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to ask him about boot camp, then invited him to a party at her parents’ lake house over the weekend, a sense of relief dropped over his soul, like a curtain over a window framing the black thunderclouds and horizon-searing lightning. Too relieved that Delaney’s respect and love erased what he’d done to Josh and Marissa at Brookhaven, he’d never stopped to count the cost. She resisted sex before an engagement, no great difficulty when she was in college and he was deployed; when he’d produced a ring, she’d gone on the pill, and they’d used condoms.
    And while the experience was a pale imitation of what he’d felt with Marissa that spring, he’d taken that for a good thing. This was reasonable. Understandable. A manageable urge, as unlike what Marissa inspired in him as civilians and Marines.
    But now he was back in Walkers Ford, out of the Corps, tying up loose ends before the wedding, and before he moved on with his life. They’d gotten twelve years of curiosity out of their systems, and besides, he had one more unannounced homecoming to go. She’d said good night. He could return the courtesy.
    “Good night, Ris,” he said softly. Then he shoved the screen door open and strode down the hill to his Charger, got in the car, and drove away, all the while wondering where the passionate, impetuous girl had gone.

3
    W ITH WATERY KNEES and sensitized nerves firing randomly in all her hot spots, Marissa trailed Delaney and Stacey through the kitchen, entryway, and great room, half listening to their earnest conversation about wedding details, but mostly focused on
what just happened
.
    Because
what just happened
, namely, a quickie with Adam Collins in her
pantry
, shocked the hell out of her. Worse, it made her forget about Brookhaven for a few minutes, an indulgence she couldn’t afford for a number of reasons. She’d said it was no big deal, but that was pride talking. Twelve years earlier she’d loved Adam Collins with the passion only a seventeen-year-old girl could muster. She would have done anything with him, even though she’d known he was leaving.
    Back then, everyone had dreams, or at least a plan. Delaney planned to go to college, then to grad school to become a school psychologist. Keith planned on college, then law school, then a job at his father’s practice. Marissa was a Brooks, which meant she had dreams, not plans, and no money; like her father before her, she dreamed of restoring Brookhaven to pristine condition. Adam was a Collins, and like his deadbeat father before him, he dreamed of speed. Not stock cars. Motorcycles. In the rare moments when they weren’t screaming around eastern South Dakota at ninety miles an hour they talked about dreams. Adam dreamed of getting out of Walkers Ford, as fast as his Hayabusa could carry him. His need to prove himself was as tangible as the humid spring air.
    Back then, she didn’t care that he was leaving, and she didn’t want to go with him. All she wanted was him, inside her, going all the way. Stopping short channeled her desire into love and Adam’s pent-up longing into increasingly reckless decisions. Risky moves on the bike. Drinking, something he’d rarely done before that spring. Risky moves, alcohol, and a teenage dare crashed together the night of graduation, at Brookhaven, and the consequences changed their lives, forever.
    He left, not for the racing circuit, but for the Marine Corps, and broke her heart. But one fifteen-minute interlude with Adam in her pantry wouldn’t risk her heart again. It wasn’t likely he’d take an interest in her anyway. The idea of Adam Collins, seasoned Marine and world traveler, settling down in Brookings, South Dakota, was ridiculous. She would finish restoring Brookhaven, her only dream, and go on with her life.
    The thought sent her stomach twisting and looping like a ride at the county fair.
    Delaney and Stacey stopped in front of the grand fireplace for another moment of low-voiced conversation