I stare at the three dots on my phone’s messaging system. I swear, this feature was invented for torture purposes, so the person on the other end gets all the time in the world to wonder what the other is saying.

And just like before, the dots disappear and I’m left in suspense. I squeeze the phone in my hand like a stress-reliever ball, taking a deep breath.

Today is moving day, and as if that’s not stressful enough, I’m trying to talk to Samuel and my boss at the same time, and both of them keep typing their messages then erasing them.

“They’ll be here any minute,” my mother yells from the kitchen. “Are you done in there? Stomach problems?”

I’ve locked myself in the bathroom because it’s the only place I’ve been able to get any privacy. I’ve asked my boss if it’s okay that I stay a bit longer on account of my mother—I know she’s going to be in good hands living at the Nelson’s but I’m not leaving her anytime soon—and he has yet to reply.

I did the same with Samuel, and at first I got a Sure in response, which, I have to admit, didn’t sit well with me. Then I texted back, Are you really okay with it? I might be gone for another two or three weeks, at least until my mother has her surgery.

And now, those three flashing dots.

Finally, his text pops up.

Do what you gotta do.

That’s it.

I text back: I miss you.

Three flashing dots.

Fucking hell.

Then my boss, Ed, answers: Ideally, this isn’t the best situation and you’re going to be out of vacation pay within a week. But I understand you have to be there.

Ugh. I’ve been working my way up at Campbell and Brown for two years now, lucky enough to score a job as receptionist straight out of university, and I’ve sacrificed my vacations out of the sheer fear that someone would swoop in and take over my job. That’s pretty much what it’s like in advertising; it’s as cutthroat as people make it out to be, and I think it’s taken a few years off my life.

I don’t want to ask how Pete is handling my account because Pete is a go-getter who has always been clamoring for my job and he’s probably going above and beyond. Not that I haven’t, but when you’ve been busting your ass for two years with no vacations and late nights and as much overtime as you can handle, you can’t keep giving one hundred and ten percent.

“Rachel,” my mother says again, and I sigh, checking my phone before slipping it into the pocket of my jean shorts. No three dots from Samuel, no reply. Whatever his response was, which should have been, I miss you too, has been erased.

I have to admit, that stings.

I step out of the bathroom. My mom is standing in the middle of the living room, looking especially small with all the boxes piled high around her. She gives me a tepid smile, and I realize that she looks close to crying. My mother never cried, not even when I left North Ridge, so to see her so vulnerable like this really hits me hard.

"It's going to be okay, Mom," I tell her softly, walking toward her like I'm approaching a wild animal. It reminds me of the time Shane and I found an injured baby badger in the woods and took it in. It took a few weeks until the little guy's leg healed, but Shane doted on that thing around the clock.

I wonder if that's how my mother will emerge from all of this. When she beats the cancer—which she will—and gets back on her feet with the help of Hank and Dick, will she come out of Ravenswood Ranch stronger than ever? I hope so. My mother was often harsh, so strong and determined, and while I like having her soft, it's this perpetual sadness that she carries with her that I can't deal with. I just want to erase it.

As if she can feel my pity, she straightens up, trying to be tough. "I know it will be okay. Moving is just such a pain in the ass."

"You must have liked this place," I say, gesturing to it. She had a lot of photos, knickknacks and random things cluttering up every shelf and windowsill, a sign that she had made it her home as much as she could. Though I wasn't here when my father went to jail, I know that it would have been hard on her to sell the house and move in here, to one of the few apartment buildings in town. But at least it was a fresh start.

"It's a dump and you know it," she says to me, and when I meet her eyes, she smirks.

There's a knock at the door, and I hold my breath as I go to open it. Hank had said someone would come by to help us with the boxes and I'm really hoping that he knows better than to send Shane.

When I open it, I break into a smile. It's Maverick.

"Rachel," he says in his deep voice, looking me up and down, his grin growing wider. "I can hardly believe it. Come here."

Maverick leans over and pulls me into a big bear hug.

Holy shit. Maverick has always been very active and in shape, but now he feels like he's made of pure muscle. It's like being embraced by a warm brick wall.

I pull back and try to get a look at him. His dark hair is short, like it's growing out of a buzz cut, his face rough with stubble with a smear of dirt on his cheek. He's wearing a white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest, the dark tattoos on his arms on full display. The man is sex on a stick and he knows it, especially judging by his cocky smile and the way his vibrant green eyes shine as he looks at me. A toothpick hangs from his full lips, just as I remembered them.

"You're such a man now, Mav," I tell him, my hands holding onto his biceps firmly. "I mean, the last time I saw you..." I trail off. The last time I saw him I was crying my eyes out and he was staring at Shane in complete confusion. "You're looking good."

