Page 2 of Wandering in Love

The only exception was my wildflower, Eva Trent. She was spontaneous, wild, and always looking for adventure. I thought we would get married and have kids, but she left town one day and never looked back. At twenty years old, my world flipped upside-down, and it’s never recovered.

Chapter Two

EVA

The dark storm clouds follow me into town, and the Welcome to Willow Springs sign mocks me as I drive past it. It’s been ten years since I’ve been here, though I wasn’t far away. Merely two hours down the highway in a town with too many people that was easy to get lost in.

Main Street hasn’t changed since I left. The same sleepy storefronts run by the same people, retelling the same stories. It’s both nice to be back and a headache. I’m sure everyone will be talking about this in the morning. Everyone will know I’m here, and the rumor mill will be busy guessing as to why.

Momma lives a few streets down, next door to Rojas Ranch. Passing the entrance of the ranch that raised me has my broken heart squeezing harder. I fell in love on that land with the sweet boy that lived there. Before I knew what love was, my fate was sealed, and I was head over heels for Ian Rojas. He was my first kiss, my first time, my first everything.

Pulling into my old driveway, I shut the engine off and sit. The house hasn’t changed much. A new coat of paint is all I can see from here. Some things never change, and this town is one of them.

Dragging my tired bones to the door with the only bag I packed, I knock on the door and wait. It’s weird to knock on the door of the house I grew up in, but I haven’t been here in ten years—exactly ten years—and no one knows I’m coming. I left with no explanation, just a few weeks before Christmas.

The door opens, and Momma stands there, frozen in shock.

“Surprise.” I try to smile, but it falls flat.

Instead of a happy, reunited hug, I break into tears and cover my face.

“Eva!” Momma cries, reaching for me and wrapping me in a tight hug.

I’m several inches taller than her five-foot-four, but I’ll always be her baby girl. A hug from my momma is exactly what I need right now.

“Come on, baby. Come inside.”

I allow her to usher me into the house. My face is red and blotchy from crying, my heart heavy. Sometimes, you just need to go home to get your head on straight.

I drop down onto the brown couch that has seen better days, but is still just as comfortable as I remember it, as the phone in the kitchen rings. Momma still has a landline. The blue phone with a long curly cord hangs on the wall by the entrance to the kitchen like it always has.

“Hello?”

I’m almost positive it’s one of the old biddies that stick their nose in everything, calling to see who’s at the house, since they don’t recognize my car. Frankly, it’s not even mine. It’s Brad’s. The bastard. He may eventually get it back, but he’ll have to come fetch it.

“Yes, Esther, I know there’s a strange car in my driveway. It’s Eva.”

I roll my eyes—called it—and kick off my shoes and socks. It’s the sheriff’s wife, the biggest gossip of them all.

“I don’t know how long she’s staying. Alright, you have a good night. Tell Burt I said hello.”

With a sigh, she hangs up the phone and starts a fresh pot of coffee. It’s what you do in a small town when there’s heartbreak. You make coffee and eat something. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, there’s always coffee.

I look around my childhood home and find that nothing has changed. Not the paint on the walls, the way the furniture is arranged, or the pictures on the bookshelves. I’m sure my room is exactly how I left it too.

Momma brings two steaming cups of coffee into the living room and hands one to me. My fingers are cold, and the hot mug burns my skin, but I don’t let go. I need to feel something other than betrayal.

“It’s been a while,” Momma starts, sipping the steaming liquid.

“Yes, it has.” My shoulders slump and I place my cup on the coffee table, staring at the light mocha color. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Eva,” she sighs. “You always had wanderlust. A thirst for adventure and the unknown. I knew you would leave one day.”

“It was still a shitty way to go. I should have told you beforehand and kept in touch.”

Guilt eats at me. What if something had happened to her? Would anyone have been able to find me?

“Where have you been?”

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