Chapter 1
“HERE WE GO.”
Earl Kent knew the moment he crossed into Atlanta. It wasn’t the skyline that rose beyond the windshield, nor was it the way the air felt colder than he remembered, but softer than New York’s sharp bite. It was the way his chest tightened as soon as he drove into Peachtree Street with the holiday lights stretching overhead.
Red and gold bulbs wrapped around lampposts and storefront windows glowed with wreaths and garlands. Traffic crawled at its usual pace with horns punctuating the air.
Atlanta had changed, and so had he.
He loosened his grip on the steering wheel and released a heavy breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. He was here for a reason. Starlight Toys was bleeding quietly, the way family legacies often did behind closed doors. He was there to fight off a hostile takeover, which unfortunately fell during the Christmas season.
He snorted under his breath.
Just my luck.
The company had been doing well all this while under the board that had run it for years…or so he had thought. His parents, after his father’s retirement from the company a year ago, had decided to tour the world. They were presently in Brazil. They had called him when they received news of how badly the company was doing, and he had been forced to come back so they wouldn’t cut his vacation short.
His phone buzzed against the console, and he didn’t need to look at the screen to know what it was. He glanced anyway.
Marcus.
His best buddy, Marcus Reid, went to college and earned his business degree.
Earl tapped his Bluetooth. “You’ve got impeccable timing.”
Marcus chuckled. “You say that every time I call when you’re avoiding your thoughts.”
Earl smiled despite himself. “I don’t avoid it. I compartmentalize.”
“Uh-huh.”
Earl flicked his turn signal and eased into another lane.
There was a brief pause before a concerned, “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” Earl shrugged. “Once I save my family’s company.”
“It might not be that bad.”
“I know it’s worse than the board admitted. Holiday contracts are holding us together with optimism and legal tape.”
Marcus let out a low whistle. “And you’re back in the lion’s den.”
“Home,” Earl corrected automatically.
As if summoned by the thought, he passed the old brick buildings near Midtown, and memory after memory came hitting him. Late-night drives, laughter spilling out of rolled-down windows, and a girl with brown eyes and a laugh that used to undo him completely.
Kristi Burse.
Earl swallowed thickly and struggled to focus on the road.
Ten years was a long time. Long enough to build an empire, and long enough to convince himself he’d moved on.
Long enough to be wrong.
“You still there?” Marcus asked.
“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “Just…Atlanta traffic.”
Marcus chuckled again. “Listen, we’ll handle the numbers tomorrow. For tonight, get settled. Try not to rewrite your entire life in your head.”
“Too late.”
“I figured.”
They hung up as Earl turned to the neighborhood where he’d grown up—tree-lined streets dusted with string lights and lights reflecting from behind curtains in the houses. It struck him how many of these homes were filled with people who’d stayed, who’d chosen roots over ambition.
He parked in front of his parents’ house and sat there for a moment, engine idling, snowless winter air fogging his breath, staring at the two-storied building.
He’d left this city chasing a possibility. What he hadn’t expected was to miss it this much.
Or her.
He cut the engine and stepped out into the cool night. Somewhere down the street, laughter drifted in the crisp air. A carol played faintly from a nearby house.
Releasing a small sigh, he headed inside. He pushed open the front door, and immediately, warm air wrapped around him, carrying the clean scent of lemon polish and pine cleaner. The house lights were already on, like someone had been expecting him.
“Mr. Kent?”
He turned toward the voice. Mrs. Ellison stood in the hallway, hands folded over the front of her cardigan. The petite woman looked older than he remembered, thinner too, but the smile on her oval face was the same.
“Hey, Mrs. Ellison,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. “It’s good to see you.”
She walked over and hugged him. “You’ve grown into yourself,” she said with a laugh. “Your parents said they can’t make it for the holidays.”
“Yes. You still taking care of the place?”
“Someone has to keep it from falling apart,” she replied, glancing around proudly. “Dinner’s warming. You hungry?”
“Starving. But I’ll take a look around first.”
She nodded, already turning toward the kitchen. “You do that. Welcome home.”
Home.
The word hit harder than he expected.
He rolled up the sleeves of his dark gray sweater, revealing forearms built from years of early mornings and stress-fueled gym sessions. He set his leather bag by the stairs and moved further into the house.
The living room looked untouched by time. Same furniture and same framed family photos lining the mantle. He ran his fingers along the back of a chair.
Simple Christmas decorations were up. A small tree in the corner, and white lights were strung along the windows. His mother’s old snow globe sat on the coffee table. He picked it up and shook it once, watching the flakes fall.
“You really came back,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his black hair.
He moved down the hallway and climbed the stairs. He reached his old bedroom door, paused, then pushed it open. The room smelled faintly of cedar and dust. The bed was made. A few boxes sat against the wall. They were things his parents never got around to throwing out. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, and he retrieved it.
Marcus: You survived the landing?
Earl typed back. Yep. The house feels the same, though.
Marcus: Is that good or bad?
Earl glanced around. Both.
He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the quiet street glowing under Christmas lights. Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed, and someone laughed. He ran a hand across his neatly trimmed beard.
Ten years ago, he’d stood right here and promised himself he would come back. But it had taken him ten years to do that. The question now was whether it was too late.
