Prologue
CLARA
“I feel so stupid.”
Dax holds the door open for me. Taking my hand, he leads me away from the music. Away from my date, Hunter, and the line of women waiting to dance with him.
My eyes blur as the cool breeze fans my flushed cheeks. I grip Dax’s hand, and we make our way to his car in the sea of trucks and sedans littering the parking lot and field.
I try to hold my dress up as Dax walks faster, his lean muscles angry against his dress shirt. With my free hand, I clutch his coat tighter over my shoulders, but my long dress gets in the way. I gasp, tripping over it, and curse myself for listening to my mom. She insisted I buy this puffy dress instead of the short, sassy one I wanted.
“Freaking dress,” I mumble, falling into Dax’s arms.
His strong arms.
“You shouldn’t feel stupid,” he whispers. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m gripping his forearms like I’m falling off a ledge instead of tripping over my prom dress. His gaze bores into mine, his jaw set. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hunter’s just an ass.”
Of course, he’s comforting me once again. He’s always there for me, sticking up for me as I date asshole after asshole.
“Besides, we got Mr. Davis back for shushing us during class when it was really Sarah who has a loud mouth.” He chuckles, and his warm, minty breath soothes me.
His lips are close.
My laugh gets caught in my throat.
His ghost of a smile transforms into a firm line as he searches my face, like he wants an answer to a question he never asked.
The air around us shifts.
We’re not supposed to be gazing at each other like this, with fire in our eyes. We’re friends. We’ve been best friends since we were six.
Even so, I suddenly wonder what his lips taste like. What he sounds like when he kisses a girl. If he wraps her up and consumes her.
The longer we stare at each other, the more I forget my date.
Prom.
Going home.
I lean in, just an inch, my mouth falling open.
“Clara,” he strains.
I stare up at him as his tongue slides across his bottom lip in slow motion. What am I doing?
I clear my throat and try to shake myself out of this trance, but he holds me in place.
My fingers are splayed across his chest, and underneath his thin button-up, his heart thunders against my palms.
He dips his head, and my eyebrows furrow in anticipation, need, and a little surprise.
We’ve never crossed this line.
When his lips touch mine, I still. He moves his lips across mine more firmly, and I forget everything before this moment. All the douchebags I’ve gone out with. The stress of graduation in a few weeks. College in the fall.
It’s just Dax and me underneath the stars, in our own corner of the world.
My breath hitches, and he rests his forehead to mine like he needs a minute.
He smiles, then kisses me again.
Commotion from the gymnasium breaks us apart. Students file out, howling and shoving each other around.
Dax and I face each other with matching surprised grins.
“I promised your parents I’d take care of you and get you home safely. I don’t think this is what they had in mind.” He chuckles, then exhales, scratching the back of his head like he’s suddenly shy. “I should get you home.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my heart fluttering.
He pauses, then dips his head again to steal one more kiss, and it makes me smile the whole way home.
At my front door, I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. “I dreaded going to this dance,” he says. “But it ended better than I could’ve hoped for. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”
I nod, touching my fingertips to my lips. They’re still tingling from his kiss. From my best friend’s kiss.
He takes the steps down, then walks backward toward his truck. “And Clara?”
“Yeah?”
“Dream about me tonight, will you?”
“Definitely,” I whisper, sure that he can’t hear me, but he smiles like he knows exactly how much my entire teenage body is buzzing.
After he backs out of the driveway, I practically skip up to my room. Once I change and lie in bed, my smile is still there like it’s glued to my face. Like the time Dax glued Froot Loops to my cheek when I was asleep—one of his many pranks.
It’s hard to sleep.
Hard to think straight.
I can’t even think about what this means for us, because I’m too consumed with how fast my heart is beating. It’s deafening here in my otherwise silent room.
A few hours later, when I finally fall asleep, I dream of Dax.
The guy I’ve been friends with for so long, but when we kissed, it didn’t feel weird like I thought it might. It wasn’t sloppy or awkward. I wasn’t embarrassed or uncomfortable like I have been with Hunter and the other guys I’ve kissed.
