I reached up high, standing on my tiptoes as I strained to pluck a mottled leaf from the small maple tree above me. Crisp air filled my lungs as the leaf loosened with the tiniest snap.

It was a good one. One of the best I’d found this season. I knew I could try to paint it for years and never get it as perfect.

I spun around to face Emmett and Meredith, holding the single leaf toward them. Meredith had one eyebrow cocked and a hand on her hip, but Emmett just nodded. He already knew to expect this from me.

“There,” I said, beaming at them. “See that? Reddish tips and that beautiful yellow? That’s all the proof you need that fall is here.”

Meredith rolled her eyes, waving me off before turning away and taking another sip of coffee from her paper cup.

“Devin, you act like you’ve never seen autumn leaves before. We know it’s fall. People already consumed their weight in pumpkin spice lattes since the first week of September hit, anyway.”

“I’m fully aware that I’m cheesy as hell and overly sentimental. But tell me this damn leaf isn’t beautiful and I’ll stop.”

I tucked the leaf into the breast pocket of my shirt. We started slowly ambling down the wide cobblestone walkway again, the glow of the lamp posts starting to brighten as the last light of the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Restaurants around us were full of families and couples eating dinner, and the sidewalk scattered with people shopping, talking, and hanging out on the benches.

“Sure, fine, the leaf is nice,” Meredith said. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject away from your dating life and onto the pretty autumn leaves.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said. “But who wants to talk about my utter lack of a sex life when you could talk about the intricate veins of a maple leaf?”

“We could talk about the intricate veins of something else if you wanted to,” Meredith said.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said. But I was used to it. Meredith loved to shock, and she giggled at my reaction.

“There’s no use, Meredith,” Emmett said. “He’s always been like this. My little brother doesn’t let a season go by without heralding it like some kind of miracle.”

“It is a small miracle, every time,” I said to Emmett, giving him a little backhanded slap on the shoulder. “I’m thirty years old now, which means I’ve got less than sixty more autumns to experience if I’m lucky. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to celebrate that. Don’t be a Grinch.”

Finally, Emmett cracked a smile, his normally rugged face softening a little.

We walked along the downtown streets of Rose Falls all the time, but it always felt best at this time of year. It wasn’t a “downtown” in the traditional sense of the word—Rose Falls was way too small of a town to have anything like skyscrapers. We were in the middle of Upstate New York, certainly far away from anything resembling a big city.

But tonight we were in the Promenade, which was the closest we got to a “downtown.” The Promenade was the hub of the town, and to be honest, I couldn’t imagine anywhere in the world that would be better in the fall. Sure, it consisted of only a few blocks of shops, restaurants, and bars—but the cobblestone streets, lined with trees and flowery shrubs, began to come to life with vibrant reds and oranges and yellows in late September. The trees along the streets already shone all year, with twinkle lights always wrapped around their bases and big branches, but it felt like they were made for this time of year.

It would have been the perfect place to hold someone’s hand, to steal a kiss, to be anything but single. And I was single, for yet another season. I knew I should just swallow my pride and start dating again, but every time I tried I found nothing but disappointment.

“…Don’t you think he was sexy, Devin?” Meredith was saying.

“Huh?” I said, broken from my spell.

She laughed. “Told you so,” she said to Emmett. “Devin was too lost in his search for ‘Proving Autumn Is Here’ to even listen to what we were saying.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said. “I was trying to figure out if I’d rather have my students paint fall leaves like I do every year, or if I should just let them choose their own landscape.”

“You’re the only person I know who gets excited about seeing twenty-two paintings of fall leaves painted by high school students,” Emmett said, pausing for a moment to study the display in the window of Bluebell Books.

I shrugged. “My high school students tend to be good painters. Whether that’s from the excellent art teacher they have, or from their own talent, we may never know.”

“You know what you should make your students paint? Beautiful antique violins. They’re also gorgeous hues of gold, red, and brown, just like your precious fall leaves. Maybe a viola, or a cello? I think your students would love that.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at Meredith. “Nice try, Ms. Malone. Although I admit… that probably would be a good still life painting.”

Meredith and I were both teachers at Rose Falls High School. I taught art and she taught orchestra, so a good amount of our students overlapped. Arts were important in Rose Falls—the majority of the town’s population came from Rosecrest University, which was one of the country’s top arts and performing universities. It attracted professors, instructors, and artistic talent from all over the world.

And those artists’ children mostly ended up at Rose Falls High, where I taught them how to paint and Meredith taught them the joys of music.

“Anyway, what I was saying before when you were so wrapped up in the gentle amber glow of the leaves….” Meredith said, raising her eyebrows at me.

I nodded. “Yes?”

“…The new guy at the class tonight.”

“Oh, right,” I said.

“What did you think of him?”

I shrugged. “He certainly was… talented at drawing.”

