“I’ll make coffee,” she calls, and then I hear the click of her heels on the stairs as she climbs up to the kitchenette in the loft.

I drop my head and lean against the cool glass. I want to go back to Cally’s hotel and beg her not to leave. I want to taste her again, just to make sure I won’t forget the flavor of her lips, to touch her one more time so I remember the sound she makes when she comes. I want to drown in the feel of her hair and the softness of her skin until the bad shit washes away.

And at the same f**king time, I want to fight with her. I want to call her out on what she did to me seven years ago. I want to make her understand how much she screwed me up.

Maggie’s footsteps sound above and before I know it, she’s back down and shoving a hot mug of coffee into my hands. “Drink before I have to put you down,” she scolds. “I left a very sexy, very willing man in bed to talk fall exhibition with you. If you’re going to be a grumpy ass, I’ll go right back out that door and spend my morning screwing his brains out.”

“I’m so glad we’ve reached a point in our relationship where you can be so open,” I mutter, though truthfully, I am.

She returns my scowl with a smile. “I know. Isn’t it special?”

I watch her sip from her coffee, her red hair flying in loose and wild curls around her face. In the last two months since she worked out everything with Asher, she’s been happier than I’ve ever seen her. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but she’s even more beautiful when she’s happy.

I’m so f**king glad we’re past those awkward early days after she chose Asher over me. We got there faster than I expected. Not so long ago, I wanted Maggie more than I wanted anything else. Or I thought I did. It’s so obvious we shouldn’t be together. I didn’t want a life with her. I wanted to save her from my screwed up past and save myself from my guilt. There’s a big f**king difference. We would never have worked. I think Maggie understood that, but me? I hold out for the dream. Maybe Cally taught me that.

“Who’s the girl?” she asks, peering into the dreary day. “Is this about that Meredith chick? She was here looking for you the other day.”

Meredith. Crap. “Why do you assume there’s a girl?”

She lifts a brow and snorts. “Because. You’re Will. With you, it’s always a girl. Usually a broken one or a forbidden one.”

I guess I earned that. “Cally Fisher’s back in town.”

She whistles, low and smooth. “As in, your high school sweetheart?”

“That’s the one.”

“And you’ve seen her?”

I don’t answer, but the truth must be in my eyes because Maggie steps back and holds a hand to her chest. “Holy shit, Will. You slept with her? How fast do you work?”

“As if I’d tell you.”

“I thought you were taking a break from relationships?”

“I am,” I growl, my jaw set tight. Two failed engagements in as many years is more than enough reason to step back from the dating scene for a while. Not that my feelings on the matter have slowed my grandmother’s attempts to set me up with Ms. Right.

“So Cally’s back in town. You still have feelings for her, but you didn’t sleep with her—though, clearly, you did more than have a nice little chat. And now you’re trying to convince yourself not to dive headlong into another super-intense relationship. Especially one that’s doomed to failure because she dropped you like a bad habit. Is that about right?”

“There’s no danger of a relationship. She’s not staying.”

“Oooh. That explains the mood.”

“I guess.”

“I remember when she left,” Maggie says, looking thoughtful. “She screwed you over. Why would you even want anything to do with her?”

“I know.”

“Did she ever explain?”

“Explain what?”

Maggie narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. She’s not going to tolerate me being obtuse today.

“Explain why she broke up with me via text message the night she was supposed to come back for the prom? Why she sent back the cellphone I bought her so I couldn’t get ahold of her anymore? Why she was f**king another guy when I tracked her down in Vegas?”

Maggie lifts a brow. “Yeah, something like that.”

“No,” I growl. Thunder cracks and shakes the entire building. “I didn’t ask.”

“Because you don’t want to know?”

I shove my hands in my pockets and walk away from Maggie. She understands me too well, and I’m not sure I want to be understood right now. I just want to be dark and broody and pissed off. And yet I answer anyway. “I didn’t ask any of those questions because I knew she wouldn’t spend any time with me if I did. I wanted her too much to risk that.”

“Oh. My. God. You’re still in love with her.”

I drag a hand through my hair and avoid her eyes. I don’t know what I am. “I see her for the first time in seven years, and I want her back so damn badly—despite all logic. She’s here and she’s beautiful and she owns a piece of me I’d forgotten I even had.” I lean against the wall and sink to my haunches. “She was in town and lost. Of all the places she could have been lost, she found herself right in front of my house.”

“I can see how that might suck, but….” She trails off.

Maggie doesn’t get it. “Cally used to tell me that destiny would bring us together again and again, that she was mine. What are the chances of her showing up on my street? In front of the house I built?”

She looks skeptical. “She didn’t know you lived there?”

“No. I don’t think she even wanted to see me, but there she was. And now…what? Am I supposed to just let her go?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

I swallow hard. I wouldn’t want to hear it from most people, but I trust Maggie. I nod.

“Yes,” she says softly. “You need to let her go.”

“Goddammit.”

“Listen to me. You are quick to give and quick to love. You want to share your life with someone. I get that. You want marriage and the family you didn’t get as a kid. I get that. But that’s why you need to let her go. Because you need some distance to figure out how you really feel about her. Right now you’re flying high on nostalgia. You need to know if you can forgive her before you ask for more.”

I drag a hand through my hair and nod. I know she’s right.

“I remember what everyone said after she dumped you,” Maggie whispers. “I remember the rumors.”

“They were rumors,” I growl. “Nobody knew.”

She shrugs. “But what it they’re right? What if the guy you found her with was the reason she broke up with you? What if she cheated on you? What if she was in Vegas, sleeping with some older guy, while you were here, waiting like the good boyfriend you were? Can you really get past that?”

