Page 43 of Love Songs

I stepped out of the town car that dropped me off at my condo in New York City and the grating noise, oppressive smells, and frenetic pace of the city assaulted me in a way I hadn’t expected. Before today, no matter where I’d traveled or for how long I was gone, coming home had always felt good, but now it all felt wrong somehow. Empty. One week in Caldwell Crossing had felt more like home.

I tipped my head to the sky bracketed by towering concrete buildings and sighed.

“What am I doing here?” I asked the endless deep blue.

But the universe didn’t answer.

A TREE BRANCHwhacked me across the face, right over the bridge of my nose, and blinded me just long enough to miss the foot-high boulder in the middle of the trail. The front tire of my bike hit the edge of the damn rock at an angle and launched me into the air. The thought that at least I was going to land on dirt and not concrete flashed through my mind as I did a Superman over my handlebars, followed by a dirt slide on my stomach for a few feet. After coming to an abrupt stop, I rolled over onto my back and waited for my brains to unscramble while spitting leaves and dirt out of my mouth.

Because that’s the kind of day I’d been having. Scratch that. That’s the kind ofweekI’d been having.

I took stock while staring up at the sky through the thick canopy of trees. I could wiggle all my toes and fingers, and nothing felt broken or sprained. Only shaken up. I took a deep breath and released it slowly.

What the hell am I doing out here like this?

This marked the third time I’d wiped out since I’d hit the trails on my mountain bike to burn off some restless energy. My mood had been heavy since Dallas left barely a week ago. All the things I used to like didn’t seem as satisfying anymore, and the world didn’t seem as bright somehow. I didn’t know what todo with that. Or with me. Hence, the deep dive into some of my favorite extreme sports. But all I had to show for myself was a flashy new collection of bruises, scrapes, and cuts.

Work hadn’t been helping me forget about Dallas—not when there was a photo of him with my crew pinned on the wall in our dayroom. Hanging out with my best friends hadn’t been helping me forget either—especially when their boyfriends joined us for Friday night beers. Don’t get me wrong. I was beyond happy that they’d all found their people, but I was feeling even more the odd man out every time I saw any of them together.

And how did I go from having a no-strings good time with Dallas while he was here to missing him with a physical ache in my body?

I’d hoped some adrenaline-inducing exercise would do the trick, but once again, no luck. The only accomplishment there was risking breaking bones, which I couldn’t afford to do. The last thing I needed was to be laid up and unable to work for a month and a half because I couldn’t get over some guy I’d known for all of a week.

Eventually, I heaved myself up off the ground with a grunt. I might not have broken anything, but I was for sure going to have another bruise or two. I brushed dirt off my clothes, and from the scrapes on my knees and elbows, checked my bike over for any damage—I couldn’t afford to be replacing the fork, either—and climbed back on.

Riding at a more moderate pace, I followed the trail around the lake and popped out onto Harmony Drive. The winding, tree-lined road was peaceful, free of cars, and there was no risk of hitting boulders and tree roots. Sunlight reached through the treed ceiling of dancing leaves and dappled the pavement, and the breeze carried the familiar sweet aroma of maple and spring earth. This was my home and would always be home. Maybe Dallas couldn’t be part of my life, but I had my best friends, myfamily, my coworkers, and a career I loved. What else could I really ask for?

For Dallas to be in my life.

I pushed the thought away as I rounded a corner and slammed on the brakes.

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would change the reality of what I’d just seen, but nothing was different when I opened them.

The weathered FOR SALE sign at the old Ferguson house that had been there so long it had become part of the scenery had a bright red SOLD sticker slapped across it.

I sat there on my bike with my feet on the ground, staring at that sticker as though it had been written in a language I couldn’t understand.

Who bought my house?

And why now? It was bad enough I was feeling Dallas’s absence, but now I was losing an unspoken dream that I’d harbored for a good decade.

I tipped my head to the sky. “Could a guy catch a break here?”

I’d been working on saving enough money to buy the abandoned Ferguson place since the first time I’d been there with the CCFD, when some kids had hurt themselves on broken glass. I needed to save more than enough to buy it, but also to afford the massive renovations that it needed to bring it back to its original condition and into the modern age.

Ms. Ferguson had been alive when we were still teens in high school, but I knew for a fact if the house had been abandoned then, we would’ve been like the kids today who’d dared each other to go into the “haunted” house. It wasn’t haunted. Just holding the stories of lives gone by and awaiting the next story to care for. But to the fire department, it was a nuisance property. We were constantly being called out for kidstrespassing and getting into trouble. They’d even started a fire on the second level once. Luckily, the fire had been contained in one room, and the damage hadn’t been extensive.

I got off my bike, set the kickstand, hung my helmet over the handlebars, and walked to the sign. I put my hand on it, fingers tracing the sticker as if I needed to feel the edges of it to confirm it was truly real.

It was.

I looked past the derelict gate and down the drive, but couldn’t see anything beyond the dense trees and overgrowth. Were the new owners in there already? Were they going to do the old girl justice, or tear her down and build a McMansion?

I shuddered at that devastating thought, and the sigh that gusted past my lips took a future I’d imagined with it.

I’d never told anyone, not even my best friends, how much I loved that house and wanted to buy it. I don’t know why. Maybe because it was more than just buying a house. It was a symbol of a future I wasn’t sure was for me. That I could hope for and have. Maybe because even though they were my closest friends, and I knew they’d support me no matter what, I never went too deep into my feelings. I was always there for them when they were going through something heavy and usually tried to bring the mood up and get them smiling again. But feelings were uncomfortable when they were mine. That’s what adrenaline sports were for.

But something about the house fascinated me from the first moment I’d stepped inside. Not the house itself, but the way the maples and spruces wrapped around the property as if to protect it. And the lake seemed to be a brighter aquamarine along the shore, as if the house shone a light on it rather than shadowed it. Even falling apart, the house felt regal.

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