"You know, I don't think you've ever paid me a compliment before," he says, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms so his muscles pop out even more.

"That's because you've never needed it," I tell him. "Are you still pissing off the women in town?"

His grin deepens. "You know I am. Running out of options, though. A lot of the ladies leave and it seems only men are taking their place."

"Well, hey, you're flexible, right?"

He rolls his eyes and looks over my head at my mother. "Vernalee. You're looking gorgeous."

My mother erupts into giggles. I look over at her and she's actually blushing. Even my mother isn't immune to Maverick's charms, though when I was younger she would complain about his tattoos. Shane even has a few, including his mother’s name on his arm, and my mother didn’t approve of that one either.

"And you're a sight for sore eyes," she says when she recovers.

"I'm definitely better looking than these boxes," he says and strolls on in to pick up the first one, which he does with ease. He looks around him. "We're just taking the boxes, eh?"

"Yeah," I tell him as I pick up one that's moderately heavy. "Shouldn't take too long. There are movers coming by later to take the big furniture and put it in the storage facility. Since the worker's cottage is fully furnished, there’s no point in adding to the clutter."

"And it's just temporary, anyway," my mother adds. It's been almost a week since we had dinner at Ravenswood and I learned of the move, and since then my mother has brought up the fact that it's temporary every chance she can get. I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me or herself.

With Maverick's muscles and speed, it doesn't take long before the back of his shiny truck is piled high with boxes and we're all dripping with sweat. This is the time of year that I don't miss much. The temperatures in North Ridge start to soar until it's far worse than Toronto's summer heat. The only advantage here is the low humidity, but there's still a red haze in the air from the wildfires that sticks to your lungs. I made sure my mother spent most of the move supervising and not lifting a finger.

Now she's closing the door to the apartment building, staring at it wistfully before joining us in the truck.

"It's the start of a new era," I tell her as she climbs into the front seat.

She just nods. "New truck, Maverick?"

"Yup. This baby is the new pride and joy of the North Ridge Search and Rescue Team. Unfortunately, it's not really mine. Next week the decals come in with the company logo, but until then, I can dream." For extra emphasis, he guns the truck down the street, the roar of the hemi engine echoing off the buildings.

"I heard you're the head honcho now," I tell him.

Another cocky grin graces his lips as he flicks his toothpick. "You got that right, darling. I'm pretty much the boss of the whole operation, though sometimes I wish I was still a new punk on the job. I got away with a lot more stuff back then."

"Like what?"

"Well, I'm not going to go into too much detail but we briefly had a woman on the team a few years ago, and let's just say that what I did with her then I couldn't get away with now."

I roll my eyes. "Of course it has something to do with sex."

My mother shakes her head. "Maverick, you're a Nelson. You have a reputation to uphold."

"What?" he asks.

"Being a gentleman," she says. "Dick, Hank, Shane, Fox, you...you're the pride of this town. I wouldn't be surprised if young boys looked up to you."

"Mom, the only reputation Maverick has is being a man whore."

"Hey," he says, brow furrowed in mock hurt.

"Watch your language, young lady," my mother says. "In my day, they were called playboys."

"Same difference," I say. "Hey, someone needs to give Maverick a hard time."

Mav laughs. He's always had such a loud, boisterous laugh that you can't help but laugh too. "You're probably right about that. You know what, Rachel, I've missed your sass. You've always kept me on my toes. You shouldn't have waited so long to come visit."

My mother and I grow quiet, the truck filling with tension. Mav glances at her and then eyes me in the rearview mirror, apologetic.

After a beat I say, "I know. I should have come earlier."

"It took your mother having cancer to finally convince you," my mother says quietly.

I could argue back. Could tell her that she's never once invited me, never once told me to come. But I don't. It's time to start putting those grievances behind me and try to repair the sketchy relationship we have. "I know. And that wasn't right. I'm sorry."

"Well," Maverick says, trying to make the conversation light again, "the good thing is that you're here. That's all that matters. And more than that, you'll be staying at the ranch, which is pretty much your second home anyway. You'll be all caught up with everyone's lives and bullshit in no time, and it'll be like you never left at all."

Oh, joy.

By the time we get to the ranch, the sun has amped up its intensity, trying desperately to burn though the hazy sky. It creates a greenhouse effect and it feels like we're all bugs being held in a jar with a tiny airhole, the consequence of a young child gone mad with power. I'm soaked in sweat when I step out of the truck, my bare legs leaving gross marks on the leather seats.

"It's a scorcher," my mother says, wiping her brow.

"And that's why all you're going to do is walk into that house and have some iced tea with Dick," I tell her, just as Hank steps out of the door and onto the porch.

