already two inches taller than his older brother. The Falco boys were tall. But Dewayne had wider

shoulders and the kind of muscles that only men had. Dustin was still a boy. But he was my boy.

Still, that didn’t keep me from looking at Dewayne whenever I could get away with it. When

Dewayne was outside washing his car, I was up in my room watching from behind the safety of my

curtains. Any chance I had of getting a glimpse of Dewayne, I secretly took it.

The day Dewayne sat down beside me at lunch, he had become my hero. He had come to rescue me.

And since then he had stepped in and saved me more than once. Having this guy who seemed larger

than life always there to help me did things to my heart I couldn’t control. Even though I tried to stop

feeling things for him. I just couldn’t.

I was in love with Dustin Falco, but I was in complete idol worship over his older brother, a fact I

could only admit to myself. He was the kind of beautiful that a girl couldn’t ignore.

* * *

That night after I was tucked into bed and my thoughts drifted to fantasies of Dewayne (because this

was the only time I allowed myself to mentally cheat on my boyfriend with his older brother), I heard

the sirens. You didn’t hear sirens a lot in Sea Breeze. It was a small town, and rarely did the

ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks have cause to run off to the same location. But the louder they

got, the more serious I realized it was. Getting out of bed, I went to my window and looked down the

road. I could hear them, but I couldn’t see them. All I knew was they were close.

The noise didn’t fade, but instead grew louder as more emergency vehicles joined in. I wrapped my

blanket around me and sat down on my window seat to wait. I couldn’t sleep with all the noise, and I

decided saying a prayer for whoever was the cause of this was important. My parents had raised me in

church, and I completely believed in prayer.

Just as I closed my eyes my bedroom door opened, and I turned to see my mother standing there

with a look of horror on her face. Was my dad home? I stood up as fear gripped me, and I met her

gaze. “What’s wrong, Momma?” I asked. “Is Daddy here? He is, isn’t he?”

She nodded. “We’re all here,” she said, then put her hand on her heart and took a deep breath.

“That’s not . . .” She stopped and closed her eyes. I let the blanket fall to the ground and started to go

to her. She was scaring me.

“Momma, tell me what’s wrong,” I begged.

She lifted her eyes, and I saw the unshed tears shining in them. “It’s Dustin, sweetheart.”

“Dustin?” I asked, stopping and grabbing the first thing I could find to steady myself.

She nodded. “Your daddy just got off the phone with the pastor. He’s on his way to the Falcos’

now. Dustin wrapped his car around a tree,” she said, her voice trailing off.

He wrapped his car around a tree? How did he do that? I had just been with him two hours ago.

“But is he okay?” I asked as the sirens continued to mock me. With all those emergency vehicles out

there, how could he be okay?

Momma shook her head. “No, Sienna. He’s not okay. He’s . . . he’s gone, honey.”

Chapter One

Six years later . . .

SIENNA

I never expected to step foot in Sea Breeze, Alabama, again. When my parents had packed my bags

and shipped me off to live in Fort Worth, Texas, with my mom’s sister, who I hardly knew, I had been

told I would return to Sea Breeze after the baby was born. What I hadn’t been told was that they

weren’t planning on my baby returning with me.

I glanced back at Micah, asleep in his car seat with his Darth Vader action figure clenched tightly

in his hand. Our life hadn’t been easy, but we had each other. I wouldn’t go back and do it any other

way. Micah was my life. He had healed me when I was sure nothing ever could.

Keeping Micah meant being disowned by my strict religious parents. My aunt wasn’t the most

affectionate person in the world, but she’d disagreed with my parents’ decision. I had been expected to

work and pay my own way, but at least she’d given us a roof over our heads.

Giving up on high school and getting my GED was my only option. My aunt Cathy was the

principal at the local high school and helped me get a trade school grant, so when Micah was eighteen

months old, I enrolled in beauty school. Before his third birthday I had a degree in cosmetology.

I owed my aunt more than I could ever repay her.

Micah and I moved out just last year and finally got an apartment of our own. I didn’t date because

I didn’t trust anyone around my son. I also felt guilty paying for a sitter when we needed that money

for more important things, like rent, day care, and food. It didn’t keep men from flirting, though, and

trying to get me to go out with them. Janell, the owner of the salon where I worked, said that the men

all thought I was playing hard to get. It just made them more persistent.

The truth was, I was lonely sometimes, but then Micah would smile and I’d see his father in him

and I’d remember that for ten years of my life I’d had someone. A very special someone. And now I

had Micah. I didn’t need anything more.

When the call had come two months ago from my mother to tell me about my father’s heart attack,

I hadn’t known what to feel. He had never met Micah, and now he never would. My mother had used

Dad’s life insurance money to move to a retirement community in central Florida. She’d given her

house to Micah and me.

Not one time did she apologize for deserting me when I’d needed her most, or for turning her back

on her only grandchild. But the fact that she had given the house to us meant something. I only hoped

one day she would realize what she was missing by not knowing him.

Janell had helped me by giving me a glowing reference, and I had managed to get a job in Sea

Breeze working at one of the most elite salons in town. I would be making more money, and I

wouldn’t be paying rent any longer. Our life would be better in Sea Breeze. Micah would get to grow

up in the small coastal town that I loved.

My only fear, and the one reason I almost didn’t come back home, was the idea of the Falcos seeing

Micah. Once I’d realized that my parents hadn’t been planning on me keeping my son, I sent a letter to

Tabby Falco, Dustin’s mother.

She never replied.

The first year of Micah’s life I wrote them countless letters and included pictures of him. He

looked so much like his father. I wanted them to see that Dustin wasn’t completely lost to us. He had

left a part of himself behind.

Not once did she respond.

A few times I’d almost worked up the nerve to call them, but if they weren’t replying to my letters,

then they didn’t want to talk to me. They didn’t want Micah. It had hurt even worse than my parents

not wanting him. I had hated the Falcos for their desertion. But then I’d learned to let go. Move on. Be

happy with my life. With my beautiful little boy.

“Momma? Where are we?” a sleepy little voice asked from the backseat of my twelve-year-old

Honda Civic.

“We’re home. Our new home,” I replied, pulling into the driveway of the house that had once been

my home and would soon be again.

“Our new house?” he asked with excitement in his voice as he wiggled in his seat to see better.

“Yep, baby. Our new house. Ready to go inside and see it?” I asked him, opening my car door and

getting out. It was a two-door, so I had to lean my seat forward to reach him in the backseat. He

unbuckled himself, then scrambled out of his seat and jumped out of the car.