Chapter 2
Steph
How long does it take to forget your first love?
The answer is forever.
Never.
I’m still shaking hours later.
I’m honestly not even sure how I drove myself home, what with the waves of nausea and trembling that overtook me earlier and wouldn’t let up.
It’s adrenaline, I think.
A natural fight or flight response I was unable to acknowledge, for there was no way I was going to confront him, nor could I make an escape while seated at the head table as a bridesmaid for one of my dearest friends on her wedding day.
My muscles ache as I climb from the car, and I drop my keys twice before I’m able to insert them into the lock and push open the front door.
Geez, Steph, get a hold of yourself!
I suck in a deep breath and exhale it loudly before stepping across the threshold, steeling myself for the possibility that one or both of my sons might still be up and playing video games in the living room.
I’d hate for either of them to see me in my current state.
Matt and Alex were with me at the wedding earlier, of course, but with no other guests their own age there, they were happy to sneak away hours ago before the dancing got started.
Sure enough, the glow of the TV greets me as I move into the entry.
Steadying myself against the wall, I’m finally able to toe off my heels.
The balls of my feet throb gratefully, and the relief I feel as I press my bare feet to the cool hardwood is almost enough to distract me from …
well, what happened tonight. Who happened.
When nobody calls out a greeting, I take another few fortifying breaths, willing my racing heart to slow and my shivers to dissipate, then pad softly into the living room and peek over the back of the sofa.
Matt is passed out and drooling on one of my throw pillows—the purple one, damn him, that’s dry clean only.
Don’t ask me why I thought it was a good idea to have anything in a home with two teen boys that requires dry cleaning, but sometimes a woman needs to treat herself, and that stupid pillow really spoke to me the other day at Home Haven with Piper.
I smile down at the sleeping form of my eldest son, allowing the sight of him to soothe my frayed nerves. Sixteen and about to start his junior year at Llyn Lakes High, but still my baby. Always will be.
I take a moment to study him. He was delighted to have made the football team last year, and despite my concerns for his safety, I was damn proud of him.
He’s spent the last month in training camp and is excited to have made the starting lineup for this upcoming season.
And all his hard work shows. I feel a twinge of …
melancholy, I guess, as I take him in, noticing how much he’s changed.
All long-limbed and broad-shouldered. His body is filling out, and he has noticeable biceps muscles where before there were none.
Or maybe I hadn’t allowed myself to see until now.
His hands are large. Like his father’s, I think fleetingly.
Able to catch a hard pass and run it into the end zone on increasingly powerful legs.
Wistfulness—that’s what it is I’m feeling. Wistfulness, and … something else. Something I’m not prepared to deal with right now.
Or ever.
Yep, never sounds good.
He’s growing up, though, becoming a man.
And I’m not ready.
The nighttime talk show playing in the background switches to a commercial, and the discrepancy in volume between the ad and the program blares alarmingly into the room.
I jump at the suddenness of it, letting out a little yelp.
Why do they do that?! It’s not like my nerves aren’t completely shot already.
If they think making it annoyingly loud is going to help grab people’s attention, they are dead wrong.
It’s just another reason to hit the fast-forward button, as far as I’m concerned.
Matt cracks an eye open at the noise—mine or the TV’s, I’m not sure—and gives me a half smile.
“Mom?” His voice is scratchy from sleep.
“Yeah, baby, it’s just me.”
He blinks up at me through bleary eyes and frowns.
“Are you alright?” he asks, focusing on my face. I nod, glancing away.
“Mm-hmm. I’m okay, Matty,” I reassure him in a whisper. “Just tired. I’m gonna get to bed. You should too.”
He hums in agreement, and then he grunts, shoving himself up to a seated position.
I lean in and place a quick kiss to his forehead, something that, were he fully awake, he’d likely duck to avoid.
As a mother, I have to seize these opportunities when they present themselves.
Then, I turn on my heel and scurry down the hall.
Slipping into my bedroom, I close the door and rest my head against it for a long moment.
In the safety of my darkened bedroom, I allow myself to recall the exact moment I felt his eyes on me tonight—the moment when I knew. Somehow, I just knew.
It was him.
He was back.
I’ve taken my first steps down the floral-lined aisle in Henry Evans’ backyard when my skin begins to prickle as though I’m being watched.
Duh, I tell myself, shoving the feeling aside.
Of course, I’m being watched. All eyes are on me as I lead the way towards the altar with my friend and fellow bridesmaid, Lucy, following a few paces behind.
I glance around at all the eager, smiling faces, making eye contact with a few and nodding.
I hate being the center of attention, so it’s unsurprising that I’m feeling a little discomfited right now.
Still …
The feeling persists. And it’s more, somehow.
I feel flushed, no … hot all over. Burning.
Aflame beneath the scrutiny of a mystery observer.
I take another step, casting my gaze again over the crowd of guests.
There are my boys, seated towards the middle on the right.
There’s Mrs. Abernathy and the other Historical Society ladies.
Then, the members of the library’s Mystery Mavens book club are directly behind them.
Near the front, I see Chief Hudson … then Mrs. Walker, the mother of the groom … and then—
And then my secret observer is no longer a secret.
Before my eyes have even fully taken in what I’m seeing—who—I know.
Our eyes lock.
I stumble.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be real.
But it is. Because standing beside Mrs. Walker …
Is Riley.
By some miracle, I’d made it to the end of the aisle and taken up my position alongside Lucy and across from the groomsmen.
I wish I could say for myself that it was a beautiful ceremony or that the sunset over the lake at our backs was the perfect setting for the event, but I can’t.
I’d only heard those things exclaimed by others throughout the night, but I hadn’t experienced any of it.
No, I’d stood there, completely frozen, my muscles rigid and my eyes downcast, afraid to look up for fear of meeting his searing gaze once more.
My mind raced with the implications of his presence.
Of him being back.
A legitimate rush of fear flooded my system and stole my breath.
Oh sure, there were plenty of other emotions elicited by the sudden return of Riley Walker—pain being an ever-present and all too familiar one, also anger, frustration.
Sadness. Still, fear was the emotion that prevailed.
And it’s that fear that once again wracks my body as I slide to the floor of my bedroom and finally allow myself to succumb to the tears that have been threatening all night.
I’d truly believed I’d never see him again, not after so many years—and I know exactly how many it’s been, right down to the very day.