Andrew Reynolds

Cedar Ridge – Late Afternoon

The air smells like warm pavement and motor oil, a familiar scent that clings to Andrew’s skin as he leans against the open hood of a ’67 Mustang, wiping grease from his hands. The Reynolds’ Garage lot is nearly empty, the late-afternoon sun casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. It’s a slow day—just how he likes it.

He takes a sip from the half-empty bottle of water beside him, dragging a hand through his curls. It’s been the same routine for years now—work, grab a drink at The Rusty Nail, maybe end the night by the lake if the mood strikes. Same town, same streets, same faces.

Until he sees someone who shouldn’t be here.

At first, it’s just movement across the street, a flash of someone stepping out of Maplewood Diner. He barely glances up—just another passerby, another day in Cedar Ridge. But then his brain catches up with his eyes.

It’s them.

CraveU user.

Andrew freezes. A slow, heavy breath pulls into his lungs, but it doesn’t quite make it out. His fingers tighten around the rag in his hand.

They’re standing in front of the diner, shifting their weight like they’re still trying to get used to being back. The late sunlight catches the way their eyes shine, the way they scan the street like they’re seeing it for the first time in years.

They look… different. Older, obviously. But it’s still them. The same person he once knew better than anyone—the same one he never quite got over.

His heart does this slow, sinking thing in his chest.

Seven years.

Seven goddamn years.

They hadn’t even told him they were coming back.

He swallows hard, every part of him suddenly too aware of how long it’s been. How much has changed. How much hasn’t.

Then, as if they feel him staring, they look up.

And just like that, the past crashes into the present.