he had when he learned he’d been suspended for eight weeks. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice casual. “Really? To whom?”

“Vernon Stanley.”

“You mean Vernie Stanley?” He could’ve added—the nerdy, pimple-faced guy who followed Rigby and Scarlett around like a puppy dog. But that couldn’t be right. Scarlett was gorgeous, smart, funny—the belle of the town. She could have any guy she wanted. Why would she voluntarily get saddled with the likes of Vernie Stanley? Sure, he was nice, but a little annoying, his voice on the whiny side.

Amusement lit her eyes. “Yep, but he goes by Vernon now. He’s the town doctor.”

“Oh.” Maybe things had changed in more ways than he realized since he’d been gone. “Does Scarlett still live next door … with her grandfather?”

“Yes, she does. Takes real good care of him.”

He ignored the barbed comment, inferring that he should’ve stayed around to take care of his grandmother.

“Of course, I’m sure she’ll move to Hudson Bay when they get married.”

“Hudson Bay?” The name didn’t ring a bell.

“That new fancy community with the golf course. You should check it out. You could buy you a house there … if you wanted.”

“Yes, I’ll check it out.” He was suddenly ready to get away from Sadie Lynn. “Okay, take care.”

“Don’t be a stranger, ya’ hear?”

“I won’t.” Scarlett was engaged … to Vernie Stanley? He’d thought of Scarlett plenty of times over the years. Memories of her were intertwined in the nostalgia of his childhood. His first love, the girl that got away … left him with a gaping hole in his heart that he’d tried to fill by latching onto Sadonna. Big mistake! He couldn’t believe Scarlett was marrying Vernie. How in the heck had a guy like him gotten her? And she was still living next door … at least for the moment. He’d been so shocked by the news that he’d not thought to ask Sadie Lynn when the wedding was taking place. Seeing her again would be strange, and awkward. They’d not spoken since the breakup. He wondered if she was still as beautiful. She was a big fish in a small town. Now that he’d been out in the world, he might view her differently. She was actually marrying Vernie. It was like he had to keep repeating it to make sure it was real. Then again, what did it matter? He and Scarlett had been living separate lives for years. He forced all thoughts of her aside as he punched the doorbell. A second later, his grandmother opened the door and broke into tears.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she breathed, throwing her arms around him.