She lifted a shoulder. “Life can’t always be easy.”
“Let me know if next time I see him, you want me to kick him where the sun don’t shine, okay? Because I will, and I can do some serious damage.”
Despite everything, Callie laughed. “Really? You’d kick a former Ghost Ops team member?”
“Hell yeah, I would. Then I’d run like hell.”
Callie laughed again, because not only was Lock tall and strong, he was also fast. There’d be no getting away and Aspen knew that. “You’re a good friend.”
“I know. That’s why the next time I sign up for another hour of suffering, you’re going to let me sit out those side-lying crunch things.”
“Again…voluntary. The class is voluntary.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Aspen tugged Callie into a tight hug before heading out of the studio.
Callie was still smiling as she watched her friend move toward her car through the window. It felt good to be back with her best friend. Leaving this town two years ago had meant leaving both Aspen and her father. It had been hard, but at the time, she hadn’t felt like she’d had a choice.
She was back now though. The only thing she hadn’t counted on was Lock being back too.
Her heart gave a little twist. Aspen was right. She couldn’t avoid him forever. Misty Peak was too small for that. But the idea of seeing him made every put-together piece of her tear apart. She hadn’t seen him since that day. But she’d thought about him. God, had she thought about him. Even when her heart had screamed to forget.
She swallowed and turned, grabbing some spray and wipes before moving around the studio and cleaning the machines. Everyone wiped down their reformer at the end of each class, but she always gave them another once-over before leaving her studio for the day.
Her studio. It sounded crazy. She’d actually opened her own studio, something she’d wanted to do for as long as she could remember.
There were five reformer machines on one side of the room for her Pilates classes and five mats on the other side for yoga. The classes were small and intimate. The perfect size for her.
When the machines were clean, she grabbed her laptop and a pile of mail she hadn’t opened yet and headed into the back room. There was a small kitchenette on one side and a table with a couple of chairs on the other. There was also a small bathroom across from this room.
She dumped the mail onto the table before throwing out the wipes. Her plan for the rest of the day was a trip to the grocery store to get supplies for prime rib—her father’s favorite.
She turned back to the mail and was rifling through the pile when one letter had her pausing. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end, and a chill swept over her skin.
No…it couldn’t be. She hadn’t received one of these letters in years—since the last time she’d lived in Misty Peak.
She traced the familiar handwriting with her eyes. The indentation of the ink was deep, like the person writing it used so much pressure they almost pushed their pen through the envelope.
For six months, she’d received letters from this person while still living in Misty Peak and dating Lock. Letters about her looks. About the brown locks of her hair shining in the sun. The green of her eyes reminding him of a forest. They were never signed with a name.
Even though she’d been dating Lock, she hadn’t told him. He’d been special operations in the military, working a super dangerous job. He didn’t need to worry about her too.
After a few months, she’d gone to the sheriff at the time, but there’d been nothing he could do. There’d been no prints on the notes and no return address, and the person had never escalated past sending letters. They’d only stopped when she left, and she’d almost forgotten about them…until now.
Quickly, she tore open the envelope to see two words.
Welcome home.
Her heart punched her ribs. There was nothing threatening about those two words. There’d never been anything threatening about any of the letters. But whoever it was, they knew she was back…and they wanted her to know that.
Her skin crawled.
Who was it? Two years had passed…surely they should have lost interest in her in that time?
She’d just shoved the letter back into the envelope and dropped it to the table when the creak of a floorboard sounded in the other room.
She took a deep breath. A potential client was in the other room. She needed to forget about the letter, at least for a few minutes.
She turned and stepped into the studio, only to grind to a halt as she looked up, way up, into the familiar blue eyes of the man she’d loved. The man who’d changed her. Hurt her. Left her.
