Page 4

By the time I pull into the driveway, darkness has settled over the cottage.

I carry my groceries inside and lock the door behind me. The Breakwater tank top sits folded on the kitchen counter, ready for tomorrow night.

A new job.

A new house.

A new town.

Not bad for my first day.

I make something quick for dinner and eat at the counter, scrolling mindlessly through my phone while trying to ignore how quiet it is.

At first, the silence feels peaceful.

Then the refrigerator switches off, and the entire house goes still.

Completely still.

No sirens outside. No people arguing on the sidewalk below. No upstairs neighbor stomping around like they’re trying to break through the ceiling. No car horns or music thumping through the walls.

Nothing.

A gust of wind sends leaves scraping across the window, and my head snaps toward the sound.

My body tenses before my brain catches up.

Leaves.

Just fucking leaves.

I release the breath trapped in my chest and carry my plate to the sink.

I used to hate the noise in New York. I blamed it for every sleepless night and every morning I woke already exhausted. But standing here now, I realize the city gave me something I never appreciated.

Armor.

There were millions of people around me, but no one ever really saw me. I could leave my apartment with my head down, disappear into a crowd and become another stranger no one would remember.

Hartwell is different.

I’ve been here less than a day, and people have already noticed me. Georgie knew immediately that I was new, and I get the feeling nothing happens in this town without someone hearing about it.

That should make me feel safer. I spent years looking over my shoulder, never knowing whether the person behind me was following me or simply walking in the same direction.

Instead, being noticed leaves me strangely exposed.

I head toward my bedroom, checking the front door again on the way.

Locked.

The back door too.

Then every window.

By the time I reach the bedroom, some of the tightness in my chest has eased. I climb beneath the blankets and switch off the lamp, letting the darkness settle around me.

Outside, the wind moves gently through the trees. Leaves brush against the window, and beneath it, so faint I almost imagine it, I hear the ocean.