With Dax, it felt right.
The second I open my eyes in the morning, I reach for my phone on the nightstand.
My giddiness from last night reappears when I read Dax’s name on my phone, but there are many notifications. The sun’s barely up—why would I have so many missed calls and texts?
Frowning, I scroll down. They’re all from Dax and an unknown number in the area.
The most recent texts say there’s been an accident.
He needs me.
Please come.
Dread fills every crevice of my body.
I call Dax, but it goes straight to voice mail. I call the unknown number, and the receptionist at Sunnyville General answers.
I hang up without a word and race around my room to change. I rush through the living room with my dad on my heel, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. “How was the dance last night? Dax brought you home, right? I don’t need to shake down that Hunter kid with my chainsaw bit, do I?”
I barely register what he’s saying as I fling the door open and almost run off the porch.
“Where are you off to in such a rush?”
“I’ll be back later,” I manage, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
What happened last night? Was he in an accident after he dropped me off?
“He’s okay. Obviously. He texted me after the accident. He’s fine.” I chant these words until I pull into an empty spot by the ER.
I rush inside, scanning the waiting room until I find Dax in the corner. He doesn’t see me right away. As I walk toward him, he leans forward with his hands together like he’s praying, his elbows on his knees.
His body is rigid.
His eyes are bloodshot.
“Dax?” I whisper when I reach him, swallowing my sob. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t immediately answer me, but when he does, his eyes are vacant.
“They’re gone, Clara. They’re gone.”
Chapter One
Fifteen years later…
DAX
“You had a heart attack.”
Ed smiles like I told him his heart is cured. “That’s what they told me.”
“I just want to make sure you understand how serious this is.” I scratch my chin, confused by his unwavering expression. “This was your second heart attack in the last year, and it was only a month ago. You shouldn’t be moving furniture.”
“What else am I going to do?” His bushy eyebrows are furrowed, and his smile quickly turns mischievous. “Besides, moving the furniture gets the old hag off my back.”
“Excuse me?”
“The wife. You got one?” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Of course you don’t. Otherwise, you’d know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I simply nod, eyeing my nurse, Tinsley, in the corner. Snickering, she dips her head and continues typing on her iPad.
Ed waves his hand. “Relax, Doc. She’s got a nickname for me too—jackass. After fifty years together, you have to get creative, and not just by moving to a new town like Sunnyville.”
My lips twitch, and I gesture for him to stand. “I’d like to see you in another month and—”
“A month? I thought my next checkup was in three months?”
“Well, at the rate you’re going, I have a feeling I’ll need to see you sooner. One month.”
He claps my shoulder like I imagine my dad might, if he were still around. “Doc, it’s fine. You’ll see me in three months.”
His calm and clear eyes soothe me in a way I don’t expect. I sigh, shifting on my feet. “I’ll see you in three months unless something changes, and you need to come in sooner.”
“Deal.” He takes my hand, jerking it up and down in a shake. “Now that we’re done, I guess I’ll get back to my to-do list.”
“You should really rest,” I say as I lead him out into the hallway. Tinsley follows closely behind.
“My to-do list consists of nothing. Got up this morning with nothing to do and only got it half done. So, I got a full afternoon ahead.” He winks.
I can’t help but chuckle. We’re in for some fun with this new patient.
“You and I are going to become good friends, Doc.” He tips his imaginary hat at Tinsley. “You too.”
Then he walks toward a woman, who meets him at the front desk. I assume she’s his wife, as she grips his arm and kisses his cheek.
I shake my head and smile. She has her hands full.
My phone vibrates with an incoming message.
Staci: Room 417 please.
I nod to Patty, the receptionist. “I’ll be right back. Need to talk to Dr. Lennox.”
As I walk to the room number given, I rub my eyes, feeling fatigued. I always do after a ten-hour shift.
With a deep breath, I walk through the hallway from the clinic to the hospital, then ride the elevator up. I smile at the familiar faces, who watch me with dancing eyes.
