2
MYLES
I can do pretty much anything for a year. And trust me, I have. Backpacking through Nepal…wrangling clueless tourists on a Malawi snorkel boat gig…sharing a centipede infested two bedroom “bungalow” in Ecuador with four strangers…bartending at a beach cabana in Cambodia without running water.
So one year back in the one place in the world I’d sworn I’d never go again? Piece of cake.
Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself.
One month in, and I’ve got to admit that it hasn’t been all bad.
I’d known I’d missed the forests and the rivers, but I hadn’t realized exactly how much until I’d hauled my duffle bags out of the airport shuttle that had dropped me off in the freezing December drizzle at the bottom of the overgrown, pothole-ridden driveway leading up to Dad’s house.
Correction, my house. For now. At least until I get all of Dad’s shit out of here, fix the place up, and sell it. Then I’m getting out of this town for once and for all.
And when I realize again how much I love and miss the smell of fir trees and rain-wet maples and the sound of a snowmelt-fed river pouring over mossy rocks?
I’ll go somewhere else to get my fix. Washington State has plenty of rivers and all the forests I could ever ask for.
Apart from them, Riverside has nothing for me but memories I wish I could forget.
That or have the impossible; a second chance at them so I could try to maybe get things right this time around.
“Hey there, handsome.”
At the sound of that voice, my grip tightens around the handle of the shopping basket hard enough that the square plastic edges bite into the thickening calluses on my palm.
I should probably be grateful for any interruption putting a stop to the pointless spiral of regrets my thoughts had been heading down, but for some reason, Rachel’s chirpy tones are unreasonably irritating at this moment.
“Hey, you.” My smile can’t be especially sincere, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Just like she doesn’t seem to notice the fact that this is not seven years ago, and she is no longer my girlfriend. Hasn’t been since I left the day after graduation.
Shaking back her long, bleach-blonde hair, Rachel tips up on her toes and smacks a kiss on my cheek. At least my shortly trimmed beard catches most of it. I hate the sticky feel of lipstick on my skin, and Rachel has always worn an extra thick layer of the stuff.
“So when are you going to stop being too busy to take a girl out for a drink?” She plants her hands on her hips and tilts her chest forward, so reminiscent of one of her cheerleading poses that I half expect her to pull a pompom out of thin air.
“Soon?” I reach up and rub the back of my neck with my shopping basket-free hand. It’s a stupid, nervous habit I’ve never been able to break myself of.
“It better be,” she winks at me, tracking the movement of my hand with a smile that makes my stomach turn with the worry that she’s completely misinterpreted the significance of my gesture. “You’ve been putting me off since you got back.”
Maybe, considering that she’s one of the only women I’ve ever felt any inklings of desire for, I shouldn’t be shying away from her renewed interest, but attraction doesn’t just switch on like that—at least not for me.
Any sort of sexual draw I’d once felt for Rachel is long gone.
Maybe if the two of us end up rebuilding the friendship we’d had back in high school, I’ll start to feel differently, but I honestly don’t think that’s something I want.
When I’d first realized I was actually attracted to Rachel, relieved hadn’t even begun to cover my feelings. Making it all the way to seventeen without even the barest hint of interest in any girl—in anyone—had me convinced I was broken. There had to be something seriously wrong with me.
I hadn’t even known the word demisexual back then.
It didn’t matter how relieved I was to discover that I was at least somewhat approaching what I (at the time) deemed normal.
Things never would have lasted between Rachel and me.
Even without the fact that I was determined to get the hell out of Riverside as soon as I’d graduated, the two of us had no future.
Decent chemistry and friendship are great, but that was as far as things between us went, as far as I was concerned.
Turns out, I’m not just demi but aromantic too.
At least, I think… Because, while it seems like I have to feel a strong connection to someone to feel a sexual draw to them, nothing that’s ever felt like romantic love’s ever come along with it.
Friendship, closeness, but not love. And none of it’s even ever felt like how I felt…
But now is definitely not the time to go there. Not with Rachel’s expectant eyes fixed a bit too probingly on my face.
“I’ve got to get as much work done on the house as I can this week,” I hedge. “And then next week my new job gets thrown into the mix, so it might be a while.”
