meet Lily’s eyes, nearly popping out of their sockets. “What is wrong with you?” I turn to the newcomer, and all of the pieces fall together.
I take in the apparition in the doorway. My breathing slows and I blink a few times, my mind not quite believing who is only a few feet away from me. In a few steps I could touch the person who shattered my heart into a million pieces nearly two years ago.
My previous next door neighbor, Will Carson, looks the same, but different. His boyish face is a golden brown and the lines are more pronounced. His hair is shorter than I remember, barely touching the tips of his ears. My fingers numb knowing what the strands feel like. Or what they used to. He was thin as a boy, his strength coming in the later years of our friendship. But now his lithe muscles are tight. His chest fills the black t-shirt in a way that elicits a shiver down my spine.
His jaw clenches in that nervous way as he looks around the room. It tightens further when his hazel eyes meet mine.
Will
My hands grip the steering wheel, tightening with each rolling mile towards the house I’d locked up almost two years ago. In the thirty-six hours of driving I had the urge to turn back at least a hundred times. But this was the last time I’d ever be in Spring Falls. Once the house was sold I’d slam closed that chapter of my life.
The green sign for Bryn Street appears from behind the leave of an overgrown tree at the corner. I suck a breath in through my teeth and turn the wheel.
I keep my eyes on my childhood home, growing larger as I near. I break out of the tunnel vision when I pass the Beauman house. I don't expect anyone to be home, considering we're due at the camp in less than an hour. I know Mr. Beauman will give me leave, considering I'm doing him a favor.
A blue car sits in my driveway as I pull into it, turning off the truck. I flip my phone open just as a woman gets out of the car.
The line picks up on the first ring. “Mornin’!” Aunt Mabel exclaims.
My chest squeezes at the sound of her voice. “Mornin’.” I hold a finger up to the woman outside the truck. She nods, walking toward the house with a ring of keys. Not that I don’t have one. “Although it’s almost noon here. How y’all doing?”
“We’re just fine, sweetheart. I’m assumin’ you got home okay?”
This place isn't my home. My home is with her. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Now off with you, we can carry on later.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Love you too.” She’s the first to hang up.
I toss the phone into the cup holder and grab the bag from the seat next to me and sling it over my shoulder as I get out of the car. I stride up the driveway and the real estate agent, Trudy, turns around, grinning with a set of gray teeth.
“Welcome back, William.”
I clear my throat. “It’s just Will.”
“Oh, sorry about that. I’ll just let you inside”
“I have a key. Listen, can we talk later? I’m late for work.”
She blinks a few times but nods. “Sure thing. Let me just get you the paperwork and you fill it out at your leisure.”
She run-walks down the driveway, her heels looking as if they were about to snap and leans through the open window of her car pulling out a large folder. “These are just the standard contracts,” she says on the way back up the drive. “Just take a look at them and let me know if everything is okay?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She beams. “How polite of you. Well I’ll let you be on your way. My card is in there, call me with any questions.”
“Sure.”
She waves her long fingers at me and goes to her car.
I turn to the house and fight the urge to get back into the truck and get the hell out of here. I pull the single key from my pocket, the one that burned against my leg since Mabel handed it to me three days ago. I push it into the keyhole and turn. I allow the door to open in front of me, my feet planted to the ground. The door ricochets off the wall and starts to return, but I enter the house before I lose my nerve.
I bump the door closed with my foot. The air in the house is stale, lingering with the spicy scent of whiskey from that final night. I peer into the living room, which needs a serious cleaning. My nose wrinkles at the amount of dust on the fireplace mantel. I head into the kitchen and open the door to the basement. I don’t need lights to find what I’m looking for, not that they work anyway. I find the electric panel and flip on the switches. The house hums to life. I take the steps two at a time and am back in the kitchen. The clock above the stove blinks 12:00. I check the time on my phone. I should leave soon.
I round the corner and take the stairs to the second floor, ignoring the two bedrooms on the right side of the hallway, and fling open the middle door on the left. My shoulders droop and my bag falls to the floor. My room is exactly how I left it. An outdated PC sits on the desk I made in wood shop, still unstained. A full-sized bed takes up most of the room. I make my way to the window, pushing aside the navy blue curtains that match the bedspread, revealing Hadley’s bedroom window. My heart lurches at the thought of her. Soon enough I’ll see her again.
A small bright orange piece of yarn still hangs from her sill, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking. At ten I thought it was the greatest idea to build a zip-line between our houses using Hadley’s grandmother’s knitting yarn.
I tear my eyes away from the window and let the curtain fall. I cross the room to the closet. I didn’t take much the night I left. I grab a black t-shirt from the hanger and toss it on the bed, lifting the same one I’d worn for three days over my head. I pull on the black shirt and bring the fabric to my nose. Good enough.
I take a deep breath and leave the room. Here goes nothing.
***
I speed the whole way to the park, my mind on autopilot. I avoid looking at the swing set in the distance and accelerate through the winding roads toward the main building smack dab in the middle of the park. I pull my truck in one of the last spots of the small parking lot and hop out, tucking my phone in my back pocket.
I stride up the sidewalk and pull open the door. The air conditioning blasts my face. Connecticut heat used to bother me, until I moved to Texas. My hometown knows nothing of heat, but the air still felt nice against my skin.
“Will!” Rocky calls from behind the desk. I could swear the man looks the same since I was a kid at camp. He pushes himself off his chair and offers me his hand.
I shake his hand. “I thought you would have retired by now?”
“I’m going to die in this chair,” he says with a grin.
I laugh.
He points a crooked finger to the left. “Peter started a little while ago,
