Midnight Lessons (Midnight Falls, Texas)

2. Owen

Chapter 2

Owen

As I enter the small town of Midnight Falls, the hum of my car engine gives way to the nostalgic chorus of autumn leaves rustling and distant laughter carried by a gentle breeze.

The town is like a snapshot from my childhood, frozen in time, with its quaint storefronts and the smell of pumpkin spice mingling with crisp air.

Coming home is bittersweet. I’ve been gone for too long, living in Houston. But city life never fit quite right, like a shirt one size too small.

I pull into the parking lot and step out of the car—time to meet my new work colleagues .

Entering Midnight Falls High School is like taking a walk down memory lane. The scent of floor wax and textbooks hits me with nostalgia so thick it’s almost tangible. I navigate the hallways that haven’t changed since my teenage years, though the faces in the trophy cases are fresh and unfamiliar.

“Owen, you made it,” Principal Chapman greets me with a hearty handshake outside the biology lab. He was the vice principal when I was here, and his bushy mustache and thinning hair are now white, but his enthusiasm for education hasn’t waned a bit.

“Good to see you, sir,” I reply, appreciating his firm grip, a sign of respect in my book.

“Come and meet the team,” he says, ushering me into the teacher’s lounge. A handful of staff members look up from their coffee mugs and lesson plans, eyeing me curiously.

“Everyone, this is Owen Callahan, our new biology teacher and a graduate of Midnight Falls High School,” Principal Chapman announces .

A chorus of “hello” and “welcome” buzzes around me like friendly bees.

“Great to meet you all,” I say, locking eyes with each one, throwing in a nod here and there.

They seem like a decent bunch, and I’m relieved. You never know with faculty rooms—they can be your best resource or your daily battleground. This seems like the former.

“Can’t wait to get things started,” I tell them, hoping my eagerness doesn’t come off as overzealous. I’m still new to teaching, so I know I’ll need to earn my place here.

“Feel free to set up your classroom,” Mrs. Keaton, the department head with a sharp bob and sharper eyes, suggests. “School spirit’s high this year. The kids will love having a local as their teacher.”

“Thanks, I’ll head there now,” I say, excusing myself with a few more handshakes.

The biology lab is exactly as I remember: black countertops worn smooth by decades of experiments and the faint etchings of past students’ names carved discreetly on the edges. Old Mr. Benson’s stuffed owl still perches atop the filing cabinet, one glass eye missing like it's giving my return a winking approval. Mr. Benson’s been gone for a few years, but that owl still sits there, watching over everyone.

I look through boxes of supplies, noting how the microscopes are set up and the old posters of cellular structures. My hands move with purpose, organizing and planning. Control feels right in this space. Science has rules, order, predictability. It’s comforting.

Midway through arranging the seating chart, my phone vibrates in my pocket. A text message lights up the screen:

Mark: Hey, buddy. Heard you were back in town. Got time for lunch with an old friend?

A grin tugs at my lips. Mark is one of the few friends I’ve kept in touch with from high school, even during my time away. He always has a way of keeping things light, even when everything else feels heavy.

I type back a quick confirmation, telling him I’ll meet him at the burger place in town in an hour before re-pocketing my phone. Seeing Mark will be good for the soul, a chance to laugh, share stories, and maybe even make peace with old ghosts.

I take in the nearly finished classroom. “Looking good, Mr. Biology Teacher.”

An hour later, I’m sitting opposite Mark in Lou’s Burger Shack, a place where our names are etched in history, along with countless milkshake orders.

The place hasn’t changed much, and neither has Mark, except now he’s running his own IT company.

Mark leans back in his seat and sips his soda. “So, you’re back in town, taking over as the biology teacher, huh? I’ve gotta admit, I never thought you’d come back here to teach. What gives?”

The last time I saw Mark was at my parents’ funeral, and I had no plans to return to Midnight Falls then. Mom and Dad were killed by a drunk driver while on vacation a year ago, leaving me drowning in grief and causing me to reevaluate everything.

I shrug, stabbing a fry into some ketchup. “The job came up at the high school, and it seemed like the right move. After everything, losing Mom and Dad, I guess I needed to come home. Back to my roots and the people who matter. I missed this place.”

Marks gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Owen. I can’t imagine how tough it must be to lose both parents at once. They were good people.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Talking of good people… You been to The Bewitched Bak ery yet?”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Willow’s bakery. “Haven’t seen her yet,” I reply, trying to play it cool.

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not even a peek? Damn, I thought you’d run over there the second you got into town. Willow was... well, she was special to you, wasn’t she?”

