“Beats the hell out of that rusted-out Gremlin I drove when we were in high school.” Sin giggled. “It’s a wonder we survived that thing. Remember that board my daddy glued down to the floor? It was the only thing keeping our feet from touching the ground.”
“It was a chariot as far as I was concerned.” Dakota clicked her seat belt. “At least you had a car.”
Sin pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway that would take them to Holly Grove Island. She chatted happily, catching Dakota up on the health of her family, her accidental path into real estate, and some of the changes to the island in the past five years.
They’d once been best friends—practically inseparable until Dakota had gone off to New York to follow her dreams. Within a few years, they’d fallen out of touch. Dakota had been afraid things would feel awkward between her and Sin after so many years apart. Instead, she found comfort in the familiar twang, the incessant chatter, and the irreverent humor of the woman whom she once felt she could tell anything. Even if she wasn’t ready to tell Sin everything right now.
“So, you wanna tell me why you didn’t want your father to know you were comin’?” Sin asked once they’d crossed over Fox Haven Sound and arrived on Main Street.
The question landed in her lap like a ticking time bomb. It was the reason Dakota had been tense, her belly in a knot, the entire bus ride. She didn’t like lying to her friends and family, but the truth was unbearably humiliating.
“I wanted to surprise him, that’s all.” Dakota turned away, focusing on the shops on Main Street as they flew by.
Most of the shops themselves were the same as the last time she’d been home: the bakery, the pharmacy, Myrna’s Salon, and Knitty Gritty—the local fiber shop. A used book store in the spot that was once the island’s video store. But everything looked brighter and fresher. The buildings were painted in complementary pastel colors and trimmed in crisp white. The windows sparkled, and each building was adorned with newer signs and awnings that amplified the picture-perfect small-town charm.
She could swear she’d stepped into one of her favorite Hallmark movies.
“I know we haven’t seen each other much since high school, but we’ve been best friends since we were in diapers. I know you, Dakota. So I know when something’s wrong,” Sin said after a brief silence. Dakota opened her mouth to object, but Sin waved a hand and continued. “You’re obviously not ready to share whatever it is that’s weighing on your chest like a ton of boulders. That’s fine. I get it. But if you ever do need someone to talk to, I’m here for you, Dakota. Like I’ve always been.”
Sin’s lips curved in a barely-there smile, but the light in her eyes dimmed. The sadness in her friend’s voice tightened something in Dakota’s chest. There it was—the elephant in the SUV that neither of them had wanted to address. Sin was hurt that Dakota had gone to New York and never returned. That she’d allowed their friendship to wither and die like an untended garden.
“I’ve been a terrible friend, Sinclair. And I’m sorry.” Guilt burned a hole in Dakota’s gut over Sin’s emails and text messages that had gone unanswered. Set aside to be dealt with later, only later never quite materialized. And eventually, Sin stopped sending them. “I never intended to shut you out. I just got so caught up in school and my career and—”
“And neither me nor this Podunk little town fit into your glamorous new life.” Sin grimaced, waving a hand before Dakota could launch into an explanation. “Honestly? If I’d had the opportunity, I probably would’ve left, too.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Dakota said warmly. “You love this place far too much to leave it. You always have and you always will.”
A genuine smile spread across Sin’s face. “Okay, so maybe you do still know me a little. I do love this place, and I’m gonna do everything in my power to help you realize how much you love it, too.” Sin glanced over at Dakota, before returning her gaze to the road. “And as far as I’m concerned, nothing’s changed between us. You Joneses are a proud, stubborn bunch, so I thought I’d get that out there, right off.”
Dakota’s heart squeezed. She was grateful for Sinclair’s undying friendship—loyalty she didn’t deserve. Sin was right; Dakota had chosen life in the glittering city over her best friend—a choice that had gnawed at her since her last trip home. “When I’m ready to talk, I promise to call you, Sin.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Sin beamed.
Dakota looked into the back seat. “Oh my God, what’s in that picnic basket? It smells incredible.”
Sin’s laugh made it clear that Dakota’s attempt to change the subject wasn’t lost on her. “A good old-fashioned Southern feast. Fried pork chops, fried okra, fried corn, macaroni and cheese, cornbread, and blackberry cobbler.”
“Even the aroma is decadent. I can feel my thighs expanding.” Dakota considered swiping a piece of cornbread from the wicker basket, but when she glanced up, Sin had turned onto Passionflower Avenue, then onto Cypress Lane, and there it was.
Home.
The sprawling, pale-pink, four-bedroom Victorian with white trim was way too big for her father. But Oliver Jones wouldn’t hear of selling the place. It was where he’d raised his family, and the place held too many memories.
Those memories, many of them painful, were the reason he needed to let the house go. Her father had always taken so much pride in caring for their home. But now the clapboard was overdue for a good paint job, the lawn looked neglected, and the flower bed was overgrown with weeds. The only thing that was exactly as it should be was her mother’s prized rosebush.
Dakota’s heart beat harder and faster, the sound of it filling her ears. Why was she so nervous? She was going to spend time with her father, whom she adored.
Sin pulled into the driveway and honked the horn twice. They both giggled, the way they had when they were schoolgirls. Her father had always hated it when her friends blew the horn rather than coming to the front door.
“You ready for this?” Sin turned off the engine and squeezed Dakota’s hand.
Dakota ignored the swirling butterflies in her belly. “I’m ready.”
They climbed out and unloaded Dakota’s luggage. Suddenly, the old wooden screen door slammed.
“Land sakes, Sinclair, what on earth is all this noise about?”
Dakota stepped out from behind Sin’s truck. “Hey, Dad.”
She searched his face, older and more tired than she remembered it. He’d always been her big, strong father. North of six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw. Built like a Mack truck. But today he looked a few inches shorter and frail. Like he needed a good meal.
“Dakota?” His hands trembled as he inched toward the edge of the porch. As if he didn’t trust his vision.
“Yes, sir.” She stepped closer, barely able to see through the tears that had formed the instant she’d seen him. He was much slimmer than he’d been when he’d come to New York to spend Christmas with her six months ago. “It’s me.”
“It’s so good to see you, baby girl!” He stepped down from the porch carefully, limping a little and holding on to the railing. He opened his arms wide.