Page 2

People who knew me before I became known only as Wyatt Patterson’s wife.

It’s been years since I last drove these streets, but there are some things you never forget. Like the way home.

Cars line the street as I head closer and closer to my childhood home. White front porches are decorated with lights and garland. Giant Christmas ornaments are strung from the overhangs. In one yard, a half-melted snowman slumps beside a mailbox, his carrot nose lying several feet away.

The sight makes me smile, and I remember all the times my father helped me build a snowman in our own yard. But when I near the red farmhouse-style dwelling I called home for the first eighteen years of my life, my smile fades.

The same icicle-style lights hang from the porch. The same inflatable of Snoopy on his doghouse sits on the front lawn. And the same Redmond University flag hangs from the garage, just as it has since Wyatt accepted an offer to play for the Rams over fifteen years ago. The same team he now coaches after retiring from the pros.

As I pull into the driveway and kill the ignition, I stare at the flag, wondering if coming here was a mistake.

Our story began here. High school sweethearts. The star quarterback and the cheer captain. How can I possibly figure out my future when I’m surrounded by my past?

As I try to decide what to do, movement flickers in the corner of my eye, and I glance out the passenger window. A tall, muscular man runs down the street, his shirt clinging to his chest and biceps, damp with sweat despite the late November chill. His arms flex with every easy stride, his shoulders shifting beneath the thin fabric.

I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by football players. I’ve been married to one of the best to ever play the game. Muscles should have no effect on me.

Yet I can’t seem to force my eyes away from this muscular body.

Maybe it’s because of the way he runs. He’s not trying to impress anyone. He’s not sprinting. Not showing off. Just putting one foot in front of the other. Like he has nowhere to be.

He passes the driveway, then turns his head, his gaze briefly locking with mine. There’s a spark of recognition in his eyes, but it’s one-sided. I’ve never seen him before. I’d certainly remember that strong jaw and disheveled dark hair.

He jogs on, slowing to a walk before turning up the driveway of the house next door and disappearing inside.

A paw lands on my arm, and I jump, whipping around to face Gary, the pointer mix I rescued a few years back. He looks at me with soulful eyes, and I can practically hear him begging to run free.

“Sick of being trapped in this car?”

His tail thumps against the passenger door.

“Okay. Just hold on a little longer.” I straighten and reach for the ignition button when another motion stops me.

This time, it’s not some tall, dark, and handsome younger man running.

It’s my mother.

She rushes out of the house, beaming and waving at me.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, dropping my hand from the dash. “Guess there’s no leaving now.”

Plastering a smile on my face, I open the door. “Hey, Mom.”

Other than a few wrinkles, she looks almost the same as she did the last time I lived here. Same short dark hair. Same warm smile. She’s even wearing the same Christmas sweater she always loved wearing this time of year.

“Wynter, sweetie.” She wraps me in her arms. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call and say you were coming?”

“Surprise?”

She looks past me as Gary leaps out of the car and runs around the front yard, sniffing everything in sight. “Did you drive all the way here?”

“I did.”

Her expression changes, her smile slipping as she runs her hands down my arms. “Is everything okay?”

I part my lips, unsure what to say. I’ve had four days to prepare for this. To wrap my head around the fact that the man I’ve loved and supported, who I sacrificed everything for, has traded me in for a younger model.

“Can’t I visit my family without an explanation?” I reply breezily, giving her the same practiced smile I’ve worn for years. “Plus, it’s easier to drive than to fly with Gary.”