I shift uncomfortably. “Yeah, she was. But a lot’s happened since then. We, uh, didn’t part on good terms. ”

Mark nods, looking thoughtful. “I remember, not that you ever told me the full story. Must’ve been pretty bad.”

I grimace. “Let’s just say I fucked up spectacularly and hurt her.”

Thankfully, Mark picks up on my reluctance to talk and drops the subject.

After we finish our food, we take a stroll, the streets lined with jack-o’-lanterns and faux cobwebs that make me chuckle. Midnight Falls has always had its charm, especially around Halloween. The town is always decked out in orange and black, with pumpkins grinning from every porch, but it gets extra cheerful around Halloween. Kids dash by, planning early trick-or-treat routes, while I wave to Ken Boyd from the hardware store. He still has that same lopsided grin.

“Good to have you back, Owen!” he calls out.

“Thanks, Ken. Good to be back,” I reply, the truth of those words settling deep in my chest.

As Mark and I part ways, his promise of “see you soon” lingering in the air, I’m struck by a profound sense of purpose. Midnight Falls may be small, but it’s got a big heart. And mine beats right in sync with it.

Climbing into my car, I make the journey I’ve been dreading. A few minutes later, I pull into the driveway. I pause for a moment, staring at the house where I grew up. This place belongs to me now.

I take a deep breath, the crisp autumn air filling my lungs, grounding me in the present. The house stands stoic, its white paint a little more chipped, the shutters slightly askew but otherwise unchanged. It’s as if it's been holding its breath, waiting for my return. A pang of sadness hits me, sharp and sudden, as memories flood back—family dinners in the dining room, laughter echoing through the hall, and the warmth of the fireplace in the winter.

I glance at the house next door. Willow’s parents must be out—their car isn’t on the drive. Can’t say I’m not relieved—I’m not ready to face them yet.

Making my way up the path to the front door, I insert the key and grab the door handle. It's cold to the touch, a reminder of the empty house that awaits me. The door creaks on its hinges as I push it open, echoing through the silent foyer.

I haven’t been able to face coming back here since my parents died, so everything is just as I remember it. The faded wallpaper, the worn-out rug in the hallway, even the old grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, keeping time as if nothing has changed.

Yet, everything has changed.

The house feels empty, devoid of the love and life that once filled it.

I walk through the rooms slowly, running my fingers over the furniture, each piece a relic of a past life. The living room is still cluttered with knick-knacks Mom collected over the years—porcelain figurines, framed family photos, and the quilt she made that still drapes over the back of the couch.

I pick up a photo of us from when I was a kid, all smiles and joy, oblivious to the way life would turn out.

I replace the photo and move to the kitchen, opening a window to let in some fresh air. The scent of pumpkin spice from Willow’s bakery down the street wafts inside, blending with the ghostly aroma of Mom's homemade pies. I half-expect to see her standing by the stove, apron on, humming a tune. But, of course, she isn’t here.

Fighting back the grief, I head to my old room. It’s surprisingly well-kept, almost like a museum exhibit frozen in time. The posters of rock bands still cover the walls, my high school trophies line the shelves, and the bed with the same old comforter.

“Home sweet home,” I murmur, setting my laptop on the dresser.

Each item carries a memory, a piece of the puzzle that is me. I smile when I open a drawer and find fossils I amassed over the years as a kid. I run my fingers over an arrowhead, the smooth edges familiar and grounding.

Unzipping my bag, I unpack clothes, books, and other items I can’t live without. The rest of my stuff is in storage, to be collected once I work up the energy to decide what I’m doing with this place .

I pause, hands deep in the duffel, as my eyes land on the bottom of the bag. There it is, the tattered antique biology book with notes scribbled in the margins, a gift on my eighteenth birthday. She knew even then where my passions lay.

Willow.

My chest tightens. Everything about this place reminds me of her.

The memories are still painful. God, I was such a fucking idiot. Immature. Cocky. Arrogant. I thought I was invincible back then. I had the perfect girl, and I threw her away with my cruelty and carelessness.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the weight of the years and my mistakes pressing down on me.

Coming back to Midnight Falls was never in the plan. I left this place to chase dreams that didn’t quite pan out, to build a life that never felt right without Willow. But now I’m here, facing the ghosts of my past.

I glance out the window, watching the golden leaves fall, swirling in the wind like a dance. There’s a strange comfort in the familiarity of this town, in the rhythm of life that seems to continue regardless of the changes and losses.

I stand and head back to the front door, needing some air to clear my thoughts. As I step outside, the distant laughter grows closer, and I see kids playing down the street like I used to with Willow. A small smile tugs at my lips. This is where I’m supposed to be, where I’ll find the piece of me that’s been missing all these years. The woman who’s been missing.

