Excerpt:

Leaving them to hammer out the details, I return to the picnic table where I left my beer. I’m going to need it to wash away all this drama.

I’m mid-chug when a cheer goes up. 

“Man of the hour!”

“Welcome home, bro.”

“Mase, Mase, Mase.”

I splutter, coughing until beer drips out of my nose. And when I straighten up, there he is, silhouetted in the doorway of the third tiny house, beaming like some backwoods sun god. His sandy hair is longer, shaggier, his beard fuller and darker, his shoulders even broader than I remembered, but there’s no mistaking that unforgettable face.

He grabs the beer Zax hands him and raises it high. “To the best friends a guy could have.”

He’s rumpled and sweaty and so beautiful my heart aches. Golden twilight glows in his river-green eyes. Once, I thought those eyes outshone the stars. And when I said goodbye, I watched their light flicker and die. 

Regret coils around me, squeezing so hard I can barely breathe. 

I should never have come here. What was I thinking? I should’ve asked my friends in California, or Oregon, or—

A short-haired woman hollers, “Next time I need the bar painted, your ass better be there with a brush and a bucket.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He snaps a salute and jogs down the stairs, his movements as graceful as ever—until he spots me and skids to a stop, his jaw slack, his eyes wide.

I can’t look away. I can’t breathe.

After a long, heart-pounding moment, he finally croaks, “Sara?”