Three Years Lost.

Elliot’s POV

Luciana was sitting in the passenger seat, legs tucked under her, sipping the last of her morning coffee. Her curls were tied back in a loose bun, and the soft morning light made her skin glow. We had music playing low from the car speakers—some calm acoustic playlist she liked. I didn’t mind it. It fit the mood.

“I’ll be back in five,” I said, grabbing my jacket from the back seat.

Luciana glanced at me, one brow raised. “Six.”

I laughed. “I’m just letting him know we’re driving out today. It’s not a whole conversation.”

She leaned her head against the headrest. “Sure. I’ll still be here when you get back. Me and my sad little coffee.”

“Want a refill?”

“Only if you want to stop at a gas station every thirty minutes.”

I held my hands up. “Good point.”

The building wasn’t far. Just a short walk across the lot and up the steps. Daniel—my dad—had his office on the second floor of the admin wing. Third door on the left. Always the same.

The hallway smelled like old paper and floor polish. Not much had changed since I was last here. I passed a student yawning so hard he looked like he might fall over. Another girl was half asleep on the bench, hugging a notebook.

I reached the office and knocked once. No answer.

The door was slightly open.

I pushed it gently and stepped in.

And stopped.

Someone was standing behind the desk. His back was to me at first. He was holding a picture frame in both hands, staring down at it like it held the answer to something he couldn’t ask out loud.

I knew that frame. Knew what photo was in it.

Then he turned.

And we both froze.

“River?” I said, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened. “Elliot.”

I didn’t move. Neither did he.

For a few seconds, all I could do was look at him.

He looked… older. Taller maybe. His hair was longer. He wore a dim grey hoodie, sleeves pulled halfway over his hands like he used to do when we were teenagers. He had that same quiet look—like he was deep in his own head even when someone was speaking.

But his face was still River’s. Just more tired. Like he’d lived a hundred small stories while I’d been gone.

“You—” I started, then stopped. “You’re here?”

He gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Second year.”

I blinked. “You go here?”

“Since last fall.”

I shook my head, amazed. “Dad never said.”

He gave a small shrug, setting the photo frame back down. “He probably forgot.”

“I can’t believe this.” I stepped in farther, leaving the door open behind me. “You never told me either.”

River laughed softly, but it sounded more like a sigh. “We weren’t exactly talking, Elliot.”

That part stung a little.

“I wanted to,” I said.

“I know.”

There was a short pause.

“Did you try?” he asked, voice quieter now.

I nodded. “I sent a few texts. No reply.”

“I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“That makes two of us.”

We both smiled. Awkward, but real.

“You look different,” I said.

“You don’t,” he said. “Still messy hair and that jacket you always wear.”

I looked down at my faded grey hoodie. “Some things don’t change.”

“Apparently.”

We both laughed that time. For real.

I moved around to the other side of the desk, brushing past him as I looked down at the frame he’d been holding. The picture of Dad and me—taken when I was maybe twelve. River would’ve been ten. We were all eating pizza at Dad’s house that weekend, and River had dared me to stuff a whole slice in my mouth. I did. Mom made him take a picture of us with greasy fingers.

River followed my gaze. “I remember that day.”

I looked up at him. “You cried when the pizza place ran out of cheesy bread.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was ten.”

“You were dramatic.”

He nudged me with his shoulder. I nudged back.

It was like something in the air cracked open. Not completely. But enough.

Then the door made a soft noise again.

Daniel stepped inside, holding a coffee in one hand and a folder in the other. He stopped in his tracks when he saw us both.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Right.”

“Right?” I echoed.

“I meant to mention that River’s here,” he said, walking toward the desk like it wasn’t a big deal. “Totally slipped my mind.”

River gave me a look. I raised an eyebrow at my dad.

“You forgot to tell me my best friend goes to the same school?”

Daniel set down his folder and took a sip of coffee. “I’ve been grading exams. Things get busy.”

River cleared his throat but didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Dad said, glancing between us. “Looks like you two found each other anyway.”

“We did,” I said. “Just now.”

Daniel pointed at the picture on the desk. “He was looking at that when I left the other day. Must’ve made the connection.”

I nodded slowly, looking back at River. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Dad’s phone buzzed. He checked it and winced. “I’ve got a meeting in ten. Make it quick.”

“Right,” I said, turning back to him. “I just came to let you know Luciana and I are heading to Oregon. Mom flew in last night. She’s at her sister’s place.”

Daniel nodded. “She’ll want to see you.”

“Yeah. We’ll probably stay a few days.”

Daniel sipped his coffee. “Drive safe.”

“I will.”

He started gathering his papers, distracted already.

I turned back to River.

“I’ll be back by Sunday,” I said. “You free next week?”

“I think so,” he said.

“We should hang out. Talk. Catch up. You know… make up for three years.”

River looked up at me and smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

I hesitated for a second, then stepped forward and hugged him. Quick. A little stiff. But it felt like something we both needed.

When I pulled away, he looked surprised, but not in a bad way.

“You still give awkward hugs,” he said.

“Still better than yours.”

I turned toward the door.

“Don’t disappear again,” I said.

“I'm stuck here for now” he replied, but his voice was soft.

I gave him one last look and then walked out.

The hallway was still quiet. Luciana was probably checking her phone, wondering what was taking so long.

As I headed down the stairs, I let out a slow breath.

Three years.

And he was right there all along.