Chapter 2

At six-thirty, she stood in front of her closet, second-guessing every option. The navy dress was too much. The cream sweater was too little. She settled on dark jeans, a soft burgundy blouse, and the small gold earrings her mother had given her.

Practical. Comfortable. But not hiding.

At seven sharp, a knock. She opened the door to find Liam in a dark jacket, holding a bottle of wine. "You look beautiful," he said, and this time she believed him.

"You already said that this morning."

"I meant it then, too." He smiled, the same crooked smile that had undone her at eighteen. "Ready?"

"Ready."

The Italian place on Elm Street was warm and intimate, red-checkered tablecloths and flickering candles. They were seated by the window, and Sarah realized with a start that she'd looked through this same window for years, watching couples inside, never imagining she'd be one of them.

They ordered the Cabernet Liam had brought, laughing at the coincidence. The waiter came. Sarah chose gnocchi, Liam the lasagna. Conversation came easily, the way it always had.

"Tell me about your project," Sarah said, wrapping her hands around her wine glass. "The one that brought you back."

Liam leaned back. "Historic restoration. The old Whitmore Mill. A development company bought it—apartments, shops, a brewery. I'm the structural engineer."

"The Whitmore Mill? Abandoned for decades."

"Twenty-three years. Closed the year we graduated." He met her eyes. "I remember driving past it with you that summer. You said it looked like a ghost."

Sarah remembered. The heat, the fireflies, Liam's hand in hers. Driving with windows down, believing the future was endless.

"I didn't know you went into engineering," she said, steering away from the past.

"Bounced around first. Construction, sales, photography. Kept coming back to buildings." He paused. "Satisfying, making things that last."

"Unlike me, apparently," he added quietly.

"Liam—"

"No, it's okay. I ran away from everything good because I was scared. Chasing opportunity, but really just running." He set down his glass. "I've spent a long time trying to be someone who stays."

Sarah looked at him, the lines around his eyes, the gray at his temples. The boy she'd loved, the man he'd become. "Why did you come back? To Havenbrook?"

Liam was quiet. The accordion player in the corner launched into a familiar tune. "I asked for this assignment," he said finally. "Volunteered. Told myself it was because I knew the area. But that's not the real reason."

"What is?"

"I wanted to see you." He held her gaze. "I've wanted to see you for twenty-two years, Sarah. Never had the courage to call. But this felt like a sign. A chance to come back and face what I left behind."

Her heart pounded. "You came back for me?"

"I came back to try. To see if there was anything left worth saving." He shook his head. "And when I walked into your bookstore, when I saw you standing there... I knew I made the right decision."

Sarah didn't know what to say. She took a sip of wine, the words too heavy to hold.

"You don't have to say anything," Liam said gently. "Just wanted you to know the truth."

"Thank you," she managed. "For being honest."

"I should have been honest twenty-two years ago."

"You should have." She met his eyes. "But we can't go back. Only forward."

"Is that an invitation?"

She almost smiled. "A possibility."

Their food arrived. Conversation shifted to lighter topics—books, a disastrous hike he'd taken in Colorado, her cat's habit of knocking things off shelves. They laughed, and the tension in her chest loosened.

By the time they finished, the restaurant had emptied. Liam grabbed the check. "My treat," he said. "You can get the next one."

"Assuming there is a next one?"

"Hoping." He smiled. "No pressure. We'll take it slow."

They walked back through quiet streets, stars emerging overhead. Sarah felt hope, fragile but present, like a seedling pushing through winter soil.

On her porch, Liam stopped. "I had a really good time tonight."

"Me too." She hesitated. "Coffee?"

"I'd love to, but early meeting at the site tomorrow. Rain check?"

"Rain check," she agreed, surprised by how much she meant it.

He stepped closer. "Goodnight, Sarah."

"Goodnight, Liam."

He leaned in, a gentle kiss on her cheek. Then he pulled back, smiled, and walked down the steps.

Sarah watched him go, hand pressed to her cheek, heart racing. She stood there until his car disappeared around the corner, then went inside, locked the door, and leaned against it, exhaling.

