Chapter 3

three

Nearly nineteen hours later, Fiona drove Mom's ancient Camry north on Interstate 91. Gage had been a lifesaver, arranging to have the car driven down to the city so Fiona could get her mom home after the doctor eventually released his bruised and battered patient.

She glanced at her mother asleep in the passenger seat, wincing at the large bandage covering the stitches on her forehead and the small cuts and bruises marring her pretty face. She could only be thankful that a little rest and time would heal the worst of her mom's injuries.

Gage had shown her the bone-chilling pictures of what had remained of Denise's mangled-up car after the first responders extracted all three women using the Jaws of Life. It still shook her to her core, knowing things could have turned out so much worse.

Fiona's gaze wandered to her mom again, studying her petite frame and elegant bone structure, yet her mother was a force to be reckoned with. She was the strongest woman Fiona knew. It had always been just the two of them after her dad's tragic death. If anything would have happened to her…

Shaking away her terrifying thoughts, she focused on the road, automatically tensing her hands on the steering wheel when she spotted the Maple Ridge exit half a mile ahead.

Sighing as she flipped on the blinker, she took the off-ramp, heading toward the place she'd promised herself she would never see again.

She frowned as she turned right and moved along Interstate Drive, noting the sharp uptick in nine p.m. traffic and the high-end plazas packed with dozens of stores in a town that had always been sleepy and old.

Mom had mentioned Maple Ridge's significant growth over the past couple of years—a result of the new Amazon plant popping up twenty miles south over the Massachusetts border. But she was surprised by the busyness, even after Mom had shared several of the upcoming plans as a member of the town's planning and zoning board.

Taking another right, Fiona headed closer to home, spotting Martin's Ice Cream Shoppe, the old bowling alley that had been revived with a major facelift, and The Burger Hut, where she'd eaten more than her fair share of cheeseburgers and curly fries.

So much of her life had happened here—places that made her as happy to remember them as they did sad.

Driving another mile before she turned down Ivy Spring Street, she pulled into the third driveway on the left. Her eyes grew teary as she stared at the sweet yellow house with its black shutters, tracking her gaze from the freshly potted summer flowers on the porch to her bedroom window on the second story.

Nearly every nook and cranny of the thousand-square-foot space had needed a major dose of TLC when Mom finally saved up enough money to buy the fixer-upper almost sixteen years ago. They'd worked their butts off, learning how to lay laminate flooring and tile two bathrooms. They'd used gallons of paint to make the place their own. She loved it as much as she loathed it. All of the cozy hominess that had once been hers. But this wasn't her place anymore.

Wiping her eyes, she made herself smile as she touched her mom's arm. "We're home."

Mom blinked, looking at the house in the dark as the crickets sang their songs. "Well, that was quick."

Fiona grinned because that was hardly the case. Between the Boston traffic that had taken nearly ninety minutes to navigate and the typical two-hour drive in and of itself, they'd been in the car for a long damn time. "I'm glad the pain pills are keeping you oblivious."

Mom chuckled as she glanced at the dashboard clock. "I guess it's been a minute after all."

"Let's get you settled inside. I'll make us something to eat so you can take your next pill."

"I'm afraid there's not much in the cupboards or the fridge. I didn't go grocery shopping since I would be away all weekend." Mom gingerly opened her door. "Tomorrow's my last day on those pills, by the way. I don't like how they make me feel. And I don't want you making any sort of fuss."

"So you've said." Getting out, Fiona hurried around to Mom's side, helping her out of her seat. "But that's why I'm here—to pamper you and make a fuss."

Mom rolled her eyes as they slowly walked the path to the porch. "That'll drive us both crazy before the week's out."

Fiona imagined that was true. Stella Willis was the epitome of fierce independence. But she would have to get used to some extra help for the next little while. Using the key on the chain, she opened the door. "I'll try to make my occasional assistance as painless as possible."

Mom stopped as they stepped through the doorway, touching her hand to Fiona's cheek. "I'm glad you're here, sweet girl. I'm glad you're home with me."

Fiona kissed her mother's forehead. "Me too." Then she gently brushed back the light-brown hair caught in her mom's large bandage.

Mom smiled. "Thank you."

Fiona smiled back. "You're welcome."

Mom stepped farther inside. "I think I'd like a bath with some Epsom salt before we have dinner. My ribs ache, and the idea of a nice warm soak sounds just about right."

"Let's get you set up. I'll run out and grab our stuff after."

"I appreciate it, honey. Just be careful on your way up the stairs. The banister's loose. I haven't gotten around to fixing it yet."

Several minutes later, Fiona locked the front door for the night, then lugged her suitcase up the steps, finding that the banister was indeed wobbly, as she waited for her mom to finish her soak in the downstairs tub.

There were cans of soup and a couple of sleeves of crackers in the cupboard—a meal that would have to do until she could get to the store tomorrow. But for now, it was time to settle in.

Turning on the light in her old room, she glanced around the space she'd left in a hurry all those years ago. It was exactly the same with the charming secondhand furniture she and Mom had painted a creamy white. Her ancient stuffed teddy bear sat on her full-size bed, and the pretty pale-purple area rug covered a section of the hardwood floor. She ignored the picture collage filling a large portion of her sage-colored wall as she grinned at her favorite photograph on her bedside table.

