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CHAPTER ONE

WYNTER

I don’t know how I ended up here.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

When my life went to shit four days ago, I packed a bag, grabbed Gary, and got in my car.

I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just knew I couldn’t stay in that place another second. Not after seeing those diamond earrings in her ears.

The same earrings I’d found hidden in the bottom of my husband’s underwear drawer.

The same earrings I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at, my heart warming at how thoughtful he was.

The same earrings I’d fawned over weeks before but wouldn’t even consider buying because they cost over ten grand.

Imagine my surprise when I attended a party celebrating his team’s win, only to find his assistant wearing those earrings.

Most men buy a sports car during a midlife crisis. Grow a mustache. Get a motorcycle. Something ridiculous but inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

Not my husband. He wouldn’t be satisfied with a sports car. Or a mustache. Or a motorcycle.

He’d want something unique.

I guess the former cheerleader who was still in elementary school when he signed his first big football contract counts as unique.

Merry fucking Christmas to me.

It was a miracle I got through that party without breaking down or screaming at Wyatt for all to see.

But I know my place.

After all, I’ve spent the past twelve years of my life as the wife of football legend Wyatt Patterson. I know what’s expected of me. Smile. Make polite conversation. Talk about how proud and excited I am that the Redmond University Rams are having such an amazing season.

Never make a scene. Especially not in front of the team. Especially not when everyone is watching.

Especially not when the girl wearing the earrings you found in your husband’s underwear drawer is standing ten feet away, laughing with the players like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

I didn’t break down.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t throw a drink in Wyatt’s face.

Even when I confronted him hours later, I didn’t raise my voice. I maintained the soft, practiced tone I’d perfected over the years. Then I walked out on my husband without a single clue about what was next.

So I drove.

I didn’t mean to end up back in Sycamore Falls.

Maybe that’s the thing about home. When life falls apart, you cling to anything that brings you comfort.

And I’ve always loved the quaint town I grew up in.

Some things have changed since the last time I was here. A brewery now occupies the space where a furniture store once stood. A new bakery has popped up, its display window featuring lifelike cakes sculpted into a Christmas village scene. There’s even a place that hosts painting and wine parties.

Even so, a lot of Sycamore Falls is the same. The local diner still advertises the best pie in the state. The hardware store still has the same burned-out bulb in its OPEN sign. And the sidewalks are still filled with familiar faces.