Chapter 2

The strange guy with the black hair and the dog had left me feeling, as some of my teenage clients had liked to say back in Los Angeles, shook. I hadn't been in Singer's Ridge for more than three months, but I already felt like I already knew everyone. That was how tiny this town was.

That man, though… I'd never seen him before.

I turned toward Alison, who'd been showing me the ropes around the store and, honestly, around town, since I'd gotten there and asked, "What's up with the guy who just left?"

Alison turned and looked out the door after the tall man, who was loading up a black pickup truck in the parking lot. "Oh, that's just Dillon."

"Huh." I paused, looking after him. "Does Dillon have a last name?"

"Why, you thinking of becoming Mrs. Dillon?" Alison gave me a crooked smile. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. He is one fine specimen of a man."

I blushed and looked back down at my till, not saying anything. I wasn't blind to how attractive he was, but it wasn't why I'd asked.

"His name is Dillon Ford," Alison said, finishing her sentence and finally taking pity on me. "Don't worry, you're not the first person to get all hot and bothered by him."

"Why hasn't he been in before?" I asked. "I feel like everyone in town's been in this damn shop at some point since I started."

She laughed. "You might be right about that, but Dillon's a bit of a recluse. Lives on the mountain in a cabin, just him and that dog."

"Oh," I said, interested. "What does he do?"

"Not sure," she said, looking out the door. "He used to live in Nashville, and he was a cop out there, but then he came back here when he quit the force."

"Did he grow up here or something?" I asked, feeling like it was a pretty random place to move to if you didn't have any connections here.

Then again, I'd picked this place by putting my finger down on a map, so I definitely shouldn't be talking.

"He did, yeah. His uncle left him the cabin when he passed a couple years back," she said. She came over and bumped my hip with hers. "You know, maybe this could be the start of something for you here."

I snorted, walking around to rearrange the magazines for something to do. "Come on, Ally. I was just asking."

"What?" she said. "I'm stuck at home with Jessie and Jordan all the time. Can't a girl have some vicarious fun?"

I couldn't fault her for that. Working with all the children of single parents that I had in the past, I knew the impact it had on kids when parents focused all of their energy on their children and forgot to take care of themselves. Thankfully, Ally seemed to be the type of mother who knew where to put her energy and priorities so that she could be the best mom possible to her twins.

That being said, she couldn't have known the effect that her words would have on me and how I would feel being presented with the prospect of a man. Any man, no matter their history.

And there had seemed to be something about Dillon that had led him to pick up on my tension as soon as he mentioned that I was good with his dog. Every muscle in my body had locked up when I felt his eyes on me. It hadn't taken me a long time to become aware of my body's tendencies toward panic, but body awareness and trigger elimination were two very different things.

"Well, it doesn't really matter," I said as I turned back around, brushing my hands off on my vest. "Nothing's gonna happen, anyway."

"It definitely won't with that attitude," Ally said, crossing her arms over her chest.

I looked up at her with her raised eyebrow and sighed. I knew she was curious about me; she'd invited me out a couple of times when I first moved to town, telling me that it would be fun to get out with her and her friends, but I'd always turned her down, telling her I felt claustrophobic in bars. Sort of true, but also sort of a lie. But I hadn't said no when she'd asked me to come over and babysit, insisting that I didn't mind. It was true. I didn't mind, and the kids were easygoing, fun company. I really liked hanging out with them. It made me feel like I was at home, still doing the work that I'd put all of my heart and soul into becoming qualified for.

Not that Ally knew what that was. She just knew that I liked kids and that I was lucky enough to be good with them, and her kids liked having me around.

"Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I know the twins would really like to see you," Ally said.

"Sorry, Al—I actually have plans."

Alison was nice enough not to say anything to contradict the fact that I hadn't had any hint of a life since I'd moved to town and that she was pretty much the only person I'd spoken to at all since I'd come here. Except, this time it was true. I was planning on calling my mom and giving her a life update.

"Do you at least have anything to eat at your apartment?" she asked.

"Yep—I made a crap ton of pasta the other night, so you do not need to worry about me."

"I will never understand women who are able to eat as much pasta as you do and not have it show on your hips," Alison said. "The jealousy is so real."

I laughed. "You know, if you eat a little bit of pasta more often, it'll take on less power over your mentality, and then you won't feel the need to binge eat it."

