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Story: Something Cryptid This Way Comes (Love in Maplewood #9)
brAM
The guest room has good acoustics. Everywhere I look, I see Trevor’s stamp in the furnishings and decor.
And not just in this room. The scent of his soap in the shower, the flavor of his preferred blend of coffee, the softness of the plaid shirt I borrowed against my skin. I’m surrounded by him, and I love it. It’s both thrilling and comforting.
My microphone is on and the podcast recording software is open.
The desk’s height is perfect and my chair is comfortable.
I glance at the icons of the video clips of people sharing their Mabel encounters, edited and ready to be inserted into the story.
I need to get back to work, but my thoughts keep drifting to Trevor.
I’ve been in Maplewood for over a week and I’m adjusting to life here with him so easily, it’s like we were made to live together. Thinking about that makes me want too much, and I don’t want to dwell on it. Not yet. Though, since our first kiss two days ago, I haven’t been able to stop.
Memories of times spent together keep popping into my thoughts.
The time I got the flu at an away game and Trevor had chicken noodle soup from the best restaurant in town sent to my hotel room, then insisted on staying on a video call with me, even while I slept, to make sure I was okay.
How he’d drop everything if I called, just to spend a few minutes with me…
and how I’d always do the same for him. Me planning our group vacations in places I knew he wanted to visit.
All those stories I’ve recorded just for him.
Each one adds to the realization that I’ve had feelings for Trevor for a very long time. Much longer than I'd realized.
The clock is ticking down on my podcast episode. I need to focus on Mabel. Trevor is working at the inn and brought both dogs with him so I can get the recording done in peace and quiet. The fact that he’s so thoughtful in considering what I needed somehow makes it easier to breathe.
It’s not like I don’t have support from friends and family, especially Charlie, but Trevor sees things others don’t.
He notices the little things, like making sure my favorite shaving cream is in the bathroom, or buying my dog a fancy bed, or sending me a hiking watch when I told him I was thinking about starting this podcast, before I had even left football.
I run my fingertip over the face of the watch.
It has GPS, can withstand below freezing temperatures, has solar charging capabilities, and a ton of other things one might need when out in the middle of nowhere.
The gift was far from little, but the pictures of the sunrise or of Agnes and the Rocktogenarians playing a gig, or a squirrel sprawled out on its belly that he texts because he knows I’ll like them, and the phone calls after every game mean just as much.
If not more. It’s how he watches over Agnes, how he looks out for his friends, and his commitment and love of this town that make it impossible not to have feelings for Trevor.
I look into the camera and press record.
“Welcome back to The Cryptid Corner. I’m Bram Macleod, and today we’re journeying to central Vermont to hear the story, the myth, the legend that is Mabel.
She’s a cryptid native to Maplewood, with stories going back decades, for more than a century.
People who have encountered her describe Mabel as a tall, thin being covered in leaves.
Some think she’s a nature goddess, others a guardian spirit of the forest, still others think she’s a person who embraced the wild life of being at one with nature, and more who believe Mabel is a cryptid.
I’m here to share their stories and my own. ”
I pause the recording to take a sip of water. Glancing at my notes, I ready for the next part.
“My mom, brother, and I moved to Maplewood when I was ten years old. The first week here, I hated it. I missed my friends and my dad and my neighborhood. I took off on my bike and ended up in the woods, sitting on a log, feeling upset and lonely and mad at the world. Then something in the trees moved, and everything else, the birds and crickets, grew silent.”
Another pause, so I can more easily slip in some sound effects and background music. On the tablet in front of me, I’ve sketched out where I’d like to insert photos and video I’ve taken of the forest to accompany my story.
“A figure peeked out at me from between the pine trees. She was tall—giant-like to my ten-year-old self—covered in leaves, with iridescent green skin and the clearest green eyes. We looked at each other and I stared, fascinated, for I don’t know how long.
I wasn’t scared. A sense that everything would be all right came over me.
As silently as she came, she retreated, then vanished.
I hopped on my bike and raced home as fast as I could.
When I got there, a kid from down the street knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to play soccer with him.
That day, I made my first friend in Maplewood.
