The return

Lana

I should’ve known it would happen eventually. Small towns like ours have a way of pulling people back, no matter how far they run or how many years they’re gone. It’s like the place has invisible strings tied to everyone who’s ever called it home, tugging them back when they least expect it. But even knowing that, I wasn’t prepared for it—wasn’t prepared for him.

The night air was heavy with humidity, clinging to my skin like a second layer as I made my way across the yard. The faint hum of cicadas blended with the low thrum of music spilling out from the house, and the occasional burst of laughter from partygoers. Jake’s parents’ house looked exactly the same as it had five years ago, down to the strings of fairy lights that zigzagged across the porch railing. It should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

I wasn’t here because I wanted to be. My ex-boyfriend’s birthday party wasn’t exactly where I envisioned spending my evening, but Mrs. Dawson had insisted. And after everything their family had done for me—taking me in when my own home had become unbearable—I couldn’t say no.

So I was here. For her. For Jake.

Not for Drew.

But as soon as I stepped onto the porch, I felt it—that familiar shift in the air, like the way it changes right before a storm. My stomach dropped, and a whisper of unease curled its way through me. I hadn’t seen him yet, but I didn’t need to. Some things, some people, have a way of imprinting themselves on you, no matter how much time has passed.

He was here.

I paused at the bottom of the porch steps, hesitating as an unexpected chill ran down my spine despite the sweltering summer heat. My hand gripped the railing as I forced myself to move forward, step by step, until I was on the porch. The glow of the fairy lights cast warm shadows over the gathered crowd, illuminating faces I hadn’t seen in years. But my eyes weren’t looking for any of them.

And then I saw him.

Drew Dawson.

He was leaning against the far corner of the porch, the dim light from the cigarette between his fingers casting an amber glow over his face. The same sharp jawline, the same dark eyes that could cut straight through you with a single glance. He was older now, harder somehow, but it was still him.

His eyes lifted, meeting mine across the distance, and for a fleeting second, something flickered there—something I couldn’t name but felt all the same. It wasn’t a greeting. It wasn’t an apology. It was just Drew, standing there like he hadn’t been the reason I left in the first place.

The memory of our last conversation surged forward unbidden, the words sharp and cutting even after all this time. I had told myself I’d moved on, that I’d buried every piece of what we had. But standing there, caught in his gaze, I realized how fragile those walls really were.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. That silence, that look—it said everything.

My chest tightened, and I turned away, my fingers curling around the strap of my purse like it was some kind of lifeline. The sound of the party seemed distant, muted beneath the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

“Lana!”

Jake’s voice cut through the haze, pulling me back to the present. I blinked, shaking my head slightly as I turned toward him. He was weaving through the crowd, his boyish grin as familiar as ever. In that moment, I clung to it—clung to him, to the safety of what we used to be.

“Hey, stranger,” I said, forcing a smile as he reached me. His arms wrapped around me in a warm, easy hug, and for a second, I let myself lean into it. Into him.

“You made it,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

“Of course,” I replied lightly, the lie rolling off my tongue with practiced ease. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He laughed, oblivious to the weight pressing down on me. As he launched into a story about someone I didn’t recognize, I nodded along, trying to focus on his words. But it was no use.

I could still feel Drew’s eyes on me. Watching. Waiting.

And deep down, I knew—this was just the beginning.