Chapter 2

Gazing out at the cloudless blue sky, Lizzie tried to find the musical notes that were just outside of her grasp. They teased at the edges of her mind, and when she felt like she was close to capturing one, they fluttered away like butterflies.

She sighed. Setting her guitar down beside the bench, she rubbed her neck. Now it was late July, and Lizzie hadn’t written anything in four months. It had been her longest dry spell to date, and a part of her was terrified that she’d never get over it.

Her producer, Terry, had called her yesterday to remind her that he needed something, anything. “I can’t keep putting the label off, Lizzie,” he’d said exasperatedly. “They don’t care if you have writer’s block or whatever. Either they get a product or they don’t.”

Lizzie knew she should push through whatever this was, but no music came to her. No lyrics, no notes, nothing. She was as dry as the desert.

She’d told herself it was because she was distracted, but it had been over a month since she’d slept with Trent at her parents’ place. She’d only seen Trent twice, and only from a distance. She’d been fine with that. If her heart ached, that was her own problem. She’d get over it.

A bird soared in the sky overhead, and Lizzie stared into the distance listlessly. She’d gotten her own apartment here in Fair Haven after the wedding, telling herself she needed an extended vacation from touring, when really she was just lost. Confused. Heartsore. Bored. If she couldn’t write music anymore, she’d have to get a job. Maybe Megan Flannigan could hire her at her bakery alongside Lizzie’s younger sister, Jubilee.

She sat outside her apartment, where a little park overlooked the lake. The lake that had made Fair Haven famous sat in the distance, shimmering like diamonds. Boats skated across the surface, and she could hear people yelling and splashing.

After a few more moments, Lizzie picked up her guitar again, determined to write something. She plucked a few chords, humming a strand of a melody, and she began to scribble down notes on her notepad. She wrote a line of song, her heart lifting, but when she replayed it, she realized it was terrible. Absolute dreck. It sounded like something monkeys had composed.

Close to tossing her guitar into the lake, she slumped into her chair and glared at nothing in particular. I’m twenty-six and have no idea what I’m doing with my life. How’s that for sad?

She was glad Trent couldn’t see her like this. He had his life together, with all his restaurants and bars he’d opened. Trent had become a very successful—and wealthy—entrepreneur. Lizzie hadn’t realized how successful he’d been until she’d returned to Fair Haven a few months ago. Trent’s name was on everyone’s lips. It had both grated and gratified her, in a way.

She was happy for Trent. He’d created something from nothing, and even if she was lost right now, she was happy to see someone she cared about doing well.

Even if her heart twisted every time she heard his name. Or walked by The Fainting Goat, his first restaurant and the most popular bar in Fair Haven. Or when she saw a man with tattoos walk down the street.

You’d think all this angst would result in some good songs, she mused wryly. Apparently that would not be her luck.

After she and Trent had slept together and Lizzie had awoken alone, she’d been hurt. Disappointed. She’d expected to see him in her bed, that sleepy grin on his face. She didn’t know when he’d left, but as far as she knew, no one had seen him leave. It wasn’t until later that she’d noticed her window had been left open when it definitely hadn’t been open the night before, and that the trellis outside looked a little worse for wear.

That had at least given her a good laugh amidst all her swirling emotions. Serves him right for sneaking out like some criminal!

“Out here again?” Seth asked her as he sat down on the bench next to Lizzie.

Lizzie gave her brother a wan smile. After three tours in the Marines, Seth was now on inactive duty. Lizzie was happy that her brother was finally home, and she had insisted on Seth living with her. To her surprise, he’d agreed. Now that they were roommates, Lizzie hoped they could find the closeness they’d had as children.

“Trying and failing to write songs,” she replied. “Where were you?”

“Taking a walk.” Seth shrugged.

“You could get a job, you know.”

“Yeah, I could.” His smile was wry. “But I think I’ve earned a few months of bumming around, don’t you?”

Lizzie couldn’t help but think about everything he’d seen while in the military—and everything he refused to tell her.

He chucked her under the chin. “Cheer up, Lizard.”

She smiled at his old nickname for her. She’d hated it as a kid, but now she was rather fond of it. It reminded her of the Seth she’d known when they’d been kids.