That should’ve been my first clue as to why Staci asked me to come here.
I find the room number and knock, then let myself in.
“Surprise!”
I jump at the roomful of people holding balloons and flowers. My eyes widen as they land on the cake Staci’s holding with too many candles to count.
She catches me cringe and rolls her eyes.
Everyone crowds around me, slapping me on the back. Tinsley enters the room too, just in time to sing “Happy Birthday,” along with the rest of the group.
Shaking my head, I blow out the candles.
“Very clever, very clever,” I say. “Thank you. You’re all assholes.”
People in scrubs and white coats clamor to get a piece of cake like it’ll disappear in two bites. We don’t get a lot of downtime around here, after all. There’s always a patient to check, an emergency to tend to, and we need to stay available and sharp.
So, eating quickly and in big bites is the best way to eat.
“Sorry.” Tinsley shrugs, two plates in her hands. The blue frosting matches the color of the spots on her leopard scrubs. “I’m going to take this to Patty before she has to get home.”
I nod, moving aside for her to pass. Shaking everyone’s hands like I would in a receiving line, I jokingly accept well wishes and a few apologies. Most of them know I don’t eat birthday cake. Not because I don’t like it, but because I’m lactose intolerant, and judging by the amount of frosting on that thing, I’m going to say it isn’t for me.
“I begged them not to,” Staci says, giving me a sisterly one-armed hug. “I told them to at least let me get a sugar cookie for you.”
“And what did Marco say? To buy it, but it’s coming out of your pocket, not his?”
We laugh at the hospital accountant’s rigidity.
I start to say something else but stop when I catch a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.
“Did I miss it? Shoot.” Clara stomps her foot in the doorway, a small succulent in her hands with a bow tied around the pot.
“Don’t worry. I took pictures of Dax’s eye roll just for you.” Staci wraps her in a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, Clara.”
“You too. Please send me those pictures.” She peers over Staci’s shoulder at me with a twinkle in her eyes, while I stand in place, stunned.
“Gotta run to my next appointment. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Staci waves, then disappears.
I nod to her, then wrap my arms around Clara’s waist, breathing her in. “What’re you doing here? I figured you’d be unpacking all of Jacob’s toys for the foreseeable future.”
She giggles against my chest.
I pull back and study her. Same blond hair, although it’s a little darker than the bright sheen I remember. Same brown eyes. Same lean curves.
But she’s different.
She’s older and definitely no longer the little girl in braids that used to trade her sugar cookies with me at lunch because the chocolate chunk ones my mom packed made my “tummy hurt.”
“My dad sure knows how to spoil him. He’s been at the house all day playing with him, in between telling the movers how to do their jobs.” She rolls her eyes. “I had to come. I couldn’t miss your birthday.” She waves around the slowly emptying room. “Although I did miss the big surprise. Lost track of time, but I’m here now.”
I smile widely as a few people walk by and wish me well. She sets the plant down to accept cake from my coworkers, and we steal glances at each other. It’s like we’re back in Mr. Davis’s class and trying not to get caught for passing notes.
After a few more pleasantries and introductions are exchanged, I show Clara into my office, reveling in how familiar it feels to have her here, even though she’s never been to this hospital before.
In the last year, we’ve only seen each other in person twice. Once when she and Jacob came to close on the house. They were so busy with that, we basically managed a quick hug between signatures on mortgages.
The time before that, we saw each other under bleak circumstances.
“So, this is Dr. Pearson’s office…” There’s a gleam in her eye as she takes in my little corner of the world. A small, uncomfortable couch lines one wall, which makes my back automatically twinge.
She eyes the couch and raises her eyebrow. “Let me guess. This is where you sleep most nights.”
“No.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my white coat.
“No?”
“Not most nights. Some nights. Days. Mornings. Many times during the day, actually.” She thumps my forearm, then nudges me to the side. “What? Why not sleep here? Not like I have a family to go home to.”