The job offer in my hometown seemed like providence, but I also came back to make amends.

Time to stop running from the past, Owen.

“‘Bout time you showed your face around here,” a gravelly voice grumbles, startling me from my thoughts.

I turn to see Melvyn, our other neighbor, ambling up the driveway. He must be well into his seventies by now and was like a grandfather figure growing up.

Melvyn pauses in front of me, leaning on his cane with that familiar grumpy yet affectionate scowl. His face is more wrinkled, and his hair has gone completely white, but his sharp blue eyes still hold the same keen glint of observation. He's wearing his usual flannel shirt and faded jeans, looking every bit the stubborn old man who refuses to slow down despite the passage of time.

“Melvyn.” I greet him with a smile. “Still here, huh?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Where else would I be? Someone's gotta keep an eye on this place, make sure it doesn't fall to ruin.” His gaze softens for a moment as he looks past me at the house. “Your folks would've wanted that.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to respond. “Thanks for looking out for it. For them.”

He waves a hand dismissively as if it's no big deal. “Eh, don't mention it. So, you planning on sticking around this time, or is this another of your fly-by visits? Barely stayed two minutes after the funeral.”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling like the teenager who sneaked out of this house past curfew. “ Planning to stay. Got a teaching position at the high school.”

Melvyn raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my nonchalant act. “Teaching job, eh? So you coming back doesn’t have anything to do with a certain someone you left behind all those years ago?”

Shit, does everyone in this town know about Willow and me?

I wince at his bluntness, but it's not like I expected anything less. Melvyn has always been the type to cut through the bullshit. “It's complicated, Melvyn.”

“Life usually is,” he grumbles, shifting his weight on the cane. “But sometimes you gotta face the music, kid. You can't keep runnin’ forever.”

I nod, dropping my gaze to the ground, my thoughts a tangled mess. “I know. That's why I'm here. I need to make things right... if that's even possible.”

Melvyn studies me for a long moment as I lift my eyes to his again. Finally, he sighs. “What took you so long? ”

I shrug. “She moved on. I thought she was better off without me.”

“Poppycock! Half-assed excuse if ever I heard one. You think she was better off with that idiot, Matthew Crane? Fool was false as they come and never appreciated what he had.”

My laugh is bitter. “I guess that makes two of us who didn’t appreciate her.” I frown as his words sink in. “Wait, what he had? Willow’s not with him anymore?”

“Was she ever?” Melvyn asks mysteriously. “But to answer your question, no, she ain’t. Not for goin’ on a year now. Surprised you didn’t clock that she was alone at your parents’ funeral.”

“I didn’t see her at the funeral. I looked for her, but she didn’t come,” I reply, pissed off that she couldn’t put our differences aside to pay her respects to Mom and Dad. They loved Willow, and they were angry with me when I fucked everything up with her. Hell, I was angry with me.

“She was there,” Melvyn says. “Stood at the back and left right as the service ended. Guess she didn’t want to make things awkward for you. ”

Shit. Willow was there? I’ve spent a year thinking she didn’t care enough to come.

Add it to the grovel list, Callahan. You’ve got a lot to make up for.

“I made a mess of everything, Melvyn. And wasted a lot of time,” I mutter, raking a frustrated hand through my hair.

“Well, if anyone can fix a mess, it's you, Owen. You just gotta be willin’ to put in the work.”

I nod, my resolve strengthening. “I'm willing. If she’ll have me.”

“Good,” he says, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, if you're serious about stickin’ around, you better come by for dinner sometime. Got a bottle of that whiskey your dad used to love. Figure it’s about time we crack it open.”

The mention of my dad and the whiskey hits me harder than I expected, but it's also a comforting thought. “I'd like that, Melvyn. Thanks.”

Melvyn nods. “Good to have you home, kid.” He turns to leave, but not before tossing one last comment over his shoulder. “And don’t screw it up this time, Owen. Second chances don’t come around too often.”

I watch him go, his form slowly disappearing down the driveway. Heading back inside, I decide to leave the unpacking for later.

I can’t truly settle here until Willow and I clear the air. Until I give her the apology she deserves. Six years, and I never stopped loving her. I know I did irreparable damage that day when she was eighteen, and I was nineteen. It’s haunted me ever since. If there's any chance of making things right, I have to try, even if it means facing the past I've been running from.

Does she still think about me the way I think about her? Still wonder what we could’ve been if I hadn’t fucked it all up?

As the evening sun filters through the window, turning the world golden, I hope returning to Midnight Falls will be my second chance with my first and only love.