Isla’s POV
The drive back to Dustfield felt longer than usual, the road stretched like it didn’t want me home. Maybe I didn’t either. The rain had started somewhere around the outskirts, soft at first, then heavier, pelting the windshield until the world blurred.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my nerves were buzzing. I killed the engine and just sat there, staring at the dim porch light flickering like it was struggling to stay alive. Kind of how I felt inside.
The whole drive back, I kept replaying Isabella’s voice in my head, that soft, cheerful tone, the way she said my name like we’d been friends for years. Isla, right? I’ve seen all your work, except her wedding pictures, of course.
Of course.
My stomach twisted. What if she found out Silas and I used to date? How could
