I sit on the edge of a large rock, dew soaking the bottom of my jeans. I squint and look at the river, watching the sunlight dance off the rushing water. The Mill House is closed on Sundays, and the lot is empty except for me.

I can pretend I’m the only one in the world again.

Except I can’t get her out of my head. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I haven’t listened to a message since Friday, and the want to hear her poetic words and the harrowing emotion in her voice weighs on me. I unlock the screen and bring up the messages.

The next message was left just hours after the previous one. I bite my lip, look out at the water again and then press play.

“I can’t sleep,” she starts, and her voice sends a jolt of familiarity through me. I’m a visual person. I remember faces, can pick up on the slightest mannerisms and expressions, but when it comes to matching voices to faces, I lack.

“Which isn’t unusual,” she goes on. “But tonight, it’s worse. Tonight, I feel like the waves are too much to take, that I’m struggling to keep my head above the surface. Sometimes I let myself sink under and think about how easy it would be if I just slipped down to the bottom. No more struggling, no more fighting the current. I go under and then it’s even harder to push back up. It’s just darkness. Above me. Under me. Around me. And it hurts.”

Again, her words are too close for comfort. Yet that’s exactly what they bring: comfort. Because I feel it too. The darkness closing in on me, threatening the life inside of me. I haven’t suffered a great loss like my mystery woman has. Her darkness comes from the outside.

Mine resides within.

* * *

I focus on the space ahead of me, feet pounding on dry earth. It’s weird to be running without music, and since all my songs were stored on the phone Dakota accidentally broke, I’ll be without them for a while. I could put music on the new phone, but that would take up precious memory, and I need every bit I can get to keep the messages.

My pace slows as the trail thins. I’ve been following a deer path in the untamed woods and assume I’ve gone three or four miles away from the bar. The path has stayed near the river for most of my run, but a few paces ago it took a sharp turn away from the water. The trees grew sparse and the bright sun is now beating down on me. It’s not as humid today as it has been, which helps make running in the afternoon bearable.

Staying in shape is important to me, mostly because a fast getaway was crucial to my survival before. And when I couldn’t make a fast escape, then I needed to fight my way to freedom. I’ve never lost a fight.

The overgrown weeds make way to a neatly planted field, and my mind flashes back to Josh’s words about the Belmonts owning most of the farmland in this town. I stop and take a few minutes to stretch, looking at the acres of crops. Something crashes through the woods several yards behind me, and I whirl around, fists clenched.

A deer stops, staring at me with wide, black eyes. I let out a breath and unfurl my fists. Going on the defense, ready to fight, is second nature to me. This—the peaceful small-town setting—is so fucking weird to me.

I stand still and watch the deer, having a bit of a staring contest. The thing doesn’t move an inch. The sound of a tractor starting up makes me turn, and when I look back, the deer is gone. I take a deep breath, wipe away the sweat that’s dripping into my eyes, and continue my run, going along the outside of the field until I find what I assume is another deer path, though this one is much wider than before. Thankfully, it veers away from the field and the sun and into the woods again. It goes along the straight edge of the field, continuing for what has to be miles. I can’t hear the river anymore, and the sounds of birds become almost deafening.

The path becomes more defined, with large rocks and fallen logs moved to the side. I jump over a pile of manure and notice the horseshoe imprints. I keep going, wondering how much farther the trail will lead before I come to an opening in the woods and then someone’s barn.

Not knowing what lies ahead has never bothered me. People like to plan, to be prepared. But you never know what’s going to happen. So why bother? I live my life day to day because hoping for anything more becomes an expectation. And disappointment goes hand in hand with expectations.

I continue running, feeling the burn in my legs from the changes in terrain. I go up a hill and pause to catch my breath. Then I hear it.

Music.

Softly drifting through the thick of trees and weeds.

Going slow, hardly making a sound, I move forward until I see the large barn through the forest. A white fence runs alongside it, stretching for miles. Lush green grass fills the pasture, and a small herd of horses stand close to each other in the middle, tails swishing away flies as they graze.

The music is coming from the barn and someone leads a tall gray horse into the pasture. The large animal hides her face. They stop as she opens the gate, gives the horse a hug, and then turns him out. With a kick of his heels, he takes off, running toward the others. They look up, and one whinnies a greeting. Another pins his ears back and lets out a sharp whine.

