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“We’re fully booked up this week, so that’s nice.

And I finished the bookshelf I started last month.

I put it in the guest room, so you’ll see it while you’re here.

” He’s a talented woodworker. His hands, and the corded forearms on display with the sleeves of his plaid shirt rolled up, claim my attention.

During my years playing professional football, I was in countless locker rooms, saw a ton of bodies, but no one has ever captured my attention like Trevor.

When he took off his shirt the first day of our group vacation to Italy in July, I nearly swallowed my tongue.

He’s built. And I started noticing him in a way that I hadn’t before. Or, hadn’t let myself notice.

But he’s my oldest friend and my best friend. I don’t want to do anything that could mess that up.

Clearing my throat, I open my calendar app. “So, the event is the second Saturday in October?”

“Yeah.”

I note it. “I could come up the Saturday before it, and spend a week talking to people, doing research.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “A whole week?”

“Sure. My encounter with Mabel started off all the cryptid stuff for me. It’s about time I do a full episode on her.

” Saying goodbye to playing football wasn’t easy, but stepping into my cryptid lore podcast, which allows me to embrace my other passion, has helped the transition to life away from the field.

“I’ll do one on Mabel, and if there are enough stories of other encounters, like Agnes and the others have had, I’ll do a second episode focusing on those, and document the investigation.

I can stay for as long as you’ll let me.

Let’s plan on two weeks, could be less, depending on what we find. ”

Trevor brings the phone close enough to his face that I can make out a small crumb at the corner of his mouth.

I’m sure it’s left over from his afternoon pastry break.

And I wonder what sweet treat he had today.

The tip of my tongue slides over the same spot on my own lips as if I could somehow taste it.

“What should the event entail?” The smooth cadence of his voice shakes me out of daydreams of powdered sugar and flaky crusts on delectable lips. “I need to give a general outline to the Halloween festival committee and we need to start advertising as soon as possible.”

I give myself an internal shake and focus on the business at hand.

Ideas for how to do a search on Cryptid Night pop into my head.

“We’ll spend the week getting stories. Then, the night of the event, we can start with a campfire, food, and then spread out in the woods and look for signs of cryptids.

I’ll bring my equipment and send you a list of suggestions if people want to bring their own.

At the end of the night, everyone meets up and shares their findings.

I’ll analyze any evidence over the next week, maybe send whatever samples we find to a local vet, and we’ll release the results when the episode airs. ”

“I’m glad we have you. Because I’m totally out of my depth with this.” He drags a hand through his hair and his shoulders bunch. “Agnes just sprang this on me, and…” he clamps his mouth shut and his eyes round with guilt.

Chuckling, I hold up my hand to stop him from feeling like he has to explain himself. “Dude, don’t worry. I know my aunt can be a force of nature.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles. “Thanks. You sure you have time to do this?”

“Definitely. I was planning on doing research on a few new legends in October and putting together my travel plans for next year.” A buzz of anticipation zips through me. It’s the same buzz I get when I start a new project, but this time there’s an added tingle that flutters in my stomach.

“You can do that here. If you want. You can record in my office or one of the other rooms.”

It’s been years since I’ve been to his house. Twenty-five years since I left Maplewood at seventeen. It’s long past time for me to go back. The best thing about Maplewood was Trevor.

The tingle in my gut expands until I feel lightheaded. “Can’t wait.”

From the kitchen, Charlie’s voice rises and falls as he talks to my dog.

Trevor looks up at something over the top of his screen, nods, then returns his attention to me. “I have to go. The check-in kiosk is acting up.”

“Go ahead. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

He nods, waves, and reaches toward the screen.

I know he’s going for the button to end the chat, but for a second it’s like he’s reaching for me.

I hold my breath, and I swear I can feel the soft touch of his fingertip against my cheek, but it’s only wishful thinking.

The video ends and I sit staring at the screen, a hollowness that wasn’t there before carving deep in my chest.

Charlie wanders in, carrying two beers, with Hades trotting at his side. “Success, he likes the peanut butter cookie. I left a small bag of them on the counter. They’re labeled so you won’t grab them for yourself by mistake.”

“Thanks.” I take the offered bottle. “Remember that time we tasted a dog biscuit to see what it was like? You were, what, six?”

“And you were thirteen. And the biscuit was awful.” Laughing, he leans his hip on my desk. “So, you’re going to Maplewood?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive up the first Saturday in October. Spend the week doing research, then do the cryptid event the following Saturday. Maybe stay longer. Agnes isn’t someone who gets easily spooked, so I want to figure out what’s going on.”

He takes a pull of his beer. “Maybe you’ll see Mabel again. It’s not fair that you had two sightings of her when we lived there, and I never had any.”

Sharing my Mabel stories with him and Trevor sparked my love of storytelling. “You should come up with me.”

“Can’t. We’re too busy at the bakery. Maybe we can take a long weekend there next spring. But you could bring me back some maple syrup, and more of those maple cookies Agnes sent at Christmas.”

Making a mental note to pick up both, I tip my bottle to him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He claps me on the shoulder. Though he’s seven years younger than me, we’ve always been close. “It’ll be good for you to spend time with Trevor.”

“Yeah. Good.” More than good. It’ll be the most uninterrupted time we’ve had together in over two decades. No other friends around, aside from those that live in Maplewood. I’ll be staying with him. In his house. Just the two of us.

The flutter in my stomach makes another appearance when I think about Trevor and the upcoming trip. It’s like when I’d step onto a football field for a big game or when I embark on a new cryptid investigation. Anticipation, nerves, and excitement. Only this time it’s bigger, and brighter.

I don’t want to let myself dwell on why that is, or what it means.