Blayne stood outside the home that was a part of her heart and soul. As she stared up at the sharply-peaked, thatched roof then down the more moderate slopes along each side to the stone that gave the true life to her home, she was hit by a wave of nostalgia for the night she’d had dinner with Jamie at his parent’s home.

The thought of him made her ache, and she closed her eyes against the pain.

Her father’s house was way more modest but had more character than any other she’d ever seen. It had been the home of his parents and his parent’s parents, passed down through the generations and unfailingly maintained with integrity and grace and honor.

Honor.

That word had haunted her for a decade. It was funny how so many words went in one ear and out the other, and then one came along that was more powerful than time, distance, or even love.

The ivy he was so proud of was perfectly groomed and pristine.

No one would ever guess that it had laid up her big, burly father inside.

She’d arrived later than she’d planned due to weather and delays and general airport fun. And her father, being her father, had refused to stay in the hospital opting to recover at home with a visiting nurse.

Typical Noah MacCaffrey. Stubborn, mule-headed, and he refused to listen to anyone.

The awareness of the apple not falling far from the tree left her restless and on shaky legs. Not a good combination.

“Are you going to just stand there staring or are we going to actually go in?” Emma tapped her bright pink high-top sneaker. Her skinny jeans were covered by a flowy white spaghetti strap tank top, and her brown curly hair was piled on top of her head.

Blayne had always loved the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her little sister’s nose, but at the ripe old age of twenty-five they were beginning to fade. Her pink baby cheeks were now sculpted with a bit of bronzer, her once upon a time out of control brows now groomed to model perfection. Emma was quirky and artistic and as beautiful as ever.

“I’m scared, Em.”

Emma slid her arm through her sister’s. “I know. No one knows you’re here, but I’ll tell ya this. When da was comin’ outta surgery he asked for ya. Pissed Ruby off, it did.”

Shit. Blayne could only imagine. And she didn’t blame Ruby. Their older sister had taken up to helping their da ever since losing their ma when Dylan was born. Having their da ask for Blayne after all Ruby had done for him probably hurt like hell.

But she couldn’t lie. It gave her hope.

“Okay, let’s go.” Emma led her through the front door.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, she was hit hard with memories, with a feeling. The taste and smell and sound of home.

It was as if she were thrown back in time, losing all the lessons she’d learned, forgetting all the experiences she’d had, leaving her a vulnerable and stubborn eighteen-year-old. She raised her chin. She could do this.

She wanted to run.

With a self-conscious pat, she checked her cream necktie blouse, then made sure it was securely tucked into her navy blue high waisted trousers. It was now or never. Facing down mistakes didn’t have a good time.

“Ya can do this.” Em gave her a smile.

“Where’s Ruby and Dylan?”

“Dylan has class. He’ll be home after. Ruby ran to the pub to grab some dinner. Let’s get you in to see Da before she gets home and starts yellin’.”

Blayne’s heart pounded in her chest as if it were trying to jump free, leaving her light-headed and a little woozy. “I think I’m jet-lagged.”

“Na, just terrified.”

They quietly entered their father’s room. His large, four-poster bed still rested adjacent to the big arched window with the crosshatch design of the diamond window muntin, facing the back garden.

He looked so peaceful that she hated to disturb him. His beard had grown white as had his brows, but they were both as thick and luxurious as ever. The Donegal tweed cabbie cap that always adorned his head was hanging from one of the posts on his bed.

She smiled. He was never without his flat cap. When she was little, she always imagined him sleeping in it, but when she’d climb in with him to snuggle on an early morning weekend, his head would be bare of it. She was always so surprised to see he had so much hair.

And there he was, almost just as she left him. Love burst through her chest at the sight of him. She’d missed him, but she’d never fully understood how much until he lay in front of her. All the years now behind her, wasted years without her da, burned her with shame and sadness. It hurt so much, she had to swallow the sob that threatened.

His expression was so soft and peaceful, she hated to disturb him. With hesitation, she turned to leave, but Em stopped her with a firm shake of her freckled faced.

Damn little sisters.

Noah MacCaffrey had taught her to be strong and now was the time to show him she’d learned a thing or two when she’d been home.

“Da. I’m home. It’s me, Blayne.” Her whisper carried across the quiet room as she moved next to him then lowered gently to the edge of his bed.

His eyes blinked before he focused in on her. They were still the deep blue she remembered as a child but missing a bit of the spark her memory teased her with.

His voice was rough with sleep and pain meds and trembled with disbelief. “Blayney?” Tears immediately filled his eyes.

“Ya. It’s me, Da.” She was afraid to move, wanting to hug him but not sure if she had the right, not wanting to hurt him more or ever again. Her throat tightened, and her eyes stung. How had she ever left him?