"Hi, Daddy," she said as she picked up the frame, loving how her dad had grinned as he pressed his cheek against his soon-to-be wife's massively pregnant belly.

The picture had been taken two days before her father had been killed in a car accident on his way home from his last day of student teaching—a mere week before her parents had been set to graduate and eight days before her birth. Her mom and dad had been college sweethearts, and she'd been their senior-year surprise.

She traced her father's handsome face, forever fascinated that she looked so much like both of her parents. She had her dad's classic Italian features—the Ricci olive skin tone, dark-brown hair, and his big brown eyes. She loved that she'd inherited his deep dimples—her reminder that she was his every time she smiled. Yet her oval face, brow line, smaller nose, cupid's bow lips, and slightly pointed chin were identical to her mother's.

Kissing her finger, she touched it to the shot of the man she had never met but adored. Because her mother had given her the gift of knowing her father through a million stories about a young couple who had loved each other beyond measure—and loved their daughter just as much.

Fiona still found herself in awe that her mom had been courageous enough to move herself and her newborn baby girl from California to Vermont to capitalize on a fresh start and a new job as the drama teacher at the local high school.

"Love you," she whispered to her dad, setting the frame back on the bedside table as her gaze wandered to the pictures on the wall—snapshots of herself with her high school and college friends and dozens of photos of her and Cam sprinkled among the mix.

She focused on the image of the two of them snuggled up on Cam's family's boat, grinning in the sunshine. He wore his favorite ball cap backward while he wrapped his strong arms around her bikini-clad waist.

He'd always been gorgeous. Six foot two, with light-brown hair that turned streaky blond after a summer in the sun, his bold green eyes with dark rings accentuating their pretty color. His chiseled jawline and broad chin complementing his tough body after years of sports and helping his family build custom homes.

He'd been such a huge part of her life. He'd been her everything. She'd loved and adored him, and he'd done the same—or he had for a long time, anyway.

She and Cam had always had little in common, yet they'd clicked. Cam had been the popular student-athlete who'd won the wrestling state championships four years in a row. Most of his friends had been jocks and cheerleaders—a world she'd cared little about.

She'd been popular in her own right, being well known for helping her friends run and win their student election campaigns and for heading up the school's events planning committee, all while maintaining the top GPA in their class to wear the valedictorian's cap.

But despite their numerous differences, they'd worked as a couple because they'd been crazy about each other. Cam's amazing sense of humor had melted her heart, and he'd often told her that everything about her was sexy.

She huffed out a quiet laugh as her gaze tracked over their picture again, studying how he held her. For just a moment, she closed her eyes, remembering how good it had felt to be loved by Cameron Bennet.

But she shook her head, wandering to the window, staring out at the lights brightening the night sky. Somewhere out there, Cam was still here. He and Ally lived in Maple Ridge with their child—or she assumed they did because she couldn't imagine Cam living anywhere else.

But ultimately, she had no idea because she'd never asked, even if she'd occasionally wondered. Because when she'd walked away from Maple Ridge, she left her past behind.

It made her proud to know she'd followed her mother's path. She'd picked up the pieces and chosen to thrive when her life had fallen apart.

Long ago, Mom had found solace in her move to Vermont, but Fiona had found hers out West. She had great friends and lived in an exciting city. She'd worked hard to become one of Laurier Groups' most sought-after event planners. Over the years, she'd even given a couple of new relationships a shot.

It was only recently that things started to unravel. The last twelve months had been rough. The constant back-and-forth between Seattle and LA had taken its toll. Helping Laurier Group cement its position as the go-to events planning firm in the Los Angeles market had equated to numerous eighty-hour weeks and just as many sleepless nights. Simone's gratitude for a job well done had almost been worth it.

She and her boss both knew that product launches and corporate gigs weren't her passion. Fiona missed planning the smaller social events that allowed her to build bonds with her clients and help them create memorable occasions.

But ultimately, there wasn't much she couldn't handle when it came to her career. It was the latest plot twist in her personal life that had left her reeling. Even after months of trying to come to terms with the doozy of a blow, time had done little to ease her heartache.

And maybe that's why she'd booked a one-way flight when she made it to the ticketing booth late last night.

After she arrived in Boston and checked on her mom, she made several phone calls, the first one being to her boss. The doctors had mentioned a six-to-eight-week recovery period for her mother, yet Fiona had heard herself telling Simone that she would most likely be gone for ten.

It worried her some that she'd been so impulsive, taking an extended leave of absence without giving it more than a moment's thought.

She was a planner—a list maker and a weigher of the pros and cons. But as soon as she'd heard Simone's voice on the other end of the line, she hadn't been able to stop herself from saying what she'd said.

"You just need a break," she assured herself—something she hadn't taken since she dove into her job five and a half years ago. Surely, a few weeks away would do her some good.

If this was what her vacation looked like, it would start now.

Turning away from the window, she headed downstairs. Two bowls of soup needed to be made, and her mom was undoubtedly ready for bed.