My experience with horses is limited, but I’ve always found them fascinating. I move my eyes away from the horses and back to the woman who let the gray horse out. My breath hitches in my chest.

Sierra.

She’s walking back into the barn, stopping when a black cat crosses the pasture. Sierra sits on the ground, petting the cat. It steps right into her lap, pressing its face into her hand. Another comes running, and the two barn cats fight for her attention. The wind blows Sierra’s hair around, and I can’t help but find her beautiful.

Then I feel like a creep for just standing here, watching from the woods. That was never my intention on this run. I tear my eyes away and head home.

* * *

“I should have done this sooner,” Josh says, parking his pickup along the street. “Better late than never, right?”

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ve only been here a week.”

“True.”

I get out and stand on the sidewalk, looking at the two-story courthouse in the center of the town. Josh is giving me my official tour of the town today, which includes introducing me to some of the locals. People talk, he warned me, and are probably wondering about me. We start at a hardware store since I need to pick up a few things to continue fixing and improving the apartment above the bar.

A children’s boutique is next to the hardware store, and we go so I can pick something out for Dakota, who’s only four but loves fashion. Since I don’t know the girl well, I have Josh grab an outfit she’d like and I buy it. Marissa, the owner, smiles and bats her lashes at me the whole time she wraps the overpriced dress in purple tissue paper.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Chase. This town needs more handsome young men in it,” she tells me, leaning over the counter to hand me the hot pink shopping bag. Freckled-covered cleavage threatens to spill out of her blouse, and Josh is dying next to me as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Uh, yeah.” I take the bag and offer a small smile.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she coos. “It’s so nice you want to shop for your niece. I can help you pick something out next time.”

“Thanks.” I give her a nod and take a step back, then quickly turn and follow Josh outside.

“You’ve made quite the impression on her,” he laughs when the door closes. “She’s single, you know.”

I shudder and shake my head. “She reminds me of my grandma. My mom’s mom,” I add since Josh and I have different grandparents. “Which is weird, since I’ve only seen her like half a dozen times and she was always drunk.”

Josh’s pace slows and I wish I could eat my words. I know he feels bad for not standing up for me in the past. We were kids. I didn’t expect him to. I don’t reveal much about my past to anyone, and I’m careful not to let Josh know how shitty it was. He’s a good person. There’s no reason to upset him or further his guilt.

“Melissa works at the bank, right?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah, she’s a manager.”

“Is she still working?”

“She wants to work as close to her due date as possible. Well, if she can make it that long. She’s pretty uncomfortable already and still has several weeks to go.”

“I can imagine.”

“We can stop in and say hi, if you don’t mind. She told me her co-workers keep asking about you.”

I shake my head. “This town is weird.”

We cross the street and enter the bank. A big plaque next to the door informs me of the historic significance of the building and was home to a standoff between an infamous outlaw and the sheriff over a hundred years ago.

“Hi, Josh,” the security guard says to my brother. He’s leaning against the wall, cell phone in hand, and looking bored.

“Hey, Wyatt. How are you doing today?”

Wyatt shrugs. “Same old, same old. You?”

“I’m good. Have you met my brother? This is Chase, Chase, this is Wyatt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Wyatt says and holds out his hand. He’s tall and thin, with sandy blonde hair and sunburned cheeks. He looks at me then diverts his eyes, which has been common today. Seems everyone in this town knows me as the product of my father’s affair and they’ve clearly sided with Team Judy Henson, though I can’t really blame them. My father was a selfish asshole who got another woman pregnant while he was married to Judy, the kind-hearted schoolteacher.

“Y’all here to see Melissa?” Wyatt asks.

“Yeah,” Josh says. “We were in town anyway so I thought I’d check on her. Her back was hurting bad this morning.”

Feeling eyes on me, I turn and see the friend Sierra was with Friday night looking out at me from behind the counter. She has shoulder-length dark hair and has her brown eyes heavily rimmed in black liner.

“Hey, Josh,” she calls. “Want me to get Melissa?”

“Only if she’s not busy,” Josh says and takes a step over to her.

“She’s not. It’s been slow today.” She looks past Josh at me. “So this is the brother I keep hearing about?”

“Yeah, this is Chase.”

“Hi, I’m Lisa. Sierra told me what you did,” she starts. “Thanks for watching out for her.”

I shrug. “It was nothing.”

