Cover

Half Title Page

Title Page

Dedication

To my Gigipa, the greatest storyteller I’ll ever know.

To CeCe, you knew this day would come and I wish you were on this side of heaven to celebrate. I miss you, friend.

ONE

JUST LET GO.

The breeze lifted Lane Kent’s auburn hair from the back of her neck. Her heels edged closer to the side of the bridge, sending loose rocks and dust spiraling into the Ogeechee River below. The dilapidated structure had long since rusted and was no longer up to code for vehicle use, but the litter of broken bottles thirty feet below meant its condition hadn’t scared off bored teenagers. Or Lane.

Her fingers strained against the metal railing behind her as she leaned forward. A leaf rushed along with the current, careening through the water with no control over its destination. Like her.

Twenty-eight and a widow. Lane closed her eyes and thought of Noah. It wasn’t fair that she’d stolen his daddy away from him. He deserved better. They both did.

Just let go. Lane fought to regain control over the darkness invading her mind. Noah. She had to live for Noah—even if it was all a lie. Pretending to be alright was part of the deal she had made when she had returned to Walton. But people who were alright didn’t stand at the edge of a bridge wondering if relief waited for them among the jagged rocks.

A throat cleared behind her. “Excuse me, is everything okay?”

Lane’s heart vaulted inside her chest. Her grip slipped, but strong hands clamped on to her wrists, securing her.

“Easy. You don’t want to fall.”

Lane’s eyes met the deep blue ones of the man steadying her. A mountain bike lay on its side next to him. “Uh, you scared me.”

“Did you drop something?”

Lane started to move, but the man’s grip tightened. Pulse pounding, she looked down at his white knuckles and then back up at him. “You can let go.”

A muscle in his jaw popped. His eyes searched her face, and Lane swallowed under the scrutiny. She wriggled her wrists free, swung her leg between the railing, and pulled herself through so she was standing next to him. Think of something, Lane.

Letting a loose strand of hair fall across her face, Lane pretended to adjust her backpack. “Uh, no—”

“So, you just enjoy death-defying gravity tests?”

Lane’s head jerked up. Their eyes met again and though it sounded like he was being humorous, the sentiment wasn’t reflected in his gaze. There she saw—what was it? Concern? Fear? Did he think—

A drop of rain hit Lane’s cheek. Dark storm clouds had rolled in, blanketing the blue sky in darkness. She waved a hand. “I was just getting ready to leave.”