Driving through the blistering heat of July in South Carolina was brutal. My tiny sky-blue Prius with no working air conditioning barely made the drive here from New York. I could practically hear the grunting from the engine as I pulled into Loretta's gravel driveway, the wind from the windows being rolled down dwindling to a halt.

Anyone who stays in Darlington knows where Loretta lives. She purchased the biggest house in town, which is five minutes from her restaurant, The Starlighter. I never really understood the name, but regardless, it certainly raked her in a decent amount of money to be able to afford a place such as this. The huge white building with four pillars holding it up looks like the white house, yet it still has that southern charm. Cracks peek through the paint as I near the porch steps, smiling at the rocking chairs in the same spot, a gut-punching blow as the memory of Wyatt and I sitting in those very chairs floods into my head.

I hate that this town is so small that everywhere I look I'll have memories of Wyatt, but this house especially will be the hardest. The garden to the left of the porch has me taking a large gulp. Rows of hibiscus and hydrangea surrounded by weeping willow trees, and Wyatt's hands running through my hair as he pressed me against the bark.

"I thought you'd never get here," Loretta says as she pushes the creaky screen door open. I snap out of my thoughts and move my sunglasses up to the top of my head, my heart still hammering from the mental flashback of Wyatt and me.

"Sorry, my car isn't exactly the most stable right now. It took longer than I thought it would to get here."

"Well, go on and get yer stuff inside. We've gotta be at The Starlighter in an hour."

"Wait, I'm starting today?" I just got here after driving a straight thirteen hours. The last thing I want to do right now is work in the heat.

Loretta rolls her eyes as she pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket to spark one up. I've gotten this look from her frequently, and if it weren't for me being slightly scared of her, I'd probably roll my eyes back. She's the tiniest frail woman I've ever seen, and yet I've witnessed her throw six-foot men out the door of her restaurant with one hand. She's a woman the entire town knows not to mess with, which is why I moved in the matter of three days to help her out. Loretta runs this town and everyone who lives or has lived in it, and she knows it.

"Did ya think I would take it easy on ya? There's no special treatment. I don't care if ya gotta get used to country life again or not. I'm givin' ya a place to lay yer head and food in yer belly, so bring yer things inside, get dressed, and then we're leavin'."

"Okay," I say, and then she narrows her eyes, icy and cold-blooded before I quickly clear my throat and add, "Yes, ma'am." God, I have to get used to being in the south again.

_________

I didn't even have the time to shower, so I'm still sweaty from the drive when we pull into the rocky parking lot outside The Starlighter. I threw my hair up with a claw clip and changed into a pair of white jean shorts and a tank top with black flip-flops. Loretta didn't say anything about a dress code, and of all the times I've been here in the past, the waitresses never wore a uniform. The more provocative they looked, the more tips they earned.

Out the window, I peer up at the building, furrowing my eyebrows together as I examine the exterior. It's all changed since I was last here. I mean, it was eight years ago, so upgrades were bound to happen, but I always thought Loretta didn't care about any of that. She once told me that she'd never change this place for anything.

"The hurricane got it pretty bad," she says, seeming to read my thoughts. "I had no choice but to have it fixed. They're still fixin' the inside, but when the pandemic hit it kinda worked in our favor. The kitchen is in workin' condition, so we've been servin' folks out on the deck for a bit. I'm hopin' that the inside can be done by the end of the summer before the cold weather blows in."

"And you want me to be a waitress?"

She nods. "I need the staff. Nobody wants to work right now, and with this bein' the only restaurant in town, it gets busy as hell."

"I've never done it before. I mean, I've worked in retail at clothing stores, which is the place I just got fired from in New York actually, but I..."

"Tilly's gonna train ya, don't worry," she says as we make our way to the front. "She's another one of my servers."

My tank top is sticking to my back from the humidity, and unfortunately, the inside doesn't get much cooler. There are fans going on the ceiling, but the heat flooding from the stoves in the kitchen takes away from all of that. Even with the air conditioning going, the in and out to the patio seems to be stealing it.

The inside is a wreck as I scan my eyes around at all of the fallen wood, heaps of dust, and water stains. The door to the kitchen remains closed, but I can hear the sounds of clattering pots and pans as the staff gets ready to open for lunch.

