But as the hours passed and the news set in (and the alcohol wore off), a deep, longing sadness took over. I couldn’t count the number of nights, cold and ornery, I had cursed this house, prayed that God would bring a couple to the door to buy it, so we could move somewhere smaller, where every room could be warm and cozy.

The farm had prospered. Things had gotten better. It just wasn’t enough to maintain this beast of a house that, even in my lovelorn state, I knew was running my family dry. Even though it was terribly unfair, I hated my mother in that moment. Why hadn’t she sold Dogwood way back when it was just a family home, not a symbol of all that had been good in my life?

The sun rose on that sleepless night, lifting some of the stress the blanket of darkness had intensified. Harris was inside drinking coffee with my mother, reassuring himself that she loved him best, that he was first and foremost in her heart despite the fishing fiasco, which left me to load our luggage into the car—and contemplate whether he was first and foremost in my heart. And, if so, did I tell him about the kiss?

As I was throwing a bag into the trunk, I smelled cigarette smoke behind me, and when I turned, Mason was walking toward me in a rumpled polo shirt and a pair of Patagonia shorts that I think used to be navy and were now a faded cobalt.

“My bags are packed, I’m ready to go,” he sang.

I smiled at him, squinting into the morning sun behind his head.

“Isn’t this kind of early for you to be up?”

He laughed. “Oh, Amelia. Always with the jokes.”

I used to say that Mason and I were technically still together. We’d never actually broken up, after all. We had been dating, if you could even call it that. It was more like, we’d hung out mostly with other friends and by ourselves a few times.

When he had his accident, though, it was like he just disappeared. No call. No letter. No explanation. Romantic comedy over. I spent more time than I’d like to admit wondering what could have been between us. What if he’d accepted that his baseball dream was over, gone to college, gotten a job? For months, I expected him to just show back up in Cape Carolina, kiss me passionately, thank me for waiting for him. But that was all very, very long ago.

“What’s up with you and my brother?”

“You jealous?” I retorted, winking at him.

“Hell yeah, I am.”

“I’m a little old for you,” I said as he lifted the other suitcase into the back of the car. The entire town marveled at Mason’s ability to continuously date twenty-year-olds, but I didn’t think it was a mystery. They were the only ones who didn’t know better.

“You gonna just keep pretending that you don’t know my brother’s in love with you?”