"Listen to your daughter, Vernalee," Hank tells her gruffly. "This heat is no one's friend. I'll supervise these two." He smiles at me. "Don't worry, Del's here to help too. She's already in the cottage making sure everything is clean as can be."

Then he comes over and takes my mother tenderly by the arm, leading her into the house and ushering her inside like a stubborn dog.

Speaking of dogs, just then Fletcher comes loping in from around the corner of the house. He was just a puppy when I left town, and now he's a big cattle dog with the kindest eyes I've ever seen.

Fletcher barks at me excitedly, then darts over to Maverick, running circles around him.

"Hey, boy," Mav says to him, bending down to scratch him behind the ears.

"Do you still have a dog?" I ask him. Growing up, he had a cattle dog, as all the boys did, but he was never the best at taking care of him. I think Jeanine had to feed him on more than one occasion. Maverick definitely had something close to ADHD as a teenager.

"I do," he says. "Believe me, I know, I'm the last person that should have one. But my cousin, I'm not sure if you remember him, he runs a rescue shelter off of Vancouver Island and asked if I wanted to foster a dog that was in the area. And then I met her and it was love at first sight. She's a pitbull mix, though, so herding cattle is not one of her interests. Lying around in the sun like a sack of potatoes is."

The look on Maverick's face is adorable. He's so handsome and rugged and manly, and yet talking about his dog, you'd think he was completely in love.

“What’s her name?”

“Chewie.”

I laugh. “Because she chews on things or she sounds like Chewbacca?”

“Both.”

"Rachel!"

I look over to see Delilah coming toward us from around the house, waving her hand in the air at me.

If Maverick has grown into an even more powerful man, Del has become quite the stunning woman. Even though she was always tall and athletic, she now carries herself with a sense of grace, like she's gliding across a dance floor and not wiping her hands on dirty ripped jeans as she walks through dusty brown grass and white wildflowers.

"Hey you," I tell her, giving her a hug. I'm only five foot five and she's at least five inches taller than me. "Did you grow even more?"

In the past she was always self-conscious about her height so the moment I say that, I regret it.

But she just smiles and shrugs. "If I have, it's needed to keep the drunks on their toes. How have you been? You look great!"

"Thanks," I tell her. "Sorry I haven't kept in touch."

"That's fine. I know you've been busy. You don't even have a Facebook account, do you?"

"No, I erased that shit when I left. Started over."

"I don't blame you."

Maverick is watching us curiously. I know I can be real about things with Del, because even though she's almost like a sister to the Nelson brothers, she's still a girl and she understands. Maverick, on the other hand, is pretty protective over Shane and probably doesn't want to hear me slamming him, even if it's totally understandable.

"Come on, girls," he says to us, heading to the back of the truck and picking up a box. "You can chat and work at the same time."

Except that's a lie. While the three of us move the boxes into the worker's cottage in no time, the air makes it hard to chat and breathe and move heavy shit at once. Luckily, Del made some lemonade, so when we're done, we take a seat on the rocking chairs on the small porch of the worker’s cottage and relax. Since this will be my mother's house, I don't want to put any of her stuff away without her input.

Maverick leaves to take his dog for a walk, and as he disappears around the main house, Del turns to me and says, "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate being here?"

I can't help but smile. She has these dimples that throw you off while she never hesitates to ask the hard questions.

"Actually, it's not so bad," I admit slowly. "Well, the view is nice." I raise my glass to the scene in front of us, the gentle sloping hills, the barns, the river and the town and mountains behind it. "It costs a fortune for a view in Toronto, and even the best ones over Lake Ontario can't compare to this." I give her a sheepish look. "When I first stepped foot here a week ago, I would have said ten. There's no place I hate more. But since then...I don't know. The town isn't so bad. Neither are the people. It's just..."

She nods, giving me a quick smile. "I know. It's just one person."

I sigh. "Honestly, I don't want to hate him anymore. And I really thought I let go of it over the years. That's why I started over. I wanted to erase this life from my memory because he was my life. But seeing him again…I just don’t know if I can get past it. You know? I should. I really should. We were young and he broke my heart, and so what? Life went on. I went on. I’m happy now, really I am, and I have a boyfriend who’s great and what Shane did shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does,” she says, her eyes kind. She sips her lemonade, the ice cubes rattling in the glass, and leans back against the chair. “I think the real problem is that you never got closure. You just…left.”

“I know. But I had to. You know how badly I wanted to leave—I was always begging Shane to run away with me. But he could never leave this place, even though he said he would. And now, well, I have to wonder if it was all a lie. If he never intended to leave, if it was just something he said to shut me up. He broke me, Del. How do you go from telling someone you want to grow old with them to telling them that you never loved them? I still don’t understand.”

