I stopped at Home Depot on the way home from work and scanned the prices of things trying to decide what to tackle first. The gardening tools and plants were cheaper than paint supplies, so I decided to update the lawn. It was a gorgeous day outside which surprised me considering we should be entering the dog days of summer. A cool breeze floated through the mountains and the sun was beaming brightly in the sky.

I was thankful Easton let me borrow his truck since it made buying supplies easier to haul home then shoving them in the trunk of a Civic that would barely fit a body. I had a grand idea of adding a wraparound porch on the right side of the house that would lead to the back deck. But I had zero skills in construction and that would cost a lot more than I could afford. I wanted to keep the idea fresh though, so I decided to tear up the grass in front of the left side of the house outside of the kitchen window. It felt good to work with my hands again. I hadn’t done any landscaping work since college when my friends and I rented a house. It was a project for school and I passed with flying colors. After ripping up the grass, I started to work the soil and was adding new planting soil to the ground when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart! How are you?”

“Hi, Dad!” I wipe some sweat from my brow and throw my gardening gloves on the ground.

“I wanted to call to let you know we got back safe and sound to the states. I would have called earlier but I had some work issues to take care of and your mother had some social things to plan.”

“The important things,” I joke, knowing my dad feels the same way about my mother’s social life. “Did you guys have a good time in Europe and Asia?”

“We did. It was nice to get away for so long. But enough about our trip. How are you holding up? How’s the country treating you?”

“Honestly, it is really nice out here.” I let out a breath and realize I really do like it here. For now. “It’s refreshing not being so busy all the time. I feel like it’s the first time I can breathe in a while.”

“That’s great sweetheart. You keep doing what you need to do to get back to a hundred percent.”

I smile into the phone knowing my dad actually cares about my mental health more than my mother. “Yeah, it is great. I am actually gardening right now! Can you believe that? It’s been years since I was able to do this!”

“Wow! Get back in your groove so you can improve our house when you come back here.” He laughs into the phone. I know that my mother pays for landscaping, but it would be nice to do something for my parents.

“Well, I have a meeting in a couple of minutes but I called to let you know I sent over a thousand dollars to your bank account so you should be able to get things moving quicker on the car front. I know it won’t be enough to fix the entire car, but your mother found out and she was adamant about not sending you any more than that.”

I look at the truck Easton let me borrow and wonder if I even want to fix my car. I’ve had the truck for a whopping three days and I already like it more than Blue Betty.

My dad must take my silence for worry because he adds, “Not that I am saying to rush out of White Creek, was it? If you like it there stay as long as you need. Heal. Get back to you.”

I wish I could hug my dad right now. He hasn’t always been the most understanding person to me but in the last few years we’ve grown closer and I am glad he is always on my side now. “Thanks, Dad. I am working on it. I will keep you posted as to my plans on leaving.”

“Okay, Harper. Well, duty calls. I will talk to you later. Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Dad.” I hang up with a smile on my face. I look at my cracked phone screen and realize with the money he just sent over I would be able to get a new phone. Not that I know where in the hell to get a phone around here.

I kneel down to get back to work when my phone rings again. I assume my dad forgot to tell me something but am met with disappointment when I answer my phone. “Did you forget something, Dad?”

“Where the hell are you?”

Fuck. It’s Drew.

“Why does that matter?” I respond, trying hard to hold back the irritation in my voice.

“Because my lawyer has been trying to send you fucking papers to sign and twice they have been returned to him by the post office. Are you not at your parents’? Or did you lie about going there too?”

Anger clouds my vision as I try to respond. “Lying? Lying!” I shout. “You have the nerve to accuse me of lying?. I haven’t lied to you about shit. You were the one that lied to my face.”

“Do not raise your fucking voice to me. I am sure you lied about plenty of things. And, don’t worry, we’ll find out about them.” Bitterness coats his voice.

I scoff into the phone figuring out why this divorce is taking so long. “You really think I wronged you in our marriage. I was in love with you. You were everything to me. Even after you got injured senior year, I still loved you. I had your back despite the fact I knew you weren’t going to go pro. Unlike so many of those other skanks all over the football team.” It feels good to let this out even though I know it will probably come back to bite me in the ass. “I loved you up until the day I found you fucking that cunt from your office.”

“Quit with the games. You stopped loving me long before that. Why do you think I started fucking other people? Because you wouldn’t open your legs for your own husband.”

