Chapter 12: Secrets Revealed

Josh approached Mr. Johnson’s house with purpose, fully aware that he was about to reveal parts of himself that he’d kept hidden until now. Tonight, he wasn’t here as a child—he was here as the man he truly was inside, and he needed Mr. Johnson to understand that. When he reached the door, he knocked firmly, feeling a calm resolve settle over him.

After a moment, the door opened, and Mr. Johnson stood there, his gaze softening with surprise as he saw Josh standing on the doorstep.

“Afternoon, Josh,” he greeted, his voice curious. “Didn’t expect to see you so early today.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson. I’d like to talk with you about something ... important while we wait on the drawing,” Josh said, his voice steady, holding Mr. Johnson’s gaze with a calm intensity. “Do you mind if I come inside?”

Mr. Johnson studied him for a moment, sensing something unusual. Josh’s stance, his voice, even the way he looked at him—all of it felt different. This wasn’t the same boy who normally ran around the neighborhood. He seemed older, more grounded. Finally, Mr. Johnson nodded, stepping back to let him in. “Sure thing, son. Come on in.”

Inside, Josh took in the familiar surroundings, feeling a rush of memories. Growing up, this house had always been a quiet refuge, a place where he could listen to Mr. Johnson’s stories and forget about the world. But tonight, he was here with a purpose. He turned to Mr. Johnson with a thoughtful look.

“Would you mind if I made dinner for us tonight?” he asked. “I think it’d be nice to talk things over with a good meal.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. “You want to cook dinner?” he asked, chuckling. “Well, I don’t have much in the fridge, but I suppose I wouldn’t mind a hot meal. Haven’t had one in a while.”

“Thank you,” Josh said, already making his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and surveyed the contents, then checked the cabinets. There were a few ingredients—some chicken, potatoes, a bit of bacon, and a bag of fresh green beans. He mentally sorted through possibilities, feeling a small thrill at being able to prepare a real meal.

Mr. Johnson watched from the doorway, arms crossed as he observed Josh’s quiet efficiency. “What are you thinking, kid?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Josh glanced over his shoulder, smiling. “I was thinking fried chicken, twice-baked potatoes, and green beans with bacon.”

Mr. Johnson raised an eyebrow, giving a slight nod of approval. “Well, well. If you can really manage all that with what I’ve got here, go ahead. I’d like to see this.”

Josh nodded, his movements calm and deliberate as he set to work. He pulled out the chicken and marinated it with salt, pepper, and a few spices he found in the pantry, setting it aside. Next, he scrubbed the potatoes, pricking them with a fork before popping them into the oven to bake. He began slicing the green beans and bacon, mentally organizing each step.

As he moved through the kitchen, Mr. Johnson’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Josh with a thoughtful expression. “You know, you’re ... different tonight,” he remarked, his tone slow, as if choosing his words carefully. “You carry yourself more like a man than a boy. How’d you learn to cook like this?”

Josh paused for a second, weighing his response. He glanced up, meeting Mr. Johnson’s gaze. “Let’s just say ... I picked it up through experience.” He resumed slicing the bacon, keeping his tone calm. “I guess I’ve lived a bit more life than you’d expect.”

Mr. Johnson’s brow furrowed as he watched Josh expertly arrange the ingredients on the counter. “What kind of life gives a ten-year-old the skill to cook like this?”

Josh gave a small, knowing smile, looking down as he seasoned the green beans. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about, Mr. Johnson,” he said, his voice serious but calm. “Tonight’s dinner is just the beginning of a much bigger conversation.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes narrowed further, intrigued but wary. “Bigger conversation, huh? You’re starting to make me wonder, Josh.” He let out a small chuckle, but his gaze was intent. “You talk like a man who’s seen things, but ... well, I don’t know if I should be saying this, but you’re just a kid. Or at least, you’re supposed to be.”

Josh let out a breath, feeling the weight of his next words. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but you’re right. I’m ... not exactly who you think I am. Or rather, I’m not exactly what I look like.” He turned back to the stove, heating a pan for the bacon and green beans, giving Mr. Johnson a moment to process his words.

