Page 12 of Her Ohio Old Flame

Asha sat across from him, cutting her omelet into neat bites. She didn’t meet his gaze, her focus fixed on her plate.

“Not much has changed in Peaceful,” Zane said, spearing a piece of lettuce with his fork.

Her brow arched as she glanced up. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well, for one, Michelson is still the school principal.”

Her fork paused midair, her eyes widening. “You’re kidding. He must be ancient by now.”

“At least eighty,” Zane replied with a chuckle. “Saw him last week at the hardware store. Still had that clipboard like he’s patrolling the halls.”

Asha’s laugh was warm and genuine, and for a moment, it was as if no time had passed. Zane felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name—nostalgia, maybe, or longing.

But as her laughter faded, her smile dropped, and she turned her attention back to her plate. “You’re still in Peaceful,” she said quietly, carefully.

“Yeah.” Zane leaned forward. “It’s home.”

She set down her fork, and her shoulders tensed like she was bracing herself. “I couldn’t stay. I had to leave.”

He studied her, his fork all but forgotten on the tray. “You don’t visit much either.” Zane kept his tone light but his gaze sharp.

She hesitated, brushing her fingers absently over the edge of her coffee cup. “It’s... complicated,” she allowed.

“Complicated how?” he pressed.

She tightened her lips and shook her head. “I had plans. Ambitions. I wanted more than what our hometown could offer.”

Zane clenched his jaw, the old bitterness flaring to life. “You left because of college.” He drew out the words, watching her reaction. “But that’s not the whole story, is it?”

Her eyes flicked to his, dark and guarded, before she looked away. “Does it matter?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He softened his voice. “It matters.”

Asha let out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging. “I didn’t just leave Peaceful, Zane. I left... everything. I had to.”

His chest tightened, and the way she said it—like she was protecting something, hiding something—set his instincts on edge. He wanted to push, to demand answers, but the way her fingers trembled against her cup stopped him.

Instead, he said, “You never came back. Not really. Why?”

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Because I couldn’t,” she said.

He leaned back in his chair, curling his fingers beneath the table. There was more to the story—he was sure of it—but he wasn’t going to get it out of her. Not today.

“Must’ve been lonely,” he said after a pause.

Asha’s gaze softened, and her silence said more than any words could.

The tension between them stretched, thick and unyielding. Zane studied her, the weight of the past pressing heavily on his chest. He’d believed he’d moved on—that enough time, work, and distance had dulled the edges she’d left behind.

But sitting here with her now, it was clear he hadn’t. Not completely.

The first few years, he’d pined for her harder than he cared to admit. Couldn’t understand why she hadn’t answered his calls, texts, or emails. He’d even considered stepping on a bus to Columbus to find her at the university, simply to see her. Buthis training schedule had been brutal, the hours relentless, and excuses stacked up until they became habit.

So, he’d dated. Tried to move on. A few brief flings, a handful of first dates that never led to second ones. At the time, he told himself it was the job—being on call, the adrenaline spikes, the lack of routine. But looking at her now, all that armor wrapped around a face he still dreamed about sometimes, he knew better.

It wasn’t the job.

It was her.

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