Page 1 of Chasing Infinity

Chapter 1

Noah

Thunder rattles outside, making the frame of my car shake. The rain bombards the windows and I groan, pulling the edges of my flimsy pillow across my ears to drown it out. Shifting around in the backseat of the pathetic run-down car, I try to get comfortable. It takes great effort not to let my situation weigh me down too far.

My life is a shit show. Nothing about where I am right now would have been on my plan for my life. I never imagined the catalyst to bring me back to this godforsaken town would be my mother's funeral. But here we are. Life has a funny way of turning the tables around on you.

Almost ten years have passed since the last time I set foot in this town. While the threat of knowing I'd have to return at some point lingered in my mind like a foul odor, I generally did a fair job of keeping myself distracted. I was living in a happy little fantasy outside this picturesque place. Unfortunately, now that I'm back, the bubble has burst.

Willow Heights is where I was born, where I grew up, and where I crashed and burned. The residents of this town probably still walk around whispering my name like a legend. This place elicits too many memories for me to be comfortable hanging around for too long. But it's home. This is why I begrudgingly parked in front of Monty's Market & Pharmacy when I rolled up to the city limits last night. As I slowed to a stop, I attempted to deter myself from recalling when old Monty caught me buying a pack of condoms at fourteen. I was mortified.

Throughout the rest of the night, the memories of growing up in this town flood my brain as I attempt to get some sleep. I keep tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but it's pointless. There is nothing left for me in this town, and reliving all those years here is a stark reminder.

I sit up in the car with a groan and lean my head against the window. Rain is pelting down on the frame of my vehicle. The clatter of the raindrops on the metal soothes me. Usually, it would lull me to sleep, but I've concluded that it likely won't be happening at this point. I peer out the window at the giant clock tower looming like a beacon on the Main Street square. I squint my eyes, trying to read the hands. Six-thirty. The heavy clouds hanging over the town give the morning an ominous air.

I weigh my options: I could stay in my car and hope that sleep comes to me for another few hours, or I could leave my car and brave the rain. I'm camped out a few storefronts down from a cozy-looking café. The lights are on, and I see people walking in and out holding coffees and bagels. They're all much too cheery for it being six-thirty on a Thursday. I can't blame them; their world hasn't tilted on its axis like mine.

I sigh and reach for my wallet, throwing the worn leather open and peering inside. I have fifty bucks sitting in there. A coffee and a muffin would be what, seven? I estimate no more than ten dollars. It's not all I have to my name, but contributing to Willow Heights's economy makes me want to barf. But my stomach growls in a pathetic pleading noise, and I concede. I need to get something to eat.

With a wince at my aching back, I open the door of my car and clamber out into the rain. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up to cover my head. My feet slosh in the puddles on the street, and I grimace. The puddle water will seep through the holes in my boots and ruin my entire day.

I schlep down the sidewalk to the diner, keeping my head low and hoping no one will recognize me. The last time I was here, I was a teenager, now I'm a man. I hope the maturity is considerable enough that identification won't be too quick.

In such a small town as Willow Heights, it's impossible not to know everything and everyone. Not to mention, my father's been the mayor since I was fifteen. Makes me kind of a small-town name, despite my utter reluctance. It wasn't much later that I realized that having a name associated with the mayor of Willow Heights wasn't all it cracked up to be.

I pull open the door to the diner and step in. Immediately, the warmth from the little restaurant seeps inside of me. My muscles relax as the atmosphere warms me to the bones. The scent of fresh omelets and greasy bacon hits my nose. My stomach rumbles again, begging me for something to eat. I peruse the layout, looking for the best place to sit, but the diner is packed. I finally settle on the last seat at the bar. It's off to the side, so hopefully, I'll stay out of everyone's way.

As I head towards my targeted seat, a flash of red and brown flies into my line of drive. Her toe catches on the tip of my boot, and she stumbles. My arms reach out instinctively to steady her.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, looking down and trying to straighten the food she has on her tray. It doesn't take much to put together that she works here and was mid-stride to delivering someone's breakfast when she tripped.

I let her go, frowning at the now-occupied seat I was aiming for. Someone else snagged it right from under me during the fiasco. I exhale, frustrated as I say, "All good, sorry for getting in your way. I was trying to find a seat."

"I think there's one over in that corner if you want," the woman says, finally satisfied with the tray. "I'll be over to take your order in just a moment—" her sentence cuts off with a gasp. I drag my glare from the douche who took my seat. My own breath catches in my throat when I glance down at her.

"Noah," she gasps, now gazing directly at me, her plump lips falling open on my name. Her eyes flutter across my face as she appraises me standing in front of her. She studies me as if she's re-committing me to memory. Or upgrading her old memory of me to the newer version, filling in the pieces that have changed.

"Parks," I say back with an edge of surprise. Her name on my tongue recalls the memories of her I've held at bay for so long. They come rushing into my brain like a tsunami, triggered by the familiarity of her hazel eyes on me once more. Those hazel eyes have haunted my dreams all these years. Always hazel, with flecks of gold flaring from the pupil and a dark freckle on the left iris. So familiar after all this time, but yet unfamiliar.

"Long time no see." I recompose myself as best as possible. I slide my hands into my pocket and grip my fingers into tight fists, my eyes never leaving her.

Parks stares at me, shell-shocked. Her silence draws out the moment before she shakes herself out of it and shifts the tray around to settle on her hip. "You're back."

"So it would seem," I mutter, my eyes still roving her. Out of all the people, I figured I would run into here, she was not one of them. She is supposed to be far, far away from here. She should have left and never looked back. "As are you."

Parks has the decency to blush a little bit at my blunt statement. "Yeah, I am. Um," she looks back at the table in the corner, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and worrying at it. "If you want to grab that seat, I'll bring you a coffee or something in just a minute."

The corners of my lips pull up into a smirk, and I dip my chin at her. "Sure thing, Parks."

Parks inhales, her chest rising with a deep breath, and she nods. Her eyes peek at me for a second longer before she hurries off to deliver the food so it doesn't get cold.

My eyes follow after her for a second too long, then I saunter over to the lonely table in the corner. I pull out the chair and make myself comfortable, flipping through the menu sitting in front of me. I only manage to peruse the menu's first page before she comes over. She's holding a pot of coffee and an empty white ceramic mug.

"Cream and sugar are on the table. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?" she asks, giving me a tight smile as she pours a cup of coffee for me. Parks' expression develops into a more professional demeanor. She can pretend it's not just her and me, but I don't know how long that will work.

"Yeah, I'll have the French toast with a side of sausage," I tell her, folding up the plastic menu and sliding it away from me.

A smile plays on her lips as she sets the now full mug of coffee in front of me. The steam swirling from it hits my chin, and the aroma of the coffee is enough to make up for my missing hours of sleep. My brain is already re-energizing from the scent of it.

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