“Well, I appreciate it. And she does too.” She gives me a smile. “I’ll go get Melissa.”

“What the hell happened?” Josh asks as soon as Lisa goes into the back.

“Some guy was bothering her. I made sure she got to her car all right. Really, it was nothing.”

“Thanks,” he says heavily. “I’d probably be forced to close if something bad happened to a Belmont at my bar.”

“She seems pretty capable.” My mind flashes to her face, set with determination as she told me she could handle herself. “I think she would have been fine.”

“Either way, I’m glad you made sure it didn’t get to that point.”

Melissa waddles out of the backroom, and I swear she’s bigger than the last time I saw her. I’m impressed she’s still up and on her feet at this point. The doors open and close behind me, and out of habit I turn.

A cop walks in, going right up to the counter. I recognize him as Lisa’s boyfriend, who she was hanging all over at the bar Friday night. Lisa says something to him, and he gives me a smile and a wave.

Josh and I get lunch after that, and he orders a to-go box to take to Melissa, who was craving a burger and fries. Having spotted a bookstore on the way to the café, I tell him I’m going in while he runs the food to the bank. I stop before I cross the street, needing to get my fix. I look around, making sure there is no one around to interrupt me and pull my phone from my back pocket. That alone should be enough to make me delete all the messages. The mystery woman won’t stop occupying my brain.

I need to delete and move on. But I can’t. Not until I hear the last message.

“I’m not okay,” she says and starts to cry, voice tight and hard to understand from all the emotion. Her sobbing is soft and almost beautiful. “Everyone keeps telling me that I’ll be okay. They want me to be because they don’t want to deal with me not being okay. I wish they knew that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay.”

I listen to the message again and move onto the next.

Wind blows through the speaker, masking her voice. I press the phone to my ear to hear better. “I keep thinking about the garden. I even sketched up a plan. But then I looked out back and realized how much work it’s gonna be. I’m standing there now, looking at all the weeds that I don’t want to deal with. Maybe next year.”

It’s the most normal message she’s left, and it hits me the hardest. This woman desperately wants her loved one back and is calling as if he’s going to answer. It’s heartbreaking. I put my phone back in my pocket and walk across the street. A faded sign that reads The Book Bag hangs above the store. A little bell rings when I open the door and step inside, getting hit right away with the familiar smell of ink and paper. The store is small, packed full with as many books as possible. It’s bright and airy in here, and the large windows along the storefront let in sunlight. Sierra is sitting behind the counter, nose buried in a book. She looks up and blinks.

“Chase.” Her voice is welcome and familiar.

“Hey, Sierra,” I say back and spy the cover of her book. “That’s a good one.”

She carefully slides a bookmark into place and closes the book, running her fingers over the cover almost as if she’s caressing a beloved pet. “You’ve read it?”

I nod. “I read the whole series.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t try to hide the surprise on her face but instead looks at me with curiosity. “This one is pretty dark.”

“They get darker. But in a good way.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She slides the book away and slips off the stool she was sitting on. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” Her question is innocent, one she probably asks all her customers, but I feel like she’s testing me.

“What do you recommend?”

“Depends on what you like to read. Do you only read epic fantasy?”

“I’ll read anything if it interests me.”

“Even romance?”

I give her a grin. “I did read Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“No way.” She smiles right back at me.

“I mostly wanted to see what the fuss was about. Once I start a book, I tend to finish.”

She laughs. “Did you read the other two?”

“I can’t say I did. But thanks to the internet, I know how the story ends.”

Sierra laughs again and her green eyes sparkle. She pushes a curtain of thick hair over her shoulder and comes around the counter. She’s wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt. Her long hair hangs straight around her face, and she’s not wearing makeup. She’s just as beautiful as the first time I saw her.

“I’ve been meaning to read this,” she says and picks up a copy of The Fake Wife and hands it to me. “The movie came out last year, but I haven’t seen it yet. I try to read the books before I watch the movies.”

“The books are always better. And I haven’t seen it or read it either. I’ll take it.”

She nods and goes back to the counter to ring me up. “Chase,” she starts, saying my name slowly. It sounds so good coming from her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“About your dad. I didn’t know and—”

“It’s okay. And thanks.”

“So…does it feel like home yet?” she asks as I pay for the book.

My heart lurches in my chest. “No.”

“Maybe it’ll take time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will.”