I stare at her. Because this is Maggie and of all people, she knows just how much I’m willing to forgive.

“Not me,” she whispers. “I know you forgave me, but that was because you were trying to save me. That’s not the case with Cally. Everything is different with her. I’m not asking if you can forgive just anyone. I’m asking, can you forgive Cally?”

She’s right. There’s a difference. I’m not sure it makes sense, but it’s true.

“Let her go, Will. As a favor to yourself. If all that destiny crap is real and you’re meant to be together, she’ll be back. Right?”

I hang my head. Because she’s right.

“Just let her go.”

NEW SCHOOL, day one. Drew walked, since the high school is only a couple of blocks from Dad’s. I offered to walk with her but she rolled her eyes and accused me of trying to make her the laughingstock on her first day at a new school, so I let her go on her own.

Now it’s Gabby’s turn, and my stomach is a mess with worry. Aside from her one-word request last week—Stay—she hasn’t spoken. I already had a meeting with the school counselor and exchanged emails with her teacher. Everyone assures me they’ll work with her, but I hate that I can’t be at school with her to see for myself. My only reassurance is that at least I’ll be here. Here in New Hope, living with Dad for the foreseeable future.

My boss at the spa back in Vegas has agreed to hold my job until the first of the year. I fought so hard to get into a position where I could support myself, and that job is an important part of the equation—great tips, decent salary, benefits. I need the income to help Dad support the girls. I need the income so I don’t have to rely on Brandon again.

Would I have quit if my boss weren’t willing to work with me? Probably. Gabby needs me, so I’ll do what needs to be done. I always have.

We drive to the elementary school. It’s only about a mile and we could walk, but it’s a hot day and I don’t want Gabby feeling self-conscious in sweaty clothes.

I offer her my hand as we approach the building. She shakes her head, reminding me that despite currently having the speech patterns of a toddler, she is in fact ten years old and doesn’t need her big sister holding her hand.

We walk through the front and head into the building. Once we get to the heavy oak door to her new classroom, she stops me, her hand squeezing my wrist.

“I have my cellphone,” I tell her. “I’ll be looking for a job all day, but you call if you need anything.”

Worry is written all over her face, and I find myself questioning our move for the hundredth time. I didn’t have a home for them in Vegas, so I assumed they’d be better here. I assumed I’d be able to work and send Dad part of my monthly check. But now that part of the plan is gone. What if I was wrong? What if uprooting them from their lives after Mom’s death was the worst thing for them? And now that I’ve chosen to stay, what if I can’t find a job?

Finally, Gabby squeezes my wrist again, takes a deep breath, and heads into the classroom.

When I turn around, I see Lizzy Thompson. She’s practically glowing, her smile is so bright. “Lizzy! What are you doing here?”

“Student teaching!” She rubs her hands together. “Well, it doesn’t actually start for a few weeks, but Mrs. Monroe said I could come meet the kids for the first day of class and I just found out Gabby’s one of the students. This is going to be great!”

Relief swamps me. “I’m so glad you’ll be in there.”

She squeezes me into a tight hug and whispers, “She’ll love it. Have some faith.”

“I know.” I shrug. “This is what parents must feel like, huh? I think I’m more nervous than both the girls today.”

“They’ll be fine. But you? You look like you need some stress relief, and I know just the thing.” She grins. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Stress relief” sounds like code for “party,” and I don’t have time for that right now, not with finding a job and working on Dad’s house. I don’t want to seem unfriendly, though, so I return her smile. I can always let her down after the invitation comes. “Okay. Thanks.”

I’m heading out the front door when the secretary from the front office calls my name. She’s a tiny little thing with a gray bob and a sweet smile. “You’re Gabby Fisher’s sister?”

“I am.”

She presses an envelope into my hand and drops her voice low. “Your father’s textbook rental check bounced.”

“Oh.” Shit. “I’m sorry about that. He can be kind of…absentminded. I’ll have him…um…move some funds and write a new check.”

Her smile suggests she knows there are no funds to move. “There’s paperwork in that envelope for assistance. You just have your father fill it out, and Gabby’s textbooks will be taken care of. I also included the application for free lunch.”

Of course. Because the Fishers always need handouts. Nothing changes. I force myself to thank her before rushing from the building.

I’m unlocking the car when I hear someone call my name. I pin on my smile before turning.

“Cally Fisher, right?” the woman repeats. I don’t recognize her. She’s gorgeous and sophisticated in a black pencil skirt and a button-up pinstriped shirt, her long, blond hair pulled into a low ponytail.

“Yes, that’s right.” I offer my hand. “And you are?”

She drops her gaze to my hand and then brings it back to my face. “I’m Meredith Palmer. Owner of Venus Salon?”

She still hasn’t taken my hand. Feeling like an idiot, I tuck it back into my pocket. “It’s nice to meet you,” I manage. This woman may be smiling, but coldness radiates off her. For whatever reason, she doesn’t like me.

“I saw that you were interested in working as my massage therapist.”

I shift uncomfortably. I already know where this is going. “I was looking into it.”

“Yeah.” She straightens her shirt and repositions that plastic smile. “But you see, we’re not that kind of establishment, and I would rather watch my business wither and die than have someone like you giving—” she lifts her hands and makes air quotes, “ —‘massages.’”

Tuesday morning brings sunshine and clarity. Maggie’s right, of course. I need to let Cally go. Not that I have a choice. She’ll leave town soon—hell, maybe she’s already left—and I’ll forget there was ever a woman who owned me, body, heart, and soul, as much as she did.