From the window of the rental car, Y/n could see the modest two-story house at the end of Maple Street. String lights were already draped across the front porch, and the faint thump of a playlist drifted through the open windows.

It was Joe's twenty-sixth birthday. And he had no idea she was here.

Through the living room window, she could see shapes moving. A tall figure with broad shoulders, laughing at something someone said, running a hand through dirty blond hair. Joe. Her heart did a stupid flip.

The front door swung open. A woman with kind eyes and Joe's same smile stepped out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel.