Nowhere But Home
“Well, what do we have here?” a man’s voice said from behind me, where I’d bent to pick up a receipt on the floor. When I stood and turned to look at who had spoken, I wished I hadn’t.
I closed my eyes and bit back a groan. This was just awesome. I ignored the man and walked on, heading for my beat-up truck at the edge of the parking lot in front of the grocery store I’d just left.
Why did my first night back in my hometown have to include an encounter with my high school secret ex-boyfriend, Asher Knox, that whole clichéd “one that got away”? Or rather, one who had run away from me like his ass was on fire and I had some heretofore unknown deadly disease?
I’d heard it said that going home was the hardest thing a person could ever do. As far as I was concerned, it shat