Mr. Johnson fell silent, his gaze sharpening as he took in Josh’s words. “What are you getting at, son?” he asked, his tone more cautious, almost as if he were bracing himself.

Josh glanced over his shoulder, meeting Mr. Johnson’s gaze squarely. “I’ll explain everything, but first, let’s eat. You’ve got my word—I’ll tell you the whole truth.” He gave a small nod, the look in his eyes earnest. “But if we’re going to have this conversation, I think we’re going to need a good meal to go with it.”

Mr. Johnson chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, you’re a strange one, Josh, but you’ve got my attention. Let’s see this meal of yours.” He moved to the kitchen table, sitting down with his arms crossed, still watching Josh with keen interest.

Josh went back to the stove, adding the green beans and bacon to the heated pan, letting the savory scent fill the room. The chicken went into another skillet, its sizzle echoing through the kitchen as it browned to a crisp golden color. The potatoes were almost done, so he took them out, scooping out the centers and mixing them with butter, cheese, and spices before carefully spooning them back into their skins and setting them in the oven to finish.

Every movement felt purposeful, his focus on each step keeping him grounded as he prepared to reveal everything. Finally, after what felt like both a long and brief silence, he plated the food—crispy fried chicken, fluffy twice-baked potatoes, and green beans with smoky bacon—and brought it over to the table.

Mr. Johnson looked down at the plate, clearly impressed despite himself. “Well, if this isn’t one of the best meals I’ve seen in a while,” he muttered, picking up his fork and giving Josh an approving nod. “Let’s dig in, then.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the air between them charged with anticipation. Mr. Johnson took a bite of the chicken, then the potatoes, savoring each taste. He nodded approvingly, setting down his fork and looking at Josh with a measured gaze.

“Alright, Josh,” he said finally, his tone serious. “You promised me the truth. I’d like to hear it. Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

Josh took a deep breath, setting his own fork down as he met Mr. Johnson’s gaze. “Alright,” he said quietly. “The truth is ... I’m not really a ten-year-old kid. I mean, physically, yes, but mentally? I’m much older. In my last life, I was an adult. I lived through decades—made choices, faced regrets. And then ... I found myself here, back in this life. A second chance to change things.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes widened, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening with a strange mix of skepticism and curiosity.

“This isn’t just a memory or a dream,” Josh continued, his voice calm but filled with conviction. “I remember everything, all the years I lived. And I know it sounds impossible, but ... that’s the truth. I came back to this moment in my life, and now I’m trying to make things right—for my family, for myself, for ... Katie my wife, for everyone who mattered to me.”

Mr. Johnson leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he took in Josh’s words. “You’re telling me that ... you’ve lived before? And you remember it all?” He shook his head, his voice softening with disbelief. “Josh, that’s ... a lot to take in. But you sound so sure of it.”

Josh nodded, understanding the enormity of what he was asking Mr. Johnson to believe. “I know it’s hard to accept. But that’s why I came to you. You’re someone I trust, and ... I could use an ally. Someone who can help me figure out how to use this second chance the right way.”

Mr. Johnson remained silent, his gaze piercing as he studied Josh. Finally, he nodded slowly, as if reaching a decision. “Alright, son,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “I don’t understand it—not yet. But I believe you’re telling me the truth. And if you’re here to make things better ... then you’ve got my support.”

Josh felt a wave of relief wash over him, gratitude filling his chest. “Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That means everything.”

They continued their meal, the air between them no longer heavy with suspicion but instead with the beginnings of an understanding—one that would pave the way for all that was yet to come.

After they finished their meal, Josh helped clear the plates, then followed Mr. Johnson into the living room. Mr. Johnson settled into his recliner, gesturing for Josh to take a seat on the couch. The comfortable, quiet atmosphere of the room felt like the perfect setting to share more of his story.

“Mr. Johnson, would you mind turning on the news?” Josh asked, glancing toward the TV. “The lottery drawing is about to start, and I’d like us to watch it together.”

Mr. Johnson gave him a curious look, but he reached for the remote and clicked the TV on, switching to the evening news channel where the drawing would be held shortly. They settled back, the low murmur of the news anchor filling the room as they waited.

