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I head back to Biddeford in the big red beast, this time taking the time to drive through town.

Not because I have to.

Just because…

Okay, fine—I love this truck. I’m officially converted.

There’s something weirdly empowering about sitting up high, feeling the power of the engine beneath me, watching the quaint Maine scenery roll past.

Biddeford isn’t big or flashy, but there’s something charming about it.

It’s a town with history, with character, with people who have known each other for decades.

Unlike Chicago, where everything moves at breakneck speed, where people’s faces blur together, where even the friendships can feel… transactional.

I pull up outside the first house on my list—Karl’s—a modest two-story home with a front porch swing and an old Labrador watching me from the steps

I step out, invitation in hand, and approach the door. I know these people don’t expect me.

Hell, they don’t know me at all.

But I know they mean something to Dan. His old crew, the ones who tried to pull him back into the world after his wife died.

The ones he let slip away.

I knock twice. The door swings open to reveal a broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, his brow furrowing as he takes me in.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi.” I smile, extending the envelope. “I’m Rachel. A friend of Dan’s. He’s hosting a housewarming party, and I wanted to make sure you got an invite.”

A pause. His gaze flicks to the truck, back to me.

“You from around here?”

I shake my head. “Just visiting. But I figured Dan’s friends might appreciate a chance to catch up with him.”

Karl’s expression softens slightly. He takes the envelope, turning it over in his hands.

“Haven’t seen Dan in a while.”

I nod. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

There’s a beat. Then, to my surprise, he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Man, always was a stubborn ass. Guess it’s time someone dragged him back into civilization.”

I grin. “That’s the plan.”

One down.

I climb back into the beast of a truck, key in the next address into the satnav, and rev the engine.

On to the next stop.

ELEVEN

By the time I get back to the house, the sun is already beginning its lazy descent behind the trees, casting a warm amber glow across the backyard. My heart’s still thudding from the whirlwind of the last few hours—tracking down Dan’s old friends, delivering the invitations, and alerting the press about the big reveal.