They sat in silence for a while longer. There had been a lot of silences like this lately between them, and although Lizzie didn’t want to push her brother to talk about his experiences as a Marine, she also knew that he’d barely talked about what had happened.

When she’d tried to ask him, he’d changed the subject immediately. The most explanation she’d gotten out of him had been one night after the Fourth of July, when he’d been unable to sleep from the loud fireworks going off.

You don’t want to know what I saw, Lizard. That’s my burden, not yours.

“You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Seth said. He didn’t look at her, but continued staring at the horizon.

“Who’s to say something’s bothering me?”

He snorted. “I know you. And if you can’t write songs? Something’s up. And I’m tired of seeing you moping around the apartment. It’s depressing.”

Elbowing Seth, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Your concern is so inspiring. You ever thought about becoming a therapist? You have a way with words.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“You’re always changing the subject, too.”

Seth sighed. “Lizard…”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re some big macho man who has to keep everything inside while I’m some delicate flower about to collapse under the strain of life.” Lizzie poked him in the chest. “If I talk, you talk. Got it?”

Seth stared down at the finger she’d pointed at him, and a small smile curled his lips. In that moment, he looked like the Seth Lizzie had grown up with.

“Fine,” he growled good-naturedly, “you have a deal.”

Upon realizing she’d won, Lizzie knew she’d have to tell Seth about Trent. She winced. Just what I need: Seth having another reason to punch Trent Younger.

“Um, well, you know Harrison’s wedding?” she said, wringing her hands.

“Yeah, I remember. I was there.”

“Shut up. Um. Yeah. How do I say this?” She looked up, a blush crawling up her cheeks. She wasn’t a kid anymore, was she? She was a grown woman, and she needed to stop acting like she’d done something wrong. Stupid, yes. Wrong? Debatable.

“Are you going to tell me before we’re both dead?” Seth asked dryly.

“I slept with Trent,” she blurted. She took a deep breath, looked at Seth. “That night after the wedding. During the reception.”

Lizzie watched as Seth’s expression went from bland to…blander. Considering Seth hated Trent, she hadn’t expected him not to react at all.

“I thought that might’ve been it,” Seth finally said. He sounded resigned. “I saw him leave that morning. I didn’t want to believe it.”

Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t tell you for you to judge me. I’m just upset because obviously me and Trent still have a lot of baggage, and it’s been getting to me. If you’re going to be mean, I’m leaving.”

Seth let out a breath. “I’m not judging you, Lizard. God knows I’ve done stupider shit than that. I’m just pissed at that asshole. If he had any decency after what had happened between you two—”

Lizzie held up a hand. “Please.”

“So it’s still like that? Some deep dark secret? How long are you going to act like it never happened?”

Panic filled Lizzie, and she wished she’d never agreed to talk about Trent. Anything related to Trent sent her into an emotional tailspin.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she countered, although it was halfhearted. Closing her eyes, she tried to force the memories away, but they were too strong today.

Or maybe she was tired of pushing them away, tired of trying to act like she hadn’t suffered a loss that had nearly broken her.

“My baby would’ve been eight by now,” she whispered. “Can you believe that?”

Seth didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

“Sometimes I think I’m over it, while other days it’s all I think about. I wonder if I caused the miscarriage somehow. If I hadn’t been so scared to tell someone…”

“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself.” Seth slung an arm around her, and she took comfort in her brother’s strength. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She closed her eyes, nodding, but not entirely sure Seth was right.

Lizzie and Trent had fallen for each other so hard that it had been almost overwhelming. A month after the New Year, Lizzie had discovered that she was pregnant. She’d begged Trent not to say anything—she’d just needed time. She’d needed to figure out a way to break the news to her parents, and most especially, her terrifying mother, Lisa. Trent had agreed, albeit reluctantly.

A month later, just shy of eleven weeks pregnant, Lizzie had miscarried, and a piece of her heart had disintegrated afterward.

She forced a tremulous smile on her face. “Okay, that’s enough sad stories. Want to order a pizza tonight? Or Thai?”

“Didn’t we just have pizza two nights ago?” Seth groused.

“Yeah, but there’s a new place I want to try.”

Lizzie snagged her guitar and returned to the apartment with Seth. He still owed her his own confessions, but right now, she didn’t have the strength to carry his burdens, too. She wasn’t sure she ever would be strong enough.