“You need to talk to him.”

I make a growling noise. “That’s the last thing I want. I tried the other day, but…I just yelled at him.”

“You have a right to yell. And Shane’s a good man, despite what he did. He knows he deserves your wrath, so let him have it. Tell him how you really feel. Get it off your shoulders and then you’ll find your closure. You’ll move on.”

“I thought I had moved on.”

Her lips quirk up into a wan smile. “No, honey. You never did. You can tell yourself that a million times, but if you had, this wouldn’t matter so much. And I know it matters because I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Time may have changed you in some ways, Rachel, but you’re still the same girl I know, and I knew you pretty damn well. You’ve done what you could to move on, but you’ll never be free until you confront him.”

That sounds terrifying. It shouldn’t be, but it is. And Del is totally right, of course. I’ve done the things that look good on paper all in an attempt to move on, but the fact is, I haven’t. Shane still dominates my heart. I need to get it all out so he no longer has that hold on me.

There was something pained in Del’s tone, though, that has me studying her curiously. Like she knows exactly what I’ve gone through. “How are you? I heard you got engaged.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing is a secret here. Yeah, I did. Remember Bobby Barrett? Well, we started dating and everything was going great and we got engaged and I said yes, because, well, when you have a nice guy that you love, that’s what you do, right? But then the closer we got to wedding plans, the more I started to get cold feet. And he’s smart, so he picked up on it. We called it off. It was pretty much as mutual of a breakup as you can get, but…I don’t know, it still smarts.”

“And how is Fox?”

I knew it was a loaded question and I swear her cheeks are turning pink. “He’s fine. He’s been out fighting the fires, the usual. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks since there was a big blaze up north near 100 Mile House where almost everyone was called in.”

The reason I asked about Fox is that I’m pretty sure he’s the reason Del got cold feet when it came to her engagement. Though no one has ever publicly acknowledged it and she’s never admitted as such, I think Del has secretly been in love with him for a long time.

I want to press the issue, but I’m not sure it would be welcome, so I say, “And has Fox been seeing anyone? I have a hard time believing that any of these boys are single.”

Another small smile. “They are, believe it or not. Fox was dating a girl while I was with Bobby, but they broke it off a few months ago. Mav is Mav. Always getting in trouble, but I haven’t seen him stay with a girl longer than a few weeks, though he’s not getting any younger and should probably grow up at some point. And Shane…” She drifts off and bites her lip while looking at dust rising in the distance, probably from Mav’s truck. “He actually had been seeing someone for a year or so.”

This is the first I’d heard of this. “Who? Do I know her?”

She nods. “Kristin McGee.”

It’s funny how when you talk about people you went to school with and grew up with you always use their full names. I frown, remembering vaguely that Kristin used to be the lifeguard at the community pool and Willow Lake during the summer. She was tall, tanned, hot, like a less done-up Pamela Anderson, complete with the giant rack. I also remember her because she was Fox’s girlfriend throughout high school.

“Shane dated his brother’s ex?” I ask.

Del laughs. “Yeah. Fox didn’t care since it was so long ago, but we were all surprised.”

I know I have absolutely no right to feel jealous over this, especially since I dated a few guys here and there in university before I met Samuel, but even so, I feel it.

“Is she still?” I gesture to my boobs.

“Yeah. Totally fake now too,” Del says. “I don’t know why she got implants because it just doesn’t fit in this town and people talk like crazy. Man, I used to hate her, but she’s okay now. They were an odd couple but it was nice to see Shane happy for once.”

I swallow hard.

I don’t have too much time to dwell on it because soon after my mother and Hank come by to start unpacking. After Del heads back to the bar to start her shift, the three of us work until around nine and then call it quits. With the setting sun burning red in the hazy sky and shining in through the windows, it gives the cottage an apocalyptic glow as we quickly munch down some simple sandwiches that Dick prepared.

My mother seems happy with it. Even though the cottage is small and old, with her stuff and personal touches, the place looks like it could be featured on HGTV, all reclaimed wood and folksy details.

By eleven, I’m exhausted. I head into my new—temporary—bedroom and crawl into bed, kicking off the thick covers and pulling the sheets over me. I rest my head back on the pillow and watch the gauzy white curtains dance as a hot breeze blows in through the open window. Craning my neck back, I can see a slice of the sky. It’s the color of the deepest ink, crowded with a million shining stars.

I see a flash of a shooting one but I’m too afraid to make a wish, too scared to look deep inside and find out what my heart really wants.

I’ve only made one wish before and it never came true.