He backed me into a corner silencing me. He didn’t know what happened, no one did. But, I am not going to tell him now or ever. “I was depressed.”

He laughs into the phone sarcastically. “Well look where your little depression episode led you. Alone and broke. Maybe you should have thought twice about that before filing for divorce.”

I don’t say anything because I am afraid I’ll start crying if I try to defend myself. I hear a dog barking in the background and my chest floods with excitement. “Is that Poe?”

He ignores my question and continues, “I just need you to give me your damn address so we can get this divorce over with. I have more important things to worry about than you.”

Ouch. I don’t know why I let him affect me. I shouldn’t be letting him affect me. I mutter off my address and he shouts, “What the hell are you doing in Tennessee?”

I sigh into the phone and hear him telling Poe to shut up in the background. “It doesn’t matter. Just send the papers. I’ll sign them so we can get this over with.”

“Good.” That was all he said and hung up the phone. I stare at it in my hand. My sadness quickly turning to anger. I shove it back into my pocket. I start to work on digging up the path I plan to make from the porch to the driveway.

I rip weeds out of the ground where I plan on laying the path and throw them violently across the drive. I mutter to myself about how much of an asshole Drew is, so focused on wishing he would accidentally (or not so accidentally) get struck by lightning that I barely notice the sound of tires driving across the gravel of the driveway.

I don’t need to look up to see who it is, my body can sense him. And I don’t know why my body thought that was a good idea. “Whoa killer, what did those weeds ever do to you?”

I glare at him and go back to my weed murdering. “Cheated on me and then blamed me for it. Fucking asshole, motherfucking, douche turd.”

Easton laughs a hearty laugh. “Well I don’t think ever in my entire life have I heard anyone call weeds, douche turds. In fact, I don’t think I have ever heard the phrase douche turd before.”

I ignore his comment, get up, and start throwing the weeds into a trash bag.

“So I am guessing your ex-husband is the weeds.”

I nod as I forcefully throw each weed into the trash. “If only it were this easy just to rip him up and throw him in the trash.”

Easton grabs my arm and I stop my intense garbage throwing. “Well if you ever need me to rip him up I will gladly do it.”

I look up at him and curse myself for doing it. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in days and that scruff makes me want to rub my face against his. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“But it did get you to stop the violence against the weeds.”

It hits me then that he is back here at my house when the last time I saw him he seemed to want nothing to do with me. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were done with me.”

He takes a step closer to me and places his hands in his back pockets. “I came here to apologize,” he sighs. “I was kind of a, what do you call it, douche turd?”

“Yeah, you were a douche turd,” I answer, not giving him any hint of accepting his apology.

“Yeah, I was. And I shouldn’t have left you like that.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I just thought things were getting a bit intense and I needed to step away.”

“Well, then you could have ‘stepped away’ as you put it. Not practically run out my door!”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. To apologize and grovel at your feet so that you will hopefully accept my request to be your friend again.” He collapses to his knees in a praying position grabbing at my feet.

I start to laugh. “Okay, okay enough groveling. For now. We can call a truce.”

He looks up at me, still kneeling on the ground. “Friends?”

“Friends,” I agree as I offer him my hand to help pull him to his feet.

He grins at me and turns around to walk to his truck. He pulls two paint cans out of it and says, “Well as part of my truce and repentance for my behavior I thought I’d purchase some paint since you said you couldn’t afford it. Thought we could repaint the living room and get rid of that god-awful yellow. However, I see that you decided to start a new project instead.”

“Soil is cheaper than paint,” I say. “Plus it was a nice day out. And this place could use some landscaping.”

He places the paint on the ground. “That is true. So how about I help with your landscaping and we can paint another day?”

“I am almost done with what I planned for today on the yard. We can paint after finishing this up.”

He nods in agreement and we spend the next hour finishing up the yard. I tell him my grand plans for a wraparound porch and he loves the idea. He even tells me that he may or may not have learned basic construction skills from his grandfather who helped build the house he lives in.

As we move into the house and start moving furniture around so we can paint he opens the paint cans and says, “I hope you like the color. I don’t really know what you had in mind, but this just seemed to go with the slate curtains you put up.”

He opens the can to reveal a gorgeous light gray color with blue undertones. It is the perfect complement to the curtains and will work well with all the natural light that floods the room, keeping it bright and cheery but modern. “This is the exact color I would have chosen!”

