18
Cayla was sobbing so hard, it was a miracle she made it up the mountain. When she saw the outside lights weren’t on, she almost collapsed into a puddle of defeated misery. But it looked like there were lights inside, so she stumbled out of her car and to the front door. Misty had to be home. If she wasn’t… well, Cayla hadn’t thought that far ahead.
The light on the front porch came on and the door swung open. Denver Hershel, Misty’s fiancé, took one look at the tears streaming down Cayla’s face and lost at least two shades of color from his own. With clear I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-female-tears panic in his eyes, he shouted, “Misty!”
A few moments later, Misty’s head appeared past Denver’s shoulder. “Oh dear God.” She hurried outside, wrapping her arms around Cayla in a tight hug.
