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His voice feels like velvet, rich and deep, gliding down my skin with a softness that leaves goose bumps in its wake. His nervousness suffocates the air, and I wish I wasn’t the cause of it. He’s definitely confusing me with somebody else. If my twenty-third rewatch of The Vampire Diaries has taught me anything, it’s that doppelgängers exist. Maybe I have my own evil Katherine Pierce somewhere.

“Are you okay?” Emma asks in my ear.

I whip my head in her direction. “Yes, why?”

“You’re gawking.”

I make a face. “I’m not.”

Trevor clears his throat. “Ladies, please.” He points to the local reporter, who avoids my gaze yet again.

“It’s okay,” the man stammers.

He turns to the whiteboard behind him, then picks up a marker and divides the board into two parts.

I’m not gonna lie, this view isn’t bad either. He’s all long legs and strong shoulders.

“The training will be split into two themes: first, we’re gonna go over safety measures, and during the second half, we’ll be doing a sensitivity training regarding the Indigenous communities living in and around the rainforest. It’s important that we respect the communities and learn what to do and what not to do.”

He switches the marker from his right hand to his left and writes down the themes, the letters smudging slightly as he goes. My heart presses uncomfortably against my ribcage as my mind grapples with unwanted thoughts. I’ve been so good at leaving them in my past, but the sight of those smeared letters on the board brings them front and center, as if it were just yesterday that I was writing letters to that college boy, spending every waking moment thinking about him and what it would feel like to be in his arms.

My eyes drop to the hand gripping my thigh. I loosen a breath and shake the thoughts away. Not today. He doesn’t get to have another day of my pain.

“Excuse me,” Trevor interrupts, pulling me out of the awful place I used to go to when thinking about him. “Before we get started, would you mind introducing yourself? I didn’t catch your name. Since we’re gonna spend two weeks together, might as well get to know each other.”

“S-sure, of course, yeah.” When the man turns around, his entire face is as red as a traffic light. He looks at Trevor, at me, then back at Trevor. Finally, he says, “I’m the local reporter for Wild Planet, and I’ll be your guide for the next two weeks. Nice to meet you all.”

“And your name is?” Trevor asks, bordering on annoyance.

“Ah, yes.” He looks at me—really looks at me—for the first time since I set foot in the room, and that’s when I notice it. The pain in his eyes. I frown, but he holds my gaze as he says his next words. “I’m Oliver Reynolds.”

My heart stumbles and crashes to my feet.

Pine Falls, October 20, 2017

Morning, Char,

I’m writing to you today before I get to class. It’s 7:30 a.m., so I have thirty minutes before my daily fitness run after Emile (at least he keeps me in shape).

Hope you had a great week and didn’t study too hard. When you get this, it’ll be your midterms, so I’m wishing you the best of luck. I know you’re gonna crush it! Side note: I know we’ve never seen each other, but I don’t think you could look gross if you tried. Home fashion is a thing, and it’s hot.

Today, I went to the post office to talk about the issue with Emile and to see if I could get a new postman assigned to my neighborhood, but they kindly declined. It felt like they were scared of him? Apparently, they have discussed his retirement with him before, and every time, he threatened to get the court involved for age-based discrimination. They’re pretty heavily unionized too, so they told me their hands were tied. And then you know what they did? They handed me a bag of mail addressed to me and my grandparents. A bag, Charlee. Full of mail. For every morning when I must have missed him. They said they found it buried in his office under some old boxes. What am I going to do with him??? Maybe I should be the one to move so I can get someone new.

Oh, by the way, Sean doesn’t seem like a great guy. Hopefully, your sister will see right through him soon enough. People’s true colors often tend to come out on their own over time. If the guy is a manipulative asshole, he won’t be able to hide for too long.

Growing up with my grandparents was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never known my parents. They were young when they had me and didn’t feel like they were up for the job. At least they were smart enough to leave me with my mom’s parents. So no, I don’t miss them, really, and I feel like if I had known them, I would have ended up resenting them for probably giving me a bad childhood. My grandparents are my parents. They raised me and have been by my side through everything: birthdays, school, heartbreak, and all the joys in my life. My grandma is my protector and the person who believes in me even when I don’t. She taught me respect, to love myself, and to stand up for my beliefs. I remember her telling me one day: “Oliver, you don’t have to make your voice loud to be heard when you’re fighting for what you truly believe in.”

I was, am, so loved, and I owe it all to them. I owe the man that I am today to them.

My grandpa taught me everything I know about nature. I don’t think there’s one thing he told me that I haven’t memorized. We don’t do it as often now that I’m in college, but we used to go on so many hiking trips, sometimes for days on end. He taught me how to survive in the wild, how to recognize what was good to eat, how to listen to the sounds around me, and that everything in nature has a place and a reason to be. My love of the wilderness comes from him. I remember the time we came home after four days of camping in the rain and my grandma yelled at us as soon as we walked in the door with our muddy hiking boots, telling us we smelled like fish that had spent too many hours in the sun.

Oh, Charlee, I have so many stories like this, and I want to tell them all to you. I want you to know everything.

Recently, I’ve been spending time with my grandpa in his shed. He’s building a wood workshop next to where we plan on building my cabin, and he’s making some wonderful wood furniture there. You should see how talented he is. I’ve been trying to follow in his footsteps, but my skills are nowhere near his.

Anyway, how’s your year at uni going so far? Have you made any friends?

Waiting for your next letter impatiently.