Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T hat was stupid! Dylan told herself as she stopped just beyond the tree line to take a couple of deep breaths. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a warning drum, and her legs ached from sprinting across the field. She knew she’d taken too long searching his room.
Way too long.
The moment she’d heard the truck pull up the gravel drive, she’d frozen, hands deep in the drawer of a nightstand in Max’s guest room, the one Abe had been staying in. Of course it had taken her a while to find out which of the rooms he had moved into at first. More time wasted.
Then, he had returned and she hadn’t even had time to fully process the sound before instinct kicked in, telling her to run.
And she had.
She’d bolted through the glass doors she’d easily opened earlier and rushed down the back slope like some sort of criminal.
Because she was one. When the occasion called for it.
Trespassing. Breaking and entering. Snooping through someone’s private things in hopes of finding answers to a case no one even wanted reopened. She’d even made sure to use the jammer for the security system she’d spied when she’d cased the place a few nights ago.
Now, back in her car, which she’d parked at the public beach access a mile away, she peeled off her gloves and stocking hat and tossed them onto the passenger seat as she gripped the steering wheel tight. The world around her remained dark and still. Such was life in a small town.
She shifted into gear and slowly drove away, keeping her headlights off until she was well out of sight from the house.
The back roads twisted through the hills as she made her way towards her father’s cabin. Her cabin now. Her thoughts spun faster than the tires on the wet pavement.
Had he seen her?
She didn’t think so. She’d been careful. But the way the porch light had shone on her had her second-guessing everything.
You were too curious, she scolded herself. You asked him about the journal. You should’ve waited to see what he shared willingly. Now he’ll know something’s off.
But what was she supposed to do? Sit around and wait for him to hand her a clue?
Earlier that night, she’d slipped the question in casually enough. “Do you write your lyrics down? Or do you just remember them?” and watched his face carefully.
“I have a journal I keep lyrics in,” he had answered.
“Do you take it everywhere you go?”
He’d opened his mouth to answer. She could see it, the shift in his eyes. Something about that question had struck a nerve.
But before he could respond, a wedding guest interrupted them, and the moment had vanished.
And now? She had nothing to show for her search. No journal. No ties to Kara Sinclair.
Just a room far neater than any musician’s space had a right to be. Organized. Bare. Like he’d purposefully left out anything worth finding. Maybe she should take a trip to his ranch in California?
No. His security was far too tight there. She’d read an article where a few fans had tried to break in and hadn’t even made it past the gate before his full-time security team had stopped them.
She turned off onto the long gravel drive leading to her cabin and parked in the shadowed curve of the garage. She sat in the stillness for a long minute, fingers resting on the keys, her thoughts looping back to the single photograph she had found tucked in the pages of a novel on the nightstand.
It had been old. Faded.
Abe, a few years younger. Smiling. Standing beside Kara.
They looked so in love with one another it hurt.
If he was what everyone thought he was, then why in the hell would he still have that?
He claimed in one of his first interviews not to have known Kara well. He claimed it was just a college fling.
But that photo told a different story. Most men don’t keep a photo from a fling.
The song he had sung for Max and Juliette also told a different story. At first, anyone would believe the lyrics were for the happy couple. But she somehow knew they weren’t. He never mentioned her name, but Kara was the real inspiration for the romantic song.
Dylan bit her lip, her hand trembling slightly as she finally shut off the engine.
She had to be careful now. Smarter. She couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
Because something told her that Abe might be more involved in Kara’s death than he let on. And it made her sick to her stomach.
The next morning, she took a jog on the beach. She had her headphones in, listening to her favorite tunes as she sprinted up and down the stretch of sand.
Her mind kept circling back to the night before—the swing, the starlight, the way Abe had looked at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.
It annoyed her. Not just because she hadn’t found anything in his room, or because he’d nearly caught her sneaking away like a thief in the night, but because she felt something.
And one thing life had taught her was that feelings were dangerous.
She jogged until her legs burned and her lungs stung, only stopping once the sun rose high enough to kiss her skin with warmth.
After a few stretches and a cool drink of water from the bottle she’d stashed in her trunk, she slipped a lightweight hoodie over her tank top and headed into town, hoping for a little caffeine and something sweet to go with the growing ache in her chest.
Sara’s Nook was already buzzing when she stepped inside.
The smell of coffee and freshly baked scones hit her like a hug from an old friend.
She made her way to the counter and was halfway through ordering her usual—black coffee and a lemon blueberry scone—when a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the fastest girl on the beach.”
Dylan turned and found herself staring up at Nate Elliott.
He looked exactly the same as he had in high school, only broader in the shoulders and maybe a little more confident in his smile.
His dark sandy hair was wind-tousled, and his gray T-shirt clung to a chest that definitely saw time in a gym.
She had seen him at the wedding but hadn’t talked to him. Not because he was one of the bad ones in town. He had just been too busy with his sister Juliette’s wedding.
“Nate,” she said, offering a polite smile. “You’re up early. After last night’s party, I would have thought you’d be MIA like most of the town is.”
He chuckled. “Naw, old habits from my track days have me up running almost every day.” He shrugged.
