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  With characteristic compassion and searing honesty, MEGAN HART weaves a shattering small-town story about what can turn brother against brother, and the kinds of secrets that cannot remain untold.

  Janelle Decker has happy childhood memories of her grandma’s house, and even lived there through high school. Now she’s back with her twelve-year-old son to look after her ailing Nan, and hardly anything seems to have changed, not even the Tierney boys next door.

  Gabriel Tierney, local bad-boy. The twins, Michael and Andrew. After everything that happened between the four of them, Janelle is shocked that Gabe still lives in St. Mary’s. And he isn’t trying very hard to convince Janelle he’s changed from the moody teenage boy she once knew. If anything, he seems bent on making sure she has no intentions of rekindling their past.

  To this day, though there might’ve been a lot of speculation about her relationship with Gabe, nobody else knows she was there in the woods that day…the day a devastating accident tore the Tierney brothers apart and drove Janelle away. But there are things that even Janelle doesn’t know, and as she and Gabe revisit their interrupted romance, she begins to uncover the truth denied to her when she ran away all those years ago.

  MEGAN HART

  This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Eileen Garner,

  who taught me how to cook a turkey.

  I love you and miss you, Gramma.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Questions for Discussion

  ONE

  HOME ISN’T ALWAYS the place you go because they have to take you in.

  Sometimes, Janelle Decker thought as she crested the hill and took that final slope toward the town she hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years, home was the place you couldn’t escape no matter how far or fast you ran. Her battered Volkswagen Rabbit pickup, which had seen better days, but so far, thank God, not many worse, drifted to a stop at the traffic light. She didn’t remember the fast-food restaurant to her right or, just a bit farther, the pair of hotels on the hill to her left, but she remembered the small white building beside them. Decker’s Chapel, one of the tiniest churches in the country.

  “Look, Bennett. Over there.” Janelle craned her neck to stare into the backseat, where her son was bent over his new toy, the iPad her mother had bought him for his birthday. In seconds the light would turn green, and it had somehow become imperative she show him this sight. “Bennett. Hey. Hello!”

  The boy looked up through a shock of red-blond bangs that fell over bright green eyes. His dad’s eyes, though Connor’s gaze had never, in Janelle’s recollection, been as bright and clear and curious as her son’s. Bennett looked out the window to where she pointed.

  “See that little church?”

  “Yeah.”

  Janelle eased her foot off the brake and pressed the cranky clutch, hoping for the sake of the half dozen cars lined up behind her that the truck wouldn’t stall. “One of my great-great-grand-relatives built that church.”

  “Really? Cool.” Bennett sounded underwhelmed. “Are we almost there?”

  “Another five minutes, buddy. That’s all.” On impulse, instead of continuing on along the incongruously named Million Dollar Highway into town toward her grandmother’s house, the end point of this seemingly endless trip, Janelle put on her left turn signal.

  If there’d been traffic heading toward her she might not have bothered, but the only traffic on the road was heading into town, not away from it. That seemed somehow meaningful, but she didn’t let herself dwell on that. Instead, she turned into the gravel-gritty drive that serviced the two hotels as well as the chapel. She parked and stared through the windshield.

  Her arms ache from where he grabbed her, the bruises still so fresh they’ve barely darkened, though they will. She’ll wear them for weeks. Her hands on the wheel, gripping so tight her fingers hurt from it. Foot on the gas, foot on the clutch, the Rabbit truck bucks and sputters as she guides it to the side of the road. The parking lot of this tiny church is empty, thank God. There’s nobody to see her press her face against her hands, nobody to watch her break apart.

  Nobody to watch her leaving.

  “I thought we were going to Nan’s house.”

  “In a few minutes.”

  Bennett, her get-along-guy, her complacent child, let out a long, stuttering sigh of irritation. Janelle didn’t blame him. They’d been driving for hours with no more than a quick pit stop. Before that, other than the week they’d spent at her mom’s, they’d been on the road for what felt like forever.

  “I want to go into this church, okay? Really fast.” Janelle looked into the rearview mirror. “Want to come in with me? Let me rephrase that. Come in with me.”

  Her son looked a lot like his absent father, and that she understood. Genetics and all that. But sometimes the kid acted just like his dad, too, and that always floored her, since she and Connor O’Hara had been finished before he even knew the night the condom broke hadn’t turned out to be, as he’d so valiantly and foolishly promised her, “okay.”

  “It’ll be cool,” she told Bennett. “Really. And if it’s not, you can add it to the list of things I’ve done to permanently scar you.”

  This earned a small smile. “Okay. But I have to pee real bad.”

  “Hold it just a little longer. Can you?”

  “I guess so.” Bennett made a face that said he wasn’t convinced.

  She’d never actually been inside the chapel. Built of white clapboard with a miniature bell tower and a single door in the front with a wooden ramp leading up to it, the chapel really was tiny. It had been built in the 1800s; she remembered that much.

  Janelle got out of the truck, snagging her keys from the ignition, but not bothering to actually lock the vehicle. They were in St. Marys, after all. Secluded, isolated, ninety-nine percent Catholic of the “attend Mass daily” variety. And they were going inside for just a minute or two, the way she’d promised. She couldn’t tell if her heart raced because of daring to leave her vehicle unlocked with all her worldly belongings inside, or for a slew of other reasons that had been plaguing her for the past few months, since she’d made the decision to come back.

  The chapel was unheated. Bennett danced from foot to foot, having, of course, forgone his brand-new, heavy winter coat. Janelle herself blew a plume of frost on her fingers and rubbed her hands