She gives me my change and motions to the window. “What you see is what you get here. It’s simple, but I like it. Life is complicated enough, right?”

“That’s for sure. At least it won’t take me long to figure out where things are.”

Sierra smiles. “Very true. You can do a tour of the town in just a few hours. Or less. Probably less. Though there are rumors we might get a Target. People already come all over to go to the Walmart here. I can’t imagine what a Target will do. Especially if it’s one with a Starbucks inside.”

I laugh. “I do miss getting coffee in the morning.”

“Suzy’s Cafe has the best coffee,” she tells me. “I get a cup almost every morning before work.”

“I’ll have to try it. What about places to eat? Living in the city made it easy to never have to cook.”

“Uh,” she starts, smiling again, and I realize that I’ll do just about anything to make this woman smile. “There are a few places. But if you’re looking for something to take home, my go-to is Suzy’s again. We do have a Pizza Hut, too. And Paragon has decent Chinese.”

“And that’s probably all the restaurants in town, right?”

“We do have a few sit-down places, and then The Mill House, of course.”

“Of course.” I look into Sierra’s green eyes, trying to figure her out. She’s guarded and it’s almost as if she’s shy. From what I saw Friday night, she’s not. It’s not often I come across someone I can’t figure out, especially when they’re not trying to fool me.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” I ask Sierra before I have a chance to overthink it.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. She blinks a few times and shakes her head before looking down. “You don’t want to go out with me.”

I chuckle. “I do. Or else I wouldn’t have asked you.”

She takes a hold of her necklace, rubbing her thumb on a little cat charm. She takes in a shaky breath then looks back up, eyes meeting mine. For a split second, her walls come down and I see it.

Pain.

The same pain that’s ricocheted its way through me, leaving scars on my soul.

“How about this,” I start, giving Sierra my best smirk, the one that always works for me. “I take you out and then I’ll decide if I want to go out with you or not.”

“What if I decide I don’t want to go out with you?”

“That won’t happen.”

“You seem rather sure of yourself.”

“I am,” I tell her. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

She lifts an eyebrow, and I can’t tell if she’s amused or annoyed. Dammit. Leave it to Sierra Belmont to get under my skin. “There’s a first time for everything,” she quips and flips my receipt over. “Call me then, and I’ll see if I’m feeling it.” She sticks the receipt in the bag and hands it to me. “Or text, because I actually don’t like talking on the phone.”

“You’re honest. I like that.”

“See if you still like that when I give you my honest opinion after you take me out.”

I give her a smile again, shaking my head. The door opens, and we both turn to see Josh walking in.

“Hey, Sierra,” he says then turns his gaze to me. “Ready? Sorry to rush you. We have to open soon, though.”

“Yeah.” I pull the bag off the counter. “Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll call you.”

“Bye, Chase.”

Josh and I leave, making a beeline for his truck.

“You’re going to call Sierra?” he asks once we’re in.

“Yeah.” I reach into the bag for the receipt, wanting to put her number in my phone before I lose it. “I got her number.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m gonna pretend the shock in your voice isn’t insulting.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Josh starts, and I unfold the receipt. I recognize the number immediately. The blood drains from my face and my chest tightens. No. Fucking. Way. Sierra is the mystery woman. It all makes sense now and I feel dumb for not recognizing her voice. Though, in my defense, most of her messages were left when she was crying or emotional, distorting the way she sounds.

“Sierra’s always been a little odd,” Josh goes on, and I immediately feel defensive of her. “I didn’t think you’d go for her. Though, I know a good-looking woman when I see one. And those Belmonts are very selective. Don’t tell Melissa, but I used to crush on Sierra’s older sister, Samantha.”

Josh’s words go in one ear and out the other. I can’t take my eyes off the number written on the thin strip of paper. Sierra’s handwriting is big and loopy, messy yet neat in its own way. Shouldn’t I be happy to find out who my mystery woman is?

“Chase?” Josh asks. “Is something wrong?”

Yes, something is terribly wrong.

“No, not at all.” I force a smile and fold the receipt, shoving it back in the bag. Josh starts the truck and I turn, watching The Book Bag grow smaller and smaller out the window, heart in my throat.

I can’t call Sierra.

I wanted this mystery woman to have a happy ending, to have found her second chance and started over. And that’s why this is all wrong.

Things never end well for me.