“I’m not talking about his drawing skills, Dev.”

I shot Meredith a look. We were walking back from the figure drawing class I taught some nights in the Promenade. It was volunteer work, but the classes were offered on a donation basis, so that anyone could learn. All the proceeds went to a local shelter, and I got to teach people who would normally never be able to afford art classes.

Tonight Meredith and Emmett had tagged along with me. There had also been a new guy there that we’d never seen. “What was his name?” I asked.

“His name was Angelo. And I think you should ask him on a date,” Meredith said.

“He really was attractive,” Emmett said, smiling. “I don’t usually even go for muscled-out guys like that, but he had the hot, brilliant artist thing going for him, too.”

I let out a long breath as we approached the quieter streets in my neighborhood. Someone must have been grilling nearby, and the faint scent of charcoal filled the air.

“I guess he was good looking,” I said with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m paying attention to how people look when I’m teaching, though. I’m pretty much just looking at their drawings. People are nervous enough on nights when we draw nude models, they don’t need their teacher ogling them.”

We’d had a nude model that night in drawing class, and I had been more occupied with making sure everyone was comfortable than paying any attention to this new guy. Angelo, or whatever his name was.

“I know you don’t ever want to cross a line when it comes to dating people who take your night classes,” Meredith said, “but Angelo clearly was interested. I saw how he was talking to you afterward.”

“He just wanted to thank me for the class.”

“And also ask for your number,” Meredith said, nudging me.

“A lot of students ask for my number. They think I have ‘connections in the art industry’ or something when really I’m just a high school art teacher.”

“It’s okay, Devin, you can admit it when someone is flirting with you.”

“He did invite me to go ‘see his sculpture garden,’ whatever that is,” I said.

Emmett barked out a short laugh. “That means he wants you to see his sculpted ass when he brings you back to his garden of hot and heavy pounding.”

“Jesus, Emmett,” I said, making a mock-horrified face at him. “Even if you weren’t my brother, please feel free not to refer to sex as ‘hot and heavy pounding’ ever again.”

Emmett shrugged. “Just sayin’. Meredith’s right, Angelo seemed interested.”

“Well, I’m not interested,” I said. “Just because I’ve been single too long doesn’t mean I’m gonna go for the first guy who shows interest in me.”

Meredith groaned. “Give me a break. He’s not even close to the only guy who has shown interest. You’re so picky I have a hard time even believing you when you say you’re trying to date again.”

I hitched one shoulder up in a shrug. “Better picky than unhappy.”

* * *

We reached my neighborhood and rounded the corner onto my quiet street. Porch lights illuminated the small houses, and giant trees rose up above the road. In June, the block often glittered with the flickering glow of fireflies, but by September those days were mostly over.

“Ooh, speaking of hot and heavy pounding,” Meredith said, pointing down the street across the block, “who is the hottie moving into the Andersons’ old house?”

I looked down the street and caught the silhouette of a man unloading boxes from a pickup truck. He disappeared into the house, the front door shutting behind him.

“Wow, somebody finally moved in there?” Emmett said. “Didn’t the Andersons move out last summer? The house was already empty by the Fourth of July party you had last year.”

I nodded, slowing down my stride a little and peering over as the man came back out again, hoisting another huge box into his arms. I couldn’t get a good look at him yet—it was fully dark outside now, and the big tree in front of his house cast him in shadow.

“Yeah,” I said, “The house has been empty for what feels like forever.” I turned back to Emmett and Meredith. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m gonna go over and talk to him. Welcome him to the neighborhood, and maybe see if he needs any help.”

Meredith smiled, a twinkle in her eyes. “Of course. I’ll see you Monday,” she said. I hugged them both before they set off down the street, toward their own houses a few more blocks down the road.

I crossed over to the other side of my block.

As I approached, he was hunched over the bed of the truck, leaning forward and reaching for a box right in the center of the bed. He grunted, straining forward, and I watched as the hem of his shirt rode up a little, exposing the small of his back. For a moment I let my eyes roam, seeing at close range the gentle curves of his tight muscles. They were nothing like Angelo’s, the guy at the drawing class—that guy had looked like he spent every waking moment at the gym, with almost cartoonish-tanned muscles.

But this man… he just looked strong. Built, but not excessive. And when he finally straightened out, still facing the opposite direction, I got a sense of his height, too. He had to be at least six foot three. Big and toned, almost like he could be a football player.

He paused for a moment reaching back to rub his hand over his shoulder like it was sore.

“Hi, there,” I offered, taking a step forward. “Can I give you a hand with anything?”

He turned quickly, clearly surprised to hear someone behind him.

“No, thank you, I think I’m fine—” he started to say but stopped short as he met my eyes.

A look of shock, then searching, then recognition appeared on his face. It only took me a split second to realize why.

Because it was probably the exact same look that I had on my own.

