He’d always been steady, the rock that had grounded her.
But for a time in her life she hadn’t wanted to be grounded. She’d wanted to know what it felt like to fly.
The thought came uninvited, settling deeper than she expected.
Even people who wanted to fly liked having a safe place to come back to.
Wes had always been the person who’d shown up, who’d listened, who’d never made her feel like she had to be anything other than exactly who she was.
She’d picked her career over a relationship with him anyway.
And now here he was again, close enough that she could see the set of his shoulders through the windshield. He had the same broad, steady build she remembered from those Friday nights under the stadium lights. He handled his truck with easy control, one hand on the wheel, like nothing about this situation unsettled him.
Like nothing ever had.
She’d loved that about him at one time.
Rowan exhaled and passed through the open gate behind Wes. The afternoon sun filtered through mostly bare branches, the light cooler this time of year.
When she’d first moved to LA, she’d thought the weather was perfect. It was always in the seventies with a breeze. But she’d come to miss the different seasons.
She’d come to miss a lot of things, actually.
The property opened up ahead of her. The house came into view first—a sprawling modern farmhouse, complete with clean white siding trimmed in black. It even had a wide porch stretching across the front. The place looked even larger than she remembered, more finished. More . . . established.
A pond sat off to the left, its surface still and dark, reflecting the pale sky and the skeletal outlines of nearby trees.
To the right, a separate building stood back from the house—the kennel. Beyond it, farther toward the tree line, was a barn.
Everything appeared neat and thoughtful, beautiful in a way that felt deliberate rather than showy.
A dog barked in the distance then went quiet again.
A dog . . . she couldn’t wait to see the animals here. She’d always been a dog lover—probably more than anyone else in her family. But her schedule didn’t allow her to have a dog back in LA. It wouldn’t have been fair to the animal. But she’d never met a canine she didn’t like.
Rowan took a deep breath, trying to calm her nervous system. Her therapist told her that was very important.
You’re here. You’re safe.
She parked and forced herself to move. She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and stepped out into the sunlight, the air cooler than she expected. It carried with it the faint scentof pine and earth. Memories of her childhood rushed back to her, but she couldn’t dive into them. Not now, at least.
Being here should feel like coming home. In a way, it did. But it also felt like stepping into something she wasn’t ready to face.
Loss. She didn’t want to remember all that was gone from her life.
Like Sarah. Especially Sarah.
Wasn’t that really why she’d avoided coming back for the past three years? It was much easier to stay away than it was to let herself feel, to let herself truly grieve.
The front door opened before she reached the porch.
Her other sister, Naomi, stepped out, her expression shifting from surprise to relief when their eyes met. “Rowan! Is that really you? I can’t believe you’re here!”
Warmth broke through Rowan’s tension just enough to soften the edges. “It’s good to see you.”
Naomi ran across the lawn and pulled her into a hug. Rowan stiffened for the briefest moment before she let herself relax into the embrace.
The contact grounded her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. She’d felt so alone lately. So, so alone.
