Chapter 2
Greyson
Of all the people I thought I might see tonight, Blair Cunningham wasn’t one of them.
She looked the same and different all at once, wiser maybe.
Softer in the eyes, sharper around the edges.
The blonde hair I remember was longer now, curled loosely over her shoulders, and those emerald green eyes were as stunning as always, though a little more stormy than I remember.
Her lips were pressed into a nervous smile I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Damn.” I muttered, stepping out from behind the bar. “You look... good.”
“So do you.” Her voice was cautious, like she didn’t trust the ground beneath her feet.
I wasn’t sure I trusted it either. I hadn’t seen Blair since she left town right after my sophomore year in college. No goodbye, no explanation. I had heard rumors. Family drama. Something about college. Writing, maybe?
“You’re back,” I said.
“Temporarily,” she replied, though her eyes gave away more. “Madison’s due in a few months. I’m staying with her.”
I nodded and motioned her toward the bar. “Drink?”
“Just water.” She gave a weak smile. “Trying to behave.”
“I’m not judging.” I slid her a glass, fingers brushing briefly. A zing shot up my arm.
Her eyes met mine and held still that same pull.
“What about you?” she asked. “This place yours?”
I nodded. “Bought it a couple of years ago. I cleaned it up. I gave it a new name. Felt like a fresh start.”
Blair looked around. “It suits you.”
I watched her for a long time. “Are you staying long?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”
Her voice had that same uncertain edge she used to have when hiding something.
I didn’t press. Not yet. But something in my chest stirred.
When she stood to leave, thanking me for the water, I said without thinking, “You know where to find me, honey bee.” She paused in the doorway, cheeks pink, lips parted. And smiled.
After last call, I walked home in the warm hush of August. The stars were out, bleeding silver through the dark velvet sky. The breeze smelled like grass and distant fire pits. I passed the willow trees lining Wisteria Creek and tried not to think of her name. But it clung to everything.
Back at the house, I dropped my keys in the tray by the door and paused at the old photo on the mantle. My parents, arms around each other, smiling like the world hadn’t even thought to turn cruel.
“I know, I know,” I murmured, touching the frame. “I said I’d let her go.”
But fate, or something like it, was giving me one more chance. And if Blair Cunningham was back, my past wasn’t done with me yet.