The bell above the door of Haven Books chimed as Lila Cole stepped inside, her breath catching at the scent of aged paper and bergamot tea. Ten years had passed since she’d left Cedar Ridge, but the bookstore looked unchanged—crammed shelves, sunlit reading nooks, and the faint hum of Norah Jones playing from an old record player. She hadn’t planned to return, not after her fiancé’s betrayal, but inheriting the shop from her late aunt had felt like a sign. Or a trap.

She trailed her fingers over a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice and froze when a deep voice said, “Still pretending you don’t like romance?”

Lila turned, her chest tightening. Evan Hart. His dark curls were shorter, his jawline sharper, but his eyes still held that quiet intensity that had once unraveled her. The boy who’d written her love notes in high school, who’d kissed her under the town’s willow tree, who’d left for a music career in Nashville without a goodbye.

“I prefer mysteries now,” she said lightly, ignoring the flutter in her ribs. “Less predictable.”

Evan leaned against the shelf, a guitar pick glinting on his keychain. “Funny. I heard you’re the one who vanished.”

The accusation stung. She’d fled Cedar Ridge after their prom-night fight, after he’d begged her to stay and she’d called him reckless. “I’m just here to sell the shop. Two weeks, max.”

He stepped closer, his cedarwood cologne wrapping around her. “Then why’d you keep the Jane Austen section?”

Before she could reply, rain began drumming the windows. Evan glanced outside. “Storm’s rolling in. Let me drive you home.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your stubbornness hasn’t changed.” He smirked, tugging her toward the door. “Neither has this.” He nodded at the willow tree across the street, its branches swaying in the wind. Their tree.

The rain fell harder as Evan’s truck rumbled down Maple Street. Lila stared at his hands on the wheel—hands that had once strummed love songs for her. “Why’d you come back?” she asked.

“My dad got sick. I run the music shop now.” He paused. “And… I owed you an apology.”

She stiffened. “For leaving?”

“For not fighting harder.” He pulled into her aunt’s driveway, the headlights illuminating her childhood home. “I heard about your fiancé. You deserved better.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She hadn’t cried in months, not even when she’d returned the ring. “Why do you care?”

“Because I never stopped.” His voice cracked. “Every song I wrote was about you, Lila. Every damn one.”

The admission hung between them, raw and reckless. Thunder growled as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Stay,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I can’t—”

“Not forever. Just… tonight.”

The rain slowed to a whisper. Lila’s resolve splintered. She leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that tasted of longing and lost time. It was soft, then desperate, a decade of words unspoken poured into a single moment.

When they pulled apart, Evan rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not asking for a promise. Just… a second chance.”

Lila’s heart, brittle from years of guarding itself, began to thaw. Outside, the willow tree dripped with diamonds of rain, its branches bending but unbroken.

“Okay,” she breathed.

He smiled—slow, hopeful, hers—and laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s start with tomorrow.”

---

The End

Sometimes the greatest love stories aren’t about finding someone new… but rediscovering the one who never left…..

> Quote By Ethereal Page <