Page 3 of Her Ohio Old Flame

The space was frozen in time. The bed was neatly made with the lavender comforter she’d begged for on her fifteenth birthday, the fabric still soft but now faded. Posters plastered the walls in uneven rows—pop stars she’d once adored, motivational quotes in bubble letters, and a collage of photos that had captured her teenage life.

On the dresser a single framed photo sat in the center, drawing her closer like a magnet. She picked it up, brushing her thumb over the glass and tracing the faces.

The image was of her and Zane, taken the summer after high school graduation. They stood shoulder to shoulder, Zane’s arm slung casually around her, both grinning like the worldwas nothing but endless horizons. Asha caught her reflection in the glass and froze. The polished woman staring back at her—poised, composed, and distant—was a far cry from the carefree girl in the photo.

Zane Parker.

His name came to her like a whisper, unbidden but impossible to ignore. She hadn’t let herself think about him in years—no, she’d forced herself not to. But now, with the photo in her hands, the memories rushed back, vivid and insistent. His laughter, his hand brushing hers, the promises they’d made so easily and broken as fast.

She exhaled sharply and set the photo back on the dresser. This wasn’t the time to get lost in the past.

Asha crossed to the window, her footsteps soft against the worn wooden floor. She pushed aside the curtain and looked out at the backyard. The garden, once her mother’s pride, now bore the unmistakable signs of neglect. Weeds had crept into the flowerbeds, and the hydrangeas along the fence line drooped as though forgotten. The old swing set leaned to one side, its rusted chains swaying faintly in the breeze, contrasting with the memories of her father pushing her higher and higher as a child.

Had her parents been too preoccupied with their anniversary to notice the creeping decline? Or was it something else—the weight of age, maybe? Her father would be turning seventy next winter, a fact that hadn’t seemed significant until now, with her standing here in the house where she’d grown up. She released a slow breath and brushed her hand against the cool glass as a flicker of worry settled in her chest.

Asha couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought about her parents growing older. They had always seemed so steady, like the house itself—unchanging, dependable, always there. But now, the overgrown garden and the rusty swing set painted a different picture, one she wasn’t ready to face.

The house’s quiet pressed in around her—the kind of quiet that invited thoughts she didn’t want to consider. The weight in her chest pressed harder, no longer simply nostalgia but something closer to guilt. Maybe if she hadn’t been so focused on running forward, she would’ve noticed the small signs earlier.

“Asha?” her mother called from downstairs.

She blinked, startled back to the present. “Coming!” she replied.

As she turned toward the door, she skimmed her thumb over the photo on the dresser one last time. It was a fleeting touch, along the edge of the frame, before she pulled away and left the room.

Chapter Two

Zane Parker stepped out of his modest home into the crisp morning air of late June. The first light of dawn painted the horizon in soft gold, bathing Peaceful, Ohio, in a serene glow. The town lived up to its name at this hour, with only the occasional birdcall breaking the silence.

He stretched, inhaling deeply. The scent of blooming lilacs mingled with the earthy tang of dew-soaked grass, a familiar fragrance that always grounded him.

After sliding into his pickup truck, Zane drove down Main Street, the heart of Peaceful. The local diner’s neon “Open” sign flickered, and across the street, a light shone in Dr. Maddy Quinn’s office. Ever dedicated, Peaceful’s only doctor seemed to start her day before the sun.

The high school came into view, its brick façade weathered but proud. Zane slowed as he passed, a smile tugging at his lips at memories of Friday night football games and stolen glances at Asha in the library.

At the park, Mrs. Colette, the postmistress, strolled with her tiny toy poodle, the little dog prancing as if it owned the path. Zane rolled down his window.

“Morning, Mrs. Colette.”

Her face lit up. “Good morning, Zane. Isn’t it just beautiful today?”

“Sure is.” He nodded toward her poodle. “And your little king looks ready to rule the world.”

She laughed. “He always is.”

Continuing down Main Street, Zane passed the shared police and fire department building—a practical setup for a town like Peaceful, where everyone wore more than one hat. He barely noticed it most mornings, but today, his eyes caught on the peeling paint near the front door and the hairline crack above the south-facing window.

Still not fixed.

He sighed and slowed as he pulled into the gravel lot and parked in his usual spot. The crunch of his boots against the ground echoed louder than it should have. He glanced at the red brick front—solid, dependable, a little worn around the edges.

Kind of like him.

He lingered for a moment, taking it in. The building still stood strong, but years of use had left their mark. It was functional and reliable, but when had anyone last looked at it and really seen it?

The thought soured unexpectedly. Maybe it was his latest dating-app date from two towns over still lingering in the back of his mind—bland conversation, forced smiles, zero spark. He couldn’t even remember her last name. She’d been perfectly nice, but nice didn’t light him up. Not like his high school sweetheart had.

Hell, maybe he was just another weathered structure in this town—still standing, still doing his job, but no longer catching anyone’s eye.

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