"Nothing else mattered. It was just us."

- The Best of Me, coming to theaters October 17

Chapter 1

It had been eight long years since Shayla last packed herself into the family car and left the small beach house in Wilmington, North Carolina behind. Only seventeen-years-old at the time and completely broken, she told herself it would be the last time that she’d ever come to this house.

That was eight years ago. During the years in between her mother returned to the house religiously every summer until two years ago when a vicious killer with the name of breast cancer finally claimed her life. Three years before that they’d unexpectedly lost her father to a brain aneurysm. Being the only child Shayla inherited the house and it’s taken this long for her to finally find her way back.

Cruising down the road she pressed the button on the door and the window slid down, allowing the warm ocean air to infiltrate her small car. Fingers of guilt pressed down on the back of her neck as she recalled the last conversation she’d had with her mom. She’d asked her to come and stay with her at the beach house for a few weeks but Shayla just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was too much. Too much pain. Too much hurt. Too many memories.

A month later her mother was gone.

Taking a deep breath she pressed the button again and the window slowly slid back up. Regret sat like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. If she could’ve put the past behind her then she would have been there with her mother during those last few precious weeks. Now she was gone and there was nothing that she could do about it.

After that last summer she’d stayed at the house, she’d gone on to college at Appalachian State University. She graduated with a degree in Archeology and then became somewhat of a drifter. She’d lived in six states and eleven cities over the last four years unable to really settle down anywhere in particular. Besides being young and restless, nowhere she’d been up to this point really felt quite like the right place to set her roots down.

The Welcome to Wilmington sign loomed just ahead. Sweat started to bead at the tip of her brow. She was beginning to feel a bit antsy the closer she got. Shayla quickly pressed the button to lower her window once again letting the warm air rush in a second time, kissing her cheeks.

The old beach house had been on the market for a little over six months now. She’d received a call from the realtor last week informing her that they finally had an interested buyer. The buyer was willing to accept the asking price as long as they could close in ten days. Of course she was willing to agree to the terms just so she could put this part of her past behind her once and for all. But agreeing also meant that she had to drop every she was doing in order to return to the old house and pack it up before the closing.

She could do this she told herself. It would be easy. The plan she’d devised was to pack up anything she deemed important enough to keep in boxes to be put into storage. Everything else she would send off to goodwill. It was a simple enough plan. In and out and then she’d be done.

I can do this, she told herself again and with just a pinch of lingering doubt she started to calm down.

A few minutes later she found herself driving down familiar roads. She ended up passing the Piggly Wiggly her family grocery shopped at and the Family Dollar where they bought things like batteries and sunscreen. A little further down she passed the Gas and Go that she used to ride her bike to on many hot summer afternoons for an ice cold bottle of coke.

It was a startling revelation. Everything was just as she remembered. It was as if she never even left.

Turning into the driveway she pulled up to the Carolina blue beach house her parents bought while she was still in diapers. They had both been teachers and the summers off. They wanted a place they could take their kids too during the summer away from all the riffraff in the city. A place to relax and have fun.

She used to love to come to this house and spend her summers. But things happened and life inevitably changed.

Turning off the car, she pushed open the door and stepped outside. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was shining especially hot today. Shielding her eyes with her hands she looked around and sighed. The house surely wasn’t going to pack itself. The quicker she started the quicker she would be done and could go back to her apartment and her regularly scheduled life.

Using her key she popped open the trunk and grabbed the empty boxes she’d filched from the moving company down the street from her apartment. She’d hoped that what she brought would be enough. She hadn’t worked in a while and her funds were seriously lacking. Finding a buyer for this house was going to be her saving grace.

Tucking the boxes under her arm she slammed the trunk closed. The realtor told her that she left the key in the lock box at the back door which coincidently was the door that everyone used to get in the house. As far as she could remember no one ever used the front door unless it was a salesman.

Walking around to the back of the house she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The smell of the ocean and salt ticked her nose. She used to love that smell. It was relatively quiet with the exception of a few seagulls making their presence known. In the background she could hear the waves crashing repetitively against the shore. A blanket of calmness covered her and she couldn’t help but to relax just a little.

It really had been a long time since she’d last been here. Standing there with her back to the sun and feeling its warmth seep through the material of her thin tee-shirt she now fully understood her mother’s fascination with this place. She even understood why she wanted to come here and spend the last of her days.

More guilt and sadness pressed in on her. She should have been here for her mom. She should have spent those last few weeks making the most of every day, every minute and every second that they could have shared together instead of being so stupid and selfish.

Now she had nothing and there was no one to blame but herself.

