He swallowed hard and didn’t answer.
His grandfather’s eyes flashed with a familiar cold humor. “She’s still single. Evidently done well with the flowers. No idea how.”
Jacob knew Ria had made a success of the flower shop. Occasionally, in the off-seasons when he was particularly bored or lonely, he’d look her up online to see what she was doing. He’d seen when she and her friends had rebranded the business. He’d witnessed the sudden surge of interest on Twitter and Instagram. He’d found some profile pieces on the success of the unique business.
He’d always known she was smart and talented and brave and determined. If anyone could take a dying business and turn it around, it was her.
“Nothing to say? I thought you were so gone on her you didn’t want to leave town.”
Jacob rolled his eyes, unable to hide the bitterness. “That was eight years ago. You think I’m still hung up on my high school girlfriend?”
“Don’t know. Maybe. You were always way too mopey about that girl. And you haven’t found yourself a wife yet.”
Jacob shrugged. “My lifestyle doesn’t exactly lend itself to domesticity.”
“Maybe. But you’re what? Twenty-seven? Should be thinking about settling down and starting a family.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You kicked me out because you wanted me to toughen up and be a man, and now you want me to settle down and make babies?”
“Good time for it now.”
Jacob shook his head. “I know you raised me, Grandpa. You took me in when I had no one else. I do appreciate it, and I’m sorry you don’t have much time left. But you made it very clear you don’t want to be involved in my life, so I’m sorry. You’re not allowed to get involved now.”
“Fair enough.”
His grandfather’s slightly subdued face gave Jacob a flash of guilt, and that was the most annoying thing. He had no call to feel guilty. His grandfather had done the bare bones of his duty, but he’d never shown him love or compassion.
Jacob was what his grandfather had made him, and the old man didn’t get to act hurt because of it.
“How long you staying?” His grandfather had returned to his straightforward self, albeit weaker than he’d ever been in the past.
Jacob shrugged. “I can stay for a while. A few weeks. Whatever. I don’t have another job lined up until next month.”
“Good. You can help fix this place up. And get that woman back in here. I need my pills.”
Jacob inhaled slowly and then let out the long breath. His grandfather hadn’t changed.
He wasn’t sure why it had even occurred to him that he might.
But one thing was for sure. Jacob wasn’t going to stay in town long term. He didn’t like it in Azalea anymore. It brought up too many memories. Made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
Assuming his grandfather only had a few more weeks left to live, Jacob would stay until he died and then take care of the final strings of the estate. He’d sell this house. And the property on Main Street. He didn’t want any of it.
Then he’d get out of town and never come back.
Two
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Jacob needed some air and space from the musty old house and didn’t want the oatmeal that was the only thing Martha ever prepared for breakfast, so he went for a jog first thing and then drove the two miles into downtown Azalea so he could get something else to eat at Anna’s Diner, the only restaurant in town.
It wasn’t until he sat on a stool at the counter, sipped his black coffee, and waited for the bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel he’d ordered that he realized his mistake.
Everyone was staring at him.
He might look different now than he had as a teenager, but they all knew exactly who he was.
If he’d wanted to keep a low profile, Anna’s wasn’t the place to show up.
He recognized about half the old guys in the far corner, who probably gathered there most mornings to drink coffee and complain about the news. He couldn’t remember all their names, but their faces were familiar from his childhood. He nodded when one of them lifted his hand in a casual wave.
On the other side of the diner was a couple he didn’t recognize, and at the one large table was more than half the Devereaux clan.
There had been eight Devereaux kids, all grown up now. Evidently a lot of them had stayed in town since Jacob could count at least five of them at the table this morning with their parents and an assortment of others who were probably spouses.
The youngest Devereaux had been Ria’s best friend. Skye. But he didn’t see anyone who looked like her at the table. He had no idea if she was still living in town or if she and Ria were even still friends.
But the thought of her brought Ria to his mind. The flower shop was just down the block.
Maybe he’d see her.
His blood shouldn’t start pulsing at the thought of it.
“Jacob, isn’t it?” The male voice came from beside him.
Jacob turned to see a man—maybe ten years older than him—sitting down at the stool to his right. The face was familiar, but Jacob couldn’t immediately place it.
“Ken,” the man said. “Ken Harley.” He had a broad face, square jaw, and an easygoing manner that didn’t quite disguise the sharp intelligence of his eyes. “You remember me?”
“Oh yeah. Of course.” Ken had been one of the sheriff’s deputies. More than once, he’d been the one to round up Jacob when he’d gotten into trouble as a teenager. Jacob held out his hand in greeting and glanced down at Ken’s jeans and boots.
