She pulled her hat off her head, her same long hair spilling over her shoulders as it’d done seventeen years ago.
Those eyes he remembered—light blue, so bright and clear that there were times he felt as if he was going to get lost in their depths.
“It’s me,” she said, going in for a hug. “Farrah Lane now.”
He was damn well going to accept that embrace and return it.
Maybe he held on longer than he should have, squeezed her tighter, and breathed in some of her scent.
The same feelings were there. Comfort, acceptance, and belonging with a stirring of longing.
Things he’d been missing from his life for years and never realized it until this moment.
Maybe coming home wasn’t so bad after all.
Even if it was only to remind him of what he could have again. He removed himself from the embrace as much as he wanted to linger.
“And this is your son, Archer? I can see the resemblance now. And why he’s so good at basketball. Gets it from his mom.”
“That’s right,” Archer said. “My father doesn’t like sports.”
His eyes dropped quickly to her left hand. It was bare.
“No,” she said. “He doesn’t. Jayce played basketball too. You went to college to play, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he said. He’d gone to Davidson College two hours away. Not that far, but far enough to give some independence.
“Do you still play?” Archer asked.
“No,” he said, laughing. He could barely watch it now but couldn’t stop the love for the game. It’d return in time, he was sure.
He’d had a lot of friends from his old job. Not just coworkers, but players.
The minute he was done, more than half those office mates dropped off the face of the earth. Most of the players he was close to reached out now and again, but he expected little more.
“How have you been?” he asked. “Other than you’ve got a kid and are married.”
“Divorced,” she said. “For five years now.”
“Oh, sorry about that.”
She didn’t offer if she was involved with someone now or not and it didn’t feel right to ask.
They’d been friends once. More than that for two months.
Never lovers. They didn’t make it there. She was a virgin when they dated their senior year in high school. He wasn’t and would have loved to be her first, but he acknowledged and understood her boundaries.
When they split, he’d been hurt, but held it in like he always did.
They were both going away to college and she thought it was best to not be tied down. He didn’t argue.
No hard feelings on his end and he was positive none on hers.
“It happens,” she said. “Are you visiting?”
“I’m back home for now.”
He’d been home two weeks and thought for sure he’d be healing more than he was.