Shaking her head she swallowed the guilt down and quickly made her way up the rest of the pathway to the back door. She found the lockbox easily and pushed in the code the realtor had given her. The box opened and she grabbed the keys. If she worked fast enough maybe she could be done with everything and back on the road by this time tomorrow, putting this place behind her for good.

That was her plan anyway and she was going to do everything she could to make it happen.

Opening the door to the house a barrage of old memories assaulted her. The memories were so poignant at first that she couldn’t even make herself step over the threshold. Staring into the vacant room she spotted the old faded cream colored couch that her mother used to love to lounge and read the latest Nora Robert’s book. On the table was a colorful vase that she’d made out of clay at some point in elementary school. Looking further into the room she saw the coat rack with her old high school sweatshirt still hanging on one of the hooks.

She grabbed the frame of the door and held on for dear life. She was feeling a little lightheaded. It was all exactly the same. Nothing had changed. Even when her mother was here last she left everything the same as when she’d left eight year ago. Time had continued to march on but this house and everything in it stayed just as it always had been.

That was something that Shayla had not expected. She didn’t know exactly what she’d been expecting, but this was definitely not it.

Her eyes burned with the threat of tears she refused to let fall. She’d shed plenty of tears in the past. Too many in fact. This was supposed to be about closure. In a few days someone knew would own this house and a whole new set of memories would be created. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. Not now that she was so close to finding the closure she felt she needed to heal and move on.

Pulling herself together she had to focus on what she originally came here to do.

Pack up the house.

Steadying herself, Shayla hitched the boxes she was carrying up a little higher so she could get a better hold on them. She told herself again that she could do this and with steely determination, she took that first step over the threshold.

Five hours later she had the old stereo belting out Garth Brooks in the sunroom and surprisingly was making good progress. If she kept up at this pace she would definitely be done before tomorrow night. She already packed up the living room, the guest room, her parent’s old room and the kitchen. She was moving on to her old room next.

Opening the door to that room was like déjà vue all over again. She had that same feeling that she did when she first stepped into the house. Once again, nothing had changed. The same pink and purple tie-dyed comforter still covered the bed she used to sleep in. Arnie, the stuffed penguin she won at the fair playing ring toss sat on top of her pillow looking a little worse for wear. The small white vanity table nestled in the corner by the window looked like it still had some of her old lotions and perfumes in place. Pop culture posters of New Kids on the Block, Madonna and Michael Jackson littered the walls. Her old hot pink converse tennis shoes were placed by the edge of her closet.

Swallowing hard she took her time walking inside before ceremoniously dropping the boxes in the center of the room. Moving in a circle she took a second to just take everything in. It was more nostalgic than anything.

Eventually she made her way over to the vanity table. Pulling out the intricately decorated stool her mother found for her at a flea market in New Bern, she carefully sat down and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark brown round eyes stared back at her. Eyes that eerily mimicked the color of a Hershey’s chocolate bar. The same eyes that weren’t so different than the last time she looked in this mirror eight years prior. Maybe a little wiser, a little more knowledgeable but all in all they were still the same.

Picking up a bottle of lotion she opened it and squirted a dollop into her hand. She rubbed it in and brought her hands to her nose. They smelled like coconuts. She started to smile remembering how much she used to love this particular brand of lotion when she suddenly remembered something else that she used to keep at this vanity.

Abruptly pushing the stool back she pulled out the drawer.

Her breath hitched.

She couldn’t believe it. It was still there.

It being the diary that she’d kept that last summer she’d stayed in this house. She couldn’t believe that after all these years it was still in the same place that she’d left it a little over eight years ago. Holding her hand to her mouth all she could do was stare silently at the diary.

She knew without looking what story that diary would tell. After all, she was the author who wrote all those words down. The real question was did she really want to travel back down that road? Did she want to go back relive that faithful summer?

With trembling fingers she picked up the diary and reverently caressed the cover. It had her initial “S” embossed on the top. Her dad had bought it as one of her graduation presents. She closed her eyes and her chest squeezed painfully at the memory. Out of all the presents she received this one had been the most special to her.

When it all came down to it, there really wasn’t any question at all. Now that she was holding all these memories in the palms of her hands she felt that she needed to read them in order to really close out this chapter that has left her hanging in limbo for so long.

Resigned, she opened her eyes. Without thinking anymore about it she lifted the cover and flipped past the first few entries until she found the particular entry that she was looking for. It was the first one that she’d written that summer. It was also the beginning of her story.

Dear Diary,

Today something extraordinary happened. Ha. Ha. I know you’re probably thinking that every time I write in this book something extraordinary happens but I’m telling you, this time it’s different. I mean, really different and exciting all at the same time. I’m fanning myself now because my face is literally the same shade as mama’s summer tomatoes. So, are you ready for it? Are you ready to know what has me all up in tizzy?

Today I met River Ferguson…