“…and today’s weather in Maudlin Falls will be mostly sunny skies, with highs in the low 70s and lows in the mid-60s tonight. Don’t forget, WMFF listeners, today at two, the Maudlin Falls Methodist Ladies are meeting over at MF-Squared for their Orchids, Oh My! class. All are welcome, and it only costs—”

I punch the radio’s power button to silence Terry Hackworth mid-sentence. I was doing okay listening to it until that. I changed from satellite radio over to the local station when I stopped for gas in Colley after getting off the Interstate around dawn.

That was a mistake.

The change in radio station, I mean. Not getting gas.

Last night, I stopped about an hour north of Colley and stayed at a large hotel where I felt reasonably certain no one would know me. I wanted to remain incognito today for as long as possible.

Mostly because I’m a chicken. I still don’t know how to approach Tomas.

I drive along in silence for a few minutes with nothing more than the sound of my Range Rover’s tires smoothly gliding along the apparently fresh asphalt of New Falls Road. The road’s name is a little misleading because it’s at least twice as old as I am, and I’m thirty-six.

Looks like the county finally got around to repaving the old two-lane road sometime recently. Which is one of the reasons why I decided to drive my SUV down here in the first place instead of flying and renting a car. I thought I’d need it while dodging potholes the size of fricking VW Beetles.

I wonder what other changes I’ll discover that have taken place over the past three years?

That’s not a question I seriously want my soul to ponder because I’m here first and foremost to do my job. Get in, get out, preferably as quickly and quietly as possible before I can even think about dealing with anything else. I reserved a hotel room down in Sarcan for tonight because it’s closer to Webley, the county seat, where most of my business will take place.

Plus, it means fewer chances of me being clocked by anyone in town before I’m ready to deal with those ramifications.

I can’t help looking for other changes as I drive. I spot a freshly painted barn. Another farmer built a new pole barn. Yet another has a new-looking section of fence stretching along the road to keep his placid cows safely contained in his picturesque pasture.

Mostly, though, it looks remarkably unchanged from when I last drove this road three years ago. Only then I was heading the other direction.

And everything looked blurry because I was crying.

I’m still twenty minutes outside of town when I slow and take a left turn, down a well-used dirt road running beneath a thick canopy of old oak trees arching above it. Old Falls Road.

This all appears achingly unchanged, miles of woods with glimpses of pastures and fields through the rare break in the trees.

I’m glad to see no one sold the surrounding land and turned it into a housing development and closed it off to the public.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m parking in the rustic clearing the locals all use for this purpose. At this time of morning on a weekday, there’s no one else here. I’d counted on that when I let my body click into autopilot and head this way.

I get out and quietly close the door, hesitant to disturb the still air with the sound. Nearby, I hear the falls softly rumbling, where the Maudlin River burbles and slides around craggy rocks before dropping twenty-five feet to continue its journey through Maudlin Falls and points beyond.

It sounds like a home I can no longer claim. Perhaps the last true home I ever knew.

Or, if I’m really honest with myself, maybe it was the only true home I ever knew.

The hand-painted sign still sits slightly askance on an old 4x4 post at the foot of the trail. As I walk past it, I reach out and touch the sign’s rough, faded surface, the way I have countless times before.

The way he always used to.

I guess this is the real reason I chose to don jeans and sneakers this morning instead of defaulting to a suit. Because I could lie to myself and say I wanted to be comfortable driving. Deep inside, I knew I’d be stopping here.

The way I stopped and cried that last day, wondering if I’d ever see the falls again.

If I’d ever see him.

Thinking that if he really loved me, he’d understand. That he’d follow me, eventually. That when he’d come visit me, he’d let me show him how good things could be for us in my world after having lived in his for several years.

That I could win him over. That my world could become our world.

That I could take care of us and he could literally do anything else he wanted with his accounting degree besides being tied to a small local hardware store that would likely barely provide for his future retirement.

Three years away proved me so, so wrong.

I’m wiser now. I know he never would’ve been happy living in my world, and it was selfish of me to think I could force him to.

Even more ironic, I realized how wrong I’d been to think I could ever find happiness in that world without him at my side. How blind I was to reality.

How unhappy I currently am in my life, and have been for years.

How the last time I honestly felt happy was when I was living in his world.

Now I’m stuck with my feet firmly planted in New York City and Miami, while my heart and soul stubbornly refuse to budge from Maudlin Falls.

Not that I dare think he’ll give me another chance.

Not that I even think I’ve earned another chance.

I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t want to look at me, much less speak to me. Or worse, I’d deserve it if he’s moved on and found someone who’s truly deserving of him, who can be everything he really needs in a partner.

Something I should have been better at for him.

I’ve already decided that, should I be met with the last possibility, I’ll grit my teeth, smile, genuinely wish him well, and the ring currently stashed in my pocket will stay there. I’d love to see him smiling and happy.

That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him—happiness.

Even if I’m not the one giving it to him.

And even if the thought of that rips my heart out anew and completely stomps it into dust.