“So ... you mentioned that you’d lived an entire life before,” Mr. Johnson said, his gaze lingering on Josh, still processing what he’d just learned. “Tell me more about it. What kind of life was it?”

Josh let out a slow breath, gathering his thoughts. “Well, in my last life, things were ... different. When I got older, I ended up dropping out of high school,” he began, his tone somber. “I did eventually get my GED, but I struggled with finding direction for a long time. I had jobs here and there, some good, some ... not so good.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, listening intently. “So, what kind of jobs did you have?”

“My first real job was at a machine shop,” Josh said, the memories resurfacing as he spoke. “I ran a CNC lathe there. It was decent work, paid okay, but it felt ... confined, like I was just a cog in the machine, if you know what I mean.”

Mr. Johnson chuckled softly. “A lot of jobs can feel that way, son.”

Josh nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah, they sure can. After a while, I moved on to something else—Mig welding. I worked in another shop, putting parts together all day. It was challenging, and I got good at it, but I started feeling trapped, like I couldn’t breathe if I stayed in those four walls.”

He paused, glancing toward the TV as the announcer’s voice mentioned that the drawing would start soon, then continued. “I wanted freedom. I needed to feel like I was going somewhere, doing something that didn’t lock me in one place. So I ended up getting a job driving a box truck, making deliveries. It wasn’t glamorous, but I loved being out on the road, just me and the open road, taking products from one place to another.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like you learned a lot along the way. And it gave you a sense of purpose, I’d imagine.”

Josh nodded. “Yeah, for a while, it did. But looking back now ... I see that I was just drifting, never really thinking beyond what was in front of me. And eventually, I paid the price for that.”

As he spoke, the lottery segment began, the anchor announcing that it was time for the drawing. Josh and Mr. Johnson turned their attention to the screen, the numbers flashing up one by one as the announcer read them off. As each number appeared, Josh felt his pulse quicken, knowing that the set of numbers he’d chosen was about to match.

When the final number was called, Mr. Johnson glanced over at Josh, his eyes wide with realization. “Those ... those are the numbers you picked.”

Josh nodded, giving him a small, knowing smile. “They are.”

Mr. Johnson leaned back, still staring at the screen. “So what’s the ticket worth, Josh? How much did we win?”

“$1,000,” Josh replied, his voice steady. “Nothing big, just enough to prove a point.”

Mr. Johnson blinked, absorbing the weight of Josh’s words. “You really knew, didn’t you?” he murmured, a look of awe settling on his face. “How did you...?”

Josh held his gaze, his expression calm but serious. “Mr. Johnson, I wanted to show you that what I’m saying is true. I needed you to believe me. This isn’t just talk or imagination—I have knowledge of things to come, and this win is just a small piece of proof.”

Mr. Johnson looked at him, understanding dawning in his eyes. “So, this was all to get me to trust you. To show me that you’re not just a kid making things up.”

Josh nodded slowly, relief washing over him. “Exactly. I know it sounds crazy, and it’s a lot to take in, but I’m trying to make things right this time around. And I need someone who understands, who can help me figure out how to use this chance in the best way possible.”

Mr. Johnson stayed quiet, glancing back at the TV and then down at the lottery ticket in his hand. He let out a long breath, shaking his head in wonder. “Josh ... I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I believe you. If you’re here to make things better, then I’ll do what I can to help.”

Mr. Johnson leaned back in his chair, still holding the winning ticket with a look of wonder and curiosity. After a moment of quiet reflection, he looked over at Josh, his expression softened. “Alright, Josh,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. “Keep going. Tell me more. You mentioned family before ... so what about this Katie you mentioned?”

Josh felt a bittersweet ache in his chest as he heard her name. He hadn’t spoken of her to anyone since he’d returned to this life, and the memories rushed back, clear and vivid. “Katie,” he began, his voice softening. “She ... she was everything to me. The love of my life. We met at the warehouse I worked at, where I’d get my truck loaded up every morning for deliveries. It was just another day, or at least I thought it would be.”