Naia

The humidity slaps me in the face the moment I get off the bus in Reece Point. I can feel my hair start to curl and frizz.

Great.

Gripping the strap of my backpack, I take a deep breath, wrinkling my nose as the smell and taste of bus exhaust enters my mouth.

You can do this, Naia. This is the fresh start you’ve been craving.

I glance around at my surroundings. Empty wooden benches dot the sad-looking bus terminal. A few people are milling about, looking at their phones or staring off into space. A lone vending machine is tucked into the corner. It’s seen better days.

What a difference from Grand Central Terminal.

“Is this your bag, sweetheart?”

I whirl around to see the bus driver pushing my overstuffed suitcase toward me.

“Y-yes,” I stammer, feeling my cheeks burn. I must have looked like an idiot just about now. A bead of sweat trickles down my back.

“You take care of yourself, you hear?” The bus driver orders.

“Yes, sir.”

He nods and turns to get a different suitcase out from the bottom of the bus as a tired and bored looking passenger steps forward to claim it.

I tug my suitcase forward, the wheels catching on the rocks and dirt underneath my feet. I pull out my phone and scroll until I find the email I’m looking for. Reading the address carefully, I do my best to memorize it before stuffing my phone away.

Surprisingly, there’s a taxi idling nearby and the older driver is more than happy to take me to my destination. I settle into the back seat and look out the window as we drive away.

Reece Point, Arkansas. My new home.

Or, at least I hope it will be.

“You just move to town? I haven’t seen the likes of you before,” the taxi driver says in a thick Southern accent, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

For a moment, I hesitate. Do I confirm that I’m new here? That seems like a bad idea considering I’m a single female with no nearby family.

However, the taxi driver looks at me so kindly that I push aside any warning bells.

“Yes,” I admit.

“Well, welcome to town! Where did ya come from?”

“New York.”

The taxi driver scoffs. “Dirty city,” he grumbles. “Not good for your lungs. Ain’t nothing like Reece Point to get you in tune with nature. We got some of the best views in the country!”

I can’t deny that. The mountains and lush greenery are gorgeous. Up and up the mountains go with pine trees climbing high , blanketing the earth in a thick canopy of branches. In places, the mountains are so large the sun seems to struggle trying to get over them.

“You have any family here?”

This question would usually appear to be suspicious, but a part of me feels like he is just trying to make normal conversation. So what harm can come of just talking?

“No,” I sigh. “No, I don’t.”

The driver’s bushy eyebrows rise. “Well, you be careful,” he orders, looking at me sternly. “You look no older than my youngest and she’s still at home.”

“I’ll tell you what I tell my own girls—it’s not safe for young ladies like yourself to be out by yourself after dark. You make sure you’re home before that, yeah?”

I know he means well but I try not to roll my eyes. I lived in New York all throughout college. I think I know how to handle myself.

The driver turns and it’s evident we hit downtown Reece Point.

Well, if you could call a two block strip downtown with only a few people on the sidewalk.

The dichotomy between the city that never sleeps and this sleepy town is staggering.

However, I’m going to make the best of it. I chose Reece Point after all. I could have stayed in New York, but I didn’t want to.

And moving back home to Ohio? Well, that was never an option.

We stop in front of a building and my heart beats faster as I gaze up at what will be my new home.

The driver helps me get my bags out of the car before shoving a card at me.

“You take care, alright?” He says anxiously, eyeing the apartment complex. “I know you got no one in town, but that’s my phone number here,” he p oints to the white card with a number scrawled across it and the name ‘Hank’ written above.

“If you get into any trouble, you can call me,” he continues. “Or if you want a good home-cooked meal. My wife makes the best biscuits and gravy this side of the Mississippi.”

That’s so nice. I’m really touched.

I smile broadly at Hank. “Thank you,” I say sincerely, tucking the card into my jacket pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hank salutes me and gets back into his car, driving off into the distance.

Turning toward the apartment building, I take another deep breath, letting the spring air fill my lungs.

I’m finally free.

***

After meeting with the leasing office, I am finally standing at my new apartment’s front door. Butterflies build in my stomach as I unlock the door. As it eases open, my jaw drops at the sight before me.

It’s gorgeous.

Natural light pours into the tall windows, highlighting the rich hardwood floors. For being a one-bedroom apartment, the high ceilings make it appear much bigger. The galley kitchen boasts white cabinets and granite countertops with a small, walk-in pantry.

A pantry that I will soon stuff with food.