“Where are the menus? Jesse, go find out where Ash put those menus, otherwise I’ll strangle him myself,” Trent growled.

Jesse nodded and ran to the back of the restaurant, practically quivering like some terrified fawn. He was sixteen, although he looked so much younger than his age that Trent always felt guilty scaring the kid.

Tomorrow was opening day for Trent’s latest restaurant, La Bonita: a tapas place with organic fare that was fancier than his other two restaurants without being downright snobby. Fair Haven was small, but it was always growing, and when Trent had realized the potential revenue stream of a tapas place—or small plates in Spanish cuisine—he’d found the perfect location and started his third restaurant.

But he couldn’t very well run a restaurant if he didn’t have any damn menus.

“Here, asshole,” Ash, Trent’s younger brother, said as he lightly hit Trent on the head with a bunch of menus. “They were just in the back.”

“Aren’t you glad you’re my brother so I’m less likely to fire you?” Trent looked over the menus, relieved to see that the updates he’d sent to the printer had gone through. The last thing he needed was to try to have these reprinted the night before the restaurant officially opened.

“Less likely? How about never? You can’t fire family.”

Trent raised an eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

Ash just laughed. “Good luck finding anybody else who would do your accounts as good as I would at the salary you pay me.”

Shaking his head, Trent stacked the menus near the front, gazing out at the restaurant. He’d wanted it to have a warm and inviting interior in colors of muted red and yellow. The lights weren’t overly bright, washing the entire open room in a golden glow.

Trent took a deep breath. This might be his third restaurant, but that didn’t stop the nerves that inevitably resulted.

“Need anything else?” Ash asked. At twenty-five, Ash was three years younger than Trent. Ash was broader than Trent, and his hair was a darker blond, almost auburn, his eyes a pale blue. He’d worked various odd jobs throughout his early twenties, but when Trent had offered him a chance to use his accounting degree for an actual accounting job at one of Trent’s restaurants, Ash had readily agreed.

Trent had never thought his jokester younger brother would get a degree in accounting, of all things. Ash was the opposite of a paper pusher in appearance: he looked more like a wrestler, with his muscles and short hair. Ash, though, had a head for numbers, whereas Trent had more of a head for overall strategy, combined with the stubbornness necessary to be a successful entrepreneur.

“Just tell me I haven’t forgotten something important,” Trent muttered. His head was turning to mush at this point, though; he needed a drink.

“Everything will go fine. You’ll make loads of money, pay me only a tiny percentage of it, and the world will keep on turning.”

“I pay you plenty, jerkface,” Trent said with a laugh. Right then, his attention was snagged by a woman coming from the kitchen, her hair long and dark. Trent’s heart seized in his chest.

Why would Lizzie be here?

He watched the woman, and when he caught sight of her face—not Lizzie Thornton after all—he let out a breath. Now I’m seeing Lizzie in random places. I need help.

Trent hoped Ash hadn’t noticed his momentary stunned-faced silence, but of course he wasn’t that lucky. Ash made a noise in the back of his throat.

“You know what I heard?” Ash said suddenly.

Trent really didn’t want to know, so he just shrugged.

“I heard that Lizzie Thornton is going to be in town for a while longer, especially now that Seth is back.”

Trent bent down to look for a pen, although he was just wasting time until Ash finished running his big mouth. “Fascinating story, Ash.”

“Right?” Ash leaned against the table next to the entranceway. “Funny how people you thought you’d left behind come popping up years later.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

That made Ash laugh. “Okay. You keep on thinking that. Just a word of advice.”

Standing up, glaring at his little brother who wasn’t so little anymore, Trent waited.

“Don’t give up on something—or someone—if you really want it. Or them. It sucks to think you missed out on something important.”

Trent knew Ash was right, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. Except that Lizzie was no longer important to Trent. She hadn’t been for a long, long time.

“Thanks, I guess. Now, can we get back to work? Or do you want to sit, hold hands, and sing ‘Kumbaya’ together while braiding each other’s hair?”

“Only if you give me one of those fancy braids. The ones that wrap around your head. How do girls do those anyway?”

Ash laughed, which made Trent laugh, and if it sounded forced, he was glad his younger brother didn’t notice.