She’d taken the left fork in the road by the giant oak tree like always, purposefully blocking the image of herself as a girl lying beaten on the ground at its roots. Some memories were better left buried. Some ghosts were better left undisturbed.
Her hands gripped tight around the steering wheel and she let out a relieved breath as distance grew between her and the fork in the road. Her van struggled to make the incline and she pressed down a little harder on the gas, coaxing it along like she might coax a stubborn horse. She didn’t have the time or the money for it to stop working on her now.
The van let out an audible sigh of relief when the land flattened out, and she smiled as the lake and the house she’d spent so much time in as a child came into view. There were two main houses, one on each side of the lake. Tommy and Simone O’Hara had raised their family in the house on the east side, while Tommy’s brother, Mick, and his wife had taken the west. The cousins had grown up running back and forth between the two homes like they were one big family—which, in a way, they were.
The houses looked the same from where she sat, but different too. It seemed they’d added on over the years, a patchwork quilt of stone and rough-hewn timber that blended perfectly with the mountain landscape. Trees had grown more mature, their branches spreading wide. A tire swing hung from a sturdy oak limb near the water’s edge, swaying gently in the breeze.
But that wasn’t the only thing that had changed.
There was a gate now at the entrance to the property—nothing too imposing, just a simple wooden structure with a call box. Simone had warned her about it, explaining that after some trouble a few years back, they’d decided to be more careful about security. Family was too important not to protect.
Marnie pressed the button and announced herself, and the gate swung open smoothly. Once inside, it didn’t feel like a barrier at all. Just a sensible precaution for a family with means.
She followed the winding drive down toward the lake, where the trees became more sparse and the land opened up to rolling green grass and the shimmer of water reflecting the sunset. She’d noticed newer homes scattered across the property as she drove—smaller houses tucked among the trees, smoke curling from chimneys. She assumed they belonged to various O’Hara children and their spouses, spread out far enough for privacy but close enough to be there quickly if needed.
Simone and Tommy greeted her at the door with hugs that nearly squeezed the breath out of her. And soon after, she was enveloped in embraces from everyone—even those she’d never met. The O’Hara house was warm and welcoming, full of the noise and laughter she remembered from childhood. It was everything her own home had never been.
Tonight’s dinner was just Tommy and Simone’s immediate family—their children gathered around the big farmhouse table the way they had for decades. Blaze and his wife Lily were there, their boys corralled in the kitchen with plates of their own. Ryder and his daughter, Mac, who she’d had the pleasure of meeting when she’d stepped across for lunch at The Lampstand. Levi sat at the corner of the table, and it looked like he had finally grown into his feet, his shoulders and chest broadened by regular workouts. And Jax was there too, quiet and withdrawn at the far end of the table.
The only one missing was Sloane.
“She and Brant are in DC,” Simone explained, catching the question in Marnie’s eyes before she could ask it. “They’ve made a life out there. Sloane’s working at the Smithsonian now—she got her PhD in antiquities a few years back. She’s one of their top consultants for authenticating artifacts.”
“And Brant?” Marnie asked, remembering the vision she’d had years ago of Sloane’s future husband. She’d seen his face before she’d ever known his name.
“Brant’s…” Simone paused, choosing her words carefully. “He does consulting work for the government. The kind nobody talks about. Former CIA, we think, though he’s never confirmed it outright. They met when some agency needed Sloane’s expertise for a mission overseas—something about stolen antiquities being used to fund terrorism. She doesn’t talk about it much, but whatever happened over there, she came back engaged.” Simone smiled softly. “He’s a good man. Quiet. Protective. Exactly what she needs.”
The thought of Sloane—wild, adventurous Sloane—married to a former spy and working at the Smithsonian made Marnie smile. It was so perfectly unexpected. So perfectly Sloane.
“They’ll be home for Christmas,” Simone added. “I’ve already warned her that you’re back, and she about lost her mind with excitement. Expect a phone call any day now.”
The thought of talking to Sloane again—really talking, not just the brief, awkward attempts they’d made over the years—made something loosen in Marnie’s chest. Something that had been wound tight for fifteen years.
Marnie found herself laughing—really laughing—for the first time in longer than she could remember. The sound felt foreign in her throat, rusty from disuse.
But even amid the warmth and chaos, she could feel the undercurrent of worry that ran through the family like a river beneath ice. It centered on Jax, who sat at the far end of the table picking at his food, his eyes distant.
She knew the story—everyone in Laurel Valley did by now. Jax had been a Navy SEAL, one of the best. He’d served multiple tours, led his team through missions that would never make the news. And then a mission had gone wrong. Catastrophically wrong. The details were classified, but the result wasn’t—Jax had lost his leg, and with it, the career that had defined him.
The explosion had taken something else too. Something less visible but just as vital. The light that had always danced in his blue eyes—that mischievous spark she remembered from childhood—was gone. In its place was something hollow. Something lost.
She was getting hit with waves of emotion from everyone at the table where he was concerned. Worry. Guilt. Frustration. Fear. Despite the smiles on their faces and the laughter filling the room, the underlying anxiety was almost suffocating. She had to work to keep her walls up, to not let their feelings swamp her own.
The weight of those emotions pressed down on her and she pushed her food around on her plate, her appetite gone. And the thing that worried her most was what she couldn’t see. When she looked toward Jax’s future, there was only fog. Her visions could change depending on the choices people made, but for now, the O’Haras had every reason to be concerned.
She kept that knowledge to herself. Some things weren’t hers to share.
It was after dinner, when she was pulling on her coat and hat to leave, that she heard Beckett’s name.
The O’Haras all helped out at each other’s ranches when needed, but at Hamilton Ranch, it was only Beckett to oversee everything. He had a foreman and ranch hands, of course, but Beckett wasn’t the type to sit back and let others do the work. He was involved in every aspect, every decision.
There was talk of trying to get him away from his cattle for an evening, to get together like old times. And Marnie would have been lying if she said she hadn’t slowed down buttoning her coat just to listen.
Beckett had occupied her thoughts since she was sixteen years old. Seeing him the other day—just a glimpse through her shop window as he stood in the middle of Main Street dealing with that Hazel woman—had been enough to bring back feelings she’d tried to bury for fifteen years.
The memory of that night at the carnival. The Ferris wheel. Their first kiss, soft and sweet and full of promise. And then everything that had come after—the violence and the fear and the way he’d tried to protect her even when there was nothing he could do.
She’d dreamed of him over the years. More often than she’d ever admit to anyone. Dreams where they’d found their way back to each other, where the promise of that first kiss had been fulfilled. She always woke from those dreams feeling hollow, aching for something she’d never really had.