He gives me that damn panty-dropping grin and I almost jump into his arms and kiss him because he looks that hot. I manage to restrain myself and start pouring paint into the plastic containers he brought.

We each choose a wall to start painting and get to work. I realize I haven’t thought about Drew since Easton got here. All those things he said just erased from my mind.

He interrupts me from my thoughts. “You should add some bookshelves to these walls. It will help get rid of those stacks of books in your room.”

“When were you in my room?”

“The other night when you were cooking. I wandered. Stumbled into your room.”

“Stumbled into my room?” I question him and look over my shoulder. “I think you knew which one was my room.”

“Yeah, well I was curious,” he shrugs.

“And did you find anything of interest?”

“Just the picture of you and your dog on the nightstand.”

I don’t know why thinking about that picture hurts but I feel tears well up in my eyes. I turn around to blink them away.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he apologizes.

I sniffle a little and set my paint roller down. “You didn’t. I just really miss him. He was like the child I never had. He meant everything to me and that asshole kept him for himself.” I pause trying to collect myself. “The worst part is that while I was on the phone with him today, I heard Poe in the background barking. And he yelled at him.”

I clench my hands into fists trying to will the anger away. “I just want him back. That’s all. Like if I get nothing else out of this divorce when it’s all said and done, I will be fine if I can have Poe back.”

Easton puts down his roller and walks over to me and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It will work out. You’ll get him back. Besides you got the best argument now. You’ve got a yard.”

I try to believe in his reassurance, but it’s hard when everything has not gone my way. We go back to painting and soon we start talking about Ivy.

“So, you really don’t think that Ivy is going to be upset we’re painting her house?” I ask as I finish up the last wall in the living room and Easton works on the foyer.

“Well, it’s too late now.” He laughs. “I think she is gonna love your plans for outside. Especially if you add a porch swing. That’s her favorite thing at her house.”

I set my roller down and assess my paint job. It looks good. Maybe not quite so country, okay not country at all, but the color is welcoming.

“Ivy was the one who got me to come over here.” I am startled out of my thoughts by Easton’s admission.

“What do you mean she got you to come over here?” I asked hoping she didn’t say I was obviously affected by his absence or the fact that we almost kissed and maybe he would just finish the job. Knowing her and her damn plotting I wouldn’t be surprised.

He set is roller down and walked over to me crossing his arm over his chest. “She said I needed to get my head straight about you.”

I look at him curiously because I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean.

“She does get into everyone’s business. Honestly, she’s going to be the leader of the Sergeants one day. She says she ain’t bad like them, but she’s worse sometimes.” He uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands into his pockets.

I hate to be rude, but this is definitely not the Easton I am used to and I have no idea what he’s getting at. So I go for blunt. “What’s your point?”

“She’s trying to get us together. I’ve known that since she pretended to be drunk at her house, so I would have to drive you home,” he admits.

I chuckle, but my soft chuckle turns into roaring laughter. “I-I’m sorry,” I say, trying to get the words out. “Sorry I’m not laughing at you, I’m just glad that it’s not just me that sees it.”

A grin lights up his face. “Maybe we should do it and then get in a huge fight and break it off two days later just to piss her off.”

My laughter fades and guilt washes over me. “I can’t do that,” I pause. “I can’t pretend. Not anymore.”

Easton walks over and lifts my chin. “I know. I was only kidding.”

I shrug him off and sit on the edge of the couch. “Why? Why is she doing this? Wanting us together?”

He shrugs. “She hates Quinn, my ex. She doesn’t want me to get back together with her. Not that I would do that, she is a raging bitch. But Quinn is persistent. And sometimes I remember that she isn’t entirely bad.”

I look down at my feet and count the speckles of paint that got on my white slip-ons. Is that really all I am to Ivy? A way to get her friend out of a bad situation? Maybe I don’t fit in here. After all this time and the feeling of home that I get around these people maybe it really is just a lie. I am just a pawn in another game.

And Easton does have feelings for his ex, he just admitted it. But if that’s true then why does he flirt with me so much? My emotions are a wreck. I feel like a hormonal teenager. I did just get that money from my parents, maybe I can skip town and rent a car closer to Chattanooga and forget about this place.

