Come Home

by Raleigh Ruebins

  Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  I was doing well so far. Nothing was going to break my focus—not the relaxed vibe of the island, not the rural charms, not the constant stream of memories.

  And certainly not the knowledge that I was in close proximity to Hunter again.

  Lunch with Hunter was going to go fine. All I had to do was tell him why I was in town, catch up with him, and remain composed throughout the process.

  Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  I turned the key in the ignition and started along the narrow road. Golden morning light filtered through the bushy leaves of the trees as I wound my way up to the cottage.

  Growing up, I’d always seen the Waterview Cottages from below, and I’d always known that they weren’t for me. They were for only the richest tourists, looming up on the top of the hill like a castle. It had seemed like the height of luxury to me, and now… well, now, the best I could say about it here was that it was quaint.

  When I got to the top of the hill, Vance’s car was parked in the driveway. I found him under the awning at the front of my cottage, placing the last of my suitcases by the door.

  “Incredible as always, Vance,” I said, stepping up beside him. “How did I get so lucky to have an assistant like you?”

  “You flatter me,” he said. As always, his black hair was slicked back and perfectly styled.

  “How was the ride over?”

  “Fine,” he said.

  “You making it through okay?”

  He nodded, but I could see the ghost of sadness in his eyes. His girlfriend Tammy had broken up with him just yesterday, but he had assured me that he wanted to throw himself into work and not dwell on the breakup.

  “Anything you need, you just ask me,” I said. “Time off... an appointment with my masseuse... a person hired to go to Tammy’s door just to yell at her?”

  He smiled at that, shaking his head a little. “I appreciate it,” he said. “But really, I just want to forget about Tammy and Seattle and my real life this week.”

  “Good. Kinley’s a very good place to forget about Seattle. You kind of forget about the rest of the world when you’re here.”

  “This place is absolutely wild,” Vance said. “I can’t believe we’re still technically so close to the city right now. This is…”

  “Backwards hickville? I know,” I said with a nod. “Again, I can’t thank you enough. I know it can’t be easy.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say that,” Vance said. “It’s just… so different. The ferry trip was wild. I’ve never driven a car onto a boat before.”

  I nodded. “And that’s exactly why we’re here,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to drive a car onto a boat to get to the city. If there had been a bridge, my mom might still be alive.”

  Vance nodded, sympathetic. He’d heard the story a hundred times by now, like most of my team, but it never became easier to talk about. In my junior year of high school, my mom had suffered a major heart attack. Kinley hadn’t had—and still didn’t have—a hospital on the island, so the only option had been to wait for a ferry to carry her to the closest hospital in Seattle.

  It hadn’t been fast enough.

  Because the ferries were never fast enough.

  Mom had died at age forty-six, despite being a runner and avid swimmer, simply because Kinley Island wasn’t developed enough to have proper medical care or a bridge to get us to the city faster. She wasn’t the only one to suffer from Kinley’s refusal to enter the modern world, and I knew she wouldn’t be the last.

  “This island has so much to offer,” I told Vance, shaking my head. “But the residents just can’t see it. They need the vision. And Kinley is never going to reach its potential unless we build the damn bridge.”

  Vance hesitated, but I knew what he was going to say. “It’s gonna be a tough sell,” he said, and I nodded. “Did you see the signs along the road, right after the ferry ride?”

  Of course I had seen them. I’d grown up around several similar signs, little hand-painted things that the residents of Kinley loved to place along the roads:

  Kinley, Where Only the Strange Survive.

  Kinley Island: We Like Big Boats and We Cannot Lie.

  And the most charming of all: a simple Never Seattle, with a drawing of the city skyline with a big red X on top of it.

  “I’m a master of the hard sell,” I said, standing up a little straighter.

  “It’s only possible to pull off a hard sell if the other party’s willing to buy, though.”