“Devin,” he said, in his soft, low rumble, his eyes traveling over my face.

“Russ?” I whispered, peering up at him. I felt like I’d suddenly been displaced like my world had shifted on its axis. I stepped back, reaching out to lean a hand on the large tree trunk at my side, steadying myself.

“You’re….”

I was looking right into the eyes of Russ Dalton. I’d honestly thought I might never see my childhood best friend again, but there he was, standing right in front of me, on my own street.

Scenes flashed through my mind: saving worms on the sidewalk after a rainstorm when Russ and I were five years old. Playing cards with him on my family’s back deck when we were ten. When he first went on a date with a girl, and I had felt a bittersweet mix of envy and pride.

I remembered distinctly what his body had looked like as he swam in the lake with me during summer, the droplets of water falling against his collarbone, how his swim trunks had clung to his muscles, tight and perfect. I’d thought about him in ways that I definitely shouldn’t have. He’d been the object of all my fantasies.

And then it all ended. We’d slowly grown apart through college when he joined the football team and I was in quirky art classes. And right at the start of our adult lives, he’d stopped talking to me altogether.

It had almost been a decade.

Russ had moved far away, across the country to California, and became engaged to a woman I’d only met twice. Nobody really ever came back to Rose Falls after moving to better and bigger cities, and I was sure I wouldn’t see him again.

It was like no time had passed at all, but somehow we were men now, complete with whole lives under our belts. All of these memories flooded through me in an instant, amounting to emotions I had no idea how to express.

So instead, all I could muster was a feeble, “You’re… here?”

Russ took a step forward, and as he came a little closer to me he moved out of the shadow, his face illuminated by the nearby streetlamp. I could see that he was just as beautiful as he’d always been, big brown eyes staring down at me. He’d always had such a kindness to his eyes, setting him apart from the other jocks he’d hung out with in college. And he still had the same two freckles under his left eyelashes—I’d always called them “beauty marks,” but he’d insisted on “freckles.”

Holy shit, Russ was really back.

He rested a hand lightly on my shoulder, and it brought me right back down to earth.

“I’m here. Are you ok, Dev? You… look like you’re about ready to pass out,” he said. “Did you drink a lot tonight?”

I shook my head quickly, realizing how out of it I must have looked. “No. No alcohol. I don’t drink if I’m teaching.”

He nodded, slowly slipping his hand from my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re teaching, Devin. You always were good at it.”

I missed his touch instantly. My initial shock had dissipated, replaced by a primal need to feel him again. I let my hand drop from the tree, brushing it off on the side of my jeans. Russ’ eyes trailed across my face as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. As if he didn’t know what would be appropriate.

“C’mere,” I said. I stepped forward and closed the distance between us, pulling him into a tight hug.

He sighed when I embraced him like he’d been holding his breath. His body was warm, like a big blanket draping over me. I leaned into him, my arms wrapped around his back, tightening the hug. He smelled woodsy and clean, and though I knew it was farfetched, I swore he smelled just like he used to.

Russ had been my best friend, my first unrequited love, and really, my only true heartbreak. He was straight and had only ever wanted to be my friend. But I had basically fallen in love with him regardless.

The last time he’d hugged me like this was right before he left Rose Falls, eight years ago. And if he’d been nervous to see me again now, it was probably because things had ended badly when he left Rose Falls—he’d left me in the lurch, scrambling. But I’d understood why he made the choices he made. I’d tried to forgive him long ago.

But seeing him was a little bit like opening a dusty box that I hadn’t seen in years, and remembering all of the joyful and painful things inside.

When he pulled away he had a strange look on his face. “How did you—ah… how did you find me, Devin? I only just got here and it’s like you appeared out of thin air.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” I turned and pointed across the street, up the block. “That’s my house, the third one up. Sunny yellow front door. I was just getting home and I wanted to come over and help the new neighbor.”

“Holy shit,” Russ said, a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face. “You live on my street?”

I arched my eyebrows. “Well, seeing as how I’ve lived here for five years now, I think it’s safe to say you live on my street.”

He finally cracked a smile, letting out a reserved but warm laugh. “You haven’t changed at all,” he said.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

His face relaxed slightly, and he reached back to rub the back of his neck. “It’s a good thing,” he said softly. There was a hint of sadness that appeared in his eyes as he looked at me, and there was so much I wanted to ask him. What had happened to him in recent years? Where was his wife? And what the hell brought him back to Rose Falls?

It was difficult not to pelt him with questions right away. I turned to his boxes and slapped my hand down on the top of one.

“I’ll help you bring in these last few boxes in exchange for one of those beers,” I said, nodding over at the six-pack in the back of the truck. “Deal?”

He nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. God, it’s been too long. I’ve got so much to tell you, Dev.”

I had to hear all of it—I’d been waiting almost a decade to hear what he had to say.