Page 3

CHAPTER 3

CASPIAN

I zip up my suitcase, the sound echoing in the empty hotel room. My fingers linger on the cool metal and heat creeps up my spine as memories from two nights ago flood back.

The mysterious stranger’s touch still burns on my skin, phantom kisses trailing down my neck. I close my eyes, reliving the intensity, the raw connection that sparked between us. Who was he? Why did I agree to keep it anonymous?

Way to go, Caspian. Have the hottest night of your life and fail to get a number. Or a name. Smooth.

But even as I berate myself, I can’t shake the feeling something has shifted. There was something…different about him. Something that made my heart race in a way it never has before.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. No point thinking about it or wishing for a repeat. The guy was probably not even local. Besides, I have a new life to start.

I had one goal that night. Have fun and get a good dicking. I got both.

I pat my pocket for my wallet, and when I get it out, my gaze falls on the tip of the worn photo tucked into it—Mom smiling brightly in front of Special Blend, the coffee shop on Maple Street that, all these years later, I’m about to take over and make mine. Her voice echoes in my mind, warm and wistful, as she described her hometown.

“Oh, honey, you would love it there,” she’d say, eyes twinkling. “The way the leaves change in the fall, like the whole world’s on fire. And in winter? It’s like stepping into a snow globe.”

She always described Maplewood as a haven for queer people. A place where everyone knows everyone and you’re accepted no matter who you are. When I asked her why she never went back to Maplewood, all she ever said was she didn’t have family there anymore, so there was no one to go back to.

A lump forms in my throat, grief mingling with anticipation. “I wish you could see me now, Mom,” I whisper. “I’m finally doing it. I’m going to Maplewood.”

I zip up my jacket, the chill of Vermont already seeping into my bones. But there’s warmth in my chest, a spark of hope igniting as I think about the coffee shop waiting for me, the new life I’m about to build.

“Alright, Maplewood,” I say, hefting my bags. “Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me.”

My car hums along the winding Vermont roads, a stark contrast to the gridlocked streets of Phoenix I’ve left behind. Snow-capped mountains loom in the distance, their peaks piercing a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at.

My GPS chirps, alerting me to an upcoming turn. As I navigate the car around a bend, my heart does a little flip. A wooden sign appears, dusted with fresh snow: Welcome to Maplewood: Vermont’s Queerest Town .

The town unfolds before me like a postcard come to life. Charming storefronts line Maple Street, their windows frosted and twinkling with fairy lights. People bundled in colorful scarves and hats stroll along the sidewalks, greeting each other with warm smiles.

I slow the car, drinking in every detail. “This is…wow. It’s like I’ve driven straight into a Hallmark movie.”

A group of kids dash past, laughing as they pelt each other with snowballs. The sound of their joy is infectious.

“No way this is real,” I muse, parking the car to take it all in. “Where are the grumpy people? The honking horns? The soul-crushing rush hour traffic?”

As if on cue, an elderly woman with white hair and bright-blue eyes notices me and waves, her smile radiating warmth even from a distance.

“Well, hello there, young man!” she calls out. “You look a bit lost. New in town?”

I roll down the window, grateful for the friendly face. “That obvious, huh? I’m Caspian. Just moved here from Phoenix.”

“Oh my, that’s quite a change! I’m Rae. Welcome to Maplewood, dear. You’re in for a treat—we’re gearing up for our Winter Wishes Festival.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Winter Wishes Festival? That sounds…magical.”

Rae beams. “Oh, it is! There’s ice sculpting, snowman-building contests, and the most delightful Vermont food you’ve ever tasted. But if you ask me, the highlight is the Rocktogenarians gig.”

“The Rock…what?”

She leans over and pats my arm. “We’re the best rock band in the state, and that’s all you need to know.”

I laugh because I can’t get a word in as Rae chatters on about the festival.

A mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles inside me. This small town is so different from the bustling city life I’m used to. But even though I’ve only just arrived, there’s something about its charm, the genuine warmth of its people, that makes me feel…hopeful.

“You know what, Rae? I can’t wait to experience it all. Make sure to save me a spot on the front row of your gig. I’ll be cheering you on.”

With wishes for a Happy New Year, Rae goes on about her day, and I pull back onto the road toward my new home, wondering if Mom was wrong. Maybe there is something to come back here for, even if it’s just the people.

As I pull up to my new duplex, a woman with a bright-red scarf waves enthusiastically from the sidewalk. That must be Grace, my Realtor.

I hop out of the car, my breath visible in the chilly air.

“Caspian!” she calls out, striding over with a folder tucked under her arm. “Welcome to your new home!”

I grin, extending my hand. “Grace, it’s great to finally meet you in person!”

She shakes my hand firmly. “The pleasure’s all mine. I hope the drive from Phoenix wasn’t too treacherous?”

“Only almost died twice,” I say, winking. “But the scenery made up for it.”

Grace laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’m glad you made it in one piece. Here are your keys,” she says, fishing them out of her pocket. “To both the duplex and the coffee shop.”

I take them, feeling a rush of excitement. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help, Grace. Finding a place to live and a spot for my business? You’re a miracle worker.”

“Oh, hush,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “It was my pleasure. Maplewood can always use more young energy like yours. Now, let’s get you settled in.”

I pop the trunk of my car, revealing a jumble of suitcases and shopping bags. “I may have gone a little overboard when I stopped in Buffalo. They had the cutest farmer and crafts market,” I admit sheepishly.

Grace chuckles. “I think you’ll fit right into Maplewood, honey.”

As I start unloading, a gust of wind whips through, making me shiver. “Jeez, it’s like the Arctic out here,” I mutter, my teeth chattering.

“You’ll get used to it,” Grace assures me, grabbing a bag to help. “Though you might want to invest in a proper winter coat.”

I laugh, looking down at my light jacket. “What, this isn’t enough?”

We make quick work of unloading, our breath puffing out in little clouds as we carry everything to the front door. Despite the cold, a warmth spreads through me. This is really happening. I’m starting my new life right here in this charming little town.

“Well, Caspian,” Grace says as we set down the last of my belongings. “Welcome home. I have a feeling you’re going to love it here.”

I take a deep breath, looking at my new front door. “You know what, Grace? I think you might be right.”

I turn the key in the lock, the click echoing in the crisp air, and push open the door. A warm air greets me, along with the faint aroma of pine-scented cleaner. I step inside, my eyes widening as I take in my new home.

“Holy crap,” I breathe, dropping my bags just inside the entryway. “This is way cozier than I imagined.”

“The owner did renovations recently, so everything here has a brand-new warranty. Like I said in our previous call, your neighbor has the garage as part of his lease agreement, but I’m sure you could work something out for the winter months. If you have any problems, just give me a call, all right?”

“Thank you, Grace.”

“Now, I promised my little girl I’d take her ice skating, and I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late. Let me know when you open your coffee shop because this momma has been without a decent cup of joe since before Christmas.”

I laugh. “If you had time to wait, I’d unpack my coffee maker and make you my special blend.”

“Another time, honey. You settle in first.”

Grace kisses my cheek and heads out the door.

The living room stretches before me, all warm wood floors and soft cream-colored walls. A stone fireplace dominates one wall, and I can already picture myself curled up in front of it with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Maybe I’ll even learn to make s’mores without setting anything on fire this time.

I wander farther in, and as I explore, my mind races with decoration ideas. I could put a reading nook by the window and maybe some funky art on the wall. Oh! And fairy lights. Definitely need fairy lights.

I pause in the kitchen, admiring the gleaming countertops and modern appliances. “Well, hello there, sexy fridge. You and I are going to be best friends.”

A thought occurs to me, and I press my ear against the wall separating my unit from my neighbor’s. It’s quiet. Maybe my new neighbor is out.

