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The sight of Julian, standing tall and unexpectedly protective, sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the rain that's starting to fall again. "I... I didn't expect to see you here," I stammer lamely, shifting my food to one hand so I can tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear in a helpless attempt to better my appearance.
Julian's gaze is steady, a softness there that belies his imposing presence. "Could say the same about you, Nat. Thought you were living it up in the city."
Another laugh escapes me, this one more bitter than I intend. "I thought you'd be doing the same." The memories of us, young and restless, dreaming of skyscrapers and endless city lights, feel like a lifetime ago.
He shrugs, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Thought about it, but never made the jump. Guess the universe had other plans."
After I moved away, I totally lost track of Julian. Guilt gnaws at me as I realize this, and the silence that falls between us is filled with the unsaid, with the weight of years and choices that led us away and back again to this small town.
"Well," I break the silence, the awkwardness creeping in, "it's late, and I've got a... Jack is expecting me, so..." The words feel clumsy, inadequate to describe the turmoil of returning to the place I swore I'd left behind.
"Yeah, of course," Julian says, stepping away from the car. "Need any help with the van?"
I shake my head, more out of pride than any real confidence in the van's reliability. "I'll manage. Thanks, though. For everything."
As I climb into the driver's seat, the van creaks in protest, a familiar and not entirely welcome soundtrack to my return. I glance in the rearview mirror, catching Julian's figure receding into the night, a sentinel in the shadows.
Julian was my brother’s best friend, my first kiss. My first love. And then he ran off to the military before anything could come of it.
With a deep breath, I coax the van to life, its engine groaning a reluctant agreement to carry me the rest of the way to Jack's. As I drive off, I can't help but steal one last glance in the mirror. Julian stands there, watching until the van and I are nothing but a pair of taillights fading into the night.
CHAPTER 2
NATALIE
I'm awoken from my restless sleep by an incessant buzz on my nightstand.
I squint against the sunlight filtering in through the thin curtains and fumble for my phone, groaning as my stiff muscles refuse to cooperate. The phone continues to buzz—a harsh reminder that, ready or not, my new life demands attention.
Throwing back the blankets with a huff, I force myself to sit up and snatch the phone from the nightstand. It's my boss, Lottie, and despite the rebellious ache in every inch of my body from yesterday's ordeal, I know better than to ignore her call.
"Natalie,” Lottie chirps, far too energetic for this early in the morning. “I hope you're settled in, because we need you at the Langford Art Building first thing today." Her voice, crisp and devoid of any real concern for my personal upheaval, leaves no room for protest.
"I thought I wasn't starting until Wednesday," I try, the words sounding feeble even to my own ears.
Lottie doesn't bite. "You're contracted, Williams. You know the drill. We've got a tight schedule, and the Langford project is a big one. We can't afford any delays."
“I know, I know.” Already annoyed, I drag my hair through my fingers.
“You practically begged me for this job,” Lottie pointedly reminds me. “I allowed it, given your circumstances. Don’t make me regret it.”
Sighing, I concede. "I'll be there." Oh, the joys of being an interior renovator.
I know that this is Lottie’s way of being kind, of keeping me on track. She did go out of her way to relocate me, giving me a job in my hometown after I left Hayden even though I was mid-project at another location. So, she's right, I really can't afford to let her down.
I’m about to say as much, but the line goes dead, and I'm left staring at the phone, the first prickles of anxiety swirling in my stomach. Starting a new job the day after moving isn't wise, but in the world of renovating historical buildings, timelines are more like suggestions, always at the mercy of the next unforeseen delay. I need to take advantage of the time I have now.
By the time I arrive at the Langford Art Building, the builders are already busy setting up scaffolding, the clatter and clang of metal a jarring contrast to the building's delicate condition. Frustration bubbles up as I weave through the chaos, stepping carefully over various pieces of heavy equipment.
We were supposed to conduct a thorough survey together first, to ensure the integrity of the structure isn't compromised by hasty enthusiasm. With the way they're slapping these things together, we risk toppling the building before we even begin.
"I need to see your boss," I demand, of no one in particular. "Who authorized this? The agreement was to send me a survey before starting exterior repairs."
A few uncertain glances are exchanged before one of the workers reluctantly points me in the direction of the person who mistakenly believes he is in charge of this operation.
I round a corner and come to a sudden stop, just managing to keep myself from slamming into a broad back in a fluorescent work vest. My gaze travels upward, and my heart sinks as I recognize the unforgettable head of a snake, its eyes fixed on me like I'm its prey.
"Julian?" My surprise is evident, the word escaping as a half-whisper.
