Dragging her gaze to the bottom of the flyer, to the address below Ryan’s photo, Amy realized what she needed to do. Turning up on his doorstep to clear the air might well be awkward, but it would surely be better than sitting around the hotel feeling guilty all afternoon—so she grabbed her wallet, phone, and room key; swept her hair back into a ponytail; swapped her flats for boots; and made for the door.13

Ryan had barely had any sleep. Since the crack of dawn, he had been lying on the grass in one of the fields near his house, lamenting the mess he now found himself in. And it wasn’t just the threat of foreclosure stressing him out—he was still dwelling on last night’s run-in at the hotel. He’d been keeping a nervous eye on the driveway all morning, convinced that the local sheriff was going to show up and arrest him for trespassing, or invasion of privacy, or harassment, or whatever the appropriate charge was for entering someone’s bathroom. His only hope was that the poor girl wasn’t staying in Seabrook long. With any luck she was already on her way home. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so embarrassed, and he was sure she felt the same way. If they never saw each other again, it would be far too soon.

But his primary concern wasn’t her—it was Tom Tippenworth.

With a deadline now hanging over Ryan’s head, there appeared to be only two viable options: either man up and confess everything to his father, or cower in silence and wait for an eviction sticker to be slapped on their front door. Suffice to say neither scenario appealed. He briefly considered finding a lawyer—perhaps there was a legal way to halt the foreclosure process?—but who was he kidding? He had no money for that. Could he plead hardship with the bank? Not likely. Given Tom’s demeanor last night, the time for clemency had come and gone. It seemed this was really it: the end of the road.

Ryan stuck his hat over his face, closed his eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. The day he had feared for so long was finally coming to pass. Unless a miracle presented itself, and soon, his world would turn to ruin. If only he’d told his father the truth. If only he’d been honest about the choices he’d taken, the mistakes he’d made, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this—

“Wake up, mister!”

Ryan got such a fright that his hat bounced clear off his face. He bolted upright and searched for the source of the voice, which seemed to be a little girl presently skipping in circles around him.

“Hi Ryan!”

“What in the blazes . . . Who are you?”