A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) by Wendy Vella

much any girl with a pulse would appreciate the man before her.
    “That’s it, now you don’t move from this house; you don’t lift anything or watch too much TV.” His dark brows had drawn together as he glared down at her. He wasn’t even breathing heavy from all that lifting; no sweat slicked his brow. “No driving either, I don’t want the citizens of Howling hurt.”
    “No driving?” Branna queried.
    “No, if you need anything, call someone.”
    She wasn’t about to point out that she didn’t have anyone to call here in Howling, except maybe Annabelle, and she wasn’t really sure where they stood, which was pretty pathetic, considering she’d lived here for three years.
    “Where’s your phone?” One large hand extended towards her, and Branna was fairly certain he’d pat her down if she didn’t pull it out of her back pocket and hand it to him, so she did. Handing it back to her minutes later, he then turned on his heel and left. No goodbye, no raised hand, no see you around, he just left, started that big green pickup, and rolled out of her driveway.
    Looking through her phone, she saw he’d put the clinic number in it, but not his. What had happened to the Jake McBride she’d known all those years ago? The man who now carried his name seemed angry. Visions of yesterday filtered into her head, the way he had carried her, the hand that had run down her back, and the feel of her fingers in his. Those were the actions of the boy she’d once known, so he was obviously still in there. But something had made him change so that now his smile wasn’t as bright.
    Resting her head, Branna let her eyes sweep the room. Georgie and her husband Dan, plus Annabelle, had been the only ones in the three years she spent in Howling who’d seen through the surly young girl she’d been and it had been with them that she’d finally found peace. It had broken her heart when Dan had died while she was here. After the death of her mother, to lose him had nearly destroyed Branna, as it had Georgie, but they had clung to each other, and through that found the strength to go on.
    The little house was still full of their things. Georgie’s clothes had gone, but everything else was still here. The chairs she and Dan had sat in were still in the same place with the little lace head covers. Georgie had made those and tried to teach Branna to stitch some herself, but after much scolding and hilarity, she’d failed. Instead, she’d brought out the knitting needles, and Branna, surprisingly, had been good at that, and still knitted today.
    Climbing out of the chair, she made her way to the sofa, where she pulled the cream knitted blanket she’d made Georgie from the arm, then curled up and let her mind drift and let the memories settle around her.
    The sound of a car woke Branna. Sitting upright, she rubbed her eyes. Her head felt better, steadier. Searching her memory for the high school pledge, she still drew a blank, however, which was unsettling.
    “If you make me coffee, I may just forgive you by Christmas, and as that’s still a good few months away, you have some work to do.”
    Branna found herself smiling as Annabelle Smith appeared in her doorway. Unlike yesterday, she was dressed casually today, as a concession to the heat; she wore a floaty pale pink tank top and white shorts that showed off the endless length of her long legs, teamed with white sandals and her toes painted to match her top; she could have stepped out of any fashion magazine. Over her shoulder was slung a buttery colored bag.
    “You still got that color thing happening, I see, Smith,” Branna climbed off the sofa.
    “Always will have and don’t change the subject.” She walked into the house carrying a brown bag from which delicious smells were coming.
    “Coffee, now!”
    “I’ve got a head injury,” Branna complained, as she walked to the kitchen. “Be gentle.”
    “You play another trick like that, and it’ll be more than a head