of my questions and curiosity, my fears and doubts and affection for him tangle together until I can’t sort out one emotion from the other. On impulse, I tilt my face up to his.
Surprise flickers across Wyatt’s features. He places a hand on the tree trunk above my head, and I can’t move or even breathe as his mouth brushes against mine. I wait for my confusion to clear, to be able to make sense of these new feelings he stirs in me. But if anything, I’m more mixed up than before. “We can’t do this,” I say. “This is just—it’s happening too fast.”
Wyatt lowers his arm and steps back, looks away. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I get it.”
“Don’t be mad at me. So much in my life is different now. A part of me is afraid for us to be different, too. One minute I want us to be like we’ve always been, then the next minute—” I take a breath.
Wyatt’s brows tug together, and the tips of his ears turn red. “I didn’t start this, Lil. I didn’t cause this change between us, you did. You kissed me yesterday.”
I can’t think of a single word to say as he turns and walks to his ATV. He puts on his helmet, climbs on, and starts the engine. Standing in the middle of the trail, I watch him turn and take off in the direction we came. When he disappears around a curve, I dig my fingers into my palms, trying not to cry.
No more than a minute passes before I notice that the sound of Wyatt’s four-wheeler is becoming louder instead of more distant. And then I see him driving toward me again. He pulls to a stop a few feet away from where I stand and takes off his helmet. “Damn it,” he says, sounding miserable. “I can’t leave you alone. Not here.”
Where I last saw Dad alive. I read the words in his eyes, and I love him all the more for his kindness.
I run to Wyatt, throw my arms around his neck, and burst into tears. We hold each other for a long time, but I still sense his confusion, and I’m more afraid than ever of losing the easiness we’ve always shared.
When I get home, I check my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a call from Ty. I called him before Wyatt and I left, but only got his voice mail, so I left a message. I do have a missed call, but it’s from Sylvie. She wants to meet in town next week. I make a mental note to call her.
Cookie is awake, but lying listless in his pen. Mom’s still napping on the couch. I tiptoe to her closet and place Dad’s spare keys to the workshop back inside the shoebox on the upper shelf. Then I throw a load of towels and jeans in the wash, trying to take my mind off the ride with Wyatt.
Iris is impatient, buzzing like a bee beneath my skin. Knowing she won’t relax until I research Winterhaven, I go upstairs to my computer. Ever since last night, I’ve been putting it off because I’m afraid of what I might find—and what my reaction will be. The thought of falling into another strange daze freaks me out.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I open my laptop and Google “Winterhaven, Massachusetts.” A listing of real estate sites appears, and a link to the town’s chamber of commerce. I sit straighter. It’s a real place!
Clicking on the chamber of commerce link, I find a photo album with pictures of Winterhaven’s main attractions as well as a few places of interest in the surrounding area. It’s a storybook town. Colorful shop facades line the main drag, pots of flowers beside every entrance. Homes with huge columns stand watch over cobblestone streets shaded by giant oak trees. A boardwalk curves through a lush green park toward sparkling Winterhaven Lake, a small body of water flanked by tiny pastel cottages.
After browsing through thirty-six unfamiliar images, I click on number thirty-seven and goose bumps erupt on my arms. I stare at the picture of a dock jutting out across an inlet of water on Winterhaven Lake, and a certainty I can’t explain washes over me. Somehow, I know that when the water rises after a hard rainfall, a child can sit at the edge of the deck and easily dip her feet in. I know that the lake is freezing cold, even