Ally turned to me with a surprised look. "Were you like a shrink in your past life or something?"

I shrugged. "I just follow a lot of therapists on Instagram. You end up picking up on a lot of useful stuff."

"Huh. I should probably follow some too."

"I'll recommend some to you," I said, coming back around to the other side of the register just as I was hit by a wave of exhaustion. It was strange, but the simplest things seemed to be taking everything out of me lately. All of a sudden, I couldn't wait for my shift to end.

* * *

By the time I got home to the little studio I'd been living in since I'd moved to the Ridge, as residents called it, I was just about ready to pass out, like I felt every time I got home from work.

Well, "home" was a strong word for the place. I'd left LA in such a hurry that I hadn't been able to make any arrangements for prepping a transfer of my savings, especially after Alex had had me set up a joint bank account with him and started having all of my money from my practice deposited directly in there. It had been hard enough to extricate myself from the apartment with the gym bag of clothes I'd left with, and as a result, my budget for a place to stay when I moved had been a lot smaller than I would've planned for, otherwise. As a result, I hadn't been able to form any kind of attachment to the place, and not being able to see myself there long term, I hadn't been able to bring myself to make it homey for myself.

I collapsed on the couch that had come with the apartment and pulled out the little flip phone and dialed the only number I had saved in it.

"Honey? Is that you?" my mom asked as soon as she picked up the phone.

"Who else do you know with an East Tennessee area code?"

"You don't know everything about me," she said, her voice sassy.

I laughed. "True enough."

"How are you, baby?"

I huffed a sigh. "I babysat the other day for Alison again."

"How was that?"

I couldn't stop the tears that started to flow. "It made me homesick. I miss my old life, Mom."

"I know, honey. I know."

My mom knew how hard I'd worked for my master's degree. I'd gone to Cal Arts for my undergraduate on a full scholarship, but after I'd graduated, I realized that I'd been missing something. I started taking night classes in psychology and eventually had started a part-time program at UCLA to become an art therapist. It had taken me four years of school and hard work and student loans, and when I'd finished, I started working and I hadn't regretted a second of it.

Now, having had to give all that up felt like an extra slap to the face.

"We'll be able to put all this behind you soon, and you'll be able to come home and start working again in no time."

I sighed. It was a beautiful thought, and I wanted it to be true more than anything. I just didn't think she was being realistic.

"Tell me more about your day, sweetie. How was work?"

I sighed, thinking back over everything that had happened. "I met a cute dog."

"Inside the market?"

"Yeah, crazily enough."

"Was he a service dog?"

"Don't think so. He wasn't wearing a vest or anything. I think this is just a small enough town that people just let you get away with shit if they know you and your habits."

Something that experience taught me was true everywhere.

"Who was the owner?"

"Some guy who lives on the mountain, apparently. I guess he doesn't really talk to anyone in town either."

We spent the rest of our time together having a nice conversation, with her filling me in on what had been going on at her own job and with our family. When we hung up, I was feeling a little bit better, but I was still just as exhausted as I'd been when we started our conversation.

Suddenly, I remembered a beep that had sounded when I'd been on the phone with my mom and checked the screen, where a thin banner said that I had a new voicemail.

Strange. I worked as hard as I could to keep a low profile, having left my iPhone behind in the city and buying burner phones that I had to remember to put minutes on. I clicked on the one button that would open up the voicemail box.

"Hey, baby," the message started, and I felt the cold sweat start pouring out over my skin. "You're making it hard to find you, aren't you?"

I shut my eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

"Don't worry, though. I'll be finding you soon. I bet you miss it back in LA, right? I know it can't be easy for you to be so far away from everything."

I hated the way that voice seemed to lull my body into a comfortable rhythm in the same way it always did. It was part of why he was so dangerous. He was so good at making you believe that he actually gave a shit about you. He really was one of the best lawyers I'd ever known.

"I hope you miss me as much as I miss you. I'll be seeing you soon, though." He hung up, and I threw the phone across the couch before sitting in the corner, petrified. How had he found my phone number?

Shit. Shit. If he had my phone number, he had my area code…

I couldn't take it anymore; I got up from the couch and ran over to the toilet, where I immediately threw up. I didn't move from the bathroom for the rest of the night.