I wonder what they’re like.

Perhaps they’re a charming guy with a twinkle in his eye. Or a delightful granny with a penchant for cookies. Or, gasp , could they be a stealthy secret agent in disguise?

“Chill out, Caspian. They’re likely just your run-of-the-mill neighbor. But hey, having a buddy next door would be pretty cool!”

I lean against the kitchen counter, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in my chest. “Well, mysterious neighbor,” I say to the wall, “I hope you’re ready for some company. Because ready or not, Caspian Lane has arrived in Maplewood.”

My phone dings with a message from the moving company. They’ll be here with my stuff in a couple of hours, so I guess I have time to check out my new kingdom and do some grocery shopping.

The brisk Vermont air nips at my cheeks as I step outside, but I barely notice. My mind buzzes with anticipation about the coffee shop. I’ve only seen photos online, but in a few minutes, I’ll be standing inside my very own business.

“Please don’t be a total dump,” I mutter, climbing into my car. “Or haunted. Actually, a haunted coffee shop could be cool. We could do ghost-themed lattes!”

As I drive through Maplewood’s quaint streets, my palms sweat. What if I hate it? What if it’s a mistake? What if— no, stop it, Caspian. Positive vibes only.

I park in front of a charming storefront with large windows and a wooden sign that says Special Blend and take a deep breath.

The coffee shop is sandwiched between The Honey Spot and The Wild Palette, a honey store and a craft store, respectively. I already can’t wait to meet my neighbors. But first…

“Moment of truth,” I breathe out, stepping out of the car.

My heart races as I unlock the door and step inside. The bell above the door chimes, and even though the coffee shop closed before Christmas, I’m greeted by the scent of coffee.

“Oh. My. God.” I spin, taking it all in. “It’s perfect!”

The space is cozy yet open, with exposed brick walls and warm wooden floors. There’s a long counter perfect for displaying pastries, and I can already envision where I’ll put my espresso machine.

“This is really happening,” I say, my voice echoing in the empty shop. “I’m actually doing this.”

Excitement bubbling over, I plop down at one of the small tables and pull out my notebook. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here,” I mutter, flipping through pages of ideas and sketches.

An hour later, I have two lists. One contains the things needed to get the coffee shop ready for business, and the other is a grocery list to experiment with some scone recipes at home.

I lock the place up later than expected and rush back to my new home, managing to arrive just as the moving van parks up by the driveway.

I practically bounce as I dash out of the car to greet the guys who helped me pack the van a week ago.

“Hey! Welcome to Vermont.”

The taller one nods, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion at my palpable excitement. “Where do you want us to start, boss?”

“Oh, right!” I laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Let’s tackle the living room first. I’ve got a vision! Let me open the door for you and get my suitcases out of the way.”

As they start unloading, I find myself slipping into director mode. “The couch goes there—no, a little to the left. Perfect! Now, let’s get that bookcase by the window.”

With each piece of furniture finding its place, the empty shell of the duplex starts to feel like home.

The armchair where I’ll curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa on chilly nights. The rug that ties the whole room together. It’s perfect.

A warm feeling spreads through my chest as I arrange throw pillows on the couch. This is really happening. I’m really here.

“Hey, where do you want these boxes labeled Mom’s Stuff ?” one of the movers calls out.

I pause, my throat tightening for a moment. “Oh, um, just put those in the spare room for now, please. I’ll go through them later.”

As the last box is brought in and the movers depart with a friendly wave, I find myself standing alone in my new living room. The space is a mix of organized chaos and half-arranged furniture, but it’s mine. All mine.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let the reality of the moment wash over me. When I open them, I smile.

“Well, Caspian,” I say to myself, “welcome home.”

I flop onto the couch, stretching out and reveling in the feeling of possibility that permeates the air.

“Mom,” I whisper, looking out the window into the now-dark sky, “I think I’m going to like it here. I hope I make you proud.”