Willa dreaded the walk back, mostly because she knew the truth. She didn’t want to face the reality about the future, but she had no choice. She was a grown woman, and she couldn’t behave like a teenager anymore.

“Thanks for all your work on this, Declan,” she started as the nighttime chirped around them. A bright moon lit their path. Someone played acoustic music somewhere in the distance, and it smelled like some nearby residents were having a cookout.

“I wished I could have done more sooner.”

“Well, the man may have gotten to me if you hadn’t been here. Especially last night. So thank you again.”

“I’m happy I could help.”

They slowed their steps as they turned from Main Street.

“So I guess you’ll be heading out of town now?” Her throat ached at the words.

She should have known better than to get attached again. Where had she thought this would end? With a happy ever after?

No, Willa wouldn’t get a second chance at that. He’d be off to California next, and there was no way she was moving there.

From the start, there’d been no indicators that this thing brewing between them was a good idea. She should have been wiser, not letting her heart get involved again, but it was too late now.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Willa,” he said. “It’s a great question.”

She nodded, trying to pull herself together. “Well, I’m glad we got to catch up while you were in town.”

He paused on the sidewalk and grasped her arm. His eyes were etched with a depth of care and concern that seemed so sincere . . . so real. So beyond the realm of friendship. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to say goodbye . . . permanently?”

She couldn’t waiver in her feelings. She had to keep her distance. “We shouldn’t kid ourselves, Declan. It was fun. Like old times. The good old times. But you’re not going to stay around here, and I’m not going to move. That’s just plain to see.”

He gently, tenderly traced her jawline with the back of his hand. “So you’re saying that you and I . . . that there’s no chance?”

His eyes—his touch—made her want to scream no. Made her want to give in to her whims. To believe in love again.

She lowered her gaze, trying to break the spell he had on her before she did something she regretted. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. There’s no need to pretend that either of us are someone we’re not.”

“Willa, I have to figure out what’s next for me career-wise.” His voice sounded deep and husky.

Her head snapped up. “Exactly. And I’d never want you to stay here for me. Then I’d be responsible for your misery.”

“I never said I’d be miserable here.”

“Let’s face it—you’re not a small-town type of guy.”

“Maybe I could be. Maybe with some time, we could figure something out. I’m not going to lie and say I have it all worked out right now. But maybe—”

She laid a hand on his chest, trying to stop him from making this harder than it had to be. “It’s just easier to end it right now before things get complicated.”

“But—”

“Goodnight, Declan.”

Grief filled his gaze. “Willa . . .”

Before Declan could say anything else or try to convince her that the truth was something it wasn’t, Willa slipped inside her house. Alone.

She had to focus on Trevor. There was no room for anyone else.

It was better this way. Now and forever.

Even if she felt like she was dying inside.

Once the door was locked, Willa dropped onto her couch and let herself cry.

Cry? Over Declan? Again?

She hadn’t thought she’d get attached so quickly. But somehow Declan had wormed his way into her heart again. It was almost as if he’d never left. Maybe a small part of her had always loved him and would always love him. But she couldn’t put herself through heartbreak. No, she had to simply move forward and eliminate any potential drama whenever possible.

She pulled the blanket more tightly around her.

It had felt so good to feel someone’s arms around her again. To feel like someone else was watching out for her. To feel like a woman instead of just a mom and a caregiver and someone juggling too much. Burning the candle at both ends. Sometimes it just sounded so nice to have someone help her carry her burdens instead of attempting to do it all herself.

She allowed herself only fifteen minutes to cry. That was it. No more.

Then she pulled herself together and stood. She needed some water—maybe some warm milk—and then she would turn in for the night. Maybe in the morning things would be clearer.

When she went to open the fridge door, she froze.

Something didn’t feel right.

But what was it?

She glanced round, hoping to connect the dots. Everything appeared as she left it. Her spices. Her canisters. Her bread box.

She scanned the fridge, and her gaze came to a stop at the flyer for Trevor’s camp.

It wasn’t where she’d left it—on the side of the fridge, perfectly lined up. It had been moved higher, and it was crooked.

Sweat trickled down her back, and she picked up the paper.

Her eyes widened as she saw the scrawl there.

Unless you meet me, you’ll never see Trevor again. Tell no one. If you do, he dies.