Page 5 of Midnight Lessons

After we finish our food, we take a stroll, the streets lined with jack-o’-lanterns and faux cobwebs that make me chuckle. Midnight Falls has always had its charm, especially around Halloween. The town is always decked out in orange and black, with pumpkins grinning from every porch, but it gets extra cheerful around Halloween. Kids dash by, planning early trick-or-treat routes, while I wave to Ken Boyd from the hardware store. He still has that same lopsided grin.

“Good to have you back, Owen!” he calls out.

“Thanks, Ken. Good to be back,” I reply, the truth of those words settling deep in my chest.

As Mark and I part ways, his promise of “see you soon” lingering in the air, I’m struck by a profoundsense of purpose. Midnight Falls may be small, but it’s got a big heart. And mine beats right in sync with it.

Climbing into my car, I make the journey I’ve been dreading. A few minutes later, I pull into the driveway. I pause for a moment, staring at the house where I grew up. This place belongs to me now.

I take a deep breath, the crisp autumn air filling my lungs, grounding me in the present. The house stands stoic, its white paint a little more chipped, the shutters slightly askew but otherwise unchanged. It’s as if it's been holding its breath, waiting for my return. A pang of sadness hits me, sharp and sudden, as memories flood back—family dinners in the dining room, laughter echoing through the hall, and the warmth of the fireplace in the winter.

I glance at the house next door. Willow’s parents must be out—their car isn’t on the drive. Can’t say I’m not relieved—I’m not ready to face them yet.

Making my way up the path to the front door, I insert the key and grab the door handle. It's cold to the touch, a reminder of the empty house thatawaits me. The door creaks on its hinges as I push it open, echoing through the silent foyer.

I haven’t been able to face coming back here since my parents died, so everything is just as I remember it. The faded wallpaper, the worn-out rug in the hallway, even the old grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, keeping time as if nothing has changed.

Yet, everything has changed.

The house feels empty, devoid of the love and life that once filled it.

I walk through the rooms slowly, running my fingers over the furniture, each piece a relic of a past life. The living room is still cluttered with knick-knacks Mom collected over the years—porcelain figurines, framed family photos, and the quilt she made that still drapes over the back of the couch.

I pick up a photo of us from when I was a kid, all smiles and joy, oblivious to the way life would turn out.

I replace the photo and move to the kitchen, opening a window to let in some fresh air. Thescent of pumpkin spice from Willow’s bakery down the street wafts inside, blending with the ghostly aroma of Mom's homemade pies. I half-expect to see her standing by the stove, apron on, humming a tune. But, of course, she isn’t here.

Fighting back the grief, I head to my old room. It’s surprisingly well-kept, almost like a museum exhibit frozen in time. The posters of rock bands still cover the walls, my high school trophies line the shelves, and the bed with the same old comforter.

“Home sweet home,” I murmur, setting my laptop on the dresser.

Each item carries a memory, a piece of the puzzle that is me. I smile when I open a drawer and find fossils I amassed over the years as a kid. I run my fingers over an arrowhead, the smooth edges familiar and grounding.

Unzipping my bag, I unpack clothes, books, and other items I can’t live without. The rest of my stuff is in storage, to be collected once I work up the energy to decide what I’m doing with this place.

I pause, hands deep in the duffel, as my eyes land on the bottom of the bag. There it is, the tattered antique biology book with notes scribbled in the margins, a gift on my eighteenth birthday. She knew even then where my passions lay.

Willow.

My chest tightens. Everything about this place reminds me of her.

The memories are still painful. God, I was such a fucking idiot. Immature. Cocky. Arrogant. I thought I was invincible back then. I had the perfect girl, and I threw her away with my cruelty and carelessness.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the weight of the years and my mistakes pressing down on me.

Coming back to Midnight Falls was never in the plan. I left this place to chase dreams that didn’t quite pan out, to build a life that never felt right without Willow. But now I’m here, facing the ghosts of my past.

I glance out the window, watching the golden leaves fall, swirling in the wind like a dance. There’s a strange comfort in the familiarity of thistown, in the rhythm of life that seems to continue regardless of the changes and losses.

I stand and head back to the front door, needing some air to clear my thoughts. As I step outside, the distant laughter grows closer, and I see kids playing down the street like I used to with Willow. A small smile tugs at my lips. This is where I’m supposed to be, where I’ll find the piece of me that’s been missing all these years. Thewomanwho’s been missing.

The job offer in my hometown seemed like providence, but I also came back to make amends.

Time to stop running from the past, Owen.

“‘Bout time you showed your face around here,” a gravelly voice grumbles, startling me from my thoughts.

I turn to see Melvyn, our other neighbor, ambling up the driveway. He must be well into his seventies by now and was like a grandfather figure growing up.