“That’s not the only reason.” Easton breaks in to my thoughts. “Ivy likes you. A lot. I think she wants you to stay. You seem to be the closest she’s ever gotten to someone.”

I am startled by his admission because Ivy seems like she’s friends with everyone. “She’s close with others. Everyone seems to love her when they walk into the diner.”

Easton leans against a wall bending his knee up and placing his foot against the wall. “I think you remind her of herself. You both were kinda running away from something and both ended up here. I think she’s happy to find someone who isn’t born and raised here. Hell, maybe it makes her feel not so alone in that matter. Almost everyone here was born here.”

I never thought about the fact that me and Ivy did share similar stories. I might not have burnt a house to the ground, but I was still running from a relationship I let burn until there weren’t even embers left to try and revive it.

I’m about to agree with Easton when I hear him mutter shit. I look up at him realizing he leaned against our freshly painted wall. I cover my mouth with my hand to try and hold in the laughter. But it’s too hard not to. His face starts turning red from embarrassment and I lose it. I nearly fall over because I am laughing so hard.

He peels himself off the wall leaving a nice impression of his back and boot in the surface. He tugs his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head and I am suddenly much more aware of everything. His body sends heat rippling through me. A feeling I did not think I would ever feel again. Luckily his back is to me so he can’t see me staring. His back is solid muscle, I could see every muscle in his shoulders move as he took his shirt off. And on his back is a giant tattoo of a phoenix rising from flames. He turns around suddenly and my giggles completely cease. I thought his arm muscles were huge from the sleeves of his shirt, but everything about him is huge. His skin is tanned from the sun, his chest broad and defined, and his abs, oh god, his abs. I could lick every one of them all the way down to the V going into his pants. Okay, I would probably lick even farther south than that.

He clears his throat and I realize he’s watching me stare at him. “Wanna drool some more?”

I throw my hands up to cover my face, completely embarrassed he saw me ogling him and I am pretty sure at some point I licked my lips because I definitely wanted to taste him. He starts laughing and I am suddenly covered by his shirt. His paint covered shirt that has now landed in my hair. I peel it off and start laughing again as I feel small bits of paint cling to my face.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, which only make me start to laugh more.

I finally open my eyes wide enough to look at him between my stomach pain inducing laughs when I see him stomp over to me with paint covered hands.

“I’ll show you funny,” he says. I try to scramble backward to escape his paint covered hands but end up scrambling right into the paint pan on the floor at the same time he grabs my face with both hands. I reach behind me and manage to get my hands sopping wet with paint, I push into his chest and drench him in more paint. He pushes me over, and I land right in the paint pan, my entire backside covered. I try to grab his face, but he swats me away, both of us laughing uncontrollably. He tries to push me back down but his knees slide in the spilled paint and he falls to the ground. He flips over onto his back just before I straddle him and rub the paint all over his face and into his hair.

He throws his hands up in the air and shouts, “I surrender.”

I ease back and I’m about to stand up when he smacks my face with a soaking wet palm of paint knocking me over. I lose all control as I curl into a ball, laughing hysterically. I haven’t had this much fun in years. I look over at Easton who is in a similar position. His laughter dying as he stares at me. The emotion in his eyes pulls at my heartstrings. I see passion in them but not romance; understanding. As if he knows this was what I needed to lift the ever-present cloud over my head, even if just for a little while.

We help each other up off the floor, fix the wall and clean up the floor. The sexual tension that was radiating between us has faded, in a good way. Like we were both able to go back to normal, but without the awkwardness I always felt.

Luckily we had plastic down so the mess wasn’t catastrophic. I offer Easton the option of borrowing my shower, but he declines. He asks me if I want to paint the bedroom tomorrow night sans paint war and I agree. If nights with Easton continued to be platonic but allowed me to feel free then I would take as many nights as possible.

I was so excited for another night with Easton I bought groceries for dinner, real ones to make a real meal. I even got my hair done, finally after so long. Not that I was trying to impress him, but the way he made me feel allowed me to feel like me again and I deserved to get my hair redone, a dirty shade of blonde with a few highlights, much less fake than the overly blonde highlights I sported for years.

The only problem with the night we planned was that he never showed. I even tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. Just when I thought I had him figured out or at least partially figured out he went back to his asshole self and stood me up.

