Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
L yla trembled as she pulled her car into the driveway of her childhood home. It was a surreal experience. She hadn’t been here in almost forty years.
After taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and stared at the front of the house. She was surprised to see the same oak tree in the front yard. It was so large now that the entire yard was cast in shadow.
The house had probably been painted several times since she last saw it, but it was currently white—the same color it had been when she was growing up. The shrubbery was more recent, of course, and the railing on the porch had been replaced at some point.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, so she pulled it out, knowing it would be her father calling. She smiled as she answered. “Hey, Dad.”
“Did you make it okay, honey?”
“Yes. I just got here.”
“Oh, good. I’m sorry to dump this on you, Lyla. It’s asking a lot for you to take time out of your life to deal with selling the house. Thank you for taking care of it. Your mother and I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem, Dad. I’ll handle it. You just take care of Mom.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll talk to you later.”
Lyla put her phone back in her jeans pocket and inhaled long and slow. She hadn’t been here since the summer after she graduated from high school. Thirty-eight years. It seemed like a lifetime and yesterday all at once.
That June had been life-altering in many ways. She’d had her first kiss and lost her virginity on the same night. She’d fallen in love that night, too. She’d thought she was on top of the world. And then it had all fallen apart.
When her father’s job transferred him to another state weeks after graduation, her parents decided to keep this house and use it as a rental. They’d done so for all these years. Her parents were in their eighties now, and her mother wasn’t in good health. So they’d finally decided to sell it.
It was time to stop stalling and go inside. She wasn’t expecting a disaster. The last tenants had been amazing folks who took good care of the place, but that didn’t mean the house wouldn’t need some work before it could be put on the market.
Instead of heading for the front of the house, Lyla aimed for the side entrance, the one she’d used most often. Her hands were shaking as she approached. She couldn’t bring herself to reach for the handle.
Rooted to her spot, she stared at the wall next to the door and swallowed. She’d stood in that spot thirty-eight years ago, plastered to the wall, while Rock Monroe kissed the life out of her in the early-morning hours after a night of ecstasy.
Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall, picturing that night for the billionth time. She’d dreamed of it over and over. She’d never forgotten a detail, but now that she was here, it was so much more real.
She’d stood in this spot, her bare feet planted in the dirt, her prom dress askew, her hair a mess, her makeup long since smeared. She’d been deliciously sore from giving Rock her virginity. She’d also been filled with excitement from giving him her heart.
Rock had pinned her to the side of the house and kissed her over and over, one more last time after another. When he’d finally released her, he’d waited to make sure she made it inside safely, and then he’d sped off on his motorcycle.
Lyla had been eighteen years old. She’d lived two times longer since then. But she’d never forgotten that night, and she never would.
Was he living here in Shadowridge still today? She had no idea. She’d never inquired. Maybe she should look him up.
No. She couldn’t.
He’d had a life since then. It would be too painful to find him married or perhaps even deceased. He would be fifty-eight now. Two years older than her.
She’d often wondered what had become of him, but she’d never allowed herself to search for him on social media. She needed to clean this house, get it up for sale, and let the past lie in the past.