Page 9 of Easton

Ten minutes later, I’m driving around Cave Creek. I don’t even need GPS; I know this area as well as I do my own neighborhood.

After a few turns, I’m on the street where Easton’s house is, which thankfully happens to be barely inhabited.

As I drive slowly down the lane, I count only two other homes, and neither one is close to his property, which is at the end.

It’s not really a cul-de-sac, per se, but there is a bit of a turnaround. I circle around and come to a stop across the street from Easton’s house.

His place sits pretty far back from the road, which is good. It’s not like he’ll be able to see me out here, sort of stalking him at this point.

I breathe out a breath and kind of take it all in.

The house really is beautiful with its mustard-colored adobe exterior, dark wooden trim and beams, and clay tile roof.

The landscaping is pretty cool too. There are tons of small cacti and various other desert plants thoughtfully placed throughout his yard.

It’s funny ’cause when Easton and I were kids, we always used to talk about how we’d love to have a house like this.

And now he does.

Good for him.

As I sit idling, I start smiling. I truly am happy that Easton succeeded in something he’s always loved—hockey.

Okay, it’s probably time to go.

I mean, I’ve seen his house, so I know where he lives.

But for some reason, this isn’t enough.

I didn’t think I’d be up for something as bold as this so soon, but I am—I’m ready to see Easton in person.

Part of me is curious if he looks the same. In the hockey photos I found online, he certainly still appeared to be hot.

But there was always more to him than that. There was a certain kind of charisma about him. He was warm and engaging, and you just felt comfortable around him.

I wonder if he’s still like that.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I mutter.

God, I’m really talking to myself a lot lately. I know it’s because I’m nervous. Speaking my thoughts out loud sometimes calms me down.

I think it’s working today, but to be sure, I take a few sobering breaths.

Okay, good.

I’m ready.

After turning off my car, I get out, leaving my key fob and purse inside and keeping the car unlocked. It’s not like this is a high crime area, and besides, I’m only going to stop by and say hi.

Then I’ll be on my way.

If Easton questions how I know where he lives, I’ll just tell him the truth—that Madison is my friend, and she told me.

After crossing the street, I step onto his property and then walk up the driveway that leads to the front of his house.

Man, there are a million things running through my mind.

Things like…

---