Page 12 of Falling Back to You

I shrugged and carefully bent to retrieve the implement. No need to throw my back out. “Long story.”

“Is that why you came home?” Ruby asked softly, concern etched her youthful face. She was the same age I was when I left.

And I used to think nineteen was so grown up.

I pasted on a smile. “Something like that.”

A pint-sized girl, no more than four or five years old, in a Belle dress and pink polka-dot rain boots marched up to us, her dark chestnut curls bouncing with each step. She clutched an orange tabby cat to her chest. Stopping in front of us, she tilted her head. “Who are you?”

“I’m Noelle. What’s your name?”

“Khia,” she announced. A constellation of freckles splattered across the canvas of her nose. Her ocean eyes were dazzling and infinitely familiar.

My breath caught in my ribs, squeezing tightly. I knew those eyes—oh, how I knew those eyes. They’d looked at me like I was the whole world, once upon a time.

“I’m a princess,” Khia added.

Ruby studied me, her smile giving the Cheshire cat a run for his money. She’d been young when Cal Satterfield and I broke up, but she’d known about us. We were probably town legends by this point. It was too much to hope that our chapter had been forgotten in the annals of Serenity Springs’ history.

I swallowed the Alaska-sized lump in my throat. “You sure are, sweetie. Is Belle your favourite?”

She held up three fingers. “Third favourite. Mulan is first, then Cinderella.”

“Very good choices.” Cinderella and I had a less-than-amicable history—I related a little too hard, without the happily ever after to soften the ache—but I could see this little firecracker as a mini Mulan.

“This is Mrs. Pickles.” She held the feline up for my inspection.

I stroked the cat’s head, and she purred approvingly without a care that her life was dangling in the hands of a child.

Khia eyed me thoughtfully, then grinned, her chubby cheeks dimpled. Be still, my heart— she has his dimples. “You’re pretty!”

I was a firm believer the best compliments came from kids. If you were ugly, they told you so without any sugarcoating. If they told you you were pretty, you better believe it because they didn’t have a filter. So standing in my mustard-stained oversized tee and yoga pants while a little girl called me pretty had me feeling as stylish as Kate Middleton. “Thanks, so are you.”

“Do you like hot chocolate?” Khia demanded, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“It’s my favourite.”

Her face lit up. “Mine, too! And I like marshmallows. Small ones. Not big ones. And sprinkles. Do you want to have a tea party with me and have some?”

My heart melted into a puddle, but before I could answer, Ruby swept in. “Miss Noelle needs to unpack, and I need to get you back to Mama D’s for dinner before the game tonight.”

Dinner seemed to be the magic word because Khia cheered and started bouncing up and down. “Fried chicken! Fried chicken!”

Just thinking about Delilah Satterfield’s fried chicken had my mouth watering. Too bad my newly acquired gluten allergy would prevent me from tasting it. I still dreamed about that heavenly deep-fried poultry; it was that good.

Ruby shot me a wink, like she could read my thoughts. “I’ll save you a plate. Let’s get your things inside, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

I nodded weakly, deciding not to confess that I couldn’t eat it, and popped the trunk.

“I can help!” Khia declared, setting the cat down.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Cal Satterfield’s daughter hugged my pillow to her chest and marched across the lawn, her tabby cat loping at her heels towards the cottage.

I knew he’d married, and it wasn’t like I had a claim on him still. Returning his ring and hightailing it across the country negated that. But I still loved him.

The day I left.