“I’d prayed and prayed, my girl. You’ve finally come home,” the gruffness in his voice deepened with emotion.

“I didn’t think you wanted me here.” Her whisper barely slipped past her lips in her sorrow.

He opened his arms, and she sunk into his big, burly chest just as she did when she was a little girl. The spice of his cologne wrapped her in a warm embrace along with his arms. He kissed the top of her head. With a hitch in his voice, he said, “Blayney, I never wanted ya to leave me in the first place. I hoped every day to see ya walk through the front door.”

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her chest, and her da’s arms wrapped around her tighter still. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“Shhh. None of that now.” He dragged a hand over her hair. “The blame isn’t yers to carry alone, Lass.”

“But I said such awful things that I didn’t mean. I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

“As did I. A pain I’ve carried in my heart since the day ya left.” He nudged her to look him in the eye. Cradling both cheeks, he said, “I’m sorry, too, Blayney. So, so sorry.”

Regret tore through her with such force she broke down in her da’s arms. The kind of cry that said so much but made no sound. All the memories, time that was lost, Jamie, Larkin, losing her ma, and leaving her da crashed into her with the ferocity of the Atlantic Ocean against the lighthouse rocks in January.

Either coast left her missing the ones she loved.

Going home was everything and nothing. It was here and there, both far and near.

But at least wherever she rested her head, she would know she was finding her honor once again.

* * *

Blayne checked her text messages, but save for a few from Larkin, making sure she was safely on Irish soil, there was nothing there.

And the fact that Jamie wasn’t pressuring her should leave her relieved and thankful that he respected her situation, but instead loneliness left a heavy weight in her chest. It was her decision, and the right one, but walking away from him had been excruciating.

As obstacles go, the ocean now between them was nothing compared to the look in his eyes when he’d thrown the engagement ring box at her feet.

Her heart had torn in two along with his, and it was all her own doing. If she’d have made better decisions years ago…

But then she’d never known such love existed.

She yanked her pruning gloves on a bit tighter then, with garden shears in hand, climbed the ladder to the thatched roof. The beautiful vine that mapped out a little life around their storybook home still needed to be groomed along the back of the house.

While her dad slept, the least she could do was something productive, meaningful. And there wasn’t much as important to Noah MacCaffrey as his plants…except for his children. He’d always been a tending type of man. He tended his gardens, he’d tended to his wife, and he’d always tended to his children.

When they were little, he’d play board games, or dolls, or have a tea party. Whatever their little hearts desired. He was there.

And she’d repaid him by running away.

She snipped a few wandering vines, careful not to take out her self-reflecting anger on the innocent plant, then wrapped others in a new direction to help manipulate the shape she wanted. She shoved the sleeves of her light jacket to her elbows. The sun was shining, and the sky was clear of any clouds. It was humid, but cooler compared to Cape Van Buren.

She glanced around her childhood garden in Glengarriff. Tucked in the woods, but not far from the Atlantic, they were surrounded by a lush fairyland where leprechauns and wood nymphs played. Their home was the quintessential, thatched-roof, stone cottage that brought people to Ireland in the first place.

The breeze off the Atlantic left her feeling a bit nostalgic, but instead of images of her running with her sisters over the little footbridge next to the house, she saw the brick roads of Cape Van Buren and the rocky shore of the coast. Her heart couldn’t separate the scent of the ocean breeze or the call of the seagulls just because she was now experiencing them from an opposite shore.

Leaning just enough to inspect her work, she slipped her shears in the pocket of the overalls she’d changed into and made it down to the ground. Everyone was inside, and though the reunion with her sister and brother had been awkward, she’d survived.

She stepped through the large, wooden double doors from the back garden to find her da set up on the couch with pillows and blankets and his favorite beer.

“Are ya allowed to drink on pain medication?” She threw him a side-eyed look.

He waved in dismissal, taking a sip. “It’s a pint, that’s like mother’s milk.”

Dylan brushed past her. “Great. She’s home less than a day and already trying to tell da what to do.”

Her brother’s thick brogue washed over her with its beauty even though the words were anything but. He wasn’t too keen on her return, if his anger and distance toward her were any indications. But he didn’t really know her either. Not really. She left when he was ten. Just a boy. And now he’d turned into a beautiful man-stranger who didn’t seem too interested in seeing her again.

Tension strung tight along the muscles in her neck. She’d hurt more than just her da.

Ruby shot their brother a look. “Leave it.”

No more, no less.

Dylan muttered under his breath as he disappeared to his room.

Blayne studied the serious tilt of her sister’s mouth, the severe, slicked-back ponytail of her cherry red hair that was just like their da’s own mother, and the determined fire in her eyes as if she had a mission and no time for anything else.

