I awoke from my memories to the bright sun reflecting off of Mount Rainier.

Thankfully, safely on the tarmac.

I rubbed the sleepers out of my eyes and passively listened to the captain's announcements about the weather and local time. But my mind was really on making sure all my luggage made it with me and securing my rental car in time.

As soon as the fasten seatbelt sign was off, I snatched my belongings and took off through the narrow alley of the cabin.

Once I was safely in the terminal, I slumped into a free chair and opened my tote, digging around for printed copies of my rental reservation.

The blank screen of my phone nagged at me.

But I snapped my tote shut again and closed my eyes.

One thing at a time.

I'd get to him later.

- - -

I set my Subaru Forester in park outside of the worn log cabin eatery and bar just on the edge of town.

The sprawling woodlands seemed to be growing further and further in its attempt to reclaim the establishment as its own.

Growing up, I always felt like the forest was saying, "All you make from me becomes me again in the end."

I'd see far too many creepy, neglected homes taken over in my childhood. Not that the town was that bad or poor. People just shifted. Moved. Never looked back when they left.

As we all do, really.

I sighed and collected my tote from the passenger seat.

"Stop number one on the revisiting nostalgia tour..." I mumbled to myself.

I pushed the door open and almost jumped at the sounds the snapping twigs and leaves made under my sneakers. Once I collected my bag, I slammed the door and pressed the "lock" button on the keys before pressing on.

Despite my deadpan comment, I was truly looking forward to this stop. It would likely be my warmest welcome.

I hustled up to the wooden front steps, running away from the dread of a poorly timed downpour.

And yes, I forgot to bring an umbrella.

I gripped the knob of the front door, marveling for the slightest instant at how different it felt in my hands now.

The last time I was here, I wasn't even able to legally order a drink. That was certainly different today.

I pushed the door open and was greeted by the smell of lingering tobacco and beer foam. I was a little early for the dinner crowd.

Some of the local mill workers were seated at the bar, a few guys around the pool table.

I lingered in the entryway, not really sure what to do next. It's not like this place had a hostess, but it felt out of place to just "claim" a table unannounced.

"Grace. Penelope. REEVE!"

I fought the urge to clap my hands over my ears at her screech.

It'd been 5 years since Beth, my oldest best friend, came out to visit me in Chicago.

Since then, we'd kept in touch on social media. I sent her my congratulations when she and her longtime sweetheart eloped in Vegas.

And like any doting "auntie", I'd absolutely spoiled her newborn daughter 3 years ago by picking out the best (and priciest) from her registry.

So here we were. The "small town runaway" and the "small town forever" girls. Two parallel lives that somehow intersected at this point.

"I KNEW you were coming, but I still can't believe it!" She gushed and pulled me into a tight hug before letting go and smoothing her apron back out. "C'mon, let's get you a spot!"

"Thanks, Beth." I nodded and followed her along the upper dining alley that wrapped around the bar and gaming area. I marveled at the new, larger windows towards the back side.

"Looks like you renovated?" I asked as she seated me with a menu, then took the seat opposite to me.

It could have been years ago, but I didn't know what else to say.

"Oh, yes! I'm glad you like it - and glad you came in time to beat the rush!" She gestured excitedly like a child on Christmas eager to open presents. "C'mon! Show me the ring!"

The ring?

It felt like every intelligent word left my brain at that thought.

"I'm sure it looks far prettier in person than on social media!"

I silently pulled my hands out from under the wooden table, hoping that showing her the band on my finger would hide my lack of response.

I'd honestly forgotten it was still on. And maybe it shouldn't have been.

It'd been a rough 24 hours.

Beth ooh'ed and aah'ed over the lifeless metal on my finger and I scanned the bar to distract myself.

My eyes landed on a pair of men playing pool in the center of the gaming area. They joked and pushed each other around playfully, taking sips of their beers here and there.

One of them looked up at me briefly with a smirk, then picked up his stick to set up another shot.

"Grace!" Beth hissed and I instinctively hid my ring finger with my other hand. She tried to stifle a laugh and patted my hands lightly. "After all of this is settled, we'll have to throw you a true bachelorette party."

"Thanks," I replied, turning my attention to the menu.

Maybe it was the lack of appetite over the past 24 hours.

Or the gargantuan fight I had with my fiancé 48 hours ago.

But I didn't hear the wedding bells as soon in my future as she did.