The summer she turned eighteen, Delaney Hollis crawled under a fence. Wes Cutler had a key to that gate in his pocket the whole time. He took her under the fence anyway, because it was better that way — and for eleven weeks, lying in the grass at the end of a county runway while planes came in low over the ridge, it was. Then her father got involved. Wes ended it in a gravel lot on a hot afternoon in August. He was deliberate about it, and he was cruel about it, and he was good enough at it that she believed him for four years. Delaney left for a school six hundred miles away carrying a secret she told herself she was keeping for his sake. Four years later she's back in Bellamy County with a degree she can't afford to use, a job she can't turn down, and a three-year-old boy with his father's cowlick and a dimple in the same cheek. Wes never left. He's out at the airfield every day now, working on the planes he used to mow beneath. And there's a ring on somebody else's hand. She has one thing left to tell him. He has four years of reasons not to listen.