Sighing, Wynter glanced at the clock. Despite the fact that it wasn’t that late, she could claim exhaustion and head to bed early. But that would only delay the inevitable. Her grandmother was nothing if not observant. “I saw Marcus in town at the lighting ceremony.”
“Oh? How is he doing?”
She lifted a shoulder. “We didn’t talk much.”
“He was always such a nice boy. Whatever happened between you two?”
Wynter fought the urge to grimace. She hadn’t divulged her reasons for shutting Marcus out of her life. Mostly, because her grandmother wouldn’t approve. Wynter had spent her formative years learning how to protect herself, and a big part of that included knowing when to put up walls. Yes, Marcus was a nice boy. He was… everything. And that was the exact reason Wynter had needed to put distance between them. “We just… drifted apart,” Wynter murmured lamely. “You know how it is. Long distance is a death sentence for friendships.”
Her grandmother pressed her lips together in a tight line, but she didn’t argue.
Thank goodness.
Blowing out a breath, Wynter got to her feet. “You know what? I’m tired. I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ll make sure to get up early enough to help with breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Wynter squeezed her grandmother’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know. But that’s why I’m here—to help you. Besides, it will be nice. Like old times.”
The woman who raised her smiled up at her and patted Wynter’s hand. “That sounds lovely. Sweet dreams.”
Alone in the room she’d spent the last two years of her high school career, Wynter settled onto the edge of her bed. She glanced around the familiar space, then closed her eyes as she allowed herself to fall back into those memories. Marcus had been terrified of visiting—especially when her grandfather had been home. Honestly, Jack Delaney could be scary when he wanted to be. But to her, he was a big teddy bear. After she’d lost her mother, and her father wasn’t a part of her life, Wynter’s grandparents took her in. She’d been young, and her grandparents hadn’t been ready to find a place to call home for good.
Maybe it was the fact that her grandfather had been a military brat. He’d moved a lot as a kid. Even Wynter could see he was restless. And yet Wynter had never wanted anything more than to find one place to call home. She’d wanted to sink her roots deep into the soil of a place and prepare it for her future generations.
But then she’d grown up and realized that wasn’t how the world worked. People left. People you loved died. Nothing lasted. It was safer to not open herself to the pain of loss in the first place. Since high school, the closest she’d come to settling down was her job in California. She was the lead entomologist for a company that was developing and implementingbehavioral tests on a variety of insects. The goal was to assess how they responded to visual and olfactory stimuli.
And she liked it. The job. The location. Even the few acquaintances she dared to call friends.
But something didn’t feel right. There was something missing. And she couldn’t figure it out. Still, she continued pouring her heart and soul into her job. She’d risen in the ranks from when she first started working there as an intern right after college.
It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago, when she’d gotten a call from Grams about her broken wrist, that Wynter had realized she needed to reevaluate her life. She had already started praying about it, asking God to guide her.
Wynter’s eyes scanned the room and landed on the document on her dresser. It was a short-term contract with a partner company out here in Copper Creek. They needed someone to come out and assess the alarming rate at which certain insects were infesting the barns during the winter months.
She rose and picked up the contract. Once the time was up, she’d return to her position in California. At this point, that time couldn’t come soon enough.
Her eyes landed on a familiar plexiglass cube she’d brought with her. The purple butterfly seemed to mock her. What was she doing here? Why had she allowed herself to get caught up in the memories of her past?
There were no answers to those questions. Even if she hadn’t gone to see the Christmas lights, she would have only been prolonging the inevitable.
Marcus would have eventually heard about her arrival.
And he would have tracked her down.
She dropped the paperwork on the dresser with a sigh. That time had merely come sooner rather than later.
3
MARCUS
This couldn’t be happening. Not again.
Marcus paced until he was sure his boots would wear a hole in the wood floor. He’d stopped several times to head for the front door of his home, only to return to the hallway and resume his pacing.
Maybe he should have driven to Wynter’s old house instead of his own. That would have made more sense. Only, he didn’t know if Wynter went home or if she was hiding somewhere else. And Marcus wasn’t about to show his hand to her grandmother.
Nora was great. She wouldn’t have turned him away. But there was a chance she didn’t know her granddaughter was in town.