Her phone buzzed. Brenda: "WELL?"

Sarah typed: "It was good. Really good."

"Details tomorrow. Lunch? My place?"

"Deal."

She set the phone down, looked at the wildflowers on her counter. Liam's hand near hers, his gaze when she'd walked out of her bedroom, the kiss on her cheek. Second chances. For the first time in twenty-two years, she let herself believe she deserved one.

The next morning, Sarah woke with a lightness she hadn't felt in years. She made coffee, fed Mr. Darcy, and spent an extra ten minutes getting ready. The bookstore called, familiar and safe, but she looked forward to lunch with Brenda, to talking about Liam, to letting the hope bloom.

The morning rush was steady. Sarah moved through familiar motions—ringing up customers, straightening displays, recommending novels—while her mind drifted to Liam's confession. He came back for me.

At noon, she flipped the sign to "Back in 30" and walked the two blocks to Brenda's. Brenda answered the door in her apron, dusted with flour, a wide grin already in place. "Get in here and tell me everything," she said, pulling Sarah inside.

The kitchen smelled of basil and tomatoes. Sarah sat at the worn wooden table while Brenda ladled soup into bowls and set out warm bread. "So," Brenda said, sitting across from her. "Dinner. Spill."

Sarah told her everything—the restaurant, the conversation, the walk home, the kiss on her cheek. She left out the part about her heart still racing.

Brenda listened, her expression shifting from eager to thoughtful. When Sarah finished, Brenda was quiet for a long moment.

"What?" Sarah asked. "You're being weird."

"Thinking."

"About what?"

Brenda set down her spoon. "I have to tell you something. And I need you to hear me out before you get mad."

Sarah's stomach tightened. "What?"

"I knew Liam was coming back."

The words hung in the air between them. "What do you mean, you knew?"

"He called me. About two months ago. Said he was working on a project in Havenbrook, asked about you. Married? Happy? Would you see him?"

Sarah stared. "You didn't tell me."

"I was going to. But he asked me not to. Wanted to do it himself. I thought maybe it was better that way. If I warned you, you'd build walls."

"Brenda."

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you." Brenda reached across the table. "But I saw the way you looked when you came back from the coffee shop that first day. You looked alive, Sarah. Really alive."

Sarah pulled her hand away, her mind spinning. Liam's confession. The wildflowers, the wine, the kiss. "He planned this," she said slowly. "The whole thing."

"He planned to see you. The rest was him, in the moment. But yes, he came back wanting to find you."

"That's..." Sarah didn't know if she was angry or touched. "That's a lot."

"It's romantic. A man who spends twenty-two years regretting a mistake and finally gets the courage to do something about it." Brenda squeezed her hand. "He loves you, Sarah. He never stopped."

"You don't know that."

"A man doesn't fly across the country, volunteer for a project he doesn't need, and call your best friend unless he's still in love with you."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but the words died. Brenda was right. Deep down, she knew it. Liam still loved her. And she still loved him. The realization hit like a wave, and she gripped the edge of the table.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered.

"You don't have to know today. Just be open to finding out." Brenda smiled. "And maybe, for once, let yourself be brave."

Sarah nodded, her heart racing. Her walls, the careful life, the hard-won peace. And Liam, in her bookstore, holding wildflowers, looking at her like she was the answer to a twenty-two-year question. Maybe it was time to let someone in. Maybe it was time to be brave.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Liam: "Good morning. Said we'd take it slow, but I can't stop thinking about last night. Lunch today? My treat."

Sarah looked at Brenda, who watched her with a knowing smile.

"Well?" Brenda asked.

Sarah typed: "I'd like that. Same time?"

"I'll pick you up at the bookstore."

She set down the phone, took a deep breath. The walls were crumbling. She wasn't sure if she was ready for what lay on the other side. But she was willing to find out.

She was about to leave when her phone buzzed again. A number she didn't recognize.

"Sarah Miller?" a woman's voice asked when she answered.

"Yes?"

"This is Rachel Donovan. Liam's sister." A pause. "I think we need to talk."