Mary walked through her front door and slammed it.

Dakota spent the entire flight coaxing her headache into submission, drinking milk—because somewhere in her head she thought that might help—and listening to piano drifts on her phone.

What she really thought would help was a whiskey . . . but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore her pregnancy that far.

Lucky for her, the first-class seat beside her was empty and she didn’t have to pretend happiness with pleasant conversation. She counted the silent miles that drifted between her and Walt and finally fell asleep somewhere over Texas.

The need to pee woke and annoyed her.

When she made her way back to her seat, she checked her phone. Luckily, the plane closed in on landing.

Even though she sat in first class, she didn’t jump to leave the plane.

When she did, the pilot was watching her from the door to the cockpit with a crooked smile.

“Visiting family,” she managed as an explanation before exiting the plane.

It was dark in Savannah, and she still had a drive to get home, which was closer to the coast. She obtained a rental car with an indefinite return date, loaded her luggage, and headed home.

Her parents didn’t know she was coming. On the off chance they weren’t home, she had her key. The same damn key she left on her ring when she went off to college.

The closer to home she got, the harder it was to hold back tears.

Familiar houses, and driveways, dotted the landscape. Beyond the houses, she could hear the sea. She loved the ocean. The waves.

The humidity of summer was passing and the night was chilling enough to know that fall was in the air. She had memories of holidays past and missed her people.

Since when did she become homesick? Damn hormones were getting the best of her.

The gateway was as it had always been. Same rock, same lights . . . same plants. Though the plants had grown and were barely tamed.

She moved into the circular drive and killed the engine.

Lights were on in the back of the house and the occasional flip of the television set flickered.

She stepped out of the car, stood between the open door and the seat, and looked around. The willows were starting to drop their summer growth and the air around her made her shiver. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t California in late September. The air was scented with magnolia, fading jasmine, and salt air.

Home.

The light on the porch lit and the front door opened.

She caught her breath. Held it.

“Dakota?” Her mother’s voice was soft, and full of Southern song.

Without words, Dakota moved from the car—tears running down her cheeks—and into her mother’s arms.

Chapter Fifteen

Guest room appropriate artwork had long since replaced the teenage heartthrob posters. The closet no longer held her clothes, and the dresser was empty except for the bottom drawers where her mother stored extra towels.

The walls, however, were the same. The view from the back of the house and the lush landscape that only the South had to offer welcomed her home.

Dakota lingered in bed longer than she ever would have been allowed when she actually lived with her parents. She’d been a wreck when she walked into the house. Never in her life had tears been so close to the surface. Her mom had shuffled her into the house while telling Dennis, her dad, to gather her things.

Her mother handed her a tissue and put a kettle on for tea before offering to listen. Thankfully, her mother hadn’t probed when Dakota shook her head.

If there was one thing she knew without any doubt, Elaine Laurens wouldn’t last long without an explanation of Dakota’s unexpected appearance.

Dakota looked across the room to the flowery wall clock. It was already after eight, which meant that half the town would already know of her visit. In the absence of truth, the wagging tongues would make up their own minds why she was there. Half of them would be right.

After a long shower and an extra twenty minutes of time in front of the mirror to repair the damage of too many nights of missed sleep, Dakota descended the stairs. Voices carried from the back of the house where the kitchen and den made up the great room.

“She didn’t say a thing, Carol Ann.”

Dakota slowed her steps and listened to her sister’s response. “Well, that just isn’t like her. Something awful must have happened. I’ll bet it’s a man.”

“Of course it’s a man. Remember when you packed up a bag and came home not four months after you and Dale were married? I didn’t think you’d ever leave.”

At least Dakota knew she wasn’t alone in her need to flee home because of a guy.

She forced a smile and walked around the corner. Both her mother and sister promptly closed their lips and painted on fake smiles. Carol Ann jumped up from the kitchen stool and walked around the counter. “Oh, Dakota . . . you look positively awful.”

Dakota accepted her sister’s hug. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis.”

Carol Ann was a mini version of their mother. They both had blonde hair that was groomed by the same beautician. Not a hair was out of place with the use of a half a can of spray. Elaine’s hair was just above her shoulders. A cut she said had to happen on her fiftieth birthday “because long hair on old women isn’t right.” Carol Ann had her hair up in a controlled bun with enough of the edges surrounding her face so she didn’t appear uptight. Her sister inherited her mother’s blue eyes and thin lips. They all had the same nose and body shape. Except that Dakota didn’t mind having a few extra pounds on her hips as opposed to her sister. Carol Ann had always been the thin sister, the bashful blonde with impeccable manners. Dakota on the other hand took her father’s hair and dark eyes. She tanned easier than her sister, and always had an independence Carol Ann never managed.