Taylor

Chapter Two

"I should be asking you that," Will said as he dropped my duffel bag at the doorstep and crossed his arms. "Four years you've been gone and now you're back? Why?"

I stared at him with no intent on answering the question; it was none of his business.

"It took a really long time for Luke to let you go, and now you come waltzing back going into his bar and causing trouble—which is the last thing he needs right now."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "His bar?"

"I don't want him knowing you're in town. Hurry up and do what you need to do then leave." The look on Will's face instantly had my blood boiling.

I stood up straight and crossed my arms defiantly. "I'm not sure where you get off telling me what to do, but I'd appreciate it if you'd get off my front porch." I stepped toward him to grab my duffel bag from off the ground, but he stuck his foot out and blocked me.

"If you care about Luke, you'll leave and never let him know you were here."

"If you don't want him to know I'm back then you're going to have to figure out how to keep it a secret. And good luck to you when he finds out what you've been hiding." I moved his leg and grabbed my bag, stepping back into my house and shutting the door in his face.

Although I had no intentions of letting Luke know I was in town, it took everything in me not to punch Will in the face right then for trying to boss me around. Who did he think he was? It was not up to him when I left or whether Luke should know. But would he really keep that a secret from Luke? Hopefully. Luke was the last person I wanted to see. I turned and looked around the living room, letting out a long sigh as I looked at the old furniture crowding the area.

It was time to make some changes—starting with the furniture. I moved my duffel bag into my room then began working on the living room. An hour and a half later, all of the old furniture in the living room was out on the front lawn with a sign saying "FREE."

I headed to the garage and flipped on the light. A beige tarp covered one of my father's most prized possessions; his dark blue 1964 Chevy pickup truck. He had meant to bring it to Kentucky, but had never gotten around to it.

I pulled the cover off the truck and smiled at the sight. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. After I found the keys in the box attached to the undercarriage, I put them in the ignition, turning them until the truck roared to life. The sound of the engine echoed in the garage and I closed my eyes to listen for a moment, remembering all of the times I had heard this sound.

When I got to the home improvement store, I couldn't decide on a color of paint for the living room, so I grabbed some paint swashes and shoved them in my pocket, deciding to figure it out later. After getting groceries, a beanbag chair, and a TV, I picked up a pizza and went home.

I had just sat down in my chair with my pizza in hand, when the doorbell rang. I stared at my plate, debating whether I wanted to answer the door, but the sound of the bell ringing for a second time had me getting up. I put my pizza down and went to the front door, jerking it open to find out who was bothering me now.

"When were you planning on telling me you were back?"

The anger on Sara's face slowly turned into a teasing smile as she spread her arms out for a hug—a hug I reluctantly gave.

"Hey, Sara," I greeted awkwardly.

"When did you get back into town?" She pushed past me and I stared at the porch for a moment. I didn't want company. I never wanted company.

"Um... yesterday. How did you find out?" I asked as I turned around and found her eating a piece of pizza and making herself at home.

"Sabrina told me what happened at the bar." She took a bite and chewed for a moment. "She said it was pretty crazy."