Chapter Two
The next morning, Maplewood's sky was a patchwork
of soft grays and sunlight, the kind of day that felt like it might rain—or
promise something new.
Aliza tugged her coat tighter as she walked toward
Walker's Garage, the only auto shop in town and exactly where
her mom's old sedan had decided to die last night.
She'd thought about calling anyone else. But there
was no one else.
The bell above the garage door jingled as she
stepped inside, the scent of oil and coffee wrapping around her like an old
memory. The place hadn't changed—worn counter, rows of tools on the back wall,
a calendar from two years ago still pinned near the register.
Then she heard the footsteps.
And saw him.
Erick.
He stepped out from behind a lifted truck, wiping
his hands on a towel. The moment his eyes landed on her, the air between them
shifted. Thicker. Sharper. Quieter.
"Hey," she said softly.
He looked the same. Maybe a little older, a little
leaner. His dark hair a bit longer. His jaw a little tighter. But those
eyes—they were still the same. Piercing and unreadable.
"Aliza." His voice was low, rough like gravel
warmed by sun. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"My mom's car. It stalled two blocks from the
house." She paused. "Figured this was the only place open."
He nodded, slow. "I'll take a look."
She handed him the keys, careful not to let their
fingers brush.
A moment of silence stretched too long.
"You look well," he said finally, like he wasn't
sure if it was allowed.
"I'm… surviving," she replied, with a tight smile.
"You?"
"Busy."
It wasn't cold. But it wasn't warm, either. Just…
careful.
"I didn't come back to stir anything up," she
added. "I'm here to help my mom. That's all."
Erick gave a small, unreadable shrug. "Didn't say
you were."
But the way he looked at her said everything else.
Chapter Two (continued)
Erick moved toward the car without another word.
Aliza watched as he popped the hood and leaned over, sleeves pushed up,
revealing a long, faint scar on his forearm she didn't remember.
He was quieter than she remembered. Not
colder—just heavier, somehow. As if time had weighed itself into his bones.
"Battery's corroded," he said after a minute.
"Probably needs replacing. I'll clean it up and check the rest. Could have it
ready by tomorrow."
"Thanks," she said.
He gave a short nod but didn't meet her eyes.
She hesitated before turning to go. "I didn't know
you stayed."
He looked up then, his expression unreadable.
"Didn't see the point in leaving."
That stung. She couldn't tell if it was meant to.
"I thought I had to," she said quietly. "Back
then."
"You did what you had to do." His voice was
steady, but the look in his eyes said more. You left.
Another silence. This one softer. Sadder.
"I'll call when it's ready," he said, turning back
to the car.
She walked away before the ache in her throat
could take shape.
Later
That Day
Aliza sat on the porch swing, wrapped in her
mother's old quilt, mug of tea cooling in her hands. The wind stirred the
trees, scattering leaves like whispered regrets across the lawn.
She hadn't expected it to feel like this. Familiar
and foreign. Safe and exposed. Like coming home to a house with the lights on,
but the furniture rearranged.
Erick had been the hardest part to leave.
He would be the hardest part to face now.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back
against the swing. The breeze carried a faint scent of motor oil and cedar wood.
Or maybe she was imagining it.
Same town. Same man.
Different everything.