The town looked smaller than Eli Morgan remembered—or maybe he had simply outgrown it. As he rolled down his car window, passing the rusted "Welcome to Fox Hollow" sign, the breeze filled his senses with the familiar scent of pine, asphalt, dust, and a flood of nostalgia. Trees arched over the winding roads like memories, and for a fleeting moment, Eli could picture a teenage version of himself sprinting barefoot through the woods, a camera bag slung over one shoulder, and a boy with crooked dimples chasing after him, laughter echoing through the air.
But it was just the wind brushing through the branches. No more than echoes of the past.
Fox Hollow hadn't changed much in ten years. The same brick diner remained steadfast on the corner of Maple and Main, while the old cinema boasted a summer classic festival, just like always. The houses—modest, quiet, old—seemed to hold their breath, eagerly awaiting the stories that were about to unfold.
Eli parked in front of his childhood home, his heart thumping with anticipation, more powerful than the rush he felt when he landed his first book deal. The front porch creaked under his weight, the welcome mat still boldly proclaimed, "This Is Probably Wine," and the garden, as always, leaned more toward weeds than flowers.
He inhaled deeply, grabbing his suitcase from the back seat.
"Deep breath, Morgan. You've faced tougher challenges," he said to himself.
As he stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open with purpose.
"About time," said a voice that radiated warmth and a hint of exasperation.
His sister, Hailey, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She hadn't changed a bit. Same messy bun. The same sharp gaze that saw right through him.
"You look like a New York vampire," she teased, a twinkle in her eye. "All pale and moody."
"Missed you too," Eli replied, unable to keep his smile at bay.
Inside, the house was infused with the inviting scents of lemon wood polish and coffee. Hailey had made an effort to tidy up, but the lived-in clutter still peeked through—old mail on the counter, shoes scattered by the door, a jacket draped casually over the stair rail.
He dropped his bag on the sofa and took a sweeping look around.
"It feels smaller," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.
"You got taller," Hailey shot back before nudging his shoulder playfully. "And a bit sadder."
He fell silent, knowing there were topics best left untouched. Not since that night.
"I signed us up for the reunion," she declared as she headed to the kitchen. "You're welcome."
"What?" Eli's stomach flipped, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. "You know I didn't want to go."
"Exactly why I signed you up."
He groaned and plopped down onto the couch. "It's a disaster waiting to happen."
"More like closure waiting to unfold." She handed him a mug of coffee. "And before you ask—yes, Noah's back too."
The name hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Noah Reyes.
The boy who had once been his entire world. The boy who had lost the ability to meet his gaze after Jesse died. The boy had walked out of the hospital room without a word and never looked back.
"You could have at least given me a heads up," Eli muttered.
Hailey settled into the seat across from him, cradling her mug with confidence.
"I could have. But then again, you've been running long enough."
He wanted to argue, but the truth loomed over them, a weight that threatened to crush him.
Silence enveloped the room, the hum of the fridge and the tick of the wall clock marking the passage of time. The past lingered thickly, hidden beneath layers of dust, waiting for someone to confront it.
"When's the reunion?" he finally asked.
"Friday night. At the old gym."
"That place reeks of regret and gym socks."
Hailey grinned, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Fitting, isn't it?"
That evening, Eli found himself in his old room, which seemed frozen in time—posters still curling at the corners, a stack of notebooks beside the bed, and the window offering a view of the backyard maple tree where Jesse had once climbed.
He sat on the bed, letting his gaze roam, until something caught his eye.
Tucked beneath a pile of yearbooks on the bookshelf was a familiar one—senior year. He pulled it out and brushed off the dust, feeling a rush of emotions.
Photos of smiling faces. Sharpie messages of "never change" and "stay cool." One in particular stood out: Jesse's handwriting, written in silver gel pen: "To the only person who sees me for real. Don't let the world ruin you. Love, J."
Eli flipped the page, and something fluttered out—a folded letter, old and yellowed, its corners creased. He recognized Jesse's handwriting—tight, slanted, anxious.
His heart raced as he unfolded it.
