“Oh, honey, are you sure? That’s not what he tells me.”

Linnea put her hand to her forehead. The pain felt fresh, threatening tears. She straightened her spine and drew in a long breath. “Emmi, he bought my plane ticket home. One-way. That message was pretty clear to me.”

Emmi’s face was pained. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be. It really isn’t any of your business. I shouldn’t have told you now. Emmi, I don’t want this to come between us, okay?” Linnea sighed. “I wouldn’t have said anything if he hadn’t come back. But he did, and here we are. So please, tell him for me… I already heard all he has to say. He can do whatever he wants. But I don’t want to talk to him.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve moved on.”

“I haven’t.”

At the sound of John’s voice, Linnea swung around toward the garden gate.

chapter four

Listen, there’s a hell of a good universe next door, let’s go.

e. e. cummings

LINNEA STARED, ANNOYED by the dizzying sensations that always accompanied the sight of him.

The first time she’d seen John Peterson was when she was prepubescent and he briefly made an appearance at Cara and Grandmama Lovie’s Fourth of July party. He and his brother, James, Emmi’s sons, had made a command appearance. All she remembered was some cute, tall, and very rude teenager who had stayed long enough to do family service, wolf down food, and make a hasty exit.

When she’d spied him on the beach some ten years later, she was a woman, and he was a man. A handsome surfer, all tanned muscles and salt-stiffed hair. He’d grabbed her wayward surfboard, offered her one of his signature crooked smiles, and she was done for. It had been a long time since she’d met someone who sparked an immediate attraction. She’d spent the rest of the summer reeling him in. He was a tough fish to angle, too. She knew from the start that John was heading back to California, that he was, as Cara liked to say, a lone swimmer. But there’d always been a line between them—indefinable but very real… very strong. She’d thought she’d at last severed it, but seeing him standing in front of her she felt the strong tug again and was furious at her traitorous body for the response. Her mind screamed for her to cut and run.

“How long have you been standing there?” Linnea demanded.

“Not long. Just long enough to hear that you’ve gotten over me.” His forced smile was sad.

His voice, so familiar, reverberated through her. She’d recognize it in a crowded room. The faint Southern accent was still there despite his years on the West Coast. She lifted her chin, bolstering her confidence. “Then I think you’ve heard all I have to say.”

“Linnea…” John began, taking one step forward with his arm extended. Then he stopped, keeping his distance. They both knew it was because of the virus. He dropped his arm. “Hear me out.”