There was something missing.

Joy.

The light that used to twinkle in her eyes as she chased them around the garden when they were little was gone. Instead, all that remained was resignation.

“Come sit.” Her da patted the space next to him, and she settled in, careful not to disturb his hip.

“How’s your pain? Are ya hurting? When does the nurse come?”

His lips spread wide, making the whiskers of his beard ripple across his cheeks. “Why did you come home?”

She swallowed hard and played with the tasseled edge of the throw along the back of the couch. “I missed ya. I wanted to come sooner, but I was scared. I needed to do something worthy of coming home first.” Her voice was low, almost unrecognizable to her own ears.

Her da’s big, warm hand stilled hers. He moved it from the couch and held it between his own.

“I said things I regret the day that you left,” he said.

“No, Da. I’m the one who’s sorry. I hurt ya…” She glanced at Ruby and Emma. “And the family. I was selfish and—”

“You were so young, and I was scared. But you’ve always been independent. Strong, feisty. So much like your mother in looks and temperament, but still yer own person. Everything I already knew ya ta be, Blayney, yet I tried ta keep ya. For me.”

She leaned into his side. “I wasted so much time not seeing ya.” Her throat thickened with emotion.

He beckoned Emma with a wave.

Blayne’s sister trailed her fingers along the spines of a few books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves in the alcove in the corner of the room. Removing a leather-bound album from the collection, she turned it over then handed it to their father.

“But I’ve seen ya.” He opened the front cover to reveal photos of Blayne.

She leaned in for a closer look. Page after page of photographs memorializing her accomplishments. Her graduation, first job, Eclectic Finds, and the beautiful photo of the Van Buren house on the cape that she’d sent to Emma.

Running her finger over the photo, she glanced at her little sister. “Ya did this?”

Noah cleared his throat. “You’ve accomplished so much. I’m as proud as any da could be. But, Blayney…” He rubbed his hand down her hair. “Ya never had ta do any of this to come home.”

“But ya said not to come back.”

His chuckle was filled with regret. “An old man with a broken heart. I hoped the threat’d keep ya home, but instead it kept ya away.”

Emma lowered to the arm of the chair to see the pictures, too.

“By the time I figured it out, I was afraid to call ya home. Ya had to find yer way back on yer own in order for it ta be real.”

Closing the album, he handed it to his youngest. “I never meant to make ya feel like ya had to choose. There’s no reason it shouldn’t all fit. The last thing ya want ta do is ta leave yer bloke the same way he left ya. Family is important, both the one ya have and the one ya want ta make.”

Blayne shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If I’m honest, I think I’d always be waitin’ for him to take off again. That’s no way to live.”

“So ya left him first?” He rested his weathered palm against her cheek. “Ya can’t live in fear. Listenin’ to yer heart’s always been the best way.”

She hadn’t left Jay the same way. Her da needed her. Her family needed her. And it was time she thought of more than just herself. Her da kept staring at her as if waiting for her to see something. He held her gaze with the deep blue intensity of his own.

A wave of realization washed over her, leaving her a bit dizzy.

Her da was right. She’d left Jamie due to her sense of duty, her need to prove herself, and didn’t make room for him. But she also couldn’t think of how to have done it differently. “Well, it’s no matter now,” she said softly.

There was nothing left to fit together. She was alone. But at least she was with her family.

“What happened next?” her da said in a gruff whisper.

Tears burned her eyes at his question.

“Jamie asked her ta marry him,” Emma said.

“No, he didn’t. He threw an engagement ring at my feet.” Her chest squeezed at the memory. She’d picked the box up with shaky fingers, but she couldn’t look at what was inside. It represented all her dreams that would never be born. There was no way to bear it, so she’d slipped it into his mother’s hands, kissed the woman’s cheek, then hurried home.

Leaving everyone she’d always loved behind as she ran toward everyone who’d always loved her. She’d never been more conflicted.

“Because ya were leavin’ him. Seems the men in yer life have a lot in common.” Her da raised his pint in the air. “Ya always were consistent.”

She sniffed with a watery grin as her father’s forgiveness washed over her, taking a lot of guilt with it. She was lighter than she’d felt in years. There was no getting back the years they’d lost, but she could make sure to take advantage of all the time they had left. “Well, I’m home to stay. There’s no tellin’ how long it’ll be before yer back on yer feet, and I couldn’t ask him to wait. I won’t leave ya again, Da. I promise.”

Placing a warm kiss on her forehead, he smiled. It was the look she’d carried with her over the years whenever she missed him the most.

With a sip from his pint, he sighed. One full of contentment and comfort. “That’s a promise I can’t letcha keep. Yer flight for Maine leaves in a week.”