“That’s because you’re unwilling to settle down with a nice girl and a dog, like I’ve been telling you for years.”
I pause, working my jaw back and forth. “Yes, well, that’s a nice theory and all, but you know even just a whiff of commitment gives me hives.”
“Continue sleeping on this very uncomfortable couch then.” She bounces on it and cringes. “I mean, what is this made of? Plastic hay?”
“Plastic hay? You’re close. It’s metal hay.”
She laughs, and the sound warms the cold room like hot water does a bath.
“Oh.” She stands and holds out the plant like she just remembered she’s holding it. “This is for you.”
“I was about to ask when in the hell you were going to give it to me.”
“You can thank me, instead. I fulfilled my promise, remember? I told you years ago that the first thing I’d do when you finished your fellowship is bring you a succulent…”
“…because it’s all I’m capable of caring for,” I finish with a mocking tone, then wave my hand up and down my white coat. “Even though—hello—I take care of people now, and that’s much more difficult.”
“Very true.” She takes in my office, scanning the few frames on the walls, the small bookcase by the door, and the window by my desk. “It’s crazy being in California again. Back in Sunnyville, the motherland, as Jacob says.”
“I’m sure it’s different than you remember. Definitely different than Atlanta.”
“That it is.” She smiles wistfully. “We have to check out all the hotspots around here soon. Maybe next weekend? We can visit my stepdad’s winery, get drunk, then have Rory drive us around town. Does he still have his taxi service?”
“The one and only taxi service in town. Although, his son is taking over when Rory retires soon, so there’s your first bit of news.”
“Tell me more.” She wiggles her eyebrows sarcastically like this is scandalous.
Laughing, I hold my hands up. “Before we get carried away, I must remind you that the Harvest Festival is next weekend. You’ve been gone so long you forgot about the event of the year?”
“I cannot believe my mistake.” Her eyes widen with mock disappointment, and her exaggerated Southern accent is adorable. It makes me want to pull her back against me in a hug and breathe in her flowery perfume.
It’s one of summer and nostalgia.
I’ve missed her.
Her face through a phone screen over the years hasn’t been enough in the slightest.
I swallow and try to steady my voice. “I definitely need to remind you of all things Sunnyville—Lulu’s Diner, Mama Bertha’s pancakes, the works. But let’s start slow and go to Willow’s for my surprise birthday barbecue.”
“You know about that?” Clara smacks my shoulder.
“As Willow’s older brother, I’ve been able to spot her bullshit from a mile away, okay? Like she really expects me to believe she needs me to come over to help organize their kitchen?”
Clara giggles into her hand.
Fuck, I’ve missed that sound.
“It’s so good to see you.” I tense as she steps up to me and smooths the collar of my white coat. “And I’m really proud of you, you know. You did it. You’re a doctor.”
She throws her arms around my neck, and I catch her by the waist.
When she pulls back, she stays close, her lips mere inches from mine. A soft smile plays across them as she asks, “Do you remember playing Operation growing up?”
“How could I forget all the times you purposely touched the edges just so you could stop playing? You were so sick of it because I wanted to play every day, and you knew I hated that buzzer noise.”
“I wasn’t sick of it, per se.”
I scoff as she steps out of my embrace. “All you wanted to do was jump rope, like my two left feet could really keep up.”
She laughs again, her shoulders bouncing up and down. I join in, and our eyes lock as we clear our throats. I hold her stare—it’s innocent.
Two friends reuniting.
We used to spend every day together.
Until she moved away for college.
And after that, across the country with her husband.
But now, she’s back, and in just a few minutes, she’s already made it seem like she never left.
My heart recognizes her.
The truth is, my heart has beat for Clara Morgan since we were kids. It stopped fully beating with every step she took down the aisle to another man.
With every mile that took her away from me.
She squeezes my arm, then walks toward the door, calling over her shoulder that she and Jacob will meet me at my sister’s for the party.
I nod, at a loss for words, as I watch the one who got away walk out the door.
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