Page 4 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)

Her eyes widen in recognition, and she waves at me, her smile small and hesitant.

With one last glance in both directions, her car pulls out into the lane ahead of my truck.

I fight the urge to stare at her in her rearview mirror for the next three minutes before she slows and turns right into a small parking lot while I continue straight, heading to the gym.

I’m hoping my usual gym session will get the thought of Jules and our first encounter out of my head for at least a couple of hours.

With how small the town is, it’s easy to drive from one end to the other within a matter of a few minutes.

All of Maple Lake’s major retailers and businesses line the streets of downtown, including the pharmacy, coffee shop, grocery store, gas station, and the gym.

There was a movie theater that was once a hub of socialization for the teens, but I heard it was renovated for other purposes.

Besides the main businesses, the town also sports a store for seasonal clothing and equipment, as well as a gift shop geared to tourists.

I live on the outskirts of town in a little cabin, which I’m lucky to have found in such good condition.

The realtor had told me there were a few homes available in the area, but they had been left empty for quite some time.

People come to Maple Lake as tourists to hike or bike the trails and float down the river, but it’s very rare anyone moves here to stay long term.

Most are moving away to be closer to work in the city or in larger surrounding towns.

But, six months ago, I decided to move back to this town, having had enough of living the busy, stressful life away from it.

I checked out a few of the listed houses and picked this one almost instantly after my tour of the home.

For the first time since getting in my truck, I notice the radio is on.

It’s playing a country song with a melancholy tune, the man’s voice sounding lonely as he sings about being far from the one he loves.

His words say he’s feeling like he’s living someone else’s life and he desperately longs to be where he feels like himself again.

The song pulls at my heartstrings.

When I moved to Washington at fifteen, it was difficult, but I eventually made it my home.

Although we were never close, that’s where my family was.

I made new friends at school and joined the football team, forging quick relationships with the guys on the team.

I even had a girlfriend through Junior and Senior year, but I ended things with her the day before graduation.

We wanted different things in life, and I doubted she was going to make a long-distance relationship work with me.

She would see I wasn’t what she wanted, that I wasn’t the type of guy she would want down the road, so I ended it before she could.

I moved on, started college, and kept my mind busy with a heavy workload of classes.

Thinking back through my high school years, I can honestly say I had the best life a guy could ask for—sports, friends, and a relationship that meant everything to me at the time.

Well, almost everything I guess .

I never had great relationships with my mom and dad.

I always envied my friends when I saw their parents laughing with them at school pickups, or telling them they did a great job even when we lost a football game.

The friends I had in high school didn’t talk much about their parents, but I could see the love between them like it was a tangible thing.

My parents only ever found fault in me, letting me know the mistakes I made that cost us the game.

Even if we won, there was sure to be something I did wrong, and they’d let me know about it.

My grades were never good enough if they weren’t a perfect score, and I was forced to accept that I would never be able to meet their expected level of perfection.

Once I graduated high school and chose to go to college, I knew I couldn’t let them dictate what I did with the rest of my life.

They didn’t agree with my decision to become a teacher, pushing me instead to become a lawyer like my dad or an accountant like my mom.

But I couldn’t let that deter me from doing the one thing I knew I really wanted to do.

So I got my teaching degree and taught for a few years at a high school in Washington before deciding it would be best to put distance between me and my parents.

Even through college and after, they were still trying to manipulate my life, putting me down for the choices I’ve made and telling me I wouldn’t amount to anything by being a mere teacher.

Without the need to think it through, I inquired about open teaching positions in Maple Lake, and jumped through all the necessary hoops to be able to teach in Pennsylvania after teaching for five years in Washington.

I knew this is where I wanted to spend the rest of my life, so I did whatever it took to set down roots here.

The man’s deep country accent from the radio pulls me back to the present as the song continues to play quietly through the speakers. He’s pleading with someone, although I can’t tell who, to let him come home.

For a long time, I’ve felt like that man.

For years, I’ve been wishing I could go home, begging to feel whole again and to feel like I belong somewhere.

There’s a weightlessness in my chest as I continue my drive to the gym, and I revel in the realization that my wish has been granted.

I’ve finally come home to where I belong.