“Leo is so excited about that.” Rachel’s expression brightens, turning from her cheer captain mask to something more genuine, reminding me of why I’d liked her back in school.
Yeah, she is and always has been hot, I guess, but it’s the softer, sincerely kind side she usually hides that’s always drawn me to her.
“Unless he’s done a complete one-eighty, I doubt I’ll be having much to do with him,” I laugh, setting my basket down on the floor at my feet.
Taking Rachel out on what I’m tolerably certain she’d consider a date might sound like the literal last thing I want to do, but I’m not too big of an asshole to make time for a chat since she’s clearly not in a hurry.
The Riverside Village Store is tiny, pretty much just an improved version of a gas station minimart. Currently, other than the checker milling around behind the counter, there’s no one else here, so it’s not like the two of us will be in the way having a catch-up in front of the dairy cooler.
“Nope. Seventeen-year-old Leo’s still Leo.
” Rachel grins as she shakes her head. She’s always had a soft spot for her youngest brother.
“And it doesn’t matter that he knows he’s not going to be hanging out in detention with you.
He’s just excited that you’re going to be working at the school. Everyone is.”
I’m surprised to realize my smile doesn’t feel completely forced this time.
Taking a job as the Riverside School Behavioral Specialist (aka detention guy) is hardly something I’d ever have envisioned for myself.
There aren’t a lot of jobs around here though, unless you want to get into logging or work at the mill—neither of which remotely appeal—and since the money Dad left me isn’t enough to live off of and pay for fixing up his house, I jumped at the opportunity when I’d heard that the old detention guy quit mid-year.
Even though it’s definitely not my dream job, I can’t deny that I like the idea of being able to maybe bring a bit of a positive spin on the way things are done at the school.
“Well,” Rachel shoots me a grimace. “Mostly everyone. Mom’s friends with the middle school and high school English teacher. Janice Dawson. She’s just pissed off that the old detention guy’s gone. She loved him.
“The woman’s a total bitch. Has this ongoing war with the students, or that’s what it sounds like from how Leo tells it. And if he doesn’t like a teacher, they’ve got to be bad.
“Anyway, Janice loved Mr. Carlson because he’d drill-sergeant style yell at kids who got dragged into his office and honest to god made them write lines in detention.
Apparently, that’s the kind of ‘discipline’ she thinks the school needs, and from what mom says, she’s beyond pissed that things are changing.
“Speaking of, do you know what she and Mom have their panties even more in a bunch over than you getting hired?”
I give my head an obligatory feeling shake. Seems like I’m in for all the Riverside gossip now, whether I want it or not.
“You’re not going to be the only new face at the school next week, and whatever changes you replacing Mr. Carlson are going to bring have nothing on the gossip fest Mom and Janice are having over the sub who’s taking Mrs. Greene’s maternity leave.”
“Oh? What’s wrong with her?”
“Him,” Rachel corrects. “And what’s wrong with him is that he’s gay. Allegedly. At least according to Mom, courtesy of Janice, who was on the interview committee when he was hired.”
My jaw involuntarily clenches with the tight, hot burst of rage I feel any time I come face to face with homophobic bullshit like this. Not Rachel, at least I don’t think, but what she’s saying about her mom’s bigotry…
It’s no surprise. I’ve never gotten particularly good vibes from the woman, despite the fact that I went out of my way to avoid her, first when Rach and I were friends and even more when we were together.
Right now though, it’s not specifically what Rachel’s just said that’s making the walls of the small, stuffy store feel like they’re closing in on me.
Ever since I’ve been back in Riverside, that afternoon has replayed in my mind a million times.
And I swear it’s worse every goddamn time, because every time, I think of something more.
Some other way I would make the past right if only I could go back.
In the background of my thoughts, I can hear Rachel rattling on, probably moved on to some new topic of Riverside gossip, but it’s distant and quiet.
Tuned out by the memory of the hatred and rage in my Dad’s face as he spewed his intolerant contempt for the person who meant most to me in the world.
Because I do not want to have to come up with an excuse for why I’ve zoned out on her, I try to wrestle my attention back to whatever Rachel’s saying.
Too late though, because, “—wonder if he’s someone we knew. Do you think?” She tips her head expectantly.
“Um—”