Page 29 of Hometown Girl

“And you won’t make any decisions without consulting me first.”

“Can we get a dog?”

Beth groaned and walked out of the barn. “I already don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Chapter Eight

Drew ran at breakneck speed down the hill and into the barn. He could hear Jess behind him, laughing. “I’m gonna get you, Drew Barlow!” She’d never find him in here. She hated climbing the wobbly old ladder.

The smell of hay and earth met him, but he barely noticed. Ran for the ladder and pulled himself up into the loft, where he ducked out of sight and waited for her to appear in the doorway below. At the sight of her shadow, he ducked lower, peering down at her from behind the bales of hay.

“Drew, no fair! You know I don’t like this barn.”

He stifled a laugh. He had her now. No way she’d win this time.

She moved through the dusty space, searching in each stall, and then he heard it. A car door right outside.

“Drew?” Fear echoed in Jess’s voice. Another shadow appeared in the doorway, and Drew stood.

“I’m up here, Jess.” He rushed down.

Before he could reach her, something came at him from behind, knocked him to the ground. The smell of hay and earth filled his nose again. Then he heard the scream. The car door. The engine.

Then ... blackness.

Drew shot up, sweat drenched and out of breath. He looked around, a few long seconds of panic passing before he remembered where he was.

The Dulles Inn. Willow Grove. Only a few miles from Fairwind.

He rose and walked to the sink, stuck his head under and took in a few long drinks of water.

He hadn’t had the nightmare in months. Hadn’t thought about it in months. He’d finally put it to rest, focused on work—finally felt like he could live a normal life.

And then his mom showed up with her guilt trip and the promise of something he’d chased for years, whether he cared to admit it or not.

Closure.

Something he’d never have. Without justice, there would be no closure.

Even then, he had doubts such a thing existed.

Drew pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and walked out onto the balcony, stared out over the sleeping town. Nestled on a hill, the Dulles provided a vast panorama of Willow Grove—a place he’d tried for years to forget.

Why had he come back here? He loved his life. Loved the horses. Loved the ranch. Loved working with his hands. Loved the solitude. He’d picked up so much knowledge in his years at Elkhorn. He’d learned to cook. He had his own garden. If something needed fixing, he fixed it. He liked being useful, and he liked being worlds away from the past.

What he didn’t like was small talk. Or questions. Or thinking about Jess.

He closed his eyes, and the dream rushed back at him. Too familiar, it had recurred off and on for years. A therapist would probably have a field day with him, but he’d never told a soul about his nightmares. They always ended at the same part, and they always felt unfinished. Something was missing.

Something he’d forgotten or blocked out. Something ... Drew shook it off. No. He wasn’t going to do this. The past was the past. He didn’t need this—didn’t need to dig it all up and lay it out on the table.

He should go back to Colorado where he belonged.

But that laugh. He could still hear her. It taunted him. Even in the dream, it had been so vivid. She had been so vivid. Jess had one of those bubbling-over-from-the-gut laughs. Infectious.

Harold’s face flashed in his mind. The photo from his obituary. His face had hardened and gained deep wrinkles, the kind that come from a lifetime of worry. He’d called Drew every few months for years—and then one day, he’d just stopped. Why? Had something happened to make the man stop begging him to come back for “just one more look around”?

Had he finally accepted the fact that this side of heaven, he’d never know the truth?

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