Chapter 1I was used to the cold shoulder. People ghosting me? Fine. I was used to it.
But getting iced out by a pilot? That was a first.
The plane slammed onto the tarmac. I gripped the armrest so hard my knuckles turned white, my stomach lurching into my throat. I ripped off my headset, gasping for air.
The pilot was already stalking around the side of the plane.
His shoulders were locked tight. His face was stone cold. He was definitely the type that would make girls back home lose their minds.
But me? Zero interest.
Actually, I kind of wanted to punch him.
When I boarded, I'd been polite. I said hello. And him? He looked right through me like I was a smudge on his pristine window, then turned away.
Three hours in the air. The guy was a statue with a pulse. Aside from a cold "Buckle up" at takeoff, he hadn't said a word. When I finally asked how much longer, he shot me a look like I was speaking Alien.
Now, he hoisted my heavy suitcase Like it was an empty cardboard box.
I opened my mouth to say thanks, but he'd already grabbed my backpack with his other hand. He didn't even look at me. Just marched toward the metal shed.
I ran after him. "Hey, you don't have to - "
"Get the door."
Wow. Charming.
Heat flared in my chest.
I wasn't helpless. I didn't need him showing off. His "help" felt more like an insult. Who cares if he was hot? His personality was absolute trash.
But I bit my tongue and picked up the pace to kick the door open.
I was here for a fresh start. No point letting some frostbitten jerk ruin it.
Not worth it.
Inside, the heat hit me. A woman in a thick down jacket hurried over. Evelyn Vale, the principal.
"You're finally here!" She beamed, grabbing my hand. "I hope Joren didn't talk your ear off."
She winked at the ice block standing behind me.
Joren didn't even look up. He dropped my luggage at my feet with a heavy thud.
"No, he was - "
Before I could finish, the door banged open. Cold wind swirled in, and just like that, he vanished into the snow.
Like a phantom.
...a rude, mute phantom.
"He's a good pilot," I lied.
Evelyn sighed. "He's the best. Just colder than the permafrost. Anyway, welcome to Spruce Town, Vespera."
"Thank you."
"Let's get you to the hotel. You look like you're about to pass out."
She wasn't wrong. Lately, life felt like sleepwalking. My brain was foggy, and my feet felt heavy, like I was walking on cotton.
Evelyn's beat-up SUV bumped along the snowy road.
At an intersection, she pointed to a small building across the street. "There's your new battlefield - Tikkonnit Valley Middle School. One hundred and eighty-three people, total. Scared yet?"
She shot me a teasing look.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Evelyn, back in Chicago, I handled three thousand kids. This? This is a vacation."
"Alright, city girl." She turned the wheel. "Let's get you settled. Here we are."
The car stopped.
While Evelyn unloaded the bags, I stared at the ground. Suddenly, I froze.
There were boot prints in the snow.
But right next to them... massive paw prints.
They were huge.Nightmares with fur.Definitely not a dog, and way bigger than any wolf I'd seen in a zoo. The claws had punched deep into the packed ice. It looked dangerous.
That thing could rip a head off with one swipe.
I gulped and pointed. "Evelyn... do you get a lot of wild animals out here?"
Her hand paused on the door handle.
"It's winter. Bears, moose... sure." Her eyes flickered with something I couldn't place. "Oh, and wolves. They come around. Just don't mess with them, and they won't mess with you."
She pulled the door open with a comforting smile.
Duh.
Who's dumb enough to go poking a wolf, anyway?
Chapter 2
It was dinnertime. The restaurant was a zoo.
Evelyn was in full "Show Pony" mode. She paraded me around like a prize-winning poodle, introducing me to the postmaster, the hotel owner, and a dozen faceless locals whose names evaporated from my brain the second they hit the air.
I wore my bulletproof fake smile. Shake hand. Nod. "Lovely to meet you." Repeat.
Exhausted.
I was more exhausted than I'd been after the ten-hour flight.
I might have high-functioning depression, but that didn't stop me from winning the Oscar for Best Fake Normal Person. I knew how to make people feel like I was a breath of fresh air, even if my brain was just static snow.
The second I got my room key, I fled .
I locked the door.The world finally shut up.
I pulled out my phone and texted my parents: Made it to Graytooth safe.
Five minutes later, Mom replied.One word: Received.
I stared at that cold period until the screen went black.
Right. Expected.
A familiar chill rolled up from my stomach.Doctors called it a physical symptom. I called it what it was - emptiness.
I stripped down to my lace underwear. The numbness inside was settling in, heavy and cold. I needed something sharp to cut through it. To confirm I was still here.
I shoved the window open.
