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Added to the grief of losing her daughter, she’d thought at the time the pain might kill her.
    Over the years she’d found it grew easier to bury her wayward side. She’d gone to law school as her parents wanted and become a responsible adult. She dated several men—even became engaged to two—but there had always been something missing, so she’d ultimately broken things off with them. She might not be willing to touch the fire of a man like JT again, but she couldn’t live a lie and marry a man she felt nothing for beyond affection and friendship.
    One day she’d find the perfect man—one about whomshe could feel passionate, but who brought out the good aspects in her. Surely such a man existed?
    Suddenly a familiar sign on the roadside caught her attention and she blinked and looked through the window at the scenery, her heart quickening with a strange mixture of dread and lightness. They were in New Jersey. In fact, they were on the outskirts of their hometown.
    She turned in her seat to face JT. “We’re going to Pine Shores?”
    â€œYes,” he said, giving nothing else away.
    They drove through the town, past the school where they’d met, past the road to his old house, past the diner where he’d taken her on dates, and then out the other side. He slowed at a turnoff to the secluded stretch of beach the locals called Bride’s Beach where the two of them had spent a lot of time together. Where they’d first made love.
    He pulled up in the empty, unlit car park and switched off the engine. The silence was heavy as they both looked out through the windscreen at the dark trees that separated them from the beach. A tight band pressed around her chest, making it difficult for her lungs to draw air.
    Then he disengaged his seat belt. “Come on,” he said.
    She climbed out of the car and followed him as he walked down the path that led to the water, then turned left onto a barely visible track winding through the trees. Moonlight shone through trees with leaves that fluttered in the light breeze. The way was as familiar now as it had been then—indelibly etched into her consciousness. She used to sneak out her window at night and meet JT around the block, and he’d bring her down here on the back of his bike. They’d lie together, nestled in the trees that met the sand, looking out over the beach and water, sometimes talking, sometimes making love, always holding each other. In colder months, they’d bring blankets.
    It was the spot where they’d conceived their baby.
    Digging her nails into her palms, she looked out to see the view of the moonlight on the water, the shadows of the trees over the sand. The same haunting view that regularly featured in her dreams.
    Ahead, JT crouched down and began clearing away a buildup of leaves and twigs from something, so she crouched beside him for a better look.
    Her heart leaped into her throat. It was a beautifully carved wooden cross. “You made this?” she asked.
    â€œI had to do something,” he said, voice rough. He cleared the last bit of debris and sat back on his haunches. “I usually bring flowers when I come.” He looked around as if hoping some of the trees would magically sprout flowers he could use.
    She reached over to touch the cross and realized there were words carved on the front. She looked closer and saw “Brianna Hartley, Beloved.”
    Her eyes filled with tears and JT reached for her hand, squeezing tight.
    â€œThank you,” she whispered, searching his eyes. And she saw something there that rocked her to her core. Fourteen years ago she’d been so grief-stricken, so young that she simply hadn’t had the emotional capacity to understand JT’s grief.
    She’d known he loved their unborn daughter, but stupidly, she’d seen something different between mother-love—having the physical connection to their baby—and