Chapter 3
three
The roar of the jet engines fade as we taxi to a stop at Portland International Airport.
After shoving my sunglasses on, I pull my baseball cap down low. The last thing I need is for someone to recognize me and post about my arrival on social media. Another reason I grew out my beard, which I’m actually regretting because it’s scratchy as fuck.
Grateful my carry-on is my only luggage, I keep my head down as I navigate through the terminal. No waiting at baggage claim means less time in public, and less of a chance of being spotted.
Portland International isn’t quite LAX, but it’s busy enough that I feel exposed. A few people glance my way, some doing double-takes, but I keep moving. Nothing to see here people. Just another tourist wearing a hat and sunglasses.
Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I weave through the bustling terminal, checking my phone for the text Logan sent me with detailed instructions on where to find him in the parking garage.
LOGAN
Level P-3, Section D, Row 12
Stepping onto the escalator, I keep my gaze fixed on my worn pair of Converse. An excited squeal pierces the air behind me, followed by hushed whispers.
“Ohmagod! Is that...?”
Fuck. I stiffen, fighting the urge to look back. So much for flying under the radar.
Once I reach the bottom, I quicken my pace and make a beeline for the exit signs leading to the parking garage. The automatic doors slide open, and I breathe in the crisp ocean air of the Pacific Northwest as I head toward the area Logan texted.
“Rowan fucking Cole!”
I look up in surprise to see my best friend leaning against his blue pickup truck, arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s filled out even more since I last saw him—which is saying something, cause he’s a big motherfucker.
His chiseled firefighter physique makes him look like he could bench press a small car, and his mischievous grin is exactly the same as when we were kids.
“Logan fucking Cade.” Dropping my duffel bag, I embrace him in a bro-hug, giving him a couple of good back-slaps.
“Good to see you, man,” he says, giving me one final thump before stepping back to look at me. “Hollywood’s treating you well. You’ve got that... what do they call it? Hollywood glow.”
I snort. “Dick.”
He laughs, grabbing my bag and tossing it into the backseat. “Hope you’re ready for a taste of Lakeside life again, even if it’s only for a few days.”
The drive from the airport takes approximately two hours. When we reach downtown Lakeside, I’m struck by how much has changed, yet still somehow manages to look the same.
The old movie theater’s been renovated, still boasting its vintage marquee. New coffee shops and boutiques line Main Street, but Eddie’s Hardware still sits on the corner, probably selling the same rusty nails it always has since we were kids.
“Lakeside sure has grown up,” I say, watching a group of tourists as they take selfies with the lake as a backdrop.
“Yeah, but the heart’s still the same,” Logan replies, taking a right turn toward the fire station. “Most of the old families are still here. The Millers, the Changs—”
“The Cades,” I add with a smile.
“Damn right. Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”
Logan’s apartment is exactly what I expected—a decent size one-bedroom with modern furnishings. It’s clean though, which surprises me. The Logan I remember couldn’t keep his locker organized or his bedroom clean for more than twenty-four hours at a time.
I drop my bag next to the couch—my bed for the next few days. “Nice place.”
“It’ll do,” he shrugs, heading to the fridge. “Beer?”
“Hell, yes.”
He tosses me a bottle of some local craft brew, and we settle on the couch in his living room. The large floor to ceiling windows offer a perfect view of the lake sparkling under the sun in the distance.
“So. Still playing the field, big guy? Or have you managed to find a girl that’ll stick around long enough to put up with your ass?”
Logan nearly chokes on his beer. “Jesus, Rowan. Way to dive right in.”
“What? I’m just trying to catch up. It’s been a minute since we really talked about what’s going on with you other than your new job.”
He scratches at the scruff under his chin. It’s the same nervous tell he’s had since we were kids. “It’s... kind of messy actually.”
“Messy how?”
“You remember how I was working up in Vancouver last year?
I nod, taking another sip of my beer.
“Well, me and some of the guys went to this club to blow off some steam. And there was this woman—insanely gorgeous, smart, a bit of a smart ass. We hit it off. Ended up spending the weekend together.” His nostalgic expression shifts to one of pain.
“Didn’t exchange numbers or names. It was actually her idea. Kind of like… roll-play, you know?”
“Been there.” More times than I care to admit.
