Chapter 2 — Back to the Past

Rowan

The road stretched long and straight ahead of Rowan Calloway, winding between fields that glowed gold under the afternoon sun. The familiar curves of the hills and the silhouette of the forest at the horizon pressed down on his chest like an unseen weight. He hadn’t made this drive in years, not since his parents sold the family house and moved south for retirement. The small town he once called home felt like another lifetime—one he’d neatly folded away, like a blueprint left to gather dust in the corner of his mind.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. His meticulously planned life didn’t often allow for such detours. A high school reunion wasn’t exactly a priority in his carefully constructed schedule, but here he was, venturing back to the place he thought he’d outgrown. The bracelet, tucked into his bag beside him, felt like a silent passenger on the journey, its presence inescapable.

He hadn’t meant to bring it—at least, that’s what he told himself. It had been an impulse decision, picking it up from the drawer where it lived and tucking it into the side pocket of his bag, hidden but accessible. He hadn’t looked at it in years, yet somehow, he couldn’t leave it behind. That small, frayed reminder of a summer that had shaped so much of him still had a pull he couldn’t quite explain.

The sign for the town appeared just as the golden light began to soften into amber. “Welcome to Chestnut Ridge,” it read in weathered white paint, framed by a pair of maple trees whose leaves had turned the fiery red of early autumn. He slowed the car, his eyes lingering on the crooked nail holding the sign up. It was the same nail, bent at an angle that should’ve given up years ago but somehow hadn’t.

For a moment, the sight transported him to another time—a summer evening when he and his friends had piled into Caleb’s old truck, laughing and shouting as they sped toward Whispering Pines. Sienna had been pressed against his side, her head thrown back in laughter as Caleb took a sharp turn too fast and everyone swayed. The memory flickered vividly, uninvited and unwelcome. The sheer clarity of it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, his jaw tightening. He focused on the road ahead, but the memory lingered like the scent of something faint but unmistakable.

The first streets he drove through were lined with tidy houses, each one with a porch swing or a pumpkin on the stoop. Neighbors waved to each other across driveways, kids raced bicycles up and down the sidewalks, and the local diner’s neon sign buzzed faintly in the distance. He spotted the Town Square ahead, with the statue of the founder still standing guard in the middle of its flowerbeds, just as it had when he was a boy. The square always felt so alive back then, its energy flowing like the pulse of the town.

Rowan slowed as he passed it, his chest tightening against the swirl of memories. How many times had he walked through here on warm summer nights? He could almost hear the echoes of laughter and the strains of distant music from outdoor movie nights by the lake. His jaw clenched, and he forced his focus back to the road. This wasn’t a trip to relive the past. It was just a weekend. Go to the reunion, nod politely at whoever cared to say hello, and then leave. He’d be back to his orderly life in the city before he could even unpack the layers of emotions threatening to bubble to the surface.

Still, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that perhaps he’d returned for something more. The bracelet felt heavier than it should’ve, like it carried questions he wasn’t ready to answer. What if she came to the reunion? What would she look like after all these years? Would she even want to talk to him? A familiar knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach, but he shoved it aside, unwilling to let it take root.

His hotel was a modest inn on the edge of town, one that seemed barely touched by time. The sign outside still boasted “Vacancy” in blocky black letters, and the ivy creeping up its stone walls added an almost picturesque charm. Rowan parked, grabbed his bag, and stepped out, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs. It smelled of dry leaves and freshly tilled earth, a scent so steeped in his memories that it made him pause. In the distance, a wind chime tinkled faintly, its soft music tugging at something buried deep inside him. For a moment, he let the familiarity sink into his skin before shaking it off and heading inside.

The ding of the bell at the front desk startled him as he entered the lobby. The woman behind the counter looked up with a welcoming smile, her features vaguely familiar. She had the kind of warm, open face that belonged in a place like this, framed by hair streaked with early grays that somehow made her seem more approachable. He couldn’t place her, but she didn’t seem to recognize him either—a relief. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Reservation under Calloway,” he said, his voice measured and steady, though he felt anything but.

She nodded and tapped a few keys on her computer. “You’re in room four, just up the stairs and to the left. Breakfast starts at seven, and we’ve got fresh coffee in the mornings. Anything else I can help you with?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Rowan to feel it. Her gaze lingered on him for a fraction too long, a flicker of recognition sparking behind her eyes. “You look familiar,” she said finally, though it was more of a question.

Rowan’s polite smile remained fixed. “Small town,” he replied, his tone noncommittal. He slid the key from the counter into his pocket and turned toward the stairs. The moment passed, but it left his shoulders tight with the tension of being seen.

The room was small but clean, with an old-fashioned quilt spread over the bed and a single window that looked out toward the forest. Rowan set his bag down and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. The drive had left him restless, though he couldn’t quite name what he was feeling. Nostalgia? Anxiety? Both? His fingers brushed the edge of his bag where the bracelet sat hidden. For a fleeting moment, he considered pulling it out, the familiar threads a tangible link to a past he rarely allowed himself to revisit.

He reached for the zipper and hesitated. His hand hovered there, the weight in his chest deepening. What was he doing? Bringing the bracelet had been foolish, a crack in his otherwise solid logic. It was just a piece of thread, frayed and faded. It shouldn’t mean anything anymore. But as his fingers twitched toward the bag, he felt the pull of it, like it was daring him to look back at something he wasn’t ready to face. With a frustrated exhale, he pulled his hand away and stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

The sun had dipped lower now, its light filtering through the branches in streaks of gold and shadow. Somewhere beyond those trees lay Whispering Pines Summer Camp. He hadn’t seen it in years, not since… her.

The thought of Sienna twisted something in his chest. The last time he’d seen her was at eighteen, standing by the lake, her auburn hair catching the sunlight as she turned away from him. He could almost hear her voice, teasing and warm, layered with an edge of hurt she tried to hide. That image had etched itself into his mind, no matter how much he tried to bury it. He’d been the one to end things, of course. Practicality over passion—wasn’t that always his way? But the ache of letting her go had lingered far longer than he cared to admit.

He rubbed a hand over his face and turned back toward the room. That was a different life, a different version of himself. The Rowan Calloway of today had no time for wistful longing or unresolved what-ifs. Tomorrow, he’d go to the reunion, exchange pleasantries, and drive back to the city. Simple. Predictable. Controlled. Just the way he liked it.

Yet as he lay back on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, the weight of the town pressed down on him. The memories, the places, the people—none of it had stayed neatly compartmentalized in the past. It had followed him, lingered in the corners of his mind, and now it was waiting for him to face it.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of summers past flitted through his mind: the crunch of gravel under his shoes as he walked to the cabins, the smell of pine needles baking in the sun, the sound of her laughter echoing over the lake. He finally gave up and moved to the window, watching as the lights of the town dimmed one by one.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, he’d step back into a world he’d worked so hard to leave behind. And somewhere in that world, Sienna Lark would be waiting.