Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Eight Months Later
Connor reached Good Hope a little after three in the afternoon.
His parents knew to expect him for dinner, but no time had been set. That was how it worked here—people arrived when they arrived. The day would hold.
The sun sat high and unbothered in a sky so vividly blue it looked curated, like a photograph meant to persuade someone to come north and stay for a while.
Instead of turning toward his parents’ house, Connor eased into a parking space in front of Muddy Boots, the café that anchored the center of town.
Blooms Bake Shop sat just next door, its wide front windows catching the light.
Both the café and the bakery belonged to his mother’s sister and her husband. Both had been fixtures of his childhood—after-school treats, early-morning breakfasts, a hundred small moments that had once felt ordinary and now didn’t.
He shut off the engine and stepped out of the car.
At first glance, nothing had changed. The same brick storefronts. The same hanging flower baskets spilling color from ornate lampposts. Even the slight tilt of the sidewalk slabs felt familiar beneath his feet.
It had been more than ten years since he’d lived here, yet the town felt the same.
Tourists filled the sidewalks—families in sandals, couples drifting between shops, the low murmur of summer voices—but beneath it all was a quiet steadiness. Not sleepy. Not stagnant. Settled and warm.
The door to Muddy Boots swung open, its bell giving a cheerful jingle. A rush of warm air followed—coffee, grilled onions and, unmistakably, French fries.
His stomach rumbled.
“Connor.”
He turned at the sound of his name to see his uncle Beckett Cross striding toward him, his expression already breaking into a grin.
Beck didn’t slow when he reached him. He hooked an arm around Connor’s shoulders and gave him a firm squeeze, the kind that landed somewhere between greeting and grounding.
“I knew you’d be back for Callum’s wedding,” Beck said. “Just wasn’t sure when you’d roll in.”
“Just got in,” Connor said.
Beck nodded toward the café. “You hungry?”
“I told Mom and Dad I’d be there for dinner.”
“I understand.” Beck’s smile softened. “They’re counting the minutes.”
He glanced back at Muddy Boots. “I’m meeting Jeremy. We’re finalizing the Fourth of July plans. He’d love to see you.”
Jeremy Rakes. Another uncle. The former mayor. Permanently involved in whatever kept this town stitched together.
“Tell him hello,” Connor said. “I should let my parents know I’m home.”
Beck studied him for a moment, then nodded. His dark eyes were warm, unguarded. “It’s really good to have you back.”
When Beck turned away, Connor leaned against the warm metal of his car, letting the afternoon settle around him.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the life he’d been building in Seattle.
A life that had required careful adjustments.
Strategic choices. A version of himself that had needed constant calibration.
Until it hadn’t.
It still surprised him that he was here for Callum’s wedding.
Callum, his identical twin, who’d once chased adrenaline and motion, who’d never stayed anywhere long enough to put down roots.
And now, Callum had done exactly that. He had a home.
A son. A soon-to-be wife who had been his friend since childhood and somehow fit him perfectly.
Commitment. Direction. Choosing something—and standing still.
Callum had landed somewhere Connor hadn’t. And from the look of it, he was happy there.
Connor felt the quiet swell of pride that came with that realization. Standing beside his brother as best man would feel right. Earned.
On impulse, he pushed away from the car and crossed the few steps to Blooms Bake Shop. The bell chimed as he opened the door, the air inside sweet with chocolate and sugar.
A cookie, or one of his aunt’s brownies, would be the proper punctuation to a day that had already given him more than he’d expected.
One week later, Connor stood with his brother in a narrow back room off the church’s sanctuary, the low murmurs of arriving guests seeping through the closed door.
Callum wasn’t fully dressed, tie loose around his neck, jacket slung over the back of a chair. He poured himself a glass of water from a sweating pitcher, his movements unhurried, almost casual. He took a sip, then another, a small, contented smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.
Connor tugged on his own jacket, smoothing the lapels. “You don’t look like a man who’s about to get married.”
Callum glanced up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “And how am I supposed to look?”
“I don’t know.” Connor gave a half shrug. “Nervous. Like you’re about to jump out of a plane without checking the chute.”
Callum laughed softly. “Marriage might be a leap,” he said, setting the glass down, “but it’s not a blind one.”
He tightened his tie, fingers steady. “I don’t have a single doubt that Brynn is the woman for me. We already chose each other. This,” he gestured vaguely toward the door, the church, the gathering beyond it, “just puts witnesses to it.”
Connor watched him closely. The restless energy that had once defined his twin—the constant motion, the itch for the next thrill—had gone quiet. Callum stood like someone who knew exactly where he belonged.
For the first time, Connor felt it clearly—the strange inversion of roles. Callum, the perpetual mover, had arrived. And Connor, who’d always assumed he was the steady one, felt like a visitor passing through someone else’s life.
“I’m really happy for you,” Connor said.
Callum tipped his head, studying him. “You’re wondering if I’ll miss it.”
Connor blinked. “Miss what?”