“Right. Well, turns out her name is Reyna Winters. Guess who’s joining our Search and Rescue team?”
I wince. “No way.”
“Oh, it gets even better,” Logan continues, getting up to grab us both another beer. “A few weeks ago I happened to see her when I’m working the Dunk-A-Hunk tank for my buddy Jax, who owns Skin & Ink Tattoo. They have this fundraiser every year.”
He hands me another beer. “Anyway… when she sees me, her face gets all stormy, and she dunks my ass with one fucking throw. Later that day, I’m helping Jax with the batting cages.
He asks me about her, and tells me her name.
Then he drops the real bomb—she lives in Lakeside, is a part-time aerial silk instructor and is going to be my new EMT. ”
“Holy shit.” Unable to help myself, I bust out laughing so hard, tears form in the corners of my eyes.
“Not funny, asshole,” he growls, lips twitching as he shakes his head. “I’m going to be her boss. I still have no idea how I’m going to handle that conversation.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Fuck off,” he mutters, shooting me a grin. “You wanna know the worst part? I can’t stop thinking about her. And now there’s going to be this whole professional boundary thing...”
“Maybe it’s fate,” I joke. “The universe bringing you two back together.”
“Fate my ass.” He takes a long pull from his beer. “Enough about my disaster of a sex life. What about you? Still breaking hearts all over Hollywood?”
I grimace, thinking about the studio’s ultimatum. “I was told that if I want a chance at the director’s chair, I have to clean up my image. That I’m too much of a liability with my ‘playboy ways’ to be trusted behind the camera,” I say using finger quotes.
“Well, they’re not wrong,” Logan teases.
“Thanks for the support,” I mutter-growl. “They want me to find a nice girl to date while I’m here. Be seen with her and be all lovey-dovey and shit.”
“Good luck with that,” he chuckles, flinging my words back in my face.
“I know. It’s ridiculous.”
Then Logan’s eyes light up with a mischievous gleam. One I know all too well. “I’m taking you to a party tomorrow night.”
“A party? I’m here to scout, Logan. Not go out. I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here.”
“Don’t worry. It’s just a small get-together. Some close friends celebrating the new Summit Studio opening in town.” He elbows me. “It’ll be fun, super low-key. Promise.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Who all is going to be there?”
“Just some close friends,” he says a little too quickly. “Jax and Ryder—they own the tattoo shop—and their girlfriends.”
“Logan...”
“What? It’s just a party. You used to love parties.”
Still suspicious, I let it drop. “Fine. Would you be cool hanging out with me tomorrow? I’ve got a list of places I want to check out and photograph—Main Street, the high school, my old house. I want to see what’s changed, what’s stayed the same.”
“Sure thing,” Logan agrees easily. “I’ve got the day off. We can make a day of it.”
“Is the old treehouse at your parent’s house still there?”
Logan raises a brow in surprise. “Yeah.”
“Cool. Do you think your parents would be up for a visit?”
“Of course! They’d love to see you.”
We spend the rest of the evening catching up, ordering pizza and trading stories. He tells me about his promotion, about the changes to the town. I tell him about my latest film, and about the new script I’ve written.
What I don’t tell him is how much I’ve actually missed the simplicity of living in Lakeside. Swimming in the lake and hiking in the summer, going ice skating in the winter.
I haven’t been back once since I left fifteen years ago. Not even for high school reunions. And I sure as hell don’t tell him about how much I’ve actually missed Lizzy.
By the time we call it a night, I’m exhausted but still wired, listening to Logan’s snores drift from his bedroom while I lie awake on his surprisingly comfortable pull-out couch, staring up at the ceiling. My mind won’t shut off, cycling through the same thoughts over and over.
Lizzy is somewhere out there right now. Probably less than a mile away. Sleeping, maybe. Or working on her art. Or curled up with some guy who gets to see her smile every day.
An unexpected surge of jealousy makes me cringe.
It hasn’t been easy keeping thoughts of her out of my head over the years. But being back home, back where we collided so many times, makes it impossible to keep those memories at bay.
I remember the sweet softness of her lips from our first kiss in the treehouse. The stubborn fire in her eyes when I came back unexpectedly half-way through senior year. The way she looked at me that night in her bedroom. The same night everything changed between us… forever.