I stop when the yellow shutters come into view, gaining a rush of nostalgia. The yellow paint, once bright, is peeling but I picture it as brand new. The red and spotted toad house left inour small flower bed still lies there, faded to a dull blush color, but in the same spot.
God. How I loved this place.
“Can I help you?”
We all spin to meet the person behind the voice, Logan still standing beside me. Crew and Lana in front.
In recognition, I move forward, shuffling between my best friend and Crew. “Mr. Thompson.” I can’t believe it’s really him. He’s older of course, but I couldn’t forget his kind face anywhere.
“Do I know you?” His brows scrunch inward with his hands resting on his bony hips, probably approaching somewhere around eighty years old now.
When I was a kid, he used to let me run around his yard with his dog.
“I’m not sure if you remember me but I lived here with my dad. My name is Sora.” I point to my old trailer.
He takes a minute, but once recognition sets in, he flashes a wide smile. “Well, all be damned. My have you grown.” He wraps me in his small, frail arms that are like home—closest to home I am going to get. “Your daddy would be so proud.”
My smile vanishes. Would he? If he knew what I’ve done. Who I’ve been all these years. But if he was still here, I would never have been Jason’s wife.
“It’s great to see you, Mr. Thompson.”
“What brings you back to this part of town?”
“I… I came back for something.”
“Ah, all right. Just be quick. Eloise doesn’t like trespassers on her property.” He glances at his watch. “But lucky for you, it’s her nap time.”
A grin spreads across my face.
“Well. I’ll leave you to it then.” He nods over at the man standing directly behind me. Logan moved closer during our conversion. “Take good care of this one. She’s special.” He mustthink we’re together but before I can correct him, he turns to leave.
“She is,” Logan answers, practically sending my heart leaping out of my chest.
Mr. Thompson throws a thumbs up as he continues to walk away.
“Okay then. You kids ready?” Crew breaks the silence, while I still avoid looking at Logan. “So, what exactly did we come for?”
I tuck the situation away for now, walking up to that old toad house. Thank God this lady decided to keep the thing.
Starting from there, I count my steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I pause, then pivot to the right and count another six times before stopping on the mark. Why did I not think of bringing a shovel?
Fuck on a bagel.
With hope there’s one just lying around somewhere, my breath catches when I see just what I am looking for propped against our old shed where my bike was kept.
Thank you, daddy.