  “It’s not a matter of if,” I said. “It’s a matter of when. We will succeed, Vance. Alto Ventures always does. We need this win, and Kinley needs it, too. Whether they realize it or not.”

  “You’re not wrong about that,” he agreed.

  I pulled in a long breath. “And besides, look how beautiful it is here!” At this point, I was trying to convince myself as much as I was him. “Go ahead and check into your cottage, V. We’ll meet up here at two. And… thank you for everything.”

  A minute later, I was inside and alone for the first time on the island. I watched through the big front window as Vance’s car drive off down the hill. The only sound was the gentle whirring of the fan overhead and the chirping of two birds outside.

  I pulled out my ever-buzzing phone, flipped the switch to momentarily set it to silent, and I closed my eyes.

  And for the first time that morning, a thousand feelings raced to the surface, like mud kicked up in the bottom of a placid river.

  I was back. The process I’d been anticipating for months was now beginning: The Kinley Bridge Project, something that Alto Ventures had been planning for so long. I had been trying to suppress it all morning: when I got on the ferry boat, when I saw the handpainted signs, when Zoey and even Vance so clearly doubted that my goals would ever come to fruition.

  Winning over the hearts and minds of Kinley Island seemed like it might be impossible. One heart and mind in particular: Hunter Wilson.

  But my years of practice and self-help books and striving for self-improvement kicked in. I opened my eyes, a wash of calm coming over me. I pulled out my small, black leather-bound notebook from my inner jacket pocket and I sat down at the big oak desk at the edge of the room.

  June 2nd- GOALS

  - Begin outreach for Kinley Bridge Project

  - Stay centered while back on the island

  - Six-mile run

  - Do not freak out about Hunter Wilson.

  I gently pressed the notebook closed. I’d started writing out my daily goals years ago, and I hadn’t missed a day since. Nobody else knew I did it—and frankly, it would be more than a little embarrassing if someone found out the CEO of a major land development firm still wrote down goals as silly as “stay centered.”

  But I needed it like air. I had come a long way since my childhood in Kinley, and relentless goal-setting had been a huge part of the process. Most of the time, if I wrote out a goal, I was likely to meet it.

  The only one that lodged in my brain, worming its way in and refusing to leave, was the last goal.

  How the hell was I supposed to stay calm around Hunter when I’d been in love with him for my entire life?

  I showed up at the Greenway Café exactly on time. Actually, I was about thirty seconds early, but either way it was a mistake.

  This was Hunter. I knew better than to expect him to get anywhere on time. Now I was sitting in the cafe alone, nervously checking my phone over and over, my leg bouncing underneath the table.

  And then I glimpsed movement on the street outside the cafe: someone crouching down, picking something up on the ground, and making their way to a grassy patch nearby.

  It was him. As he deposited whatever he’d picked up in the grassy area, two jogging women stopped and caught him in a conversation.

  Hunt was always making friends. He could talk to anyone and everyone, and it had been that way forever. He wasn’t even that big of an extrovert—he was ju
st kind, and people could sense it from a mile away. Maybe it was his warm brown eyes, maybe it was his disarming smile. He could charm his way out of anything.

  I’d been studying self-help books on dealmaking and self-esteem for years, but a decade of hard work couldn’t even come close to matching what Hunter had just been born with.

  It had also always meant he’d had plenty of boyfriends. In high school, I’d been jealous because I was still in the closet when he wasn’t. Then in college, even after I’d come out, Hunter had still always been the one with more action, more dates, more hookups. He was never single, and he never knew about my crush. I just admired him from afar, and nobody else I dated ever seemed to measure up.

  A minute later he waved goodbye to the women and crossed the road in a slow jog, making his way to the front of the cafe. A persistent beep and flash out of the corner of my eye tore my attention off of him—the little heart on my Fitbit was blinking incessantly.

  Dammit, Fitbit, we're not out for a run.

  I slapped at the watch. No. Not exercising. Instead, I was just seemingly unable to control myself when it came to Hunter Wilson.

