“And before you try and tell me that you and Sam were made for each other, don’t forget that I have something you don’t have, no matter how much money you’ve got. I’ve got a centuries-old family farm, right down the road. One that he can help me run when we get married so he can move back home where he belongs.”

Stepping back, she wags that finger back and forth.

“And. You. Don’t.”

CHAPTER 21SAM

Before my dog can wake me Wednesday morning, my phone does. Seeing my grandmother’s name pop up on the screen, I answer immediately. Ethel Bedd never calls her boys just to chat. “Hey, Gran. Everything okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she says, sounding very upset.

This has me sitting up, heart pounding. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes. I am very hurt. When I went downstairs to make coffee this morning, I found a note on the kitchen table. Do you know anything about it?”

Wondering why she thinks I’d leave her a note, I tell her no, swing my legs out of bed, put the phone on speaker, and head to the kitchen to start my own coffee.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“I swear, I didn’t leave you a note.”

“The note is not from you.”

Obviously, I think as I begin to fill the carafe with water.

“It is from Diane.”

At the sound of her name, alarm bells go off. Hands shaking, I turn off the faucet. “What does it say?”

“It’s a very lovely letter thanking me for my hospitality—someone raised that girl with excellent manners—and apologizing for leaving without saying goodbye. She says”—paper rustles and Gran clears her throat—“‘I have other obligations I’ve ignored for far too long, so I’m afraid it’s time for me to move on.’”

What the hell?

“Did you say something or do something that would drive her away?” Gran asks.

“No, ma’am, I promise.” Sitting heavily at the counter that divides the kitchenette from the living area, I go over the previous night in my head. “We met up at trivia, then I drove her back to your place, said goodnight”—I, of course, leave out the heavy petting that ensued in the cab of my truck until Gomer tried to get involved—“and then went back to my apartment.”

“And why didn’t you ask her to stay at that apartment?”

My grandparents did an amazing job raising us, but we did not talk about sex or even relationships. I’m pretty sure Gran knows that Ethan and Alex sleep with their girlfriends, but no one has ever acknowledged that in front of her, as far as I know. “Um, because she’s been staying with you.”

“Well, she isn’t anymore,” Gran snaps.

“Gran, you know she was going to leave eventually. She has plans for her channel.”

“Is that what you want?”

It’s probably a terrible idea, but I find myself admitting to her what I haven’t been able to admit to myself. “Of course not. But I can’t do anything about it.”

“Did you tell her how you feel about her?”

“Um... What do you mean?”

“It’s obvious there’s something special between the two of you.”

“It is?”

“Samuel Daniel Bedd. Stop being such a numbskull. Why do you think I let your damn dog sleep on the couch for the past two weeks?”

“You knew about that?”

“Of course I knew, Samuel. I have eyes in my head, and you don’t shed. But I wanted to give you and Diane time to figure out that you’re perfect for each other.” She sniffs. “And Gomer is very good at fetching things. I kind of miss him.”

Gomer barks, hopping up from the floor where he’d been curled at the feet of my chair, and snuffles at the phone, probably trying to tell her he misses her too.

And then it hits me.

I might never see Diane again. Sliding down to the floor, I put my arm around my dog. How could I have let her go?

“Well,” Gran says, “it’s obvious what you have to do. Find her and convince her to come back.”

“I can’t do that, Gran,” I say, the back of my head thudding against the counter behind me.

“Of course you can. We’ll help you.”

“No. I can’t,” I argue, even though I want to. More than anything.

“So you do hate it here?” she asks softly. “You’re not planning to stay?”

“No, Gran. That’s not it at all. I love it here,” I say, realizing how deeply I mean it as the words leave my mouth. “But I can’t ask her to come back because it will kill me when she leaves again.”

“But she might not leave. Especially if you do a good job of convincing her to stay.”

“She will.” My throat tight, my jaw tighter, I push out the words I need to make her understand. “Just like Mom and Dad did.”

“They didn’t leave you, Sam,” she says softly, but firmly. “They were taken from us. It was an accident. A horrible twist of fate.”

I hate hearing these words. The words that everyone used. When I knew the real story. “What if it wasn’t?”

“Wasn’t an accident? We know it was. The police reports⁠—”

“What if it wasn’t fate?” I grind out. “Or random? What if it was because of me?”

There’s a pause, a short one, but she definitely hesitates before asking, “What are you talking about?”

“I begged them to come home early, because I’m selfish,” I say, needing the words to be outside of me. Needing to release them from the tiny cage where I’ve held them so tightly and for so long. “I wanted to feel special because it wasn’t enough that they sacrificed so much for us. I asked them to drive back in time for the Science Olympiad just because I’d been invited to compete in more events than anyone else in the school. And they did. They left that night instead of waiting till the next day. And then they never came home.”