“Nothing to tell. We just weren’t meant to be. We were kids, you know? It was a big ugly blowup by two teenagers who thought they were in love—and weren’t.”

“Are you sure? Because it sure seems to me to be more than that.”

One of the main reasons she’d gone—and stayed gone—was because her sister, and her mother, were both very insightful and constantly questioned her. “Absolutely sure. There’s nothing more than that. It’s just one of those situations where we can’t be friends, you know?”

Emma frowned. “He didn’t cheat on you, did he?”

The one thing she knew for a fact was that Carter had never been with anyone else while they’d been together. “No, he didn’t cheat on me, Em. Let it go, okay?”

Emma finally sighed. “Okay. I just, love you, you know? And it seems to me that you’re still hurting over it.”

“I’m not. I’m fine. I’m just . . . ready to get on the road again.”

Emma leaned against the kitchen counter. “You know, I really wish you would come home, Moll. I can’t tell you how much I miss having you in my life.”

Molly’s stomach clenched. “I miss you, too. But I love the travel, the adventure of moving around. It’s who I am.”

It wasn’t really who she was. She’d missed home every day for the past twelve years. It was who she’d had to become, in order to survive.

Emma hugged her. “Think about it. Home is always here for you if you change your mind.”

Molly squeezed her sister tight. “I will.”

But she wouldn’t change her mind.

Tomorrow, she’d be gone.

CARTER PARKED RHONDA in the garage, smoothing his hand over the steering wheel before pulling the keys out. She was in perfect condition.

Not that he was surprised Molly would take such good care of her. She’d taken good care of him that night at the rehearsal dinner.

He hung his keys on the hook just inside the door, then went to the fridge and grabbed a beer before making his way into the living room. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and found the football game, then leaned back and took a long swallow of beer.

It was over. He’d done his part for Luke and Emma’s wedding, which had been a success, just as he thought it would be.

He’d said his goodbyes at Emma’s folks’ house, even saying a polite goodbye to Molly, who’d managed a smile and an awkward hug.

That had been the worst part, knowing he wasn’t going to see her again, when he knew damn well so much had been left unsaid between them.

But, really, what more could be left to say? They’d already said it all—twelve years ago. The past should be left there, and they needed to go their separate ways. Trying to repair the damage would only make things worse.

The problem was, he’d wanted to talk to her, to make the hurt go away for both of them.

He took another drink of beer and stared at the TV, hoping for answers, when he knew there weren’t any. But he’d spent years thinking about Molly, remembering every smile, every laugh, every curve of her body. She’d been the one woman he compared every other woman to, and they all had come up short.

Sure, she’d been his first love, and an important one. And yeah, things had ended badly between them, which had left a lingering sadness that he’d never quite forgotten. But he should be over her by now. He should have been able to move on.

The problem was, he hadn’t. And he didn’t know why. Maybe he never would.

Chapter 8

MOLLY HAD PLANNED to sleep in this morning since she had a long drive ahead of her. Then she’d get up, have coffee and breakfast with her parents, and head out.

She was just rolling over to get out of bed when she heard the scream.

She bolted out of bed, threw open the bedroom door, and went running into the living room to see her mother sprawled on the floor, the ladder lying on top her. Her right arm and leg were twisted at a very unnatural angle. Pokey, her parents’ dog, was barking and whining by her.

“Mom!” She dashed over to her. “Are you okay?”

Her mother looked up, dazed. “Molly. It hurts.”

Oh, God. Her heart raced, panic setting in. “Where’s Dad?”

Tears streamed from her mother’s eyes. She groaned. “Store. Oh, honey. I’m hurt.”

That was it. She’d been so close to the fireplace, she might also have hit her head, though Molly didn’t see any blood. She went to the phone and dialed 9-1-1, told them her mother had fallen, and gave the address.

Her dad arrived in the middle of the phone call. He dropped his grocery bag and rushed to her mother’s side.

“Georgia. What happened?”

“I’ve already called for an ambulance, Dad. They’re on the way. I think she’s hurt her arm and leg. Not sure if she hit her head or not, so don’t move her. She’s in a lot of pain.”

Her dad smoothed her mother’s hair. Her mother was crying. She’d never seen her mom in such pain. And poor Pokey was just as upset as everyone else, licking her mom’s uninjured hand. Her mom petted the dog, seemingly aware enough to notice Pokey’s distress.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay, honey,” her dad said.

“I’m going outside to wait for the ambulance,” Molly said.

Her dad nodded without looking at her. She ran into her bedroom and tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then went outside and waited at the curb.