Pitch black. No moon.The wind howled in, slashing my face like a razor.
Good.
Suddenly, a wolf howled in the distance - wild, mournful - and the sound echoed through the mountains.
Possessed, I stepped barefoot onto the balcony.
Forty below zero.The air froze my skin instantly, stinging like a thousand needles. The rush was immediate. Brutal.
Then - a sound from below.
Crunch.
Boots crushing ice.
I froze. Looked down.
Directly below, standing on the street, was the damn mute pilot. Joren.
He was looking up. His eyes, usually hidden under his hood, were locked dead on me.
It was still that same look, like I was trash, but now there was a flicker of shock. His gaze felt like it had hooks, scraping over my nearly naked body.
His eyes asked a silent question: Is she high?
The wind hit me again, and reality crashed in - I was wearing two scraps of lace.
Shame erupted like lava, rushing straight to my face. I felt like I was burning up.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!
I scrambled back inside, slammed the window, and yanked the curtains shut.
The room felt like a sauna now. I rushed to the bathroom, scrubbing my arms and face with a cold towel, trying to scrub the memory out of my brain.
"Idiot," I hissed at the mirror.
Not just depressed. Now I'm an exhibitionist, too. In his eyes, I was probably officially crazy.
I checked the locks, killed the lights, and buried myself under the covers, playing dead.
Minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.
Thud. Thud.
Rhythmic. Heavy. Like they were stomping on my heart.
The footsteps stopped. Right next door.
The scrape of a key in a lock. The click of the tumblers turning. Loud in the silence.
I stared at the ceiling in the dark, a dry laugh stuck in my throat.
Are you playing with me, God?
That stone-faced bastard is my neighbor?!
Chapter 3
I didn't care about much these days - except teaching. Because that was about the future of a few dozen kids at Tikkonnit Valley High. I had to have some professional standards.
First day. The bell rang. A few stragglers dragged themselves in and slumped into their seats like they were serving prison time.
"Morning." I cleared my throat. No small talk. "I'm Ms. Lioris. Taking over for Mr. Hendricks."
"You read Dickens last semester, right?"
A few slow, dull nods.
"Did you like it?"
Dead silence.
I laughed.
"Okay." I tossed the textbook onto the desk. Thud.
"I hate them too. Boring as hell."
Suddenly, the dead eyes in the room snapped open.
"I have a lit degree, but I'm basic. I like sci-fi. Fantasy. Explosions. New rule: No dusty antiques. We're reading Howl's Moving Castle. Your assignment? Find a book you don't want to burn."
My old colleagues called it rebellious. I called it "resurrecting the dead."
I handed out the books, and the room finally had a pulse.
Win.
...
Time flew. I figured out the town's survival guide pretty fast.
Two camps: The Welcome Wagon, and The Haters.
Hank, the outdoor shop owner? Team Hater.
One morning, he sneered between bites of bacon, "Bet it's colder and darker here than you expected, huh?"
I took a sip of coffee, not even looking up. "Nope. Same as the Midwest."
He frowned, doubling down. "Chicago doesn't have grizzlies."
"No," I said flatly. "But I haven't seen any here either."
Behind me, Owen chuckled. "She got you, Hank."
Owen was a local giant who rarely spoke. I liked him. Quiet meant I didn't have to perform.
Claire, on the other hand, was the opposite.
Her daily mission seemed to be auctioning me off to the local bachelors, like I was fresh meat for the gene pool. She'd shoo away tourists and force me into a circle of local men. It was subtle as a brick to the face.
I couldn't tell her I had zero interest in men. Six months of therapy and antidepressants only taught me one thing: how to play the role of a functional human being.
Meds plus caffeine. That was the only fuel keeping the machine running.
Monday morning. I walked into the diner.
"Vespera!" Claire's voice boomed. She waved excitedly at an empty bar stool.
It was flanked by two local guys, sitting there like brick walls waiting for me. Another ambush setup.
I sighed. Fine. Commit to the bit.
I hung up my coat and resigned myself to the seat.
I turned my head - and nearly jumped out of my skin.
That damn bush pilot - Joren - was sitting right across from me.
The last time we met, I was the crazy exhibitionist shivering in my underwear on a balcony in forty-below weather.
Our eyes locked.
His relaxed face instantly froze. He looked away like he'd been tazed, acting like staring at me might actually blind him.
Ants. That's what it felt like. Embarrassment crawling all over my skin.
Oblivious to the weird vibe, Claire poured my coffee with a bright smile. "Vespera, have you two been properly introduced? This is Joren Kyrk."
I forced a stiff smile.
Introduced?
Ha.
We were way past a simple "met."
