Because no, Sam hadn’t come back to her, despite his promise.
Not that she expected him to.
Nothing happened, he’d told Sierra.
Except something had happened. At least for her.
She’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have. Sure, she’d always had feelings for Sam, a high-level crush that she’d managed from afar.
Much different from getting up close and personal, inside Sam’s way-too-intoxicating attention, discovering the man underneath the darkness, the one who wanted to start living again . . .
Who had, in her arms, seemed exactly the man she’d dreamed about. Honorable, brave, sacrificing. No, she might never be healed from the pain of loving Sam Brooks.
The fact was, maybe she didn’t want to get over Sam. Didn’t want to purge from her memory those pale blue eyes searching hers, the feel of his arms around her, his words still resounding in her head.
“You’re smart and beautiful and kind and the one I should have been kissing from the first.”
Which made her the most pitiful of all of the brokenhearted club.
She climbed over the gate, and Gopher started jumping up on her. She crouched down and petted the animal behind his ears. He leaned against her hand, and she laughed. “Oh, Gopher, you’re so easy to love.”
She got up and headed downstairs. Outside, a perfect blue sky pressed against the jagged, blackened Rocky Mountains.
A beautiful day for a walk in the park, one filled with sunshine, the last glimpse of fall, the smell of pine needles and the rich loam of autumn in the wind.
Willow choked back her own thought. With her luck, any step into the park would end up with a callout of the entire town in some sort of massive search for her.
She filled Gopher’s water bowl, filled another with puppy food.
A knock sounded at the front door, and for a second her heart gave a traitorous leap.
Especially when she spied the hazy figure of a man through the glass.
She opened the door, probably too eagerly, and then fought to keep her smile when she spotted Quinn.
It faded at the look on his face. His jaw tight, his mouth in a grim line.
“Quinn, are you okay?”
He shook his head, frustration nearly radiating off him. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d say she spotted tears in his eyes.
“Come in,” she said.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, looked away. “I need your help.”
She didn’t know why his words rushed joy through her—invariably any help from her would only end up front page news. Still, “What’s going on?”
“Bella’s parents! They still won’t let me talk to her. I show up every day on her doorstep, but they don’t believe me.”
Willow came out onto the porch. “Don’t believe what?”
“That I wasn’t trying to make out with Bella when I took her into the woods.” He turned, walked out to the edge of the porch. “I love her. And I was going to give her a gift. A necklace. Then the bear showed up and I lost it and—” He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “And now everyone thinks I’m a jerk.”
“Nobody thinks that.”
“I need to find the necklace.” He turned, his eyes in hers. “But my dad’s taken the keys, and I need a ride up to the pit.”
Oh.
“You’re the only one who believes in me, Willow.”
“That’s not true, Quinn.” Although, maybe . . .
“I just need to find the necklace, show them I’m not lying. Then maybe they’ll let me apologize to her, tell her . . .” He looked like he might cry again, his mouth a bud of anger. “My dad is going to send me to a prep school out East to finish out my senior year, and I have to tell her that I’m not going to forget her.”
His sweet gesture, the desperation in his voice . . . Oh, Willow was too much of a romantic.
“I’ll need to get back in time for my shift at the Summit.”
“I know exactly where I lost it,” he said, his eyes brightening.
“Let me get changed. Come in and say hi to Gopher.”
She heard the puppy barking as she changed into jeans, a sweatshirt, and hiking boots.
The sun turned her Jeep warm as they drove up to the pit.
“It’s at the overlook—you know the one, right?”
“Mmmhmm.”
They pulled into the pit, and she got out. The rain and snow from last weekend had stripped the remaining leaves from the oak and maple, leaving only the lush, rich pine. Still, the absence of leaves opened up the view of the mountain.
“It’s even prettier in the fall, without the leaves,” she said as she headed up the trail with Quinn. “I used to think the summer was the best time to hike the park, but fall gives you the best views when you’re in the foothills.” She shoved her hands into her pockets, the afternoon breeze filtering through her sweatshirt. “Sort of like getting a new perspective on your life.”