I pat myself on the back. I hadn’t been able to do a walk-through before renting this place online. Hell, I had only a few pictures to study before I submitted my application.

This is perfect.

Although the space is bare, I let excitement finally overtake me. I ’ve spent so much time fretting and worrying about this move . I t was the first decision I h ave really made since graduating college and realizing I didn’t want to live in New York anymore.

If only my parents could see me now. . .

Actually, no. It’s better they don’t. They would just harass me for money.

“Knock knock.”

I spin around, heart thumping, to see a middle-aged woman standing at my doorway. She has a broad smile on her face.

“Hi there, neighbor! Sorry for scaring you, but I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Shelly . I live next door.”

“Hi,” I say breathlessly. “I’m Naia.”

“Naia, you say? Pretty name. Not one I’ve heard before. Where are you from, Naia?”

That’s the second time I’ve been asked this question. Is it that obvious that I’m not from around here?

“New York,” I respond, not wanting to mention growing up in Ohio.

“Well, welcome to Reece Point! Do you have a job yet?”

“Not yet,” I say, twisting my hands together, slightly uncomfortable with the conversation. New Yorkers weren’t ever this direct. “But I hope to get one this afternoon. I’m going to apply to that coffee shop nearby.”

I’m not sure why I’m being so open. Years in New York taught me to keep my mouth shut. But Shelly looks so friendly, and I wouldn’t mind a little social interaction.

“Cafe Matcha? They got decent coffee. I like their lemon pound cake. Well, if that doesn't work out, you can always apply at the nearby casino. That’s where I work. It’s good money.”

I try not to make a face. I hate casinos. My parents are chronic gamblers. My childhood was filled with my parents coming home smelling like smoke, either crying about losing their money or rejoicing because they won.

It never mattered how much money they won as they would gamble it away the second they could get to another casino or horse track. Because of that, I grew up in near - abject poverty. It was normal for our power to be cut off and for the house to be freezing cold because my parents couldn’t pay the bills.

They always promised me that the next time they went to the casino, they would win big and then we wouldn’t be poor anymore. I never believed them.

When I was eleven, my parents won big at blackjack and I finally believed them when they said we would never be poor again.

How naive of me.

By the time I was fifteen, we had been evicted from our nice house and were back in a shitty apartment as my parents had blown through the winnings. In order to feed and clothe myself, I started working odd jobs and once I went to college, I cut my parents off completely.

They randomly call me when they can afford to, but only to ask for money. They have no idea I left New York.

“I’ll think about it,” I say politely.

“You’ll like Reece Point a lot,” Shelly continues. “It’s a friendly, safe town. But just be careful. There’s a wild wolf pack that prowls around here, but they usually stay away from humans. Just try not to go out after dark.”

Hank had also warned me not to go out after dark. I wonder why no one has gotten rid of these wolves.

***

After freshening myself up, I head toward Cafe Matcha, my resume clutched in my hands. The cafe is only two buildings down from my own so I get there in no time.

I grin when I see the ‘HELP WANTED’ sign right out front.

Could anything be more perfect?

I’m hit with the smell of roasted coffee beans and the sounds of light music and murmured conversations as I walk in. Two people are working behind the counter and a young woman approaches the register.

“Hey there!” She smiles at me. “How can I help you?”

I thrust my resume at her. “Hi, I saw you had a help wanted sign and I wanted to apply .”

The woman beams at me. “Oh, absolutely! My name is Teresa, I’m the shift leader. Mark, can you cover the counter while I talk to—?”

“Naia Alexander,” I supply helpfully.

“Beautiful name! Well, let’s go talk over here—”

The door opens and the murmured conversations immediately cease. I turn to see someone head toward the counter.

My jaw nearly drops as I take in this stranger. Holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

He’s older than me—if I had to guess, he has to be in his late thirties or early forties. His skin is sun-kissed, making it obvious he spends a lot of time outdoors. His dark hair is flecked with gray and is cropped close to his head. The tight black T-shirt shows off his muscular , scarred arms.

His sharp eyes are focused only on the counter and there’s something about him that makes every alarm bell within me go off.

This is not someone I want to fuck with, but I can’t draw my gaze away from him.

I step out of the way to allow him access to the counter, but I don’t watch what I’m doing and I trip over one of the display trays set up.

I pitch forward, my arms flying up to brace myself for impact, but instead of the ground meeting me, I’m suddenly pressed against a warm, taut body.

Holy shit.

How did he catch me?