I tried hard not to cry. Not because I was upset I wasn’t seeing him but because it brought back that feeling of rejection. The one that overwhelmed me day after day and not just from Drew but from my friends and my mother. The feeling of not being good enough. And maybe I wasn’t good enough for Easton. We came from two different worlds. My world was a mess that didn’t need to blow into his small town perfection.

Thinking about Easton made me realize one major problem with my plan to be alone. I was completely crushing on him. And I should not be having these feelings at all. I needed to find a solution.

“Wine or Sawyer’s?” I ask Ivy as she answers the phone.

“I am guessing your day off didn’t go as planned?” I don’t even respond because I don’t know what to say. She takes my silence as a yes. “Well Trace is working tonight, and I do not want girl talk to make its way into his gossiping ears. Let me drop the kids off at his momma’s and I’ll be over in fifteen.”

I didn’t even respond before she hung up. A feeling of serenity enveloped me as I thought of our three sentence conversation. Back home it would take hours to plan these necessary girl hours and it was never with just one person. I always had to have the opinion of at least three other friends. But right now, the only thing I wanted was one person to hear me out and comfort me. Maybe I really was changing.

Fifteen minutes on the dot. Ivy strolled right through the front door without even knocking. “You could knock.”

“Darlin’ this is my house, I can walk in if I please.”

“What if I was naked?” I ask teasingly.

She heads directly into the kitchen and responds, “We both have the same goods.” She uncorks a bottle of wine and stashes two other bottles in the fridge.

“What if I was having sex?”

She stops pouring the wine and looks up. “I am pretty sure if you were having sex there would be no reason to come over because that would mean everything was fine between you and Easton.”

I look at her dumbfounded because she pretty much hit the nail on the head. “How did you know this had to do with Easton?”

She goes back to pouring the wine. “I didn’t. But I told him yesterday he had to get his shit together with you. And I am guessing that is not what happened.”

I take the wine glass she offers me and sigh. “Actually no. He was here yesterday. We talked. We are fine. But he was supposed to come here tonight, and he completely blew me off.”

Ivy swirls the wine in her glass before downing half. She smacks her lips together and says, “So you finally had sex?”

“Oh my god!” I shout. “No, we didn’t have sex. We hung out. We made plans to hang out tonight. That is all.”

“Whatever you say.” She tops off her wine and walks into the living room, stopping abruptly. “Well shit on a cracker.”

I realize I forgot to warn her about the paint. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it when I asked her to come over. I start to bite my nail, nervous she will be pissed.

“You painted my house!”

“Uh…yeah part of it.” She must not have noticed the torn-up yard in the front when she stormed in.

“You painted my house!” she shouts again. Now I know I am in for it. Here goes the one real friendship I’ve had in years.

“It looks…” She pauses turning around the room inspecting every detail. “It looks absolutely beautiful!” She squeals. “When did you do this?”

“Yesterday,” I answer, the foreboding disappearing and turning to pride. “Easton helped. We talked about it the other night.”

She flops onto the couch and pats the seat next to her, inviting me to sit down. “Are you gonna do more?” Excitement oozes out of her.

I join her on the couch, a smile cresting my face. “I had some ideas. Painting a few rooms. Landscaping the front yard. Maybe adding a wraparound porch on the right side to the back deck. That is if I can find someone cheap to help do it.”

With every detail I add, her smile grows bigger devouring her face. “Yes, yes, yes to all of the above. I love it!”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “I thought you were gonna be mad.”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

I shrug. “Well this is your house and I didn’t exactly ask permission to change it.”

“Nonsense honey. I told ya when I brought ya here that it needed work. I just had no idea you would do anything. It seriously looks amazing.”

I twist my wine glass in my hands. “Thanks. It’s kind of a hobby of mine.”

She gulps down more wine. “A hobby? Those ideas you told me don’t sound like someone who does this as a hobby.”

I push a piece of hair behind my ear as I look around the room. “I went to school for interior design. I also took a few classes in landscaping. Wish I learned more about construction, but that would have been a lot.”

“Well, I am floored. This is…this is something I never expected.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

She holds out her glass. “Cheers lady to a job well done and my new interior designer!”

I clink glasses with her and say, “It’s just one house. I wouldn’t exactly say I am your designer.”

“Don’t be silly! You should do the diner too! It hasn’t been updated in about twenty years. It is completely outdated.”

I try not to laugh because those have been my thoughts the last month I’ve been here. “I’m sure I could suggest some upgrades.”

