She forced herself from the car, the biting cold filling her with determination as she marched to the house, not even stopping to pet Captain when he rounded the corner and bounded toward her. Inside, she climbed the stairs and went straight to her room.

She’d pack her suitcase and then she’d gather up a few things for Maggie as she’d promised. She’d call Micah on the way to the hospital to drop them off, find out if he was still in town. Hopefully he could come pick her up. Maybe the airport would let her trade Sunday’s ticket in for an earlier flight.

It would be torture not saying goodbye to Maggie in person. But it was better this way.

And Neil.

No. No. She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to act before she lost her resolve. She wouldn’t stop to notice how the house still smelled like Maggie’s blueberry cobbler. Wouldn’t let herself linger outside Neil’s door or again in the bathroom, remembering back to that first night. She would pack now and emotionally crumple later.

It didn’t take her more than fifteen minutes to empty the dresser drawers and gather her toiletries. She only had a few items in the closet, her fingers brushing up against that silly pink robe she’d worn out to the treehouse . . .

You can reminisce later.

And she would. She’d remember every minute of these almost-two weeks. She’d probably cry a hundred times when she was home. Maybe someday she’d be able to smile at the memories. But there wasn’t time now. Not when every minute that passed was another opportunity to change her mind.

She zipped her suitcase and grabbed her purse and didn’t let herself look back when she left the room.

Thump.

She stopped halfway down the hallway. What was that? She waited.

Nothing.

Stop stalling.

She began moving again, lugging her suitcase down the stairs. Only when she reached the bottom did she realize—Neil’s coat. She’d grabbed it before racing to the hospital, and she was wearing it still.

Okay, maybe she hadn’t cried every tear yet. They stung her eyes now as she lowered her luggage to the floor and shrugged out of his jacket, draped it over the banister.

She supposed she could’ve worn it to the hospital, left it in the truck. But no, between the smell of it, the sentiment, the memories . . . no, she needed to leave it here. She bent to pick up her suitcase again, then froze.

Another thump. The creak of floorboards.

Those are footsteps.

But whoever it was hadn’t come in the front door. She would’ve heard, wouldn’t she?

And then the whispers reached her.

Her heart thudded. Neil or his sisters wouldn’t have reason to whisper. They wouldn’t be here at all, wouldn’t leave Maggie. Wilder? Maybe someone had called him and he’d had the same idea she had, had stopped here to pick up a few of Maggie’s things.

A thin line of light from under Maggie’s bedroom door, casting into the first-floor hallway, confirmed that thought. But why would Wilder be whispering? And to whom?