Forgotten First Kiss

Probably accurate, since no one else in this town thought even half so well of me as she did.

Except Memory-Loss Danica. Who thought of me as amazing. So there. I’d already cleared the first hurdle. “You’ll see,” I said. “Now, what kind of yard work or house projects do you need done this afternoon? I’m free until seven.”

Because at seven, instinct told me I’d be getting a message from Danica Denton on the pretext of wanting to hear more of Jane Eyre, but really she’d be trying to get to know Jeremy Hotston. I’d be glad to show her a little sliver of the real Jeremy Hotston, the one no one else in this town had any clue existed.

Sure enough, at the town church tower’s stroke of seven, a text chimed in my phone. I set down my hatchet in the back yard where I was splitting logs into firewood and stacking it.

Jeremy, my nap left me both rested and bored. This is Danica, by the way.

She didn’t ask me directly. I waited for the direct request. I had my reasons for that.

Hi, Danica. I went back to splitting logs. Even though my default settings told me to jump all over this text, I’d learned a few things in life—like paying a girl too much attention didn’t go over as well as my sixteen-year-old self had thought. Aloofness for the win. Or, so I hoped.

Perspiration beaded on my forehead. The pile had shaped up nicely.

Aunt June leaned out the kitchen window. “That’s much tidier than you used to stack it, Jeremy. Nicely done. Do you want some lemonade?”

“Got any Pepsi?” My mind was skipping everywhere. I hadn’t drunk any caffeine since arriving in Wilder River seven hours ago.

“You know that stuff will rot your insides.” Aunt June shut the window.

I took that as the end of the conversation, and instead of going for the lemonade, I took a big drink from the hose. My phone chimed a few texts. I did not look at them.

Inside the house, I sat down with Aunt June, who had poured me a lemonade anyway. I sipped from the edge of the cool glass. The tartness puckered my lips. “That’s pretty sour.”

“The more sour the better. I’ve taken to only adding a teaspoon of sugar to the batch. Plus, I wasn’t born yesterday. You and sugar are a bad combo.” She mimicked a sci-fi laser gun, pointing everywhere—ceiling, walls, floor. “Pew, pew, pew!”

Did she think I was still five years old? “Have you seen Garrett lately?”

My phone chimed another text. I resisted again.

“He gets off work at the plant at seven, should be home any minute. I told him you were here—and that you’re staying in his room, so he should scrap any secret plans he may have to move home.”

Garrett was the last person to move home. “They made him foreman, right?”

“Youngest ever. They call him a plant prodigy.”

“A high honor.”

She grinned like she knew it was inane. “Proud mama here.”

Really, she should be. Garrett was top notch. Valedictorian, all-around athlete, never got a speeding ticket, never ran shirtless covered in blue paint across the football field during homecoming to get a certain girl’s attention. Garrett. The guy I’d been compared to all my life. Why can’t Jeremy be more like Garrett? They’d whispered, but I’d heard.

But I couldn’t hate him. He was too cool to even be jealous of.

“You’d better look at your texts. They might be from your mother. I told her you were here and that you’d been to see Danica Denton.”

My eyes involuntarily shut. I scratched the side of my nose, fighting to keep control. “You told her?” I said, opening my eyes. “And what did she say?”

“Check your texts, sonny boy, and see.”

Nice. This was just the type of thing that happened when a person returned to Wilder River. The rumor mill ground my life like so much grist within moments of my arrival.

The front door banged open. Garrett strode in, came straight to me at the kitchen counter, and yanked me into a bear hug. “Dude! You’re here! How long? We’re going to have the best time!”

I did not check the texts.