"Follow me. I'll show ya the new dining area." She pushes open the swinging door behind us, and I follow her past the staff until we reach another door, which leads directly out to a large, added-on deck that wasn't here eight years ago. It's huge, fitting at least fifty tables. A large gondola is in the center lit up by fairy lights, with a stage in the middle of it, which I'm assuming is for the live performers. Loretta always refused to hire a DJ or play from a CD. She wanted the real thing.

"It's beautiful, Loretta, honestly."

She waves her hand, ignoring the compliment. "It'll look better once the inside is done."

I jump at the sound of a power saw, a hand flying to my heart as I whip around to see where the commotion is coming from. A man is shirtless, facing away from me, using the power saw to cut a piece of wood. He's built, like jacked, and the muscles in his back ripple as he grips the wood to turn it around to cut the other side. I follow the little beads of sweat down his spine, my mouth practically watering when it reaches the waistband of his jeans that are just low enough on his hips in order not to fall off.

I force my head to turn away when a woman joins us on the deck. She's got two French-style braids that reach the middle of her waist with daisy duke shorts, a crop top, and cowgirl boots. The definition of a southern woman. "You must be Macey!" The woman exclaims, but just as she does, the power saw whirls to a halt, the man whipping his head around to stare at us, and as soon as I see his face, the world stands still.

Time stops ticking.

Birds stop chirping.

Everything...pauses.

There's no way in hell this is Wyatt. The tall, lanky teenager I once loved is now a man and holy fuck. I'm blinking multiple times as I take in his appearance, trying to analyze everything that's different. He's got more freckles sprawled onto his cheeks from the sun, and his jawline is more sculpted. It's chiseled to perfection, crafted strictly by the gods themselves.

But his body... His body is much different. I can visibly see each and every ab and the space between them, v-line indents peeking out from the waistband of his jeans. There's nothing I can think to say right now. I'm frozen in shock, unable to do anything but stare.

I broke his heart eight years ago, and the entire town knows it. There's no way I'll be lucky enough to be welcomed back here with open arms. Even if I got down on my knees and begged Wyatt for his forgiveness, I know he wouldn't give it to me. I took too much away from him, and he resents me for it.

"What is she doin' here?" Wyatt asks Loretta. The muscles in his jaw work from how pissed he is, and all I want to do is crawl into a hole and be anywhere but here.

"Don't be dramatic, boy, she owed me a favor, just like you."

He takes off the cowboy hat that was shading him from the sun, wiping the sweat from his forehead before dragging his hand through his dirty blonde hair.

"You two know each other?" The woman, I'm assuming to be Tilly, is looking between Wyatt and me with anticipating eyes. Just from that one look, I know this altercation is going to spread through the town like wildfire within the next hour.

His eyes haven't left mine, but the stare I'm getting isn't one I'm fond of. It looks like he wants to murder me and throw me right over the deck into the lake below.

"If she's workin' here, I'm out," he says, my heart splitting into two. "I'm not doin' this with her here."

I stare down at my flip-flops and blink away tears, not wanting him to see how hurt I am. I can't be mad at this reaction because he has every right to be this angry with me. It's completely warranted, and my crying isn't going to do anything to fix it.

I see Loretta's feet take a step closer toward him, and I lift my eyes to watch Wyatt stiffen. He can act like a tough cowboy all he wants, but even the worst of the worst are terrified of Loretta. The woman has a big heart, she just has weird ways of showing it, and if you cross her? I shudder just at the thought.

"Fuck this," he mutters and goes to leave, but instinctively I grab onto his wrist when he passes, his skin like a burning flame against my fingertips.

"Please," I beg, "I won't bother you, alright? I'll keep to myself."

He stares at my hand on his wrist for a good five seconds before he jerks it away and curls his lip in disgust. "Keep your hands off of me, Macey, you hear me? And leave me the fuck alone."

We all watch him stomp off towards his truck that's parked around the back. The same truck that I've ridden many times before. I can't believe he still has it after eight years.

"I'll call yer mama and have her wash out that foul mouth of yers with soap! Ya ain't too old for that, Wyatt!" She hollers after him just as he slams the truck's door behind him, squealing out of the parking lot seconds later.

My body is shaking from head to toe, and I'm biting onto my bottom lip so hard that I fear it might bleed.

"He'll get over it," Loretta says, but I can hear the doubt even as she tries to say it confidently. "He doesn't have a choice. He owes me a favor, and we all know I take my favors pretty damn seriously."