  It was a thousand times worse when he came inside, locked eyes with me from the front of the cafe, and came over.

  “Pepper!” he called out, dropping his shoulder bag immediately on the chair and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

  “Hunter,” I said, my heart rocketing up to my throat.

  Good lord.

  Everything was still there.

  Every scrap of desire, of comfort, of feeling like Hunter was my home.

  He was shorter than me, which meant his body fit snugly against mine, like a puzzle piece in the right place.

  Christ, he’d even called me Pepper. It had started in middle school, during the year that Hunter was obsessed with eating slices of red bell pepper with hummus. He started calling me Gavin Bell Pepper, which morphed into Bell Pepper, then just Pepper. Nobody had called me that nickname in so long.

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his head resting against my shoulder as he squeezed me tight. His embrace was still just as intoxicating after two years apart.

  I knew that Hunter would have said that to anyone—he was a friendly person, and of course he’d missed me on some level. But hearing him say it made me want to lift him up, carry him to my Benz, and take him back to my bed for the rest of the day.

  I wished he was mine.

  If I had to spend any more time with him in my arms, I may very well have melted into the floor. I pulled back, taking a deep breath.

  “What happened outside? Did you rescue a baby bird?” I asked, needing to change the subject to something light and easy.

  “Oh, you saw me?” he asked. “No, not a bird. Bird food. It was a little green caterpillar about to get annihilated by oncoming traffic. I figure now I’ve done my good deed, so for the rest of the day I can rob banks, deal drugs, and jaywalk guilt-free.”

  “So... your usual?” I asked.

  “The bank robbery is a daily thing, yeah,” he joked. “The jaywalking I usually save for the weekends only.”

  “That’s when you really go wild.”

  “Exactly. You understand me so well,” he said, flashing his conspiratorial smile. His skin smelled so clean and familiar, immediately unlocking something in me I’d tried to forget I could feel.

  The buildup of nervous energy that had accumulated in me over the past weeks started to dissipate like smoke in the wind. How had I forgotten? This was what Hunter did. He put me at ease, better than any other person I’d ever known. Today was no different.

  Why had I been so afraid?

  “I’m going to go grab some sort of painfully sugary drink,” he said, turning toward the coffee bar. “What would you like?”

  “Don’t dream of it. This is on me—” I started, reaching for my wallet.

  “Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “If you want to take me out to a fancy steak dinner later this week, I’ll totally let you pay. But at least let me grab you a drink.”

  I acquiesced. “Okay. Just a coffee.”

  “Black as the midnight sky?”

  “Always,” I said. “I avoid sugar these days. And dairy.”

  “Shit, Pepper. Do you avoid all the good things in life?” he asked.

  His eyes on me made me want to say no, no, not all the good things. Please, show me the good things.

  His eyes on me were a problem.

  “Well, my body performs best when I’m as healthy as I can be,” I said, filling the air with an excuse. “And I like it when my body feels good,” I said. I felt a slight heat rising in my cheeks, realizing what I’d just said. I could make billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but five minutes with Hunter had me reduced to this.

  I sat down at the table while he ordered the drinks, laser-focusing my eyes on the table, the windows, the view of the street outside—anything so that I wouldn’t stare at his ass in his tight jeans.

  When he returned, depositing the drinks on the table, I noticed his shirt for the first time—pastel purple, tight, and absolutely ridiculous.

  “I see you’re still a style maven,” I said.

  “You like the shirt?” he said, sitting down. “These are the new mandatory uniforms for all the teachers at Kinley High. Anyone caught in regular clothes is fired on sight.”

  “I probably shouldn’t ask why you’re actually wearing that, should I?”

  He nodded, taking a sip of his foamy latte. “Probably a good plan. It was a series of bad decisions, and now… here we are,” he said, his eyes downcast for a moment. “You’re in a suit that is probably five times the cost of my rent, and I look like a cupcake that a rainbow unicorn threw up.”

