Ray Flanagan. Again.
It’s ridiculous, really. Out of all the people in this town, why does his name suddenly feel like a whisper I can’t shake? My chest tightens, and I glance at the frosted window, the snow outside glittering like a dream. He exists somewhere out there beneath the same stretch of starlit sky.
And just like that, the stillness I’ve been avoiding for years creeps in, carrying an ache I thought I’d buried long ago.
3
SOPHIA
Cassidy nudges me as I stand in the kitchen, her voice dropping to that low, conspiratorial tone that always meant trouble when we were kids. “So… you heard Ray’s in town, right?”
The name hits me like a sucker punch, sharp and unyielding, stealing the air from my lungs. For a second, the world narrows to that one word—Ray—and everything else fades into static. I choke on the bite of the cookie in my mouth, coughing so hard my eyes water. My hand flies to my chest, trying to recover some dignity. I wave Cassidy off, swallowing hard as if that will push the memory of him down with it.
I retrieve a glass from the cupboard over the sink and fill it with icy water. I down half of it to help soothe my bruised throat. It will take much more than this to calm down my beating heart.
Cassidy’s grinning when I finally meet her gaze, smug in the way only a little sister can be. “You okay there, Soph?” she teases, her eyes glinting with mischief.
I shrug, forcing a breezy tone I don’t feel. “Yeah, fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.” The words are clipped, tight, as she watches me, dissecting every twitch of my expression. I set the glass on the counter and reach for another cookie, not because I want one but because I need something to do with my hands. And I don’t trust myself with something as fragile as glass. I say softly, “Ray, huh? I didn’t even know he was still around.”
She raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter like she has all the time in the world. “Oh, come on, sis. Don’t act all cool like you don’t care one way or the other. You know, I know you used to have the biggest crush on him, right?”
I snort, shaking my head. “That was forever ago. We were kids.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten him.” Her tone is light and teasing, but there’s an edge to it as if she knows exactly which buttons to press. “He’s not the same, you know. He’s much more… intense now.”
Intense?
More than the word itself, her tone lands heavily in my chest, reverberating like the profound toll of a church bell. I force myself to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m unraveling. What the actual fuck does she mean by all that?
“Cassie quit being so over-the-top dramatic.” I chuckle. “I know it’s a tall order, but really? Ray Flanagan? He was the sweetest boy. How ‘intense’ can he be now?” As I ask her, I stab the air with my fingers to emphasize the term.
She scoffs. “You serious right now? Haven’t you heard the rumors about Ray?”
I swallow the last piece of cookie before throwing my hands up in frustration. “I’ve been away for years. I kind of lost touch with the town gossip,” I grunt, winking.
“Lucky you!” Cassidy retorts with such infectious laughter that I join her. When we calm down, she adds, “Well, according to said gossip, the boy who used to walk you home from school is now a man with blood on his hands. Apparently, he’s become an enforcer for a Boston mafia family. The kind of man who makes people cross the street to avoid catching his eye.”
But that’s not the Ray I remember. The Ray I knew had a laugh that could light up a room, a way of making you feel like you were the only person who mattered. He was the boy who picked me up when I fell out of the tree in our backyard, who sat with me for hours after my dog died, even though neither of us knew what to say. He used to be my safe place back in the day.
I clear my throat and step past Cassidy toward the staircase. When I reach the first step, my fingers graze the railing, eager to escape. “Well, sis, thanks for the gossip column recap, I guess. But some of us have better things to do than rehash the past—especially when it involves a guy I don’t even think about anymore.”
“Sure you do,” she calls after me, her voice laced with amusement. “Just don’t say I didn’t call it.”
Her words follow me up the stairs like a shadow, clinging to me even as I push open the door to my old room. The scent of cedar and lavender wraps around me like a blanket, and for a moment, I stand there, taking it all in. It’s like stepping into a time capsule, the room frozen precisely as I left it. The same faded quilt covers the bed, the bookshelves still packed with novels and trinkets I thought I couldn’t live without. Even the vanilla-scented candle on the desk sits exactly where I left it, its wax half-melted and forgotten.
I drop my bags onto the bed, my hands trembling slightly. I tell myself it’s just the long drive catching up to me. The exhaustion of returning to a place I swore I’d never return to. But deep down, I know better. It’s not the town that has me on edge. It’s the memories lurking in every corner, waiting to pounce the moment I let my guard down.
My gaze drifts to the dresser, to the little trinkets lined up like soldiers on parade. A tiny glass unicorn Cassidy gave me as a joke one Christmas—a seashell from the beach trip when I was fifteen. My fingers graze the cool, smooth surface of the wood, pausing when they reach the mirror. A photo I haven't seen in years is tucked into the corner of the frame.
I lift it with trembling hands, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure Cassidy can hear it from downstairs. It’s a picture of Ray and me, taken so long ago that it feels like a lifetime. We’re both grinning, his arm slung around my shoulders, my face lit up with a joy I barely recognize. He’s holding a half-eaten popsicle in his free hand, his hair a wild, fiery mess that never stayed where it was supposed to. His blue eyes are soft, unguarded, and different from the man Cassidy described.
I run my thumb over the picture, tracing the outline of his face. Back then, he was just Ray, the boy next door. The boy who made me laugh until my sides ached, who shared his secrets with me like they were treasures meant to be guarded. I don’t know the man he’s become, the one with sharp edges and a reputation that makes people whisper. But as I stare at the photo, I can’t help but wonder if there’s still a piece of that boy left in him, buried beneath the scars and shadows.
A knock on the door startles me, and I fumble with the photo, shoving it back onto the mirror like it’s evidence of a crime. Cassidy steps into the room with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk.
“See something you like?” she asks, not doing anything to hide her amusement.
I roll my eyes, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to me. “Please. I’ve told you I haven’t thought about him in years.”