If something happens to me… it wasn't an accident.The town looked smaller than Eli Morgan remembered—or maybe he had simply outgrown it. As he rolled down his car window, passing the rusted "Welcome to Fox Hollow" sign, the breeze filled his senses with the familiar scent of pine, asphalt, dust, and a flood of nostalgia. Trees arched over the winding roads like memories, and for a fleeting moment, Eli could picture a teenage version of himself sprinting barefoot through the woods, a camera bag slung over one shoulder, and a boy with crooked dimples chasing after him, laughter echoing through the air.
But it was just the wind brushing through the branches. No more than echoes of the past.
Fox Hollow hadn't changed much in ten years. The same brick diner remained steadfast on the corner of Maple and Main, while the old cinema boasted a summer classic festival, just like always. The houses—modest, quiet, old—seemed to hold their breath, eagerly awaiting the stories that were about to unfold.
Eli parked in front of his childhood home, his heart thumping with anticipation, more powerful than the rush he felt when he landed his first book deal. The front porch creaked under his weight, the welcome mat still boldly proclaimed, "This Is Probably Wine," and the garden, as always, leaned more toward weeds than flowers.
He inhaled deeply, grabbing his suitcase from the back seat.
"Deep breath, Morgan. You've faced tougher challenges," he said to himself.
As he stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open with purpose.
"About time," said a voice that radiated warmth and a hint of exasperation.
His sister, Hailey, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She hadn't changed a bit. Same messy bun. Same sharp gaze that saw right through him.
"You look like a New York vampire," she teased, a twinkle in her eye. "All pale and moody."
"Missed you too," Eli replied, unable to keep his smile at bay.
Inside, the house was infused with the inviting scents of lemon wood polish and coffee. Hailey had made an effort to tidy up, but the lived-in clutter still peeked through—old mail on the counter, shoes scattered by the door, a jacket draped casually over the stair rail.
He dropped his bag on the sofa and took a sweeping look around.
"It feels smaller," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.
"You got taller," Hailey shot back before nudging his shoulder playfully. "And a bit sadder."
He fell silent, knowing there were topics best left untouched. Not since that night.
"I signed us up for the reunion," she declared as she headed to the kitchen. "You're welcome."
"What?" Eli's stomach flipped, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. "You know I didn't want to go."
"Exactly why I signed you up."
He groaned and plopped down onto the couch. "It's a disaster waiting to happen."
"More like closure waiting to unfold." She handed him a mug of coffee. "And before you ask—yes, Noah's back too."
The name hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Noah Reyes.
The boy who had once been his entire world. The boy who had lost the ability to meet his gaze after Jesse died. The boy who had walked out of the hospital room without a word and never looked back.
"You could have at least given me a heads up," Eli muttered.
Hailey settled into the seat across from him, cradling her mug with confidence.
"I could have. But then again, you've been running long enough."
He wanted to argue, but the truth loomed over them, a weight that threatened to crush him.
Silence enveloped the room, the hum of the fridge and the tick of the wall clock marking the passage of time. The past lingered thickly, hidden beneath layers of dust, waiting for someone to confront it.
"When's the reunion?" he finally asked.
"Friday night. At the old gym."
"That place reeks of regret and gym socks."
Hailey grinned, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Fitting, isn't it?"
That evening, Eli found himself in his old room, which seemed frozen in time—posters still curling at the corners, a stack of notebooks beside the bed, and the window offering a view of the backyard maple tree where Jesse had once climbed.
He sat on the bed, letting his gaze roam, until something caught his eye.
Tucked beneath a pile of yearbooks on the bookshelf was a familiar one—senior year. He pulled it out and brushed off the dust, feeling a rush of emotions.
Photos of smiling faces. Sharpie messages of "never change" and "stay cool." One in particular stood out: Jesse's handwriting, written in silver gel pen: "To the only person who sees me for real. Don't let the world ruin you. Love, J."
Eli flipped the page, and something fluttered out—a folded letter, old and yellowed, its corners creased. He recognized Jesse's handwriting—tight, slanted, anxious.
His heart raced as he unfolded it.
If something happens to me… it wasn't an accident.