Back In Bloom
The last time Lily Hart saw Caleb Mercer, he was fifteen and wearing a backward baseball cap, swearing he’d come back to their tiny hometown “famous or dead.”
That was ten years ago. He wasn’t famous, and, thank God, he wasn’t dead—he was just standing in front of her in the parking lot of Maplewood’s only grocery store, looking like someone had hit the slow-motion button on her entire life.
“Lily?” he asked, voice rougher now, deeper.
She blinked at him, feeling like the bag of oranges she was holding might crash through the earth. “Caleb?”
He grinned, and it was like nothing had changed. Except it had—he had. Broader shoulders. Scruff along his jaw. And a look in his eyes that she didn’t remember from when they were kids.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, setting her groceries in the trunk. “What happened to moving to L.A. and starting a band?”
He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Turns out you need more than a guitar and bad poetry.”
She smiled, heart hammering for reasons she didn’t want to unpack.
“You sticking around?” she asked.
Caleb shrugged. “Maybe. Depends if there’s a reason to stay.”
He said it lightly, but his gaze lingered on her a beat too long. Lily looked away, cheeks burning.
Old Roots
They fell back into an easy rhythm almost immediately. Caleb started hanging around town, helping at the farmers’ market, coaching Little League like his older brother used to.
And somehow, he and Lily kept ending up in the same places—movie nights in the town square, bonfires at Miller’s Field, coffee at the café that still used the same chipped mugs.
One night, after a too-long game of trivia at the Rusty Anchor Bar (they lost spectacularly), Caleb walked her to her car.
The air was warm and heavy with summer, and Lily could smell the faint hint of rain coming.
“So,” Caleb said, leaning against the door. “You ever think about leaving Maplewood?”
She shrugged. “I used to. But then I realized I kinda like it here.”
He smiled, slow and lazy. “Yeah. I think I get it now.”
They stood there for a moment, the unspoken stretching between them.
“You’re different,” Lily said, surprising herself.
Caleb tilted his head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “In a good way.”
He took a small step closer. Close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his lashes framed them.
“Still the same where it counts,” he said. “At least, I hope so.”
Her heart thudded.
“You are,” she said.
And for once, Lily didn’t overthink it. She didn’t run or make a joke or look away.
She leaned in.
And so did he.
Bloom Again
The kiss wasn’t perfect—it was a little clumsy, a little rushed, like they were both too excited to get it right. But it felt perfect.
Like coming home after being lost for a long, long time.
When they broke apart, Caleb rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”
She laughed, breathless. “You could’ve called.”
He grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Above them, the first few drops of rain started to fall. But neither of them moved.
After all, some things—some people—are worth standing in the rain for.