Most guys of a certain age aren’t chatty. Hunter was the opposite. His home was so stifling, his father such a terror, that he was relegated to silent visitor status under his own roof. He loved the energy of my family. None of them were capable of keeping their mouths shut, something he found amusing. He was also amazed that no one came to blows despite the political arguments.
When it was just the two of us, conversations were quieter. We talked about books and movies and our plans for the future. At the time, a niggling voice at the back of my head told me that his dream of becoming a sportscaster was unattainable. I refused to believe that, though. We had dreams and wanted to live them together.
Hunter was a standout athlete, the quarterback of the football team, pitcher on the baseball team, and power forward on the basketball team. He liked playing pickup games in the high school parking lot. He also liked taking walks in the quiet woods that surrounded the town, something we liked to do together.
I had no idea why I decided it was a good idea to make the trek alone today. I could’ve called Alice to see what she was up to, but I knew walking in the woods wouldn’t be on her list. She had a thing about bugs. I wasn’t a big fan either, but she absolutely freaked out if a bee buzzed near her face. She wouldn’t agree to hang in the woods (let alone go for a five-mile hike) and, after I came up with the idea, that’s all I wanted to do.
I entered the trees from the path behind the restaurant. The walking trails that led to the river were long and winding, but I remembered the route I wanted to take.
I’d barely made it a mile when I found the first landmark, a small clearing where Hunter liked to fish. We would spread out a blanket on the bank and I would relax with a book while he amused himself catching rock bass after rock bass and throwing them back. I once asked him why he never kept any. His response confuses me to this day.
“Some things are only meant to be tamed for a little bit, Stormy. Fish are one of them.”
I always thought it was a rather bleak philosophy, but I laughed. He seemed to expect it. Now, looking back, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about me. It seemed such a deep observation for a teenage boy.
I ran my fingers over the underbrush, which was much thicker than I remembered. Boot prints lined the bank, which seemed to indicate someone was still fishing here. For some reason, that made me feel better. What Hunter and I had was a memory, but nobody had yet completely stolen this place from us.
After a few minutes of silent reminiscence, I selected another path along the river, revisiting some of our other favorite spots. The old tire swing was still there. A closer study told me that the rope had been replaced recently. The footprints scattered along the ground were smaller. That meant this was no longer a teenage hangout, but rather one for smaller kids. That was probably how it should be, but it still made me sad.
The next stop on the nostalgia train was the inlet that opened into a small meadow. I couldn’t count the number of picnics Hunter and I had enjoyed there — mostly when he was hiding from his father and his notorious temper. We’d make an entire day of it. Sometimes he’d be sporting bruises on his arms or face, but he’d refuse to answer questions about how he received them. Over time, I learned not to ask. I was gearing up to give the meadow a good once-over when I heard voices and froze.
At first I thought I heard only two voices, but the longer I listened I realized there had to be at least eight or nine people. I ducked my head under a branch, planning to hide in the bushes until I could ascertain who I was dealing with. Unfortunately, in the years since my last visit somebody had cleared out the bushes that used to line the meadow. I found myself completely exposed — and staring at a group of people I knew well.
“Stormy,” Hunter said, lifting his eyes to meet mine in surprise. “What are you doing out here?”
It took me a moment to catch my breath. I’d been thinking about him and here he was. Sadly, he wasn’t alone. I recognized most of the group surrounding him.
“Just taking a walk,” I replied dully, scanning each face in turn. When I landed on one I remembered well, I broke into a wide grin. “Sebastian Donovan! I can’t believe you’re still in town.”
The man in question — he was a man, no longer a boy — stood. He boasted a delighted smile and the same blond hair I remembered from high school. It hadn’t darkened one iota. “Stormy?” He started in my direction, his arms already open. He enveloped me in a hug before I could catch my breath. “Welcome home.”
For some reason, the words — delivered with equal parts warmth and wonder — caused me to choke up. “Hey.” My voice was raspy, earning a sidelong stare from Hunter. He hadn’t said a word when Sebastian hurriedly crossed over to me. Now he looked sad.
“It’s so good to see you.” Sebastian had always been the effusive type. That obviously hadn’t changed as he slid his arm around my shoulders and urged me toward the circle of people, one of whom was assembling a bonfire. “This is fortuitous. I was just telling Hunter that I thought we should invite you to our little group. He didn’t think it was a good idea and I was about to give up on it, but here you are.” His grin was infectious and I returned it.
“Yeah, well, Hunter probably didn’t want me here because my grandfather is a suspect in a murder,” I offered.
“That’s not true.” Hunter shook his head. “I just wasn’t sure you’d want to hang out with us. I’m guessing the charms of the country are lost on you now.”
The statement grated. “I can like the country even though I’ve lived in the city.”
“I didn’t say otherwise.”
“That’s exactly what you said.”
Sebastian arched an eyebrow and drew me closer to his side, his gaze speculative as he glanced between us. “The country is lovely,” he said after a moment. “It’s a quiet life and we all love it. I want to hear about your time in the city. I bet that was exciting.”
I held Hunter’s gaze for a beat longer and then forced a smile for Sebastian. “It’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Besides, I didn’t spend much time in any one city. I think six months was my limit.”
“Yes, you were always restless,” Sebastian agreed.
“Always,” Hunter echoed, sighing as he sat in one of the nylon chairs next to the fire. “She couldn’t wait to get out of here she was so restless.”
Sebastian ignored the statement and pulled me to a spot on the other side of the circle. “Do you remember everyone?”
It shouldn’t have felt like a trick question, and yet it did. “Sure.” I smiled at the assembled faces in turn. “Matt, Olivia, Ben, Celia, Finn, and ... .” I trailed off as I furrowed my brow at the final face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember you.” I felt like a bit of an ass. I’d graduated with only fifty-three people. I should’ve been able to remember all of them.
“Oh, don’t feel bad,” Sebastian reassured me. “She’s new. She didn’t move to Shadow Hills until long after you were gone. In fact, she’s only been here about a year now.”
That made me feel better. “I’m Stormy. It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand, which she took, but the look she shot Hunter sent my antennae up. If discomfort were a sweater, she’d fill it out fabulously.