“Chasing the next adrenaline hit. Living out of a duffel bag.” Callum’s mouth curved. “You’ve always had that look when you think I’m giving something up.”
Connor lifted his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” Callum shrugged into his jacket. “But I’m not giving up anything that matters. Brynn doesn’t love extreme sports the way I do, but she’s never asked me to stop. She just asks me to come home.”
Connor considered that. “And do you still want it?”
“When it fits,” Callum said easily. Then he paused, his expression softening. “But with Brynn, I found my forever adventure.” Color crept into his cheeks, and he huffed a quiet laugh. “I know how that sounds.”
“It sounds like you mean it,” Connor said.
“I do.” Callum’s voice lowered. “Nothing matters more to me than her. And Parker.”
Connor nodded. “You’re a lucky man.”
Callum reached out, gripping Connor’s shoulder, the squeeze firm and grounding. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”
A knock rapped against the door. Ric’s voice filtered through the wood. “You about ready in there?”
Callum straightened, drawing in a breath. He met Connor’s eyes, calm and certain.
“Let’s do this.”
The reception was already in full swing by the time Connor caught his breath.
The wide barn doors at Rakes Farm stood open, letting the early evening spill in—golden light, warm air, the faint smell of cut grass and lake water.
Inside, strands of Edison bulbs and fairy lights crisscrossed the rafters, their glow softening the high beams until the ceiling looked like a captured night sky.
Music rolled steadily from the small stage, something warm and rhythmic, the kind that slipped under your skin and made you feel, inexplicably, like you belonged.
Callum stood near the dance floor, his hand resting easily at the small of Brynn’s back as they talked with Zoe and her fiancé, John.
While they spoke, Brynn leaned into Callum without thinking, her smile bright and unguarded, as if she’d never doubted for a second that this life, this moment, would be theirs.
The sight stopped Connor cold.
He’d told himself he was here to celebrate. To support. And he was. Truly. But something shifted as he watched his brother, who was rooted in a way Connor wasn’t sure he’d ever been. Pride surged first, sharp and solid.
Then came something quieter.
Heavier.
Longing.
When Zoe and John drifted toward the drink table, Connor crossed the floor and clapped Callum on the shoulder.
“The ceremony,” he said, nodding once, “was perfect.”
Callum raised a brow. “Perfect?”
Connor searched for a better word and came up empty. “Yeah. Perfect.”
It had been small. Intimate. The church filled only with the people who mattered most. Brynn’s parents could’ve funded a spectacle—everyone knew that—but Brynn had insisted on the little church where she and Callum had grown up, where their families had sat side by side long before anyone imagined them together.
The celebration was here, now—in the open air, laughter rising in bursts, glasses clinking, candlelight flickering as dusk deepened.
The barn had been transformed. Elegant without being precious. Whimsical without crossing into excess.
Brynn turned to Connor, her eyes soft. “Thank you. For everything. And for the speech.”
Callum shook his head. “You almost got me. All those nice things? I nearly lost it.”
Connor laughed. “Thought I’d catch you while your guard was down.”
Callum’s expression shifted, something thoughtful settling in. “I hope one day you find someone who makes you as happy as Brynn makes me.”
The words landed harder than Connor expected. Not because they surprised him, but because they rang true in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
He’d once thought Nicolette might be that person. With distance, he could admit the truth. There had been chemistry. Attraction. But not this. Not the ease. Not the quiet joy that seemed to rise off his brother whenever his gaze landed on Brynn.
Connor squeezed Callum’s shoulder and muttered something about needing a refill, then turned toward the barn doors that stood open to the night.
He took his time, scanning the scene.
Guests spilled out across the lawn, laughter curling through the air.
Kids darted through shadows, chasing fireflies.
A cluster of cousins hovered near the dessert table, plates balanced on their palms. Off to the side, a cornhole game was underway beneath the trees, his nephew, Parker, in the thick of it, red hair catching the light like a signal flare.
So many familiar faces. So much warmth.
He was happy to be here. Proud of his brother.
Content.
He told himself that again, more quietly.
Content.
Connor leaned back against a support beam, wineglass cool in his hand, watching the horizon soften from gold to dusky lavender.
And then—
Movement at the far edge of the path.
A flicker of dark hair caught the light. A dress, soft blue, shifted with her stride.
The woman paused just beyond the trellis, one hand brushing her hip as if to steady herself. She scanned the crowd, searching.
For a moment, she looked uncertain. Out of place.
It took Connor a beat longer than it should have.
He hadn’t seen her like this before. Not out of uniform. Not without a basketball court beneath her feet.
The girl he remembered from high school had been all sharp edges and easy confidence, one of the guys, defined by motion. The woman on his screen during playoff games had been power and precision.
This…this was something else.
Recognition hit, quiet but absolute.
His fingers tightened around his wineglass.
The night shifted. Subtly. Like ground that had always felt solid suddenly wasn’t.
Connor didn’t know what it meant yet.
Only that the evening wasn’t finished with him.