His name is Trevor, and he’s still my best friend. ”
Trevor okayed including a photo of the two of us right here.
Alex sent me one he took of us at the investigation.
We look happy, sitting on that tree stump together, with the glow of the campfire warming us.
And knowing that night was what I’d call a turning point in our friendship, the realization that we both yearned for more, I really want to use it.
“The second time I saw Mabel was seven years later, right before I moved away from Maplewood, anxious about what the future would bring. Same place, same leafy figure. And seeing her, I got the feeling that, just like when I was ten and worried, things would work out.”
Some other things about that day, including my leaving Mabel a present, I’ve only shared with Trevor, and I’ll keep it that way.
“That’s enough about me. Now, I’m taking you back one hundred and twenty years to the first documented encounter with our mysterious forest creature…”
I keep talking and recording as shadows lengthen and shift and the sun moves across the sky.
Story after story, encounter after encounter, with photos and videos from my interviews, I do my best to bring the words to life.
As I work, I’m reminded of the books I’ve read that discuss the role and power of myth.
My encounter with Mabel opened up my world to so much, the search for cryptids, an interest in anthropology and archeology, and through it, I’ve gotten to meet a diverse range of people and visit amazing places. Doing this episode devoted to her feels like the most important one yet.
After saving the video, I stand and stretch.
The desire to see Trevor propels me down the stairs.
I shouldn’t bother him while he’s working, but I can at least get the dogs and give him a break.
My lips tingle with the memory of our kiss and I touch my fingers to them.
A shiver of want rolls through me. I want to kiss him, to feel him, so strong and familiar, in my arms again. I just want him, period.
We only planned on me staying for two weeks. So I should be heading home this weekend. But I’m not ready to go. I like being back in town and now that we’ve kissed and it’s opened up a whole new area, I really want to explore it and where that may lead.
Maybe I can cook him dinner and see if he won’t mind me staying longer. Show him some of my helpful qualities. The kitchen cabinets and the refrigerator are well stocked. I peer at the items and run through a mental list of things I could make.
I turn my head at the sound of the front door opening, followed by barks and nails clicking on the floor. Hades races into the kitchen and jumps on me. I crouch to pet him, and my excited dog bops Bandit in the face with his wagging tail. Unfazed, Bandit pushes in for his own pets.
Trevor walks into the room, wearing teal and navy plaid and dark jeans. His hair is mussed, but he’s smiling. “Hey.”
I stand, as Bandit trots toward Trevor and Hades heads for his water bowl. “How are things at the inn?”
“Busy. The last guest who came for Cryptid Night checked out today, I had two meetings with people looking to book our venue space, we had to inventory new toiletries, and I spent a while on social media liking and commenting posts last weekends’ guests tagged us in.
” He opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water, offering another one to me.
I take it, soaking up the feel of our fingers brushing. “Thanks again for keeping Hades with you.”
“He was fine. The dogs greeted the guests coming and going and were very popular.” Trevor twists open the cap and brings the bottle to his lips.
“I bet…” My mouth goes dry, my gaze glued to the column of his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple is mesmerizing as he guzzles the contents of the bottle.
He wipes a droplet of water clinging to his lip with the back of his hand and sets the bottle on the counter. “How was recording?”
I rip my gaze from Trevor’s mouth and focus on answering his question.
“I got through my whole script. Putting the rest of the episode together should take me another day, then I can upload it and it’ll be ready to air on Saturday.
” I suck in a shaky breath, because Trevor Casal drinking water is porn-worthy. “I was thinking I could make dinner.”
“Sure. I’m done for the night, so I’ll help. What do you want?”
You.
I push thoughts of dropping to my knees and taking him in my mouth from my mind. Dinner, I’m making dinner. “You haven’t had my pasta alla Bram .”
He folds his arms over his chest, muscles straining the fabric, and his mouth quirks to one side. “And what is that?”
“Spaghetti.” I pull a box of it from the cabinet. The tan package is decorated with an illustrated Italian flag.
“Just spaghetti?” The other side of his mouth lifts until I’m treated to a full-on amused smile.
“With sauce.”