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My brows furrow. “Reid?” I say, my hand falling to my side as I take a step forward. “Reid Cohen?
The cloudy haze of fear finally clears, my eyes straining to see him in the darkness.
“Yeah. Do we…know each other?” Reid asks, chuckling under his breath.
I put my hand to my chest and take a deep breath. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” I say, giving myself a moment to breathe. “I’m Busy. Patty and Mark’s daughter.”
My mom and Reid’s aunt Lois have been friends for decades. If he doesn’t remember me, he’ll at least know my parents’ names. Everyone knows the Mitchells. It’s a reality of, one, living in a small town, and two, being a descendent of Cedar Point’s founding family. It’s a cool legacy thing, knowing the people who came before me planted the seeds of what this community has become. But it’s also a little draining, knowing people are almost hyperaware of what you’re doing.
As a kid who enjoyed sneaking around a bit, the last thing I wanted was a ton of eyeballs watching me and reporting back to my parents. Part of me thinks my mom wouldn’t consider me such a troublemaker if people in this town weren’t always narcing on me, but I guess that’s all in the past. Hopefully.
“Busy Mitchell?” Reid takes a step forward, tugging on a small metal hoop on his belt loop, unhooking a set of keys. “Let me just…hold on.”
He steps past me and opens the front door, then reaches in and flips a switch, illuminating a living room that is very much furnished, and a beautiful, shaggy dog stretching and yawning on the couch, tail wagging. With another flip of a switch, Reid turns on the porch light and shuts his front door.
I wince, the muted light still too bright for my eyes, which had grown accustomed to the darkness. Then he turns around to look at me, and I realize I might need another minute to catch my breath.
Reid Cohen iseverythingI remember him to be.
Tall, muscular, handsome. All-consuming, with his strong jawline covered in stubble and broad shoulders. He has a mustache now and his hair is just slightly longer and messier than I remember, but absolutely works for him.
I feel like I’ve been yanked into the past, to that summer when I was eleven years old. My friends and me giggling as we watched him sit atop the lifeguard tower at Cedar Point Summer Camp, slinking past his dad’s shop on Main Street hoping to spot him inside. My crush on Reid slammed into me like a freight train that summer, and even though I forced myself to eventually move on, I can still feel the echoing pangs of those teenage emotions.
“Wow. I feel like I haven’t seen you in…” He pauses. “How long has it been?”
“Five years,” I say, remembering the last time I saw him with surprising clarity.
He was driving around in that truck that was older than dirt but was somehow cool becausehewas driving it. He rolled to a stop at the intersection in front of Ugly Mug, and I stood there like a lovesick fool, just admiring him with a kind of glazed expression you can only manage when you’re a teenager.
His wife was in the passenger seat.
“No, it has to have been longer than that.”
He furrows his brow, and I’m almost positive he’s trying to conjure up any kind of real memory of me. The truth is, my adolescent daydreams aside, I’m pretty sure our only interactions were a few hellos stretched over many, many years.
Shaking my head, I swat a hand at the air between us. “It doesn’t matter.”
Then I take a second to look around again, my confusion surging back to the forefront. Only then do I spot a few things I missed before: a pair of worn steel-toe boots in the corner, the mat in front of the door that has clearly seen better days, and the multiple potted plants scattered around.
“Do you…live here? Really?”
How tired am I?
“I do. Have for a few years.”
My shoulders droop, wondering how that’s possible.
“But…I could have sworn…” I start, my brain scrambling as I try to make sense of it. “Lois said the place would be empty by yesterday.”
Reid’s head tilts to the side. “She did?”
I nod.
“I’m supposed to be renting this cabin from her.”
He tucks his hands into his jeans, shrugging lightly like the world isn’t about to fall apart. “Well, I’m sure there’s just some kind of misunderstanding that can be sorted out with a phone call.”
“She didn’t answer.” I tug my phone out of my back pocket and open up the text she sent yesterday. “Current tenants have moved out, blah blah blah, getting it cleaned and I’ll have the cleaners leave the key under the pot.”