“Oh! And my house. You need to paint and decorate it so it’s as pretty as this!”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” I say sipping on my wine.

“Hey, I’m not just some southern girl who owns a diner and makes amazing peach cobbler. I happen to be quite the business women. And you might have just discovered a much-needed business here in White Creek and probably the entire county, and part of Tennessee.”

I never thought about it. I never thought starting a business was in my cards. It was far too difficult in Chicago, but maybe it was possible here. If I decided to stay. If I had a reason to stay.

I pick at an invisible thread on the couch as Ivy adds, “I’ll pay you.”

I look up at her, shocked. “You don’t have to do that.”

She shakes her head at me. “You’re doing labor. I’ll pull some numbers together, but I’ll pay you for costs and labor.”

I look at her in awe because I can’t remember another time someone put this much trust and support in me. “I’ll make sure to get approval on everything from you first.”

“Oh, I am sure I’ll agree. But you must put in the wraparound porch. It was something I always wanted here!” We clink glasses again on the agreement. I’m already feeling lighter until she says, “So, Easton?”

My smile deflates, and the cloud returns over my head. “I don’t really want to talk about him.”

She blows a piece of her blonde hair out of her face. “Well, we are because that’s why I am here. I know you got feelin’s for him. A blind person could see that.”

I snort. “It’s only because you’re pushing him on me.”

She takes a sip of wine. “That may or may not be true. But don’t deny the fact you think he is smokin’ hot.”

“I don’t really think that is a fact anyone could deny,” I retort.

She purses her lips. “Good point.” She sighs and continues, “If only I had chosen Easton instead.”

“You’re kidding, right? I don’t think you should be complaining. Trace is just as hot as Easton.”

She laughs. “Of course I’m kidding. My husband is hot. And he can do some pretty hot things with that tongue of his too, if you know what I mean,” she says as she points at her crotch.

I start coughing as I choke on my wine. She glances over at me and says, “Anyway, you and Easton. It will work. Y’all are perfect for each other. Neither of ya know it just yet.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well standing a girl up, even if it’s not a date and just plans to paint some more, is still not cool. Nor a sign that we’re perfect for each other. He’s pissed me off.”

“He coulda been less of a dick and texted you.” She sighs, a look of contemplation crosses her face. “I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya this, but it might ease your doubts a bit. He leaves town usually once a month because his youngest sister is a bit of a wreck. He goes to check on her and make sure she’s still alive and breathing.”

I’m in complete shock. Easton didn’t talk much about his sisters, even though it is one of the many things I wanted to know more about him. But this statement is not what I would have ever expected.

“Please don’t tell him I told you.”

“Of course not.”

“He just doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s one of the secrets he’s been able to keep from this town actually. Only me and Trace know about Raelynn’s problem.”

I finish my wine and feel a little better that Ivy told me his secret. I wish he would have told me. But I understand how much his sisters mean to him and he would do anything for them at the drop of a hat.

Ivy grabs my hand and squeezes. “Sorry that was a bit deep. How about we grab more wine and talk about something fun?”

I nod and volunteer to get another bottle. As I sit back down Ivy is texting on her phone. She looks up at me with a grin.

“What?” I ask as I pour wine. I don’t like that grin on her face, that damn plotting grin.

“Well,” she drawls. “My friend Summer is getting married in a few months. Her bachelorette party is this weekend and she has been buggin’ me for weeks to introduce y’all. I realized that besides me and I guess Easton you haven’t really hung out with anyone else. And I think you could use some fun. You deserve it.”

The idea of hanging out with girls does sound appealing because I was getting a little tired of the party of one’s I’d been having most nights. But I didn’t know any of her friends and I don’t know how receptive they would be to a city girl like me. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly,” she laughs. “We’ll show you a true southern time. Kinda. It’s this weekend. Well, one night out in Nashville. It will be one helluva party.”

That did sound fun. I didn’t stop in Nashville on my way here, but it sounded like a great way to release some steam. Then it hit me, “What about the diner? Someone’s gotta be there to run it this weekend.”

She scoffs, “I’ll make Trace do it. Or we can just close her down. I think half the people in this town could do without donuts and pancakes for a day.”

I laugh and agree. This is one more baby step to getting back to my normal self. And a great excuse to not think about Easton.

Ivy shakes my shoulders. “We are gonna have so much fun!”