You hadn’t planned on doing the whistle. It just slipped out—low and soft, carried by instinct more than intent, like muscle memory built from a thousand summers spent under golden light and dusty sidewalks. You stood in front of your old house, older now, quieter. The paint had faded. The tree in the front yard where you used to dare each other to climb higher had grown taller, stronger, just like the two of you once swore you would.

You looked to the house next door.

Rowan Whitaker’s house.

You hadn’t spoken to him in over a decade, not since that whirlwind day when your mom came home with tears in her eyes and orders in her hand. NASA was relocating her, and that meant boxes, goodbyes, and a half-hearted promise to write—something you never had the courage to do.

Still, here you were. Older, a little worn at the edges, freshly out of college, holding pieces of yourself you weren’t sure how to put back together.

So you whistled.

Three quick notes, one long. A tune no one else ever used. Your secret code, the one you used to find each other in crowded cafeterias and noisy recess yards. It was ridiculous to think he’d remember it. Even more ridiculous to think he’d still live here.

And then—

“…You still remember that?” came a voice from behind you.

You turned slowly.

There he was.

Rowan Whitaker.

Older. Taller. His face sharpened, but unmistakable. His eyes were glassy, like he was holding back something big—memories, emotions, maybe both.

“I never forgot,” you said, voice a little hoarse.

He smiled. Barely.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

Then he laughed—quiet and disbelieving. “You’re really here.”

You nodded. “I came back.”

And then he did something you never thought you’d see again.

He held out his hand, fingers poised in the exact pattern of your secret handshake.

The same one you’d made up in the second grade, practiced on long car rides, used like a secret language when words weren’t enough.

You reached out and completed it—flawlessly, like no time had passed at all.

This time, when the tears came, neither of you looked away.