My neighbor insisted I remove my apple tree—then one morning, I woke up to my entire yard buried in apples.

had been torn up.

I was not crying over apples.

Someone had entered my property and deliberately damaged the tree Dean had planted.

Ryan appeared on his porch holding a cup of coffee.

“Did you do this?” I asked.

He looked at the ruined fruit and smiled.

“Must have been a strong wind.”

There had been no wind.

He was waiting for me to shout, weep, or lose my continue reading …