“I heard that you lived in the city?”
He grinned and held up a coffee cup. “I moved back a few weeks ago. I saw you running and tried catching you out on the sand, but you’re still as fast as you were in track.”
“And you’re still too slow,” she joked.
He nodded slightly. “Caffeine is survival.”
She chuckled and took a step to the side so he could place his order. “You just moved back from…”
“Portland. I moved back to help out with the family business. You know how it goes. Once you’re in, you’re in for life.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, eyes flicking out of the windows to the Brew-Ha-Ha book store, which sat down and across the street a little. “Small towns have a way of pulling you back.”
He leaned against the counter, giving her a once-over that was probably meant to be subtle but wasn’t. “So, you here to stay, or just visiting?”
“I’m… figuring that out.” She had decided to keep things vague with anyone who asked her.
He smiled, easy and warm. “Well, if you’re around for a while, maybe we could grab dinner. Catch up properly.”
It was a tempting offer. Nate had always been kind to her in school, never mocking her the way others had. And now he was single, good-looking, and clearly interested.
But even as she considered saying yes, her mind betrayed her. She pictured Abe’s eyes on hers, the way his voice had softened when he said her name, how close they’d come to something that almost felt like… more.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, taking her coffee from the barista with a grateful nod.
“Good,” Nate said, flashing her another charming grin.
“I’ll hold you to that.” He took up his coffee cup, and as he turned to leave she found herself watching him walk away.
Objectively, he checked all the boxes. And yet…
the flutter in her chest that came when Abe so much as looked at her wasn’t there.
And that was more confusing than anything else.
She took a bite of her scone after settling at a corner table by the window. She pulled out her phone and opened the photo she’d taken of the one thing she had found the night before: the old picture of Abe and Kara.
Answers were out there.
She just had to stop letting certain feelings get in the way of finding them.
After finishing her coffee and scone at the bakery, she tucked the pastry bag that held two more scones under her arm and crossed the street to the grocery store.
The place had changed a lot since she’d left town, and she was surprised to find herself smiling at the improvements.
The windows were new, the signage bigger, and the smell of fresh bread drifted out the automatic doors as she stepped inside.
Since Wyatt Auston had taken over after Patty O’Neil passed, the store had been transformed.
What had once been a cramped and dusty little shop was now buzzing with energy.
There were digital checkout lanes, a newly remodeled deli section, and even catering and delivery services, things Dylan never would have imagined seeing in the small town.
These days, with her energy low and her focus elsewhere, she found herself relying more and more on the ready-made meals from the deli. She made a beeline for the prepped salads and hot food and grabbed a few things for tomorrow’s breakfast.
She was halfway through scanning the fresh pasta selection when a child’s giggle caught her attention.
“Dylan! Stop pulling on Mommy’s necklace!”
Her heart stuttered at the sound of her own name. She turned, eyes landing on a woman a few feet away who was balancing a toddler on one hip and adjusting the strap of a baby carrier slung across her chest.
It took a second, maybe two, before recognition struck.
Lucy McDonald.
Time had worn down the glossy edges of the girl Dylan used to call her best friend. Lucy’s brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her T-shirt smudged with something suspiciously sticky, and dark circles clung beneath her eyes. She looked older, tired… but still unmistakably Lucy.
Their eyes met.
“Dylan?” Lucy’s voice was tentative, almost disbelieving. “Is that really you?”
Dylan froze, her fingers tightening around the handle of her shopping basket.
Lucy smiled and shifted her weight, bouncing the toddler on her hip. “This is Dylan,” she said, gesturing towards the boy clinging to her, who was now playing with her earring. “I named him after you.”
Dylan blinked. “You… did?”
“Yeah.” Lucy’s expression softened. “You were such a big part of my life. Back then. I always thought… well, even after everything that happened, I wanted to remember the good parts.”
Dylan’s throat tightened. She stared at the child, her namesake, and then at the sleeping infant strapped to Lucy’s chest. “Two kids?”
“Yeah,” Lucy said with a soft laugh. “Liza’s only four months. I’m officially outnumbered.”
“I can see that,” Dylan said, her voice a little too sharp, her emotions catching her off guard. There was so much she wanted to say. So much she wanted to ask. Why Lucy had turned away when she’d needed her most. Why no one had stood up for her back then.
Lucy seemed to sense the shift in her tone and cleared her throat. “Hey, um… I know it’s been a long time, but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Catch up?”
Dylan hesitated. Her gut twisted, heart racing. She wanted to scream yes and no all at once. Instead, she forced a tight smile.
“Maybe. I, uh, I’ve got a bunch of things I have to take care of today.” She took a step back. “But it was nice seeing you.”
Lucy looked like she wanted to say more, but Dylan didn’t wait. She turned and hurried towards the checkout lanes, the image of that little boy’s smile haunting her as she tried to breathe through the sudden weight in her chest.
By the time she reached her car, she was trembling.
She didn’t know what she was running from anymore—her past, her feelings, or the fact that, even after everything, a small part of her missed her old friend. Missed being part of this town.
But she wasn’t ready to face any of it.
Not yet.