Sienna Jackson has always had just one goal: to get as far away from Prescott Harbor as possible.
However, when her brother-in-law dies, she knows she must return to her childhood town to take care of her sister and her niece. It will be simple. She...
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Do you think I have forgotten
About you?
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I turn off the engine right outside Madison's beach house and take a huge breath of air. Of all the things I had planned for this year, the last one I expected was having to come back to Prescott Harbor—but here I am, hiding in my car for a few seconds before stepping into my sister's house.
The sun hits me straight in the face. It must be around seventy-five degrees. Not that hot, considering how unbearable summers can get in this town in the middle of nowhere, but warm enough that my T-shirt is stuck to my body with sweat.
I pull the keys from the ignition and grab my bag from the passenger seat. I remind myself that it'll only be a few months. By the time summer is over, I'll be back in the big city in New York, and I won't have to return to Prescott Harbor ever again.
I get out of the car, shut the door behind me, and instantly feel guilty for showing up with such a pessimistic attitude. I may have to spend my summer in the town I grew up in, but Madison lost her husband only five months ago, and Bettany lost her father.
Besides, I volunteered for this. With Justin's death, the funeral, my six-year-old niece, work, school—Madison needs a break. And right now, I'm the only one who can give her that.
People walk past me with towels slung over their shoulders, laughing about something stupid, heading straight for the beach. It's a gorgeous day to lie in the sand all afternoon, and I turned in my last university assignment just fourteen hours ago. I should be thrilled. Nothing in this world should be able to disturb my peace right now.
Except for the dog sprinting straight toward me—so fast that I have to toss my bag to the ground to take a few steps back. I wobble on my heels and my butt hits the pavement before I even realize what's happening.
Shit.
I don't even get a chance to stand up before the dog starts licking my face, like we've known each other our whole lives.
Wait a second...
"Enzo!" a man calls out behind him. "Enzo, get over here!"
Enzo. I doubt there are many Labradors named Enzo in Prescott Harbor—especially ones with such a particular spot on their tongue. But the man tugging at the collar looks nothing like Mr. Morgan, Enzo's owner. Or at least, until four years ago, when I left this town at eighteen and swore I wouldn't come back, Mr. Morgan was the owner of the dog currently licking my face.
"Enzo, stop!" the man commands, but Enzo seems too thrilled to stop. Like he hasn't seen me in... well. Years.
"Enzo, that's enough!" I finally let out a small sigh and gently push him back. "God, you've always been so heavy! Okay, okay! I'll hug you, happy now?" As if he can understand me, he steps back, wagging his tail and his paws at the same time, waiting for affection.