  “You look great, Hunt,” I said, my voice growing serious. “Really.”

  I meant it, too—I didn’t know if Hunter had been working out more, or if I’d just forgotten how incredible his body looked in a tight shirt. His hair was a messy mop of thick brown hair as always, and I loved it just as much as I had when we were back in school.

  He waved me off. “I look the same as I always do.”

  “And why would that be a bad thing?” I asked.

  He smiled softly, finally giving up and accepting the compliment. “Well, you look like a CEO,” he said. “Congratulations again, by the way. How long has it been, now?”

  “Eighteen months,” I said. “Still feels like it was yesterday.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but...” he started, putting a hand over his eyes and peeking out. “Sometimes I skim the finance section of the city paper just to see if Alto Ventures is mentioned.”

  There was that damned heat on my cheeks again. Hunter actually read the Seattle paper just to see news about my company? “Thank you,” I said. “I’m completely humbled by our success over the past few years.”

  “Seems like you guys are doing pretty fucking well,” he said.

  “We’ve got a long way to go, though.”

  “Oh, please,” he said. “You’re a CEO and you’re only twenty-nine. I should be kneeling to you.”

  The last thing I needed was to be picturing Hunter kneeling on the ground in front of me. His mouth that close to my dick. His eyes looking up at me, honey brown from under thick lashes. Christ, I was hopeless.

  “We’re a mid-tier firm in Seattle,” I said, studying the wood grain of the table. “I’m not exactly the next Bill Gates, though I do try.”

  He took another sip of his drink. “And how has life been in outer space?” he asked.

  “Is that what you islanders are calling Seattle now?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “That’s one of our nicer terms, yes,” he said. “I can refer to it as the fourth circle of hell if you’d like.” He was completely deadpan, but I could see the twinkle in his eye.

  “Aww, come on,” I said.

  “Purgatory? Hades? Worse than the DMV?”

  I laughed
again. A smile spread over his face, and there it was, in all its glory: that adorable dimple on one cheek. It was fucking impossible not to want to lean over and kiss him. All around us were the sounds of the cafe: chatter, buzzing grinders, clinking of silverware on dishes, but I had sort of forgotten that the rest of the world existed.

  I was always under a spell when I was with Hunter.

  I thought two years apart would have made it easier, but it had only made it worse.

  “Seriously, Pepper,” Hunter said, his voice soft as his eyes searched my own. “Where have you been? I miss you. All the fucking time.”

  I cleared my throat, sitting up a little straighter in my chair. “You act like we haven’t spoken in years,” I said. “I know we don’t text every day, but we aren’t strangers.”

  “Texting every couple weeks or months is not the same as meeting up in person,” he said. I felt a sharp pang when I saw the slight hurt in his eyes.

  “I know it’s not the same,” I said.

  And Christ, that was the truth. Our communication had gotten sparser and sparser as my work had intensified. At first, we would visit each other often. But I hated Kinley, and Hunter hated Seattle, and slowly but surely, the trips became less frequent.

  So for a while, we would call. Then calls had turned into texts. And before I knew it, we had become the type of best friends who hadn’t seen each other in two years, the kind of friends who had to “catch up” even though we’d once been inseparable.

  But what was I supposed to say? I couldn’t say what I really felt, or else he’d end up with a string of texts popping up on his phone every day, detailing each small thing I loved about him. It had gotten harder and harder to handle hearing about his boyfriends and hookups, laughing along with him as I pretended I didn’t wish every one of those guys were me instead.

  I didn’t say much of anything to him, because saying I love you felt impossible. Hunter was a wildflower. I was pretty sure that he’d never find a guy good enough for him. And of course, Hunter loved Kinley Island. He’d told me so many times that he couldn’t see himself anywhere else—meanwhile, I’d only been back on the island for half a day and I already felt like I might lose my mind.