The scent of stale pizza and cheap cologne hit me first, a cloying cloud clinging to the air inside Percy's apartment. My camera bag, heavy with lenses and memories of sun-drenched peaks, bumped against my hip as I stepped through the unlocked door. I'd just wrapped up a week-long shoot in the Rockies, a symphony of light and shadow captured through my lens. The plan: officially move in, unpack a life I thought was finally settling. My Jeep, packed with everything I truly owned, waited in the garage.
A giggle, high-pitched and unfamiliar, sliced through the quiet. Then another. It wasn't Percy's laugh. My stomach clenched, a cold knot tightening. I followed the sound, past the overflowing laundry hamper, past the gaming console humming a forgotten tune in the living room, to the bedroom.
The door stood ajar. A sliver of light illuminated the tangled mess on the bed. Two bodies. One undeniably Percy's pale, bony frame. The other, Beth. My best friend is Beth. Her red hair, usually meticulously styled, fanned across the pillow, a stark contrast to Percy's unkempt blonde. They didn't even notice me. The bedsprings creaked, a rhythmic, sickening protest.
I stared, the world narrowing to that tableau. My breath hitched. Beth's head turned; her eyes, wide and startled, met mine. A slow crimson flush crept up her neck. Percy, oblivious, grunted. "Ruby?" Beth's voice, a thin whisper, barely carried.
Percy finally stirred, blinking awake as if from a deep slumber. He pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes, his gaze hazy. He saw me standing framed in the doorway, and his face drained of color. "Ruby, I… what are you doing here?" He stammered, scrambling for the sheet, a pathetic attempt at modesty.
I didn't move. The camera bag felt impossibly heavy now, the weight pressing down on me. My vision sharpened, the details of their betrayal stark. The crumpled tissues on the nightstand. The faint scent of cheap perfume mingling with Percy's cologne.
"What am I doing here?" My voice, when it came, was a low rumble, barely recognizable. "I live here. Or, I was *supposed* to."
Beth sat up, pulling the sheet higher. "Ruby, please. It's not what it looks like." A humorless laugh escaped me. "Oh, really? Because it looks an awful lot like my best friend and my boyfriend are having a very public, very enthusiastic affair." My eyes flicked between them, contempt curling my lips. "You know, I almost feel sorry for you both." Percy found his voice, a whine. "Ruby, wait. We can explain."
"Explain what?" I took a step into the room, the floorboards groaning under my hiking boots. "That you're both too spineless to tell me? That you've been sneaking around behind my back for… how long, Beth?" Beth flinched. "Months." The word hung in the air, a venomous echo.
I nodded slowly. "Months. Right. And here I thought you were just busy." I looked at Percy, really looked at him. His pale skin, the slight paunch forming from too many hours gaming, the vacant look in his eyes. He wasn't even worth the anger blossoming in my chest. "You know, Percy, you're not worth it."
He blinked, confusion clouding his features. "What?"
"This. All of this." I gestured vaguely at the rumpled bed, at him, at Beth. "You're lazy. You're spoiled. You can't hold down a job, can you?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Beth looked away. "No, you can't." I shook my head, a strange lightness beginning to spread through me. The anger — sharp and hot — dissipated, replaced by a cold, clear resolve. "Honestly, Beth, you can have him. He's going to be a real catch when his parents cut him off."
I turned, my camera bag still on my shoulder. I didn't need to repack. My life, the parts that mattered, was already with me–clothes, photos of my grandmother, books, my photography equipment. Always ready to move.
"Ruby, don't go!" Percy called, his voice laced with something akin to panic.
I didn't dignify him with a glance. The apartment door shut with a soft click, a final period on a chapter I was more than ready to close. The cool, recycled air of the parking garage felt like a balm after the stifling heat of betrayal. My Jeep, a trusty companion, waited. I tossed my bag onto the passenger seat, the familiar weight a comfort. Just as I reached for the ignition, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, fingers already poised to start the engine, but the area code flashed, stark against the screen. Blue Ridge Falls, Ava. My grandmother.
My hand froze. A chill snaked up my spine, colder than the garage air. I hadn't seen her in months, not since my last visit before this ill-fated work trip, but we spoke almost every day. My grandmother, Ava Hawkins, was more mother than grandmother to me. She raised me, encouraged my photography, and taught me to see the world through a lens of wonder.
I thumbed the answer button, my heart thudding a slow, anxious rhythm. "Hello? Who is this?" A man's voice, deep and resonant, filled my ear. "Miss Ruby Hawkins?"
"Yes, this is she." My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"My name is David Langland. I'm an attorney with Langland and Associates, family law, here in Blue Ridge Falls."
My breath hitched. A lawyer? Why would a lawyer be calling me? "A lawyer? What is this regarding?"
"I represented your grandmother, Ava Hawkins, for many years." His voice softened, with a note of careful sympathy.
"My grandmother?" My voice cracked, a fragile thing I barely recognized. "Is she alright? Is something wrong?"
A pause stretched, thick and suffocating, each second a lead weight pressing on my chest. "Miss Hawkins, I am so terribly sorry to inform you that Ava passed away late last night. It was a heart attack." The words didn't just hit; they *shattered* me, a physical blow that stole the very air from my lungs, leaving me gasping in a silent void. Passed away. Impossible. Just yesterday, she had called, her voice a warm embrace, promising my favorite apple pie, a taste of home I'd been craving with a hunger I hadn't yet named.
"No." The word ripped from me, a raw, primal sound. "That's… that's impossible. I just spoke to her the other day. She was fine. I was coming home to visit her." The lie tasted like ash. *I was coming home. But I hadn't. Not soon enough. A cold tendril of guilt snaked through the burgeoning grief.
"It was unexpected, Miss Hawkins. A peaceful passing, from what we understand. I am truly sorry to be the one to deliver such news. Ava was a dear friend." Peaceful. How could anything about this be peaceful? My mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of it, the gaping chasm Ava's absence had torn open. Ava. Gone.
The world tilted on its axis, but it wasn't just the ground beneath me that felt unsteady. It was my very foundation, the bedrock of my existence, crumbling into dust. "Did… did anyone claim her body? Were there any instructions about her funeral?" My voice was a thin, reedy sound, barely tethered to reality.
"Yes, Miss Hawkins. She was found at home. Ava left very clear instructions in her will."
"Her will?" I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain, but it clung, thick and cloying. *A will.* The finality of it. The thought that she had *prepared* for this, while I had been so blissfully, selfishly unaware.
"Yes. She requested cremation, no viewing. And she left everything to you, Ruby."
The news registered, a distant hum against the roaring silence in my ears. Of course, she would. Ava was my anchor, my home, the only constant in a life defined by abandonment. My mother, Ella, had walked out when I was young, leaving Ava to fill the void, to mend the broken pieces of a child's heart. This wasn't a surprise, not really. But the grief, sharp and sudden, threatened to overwhelm me, to drown me in a torrent of sorrow and a burgeoning, terrifying sense of being utterly, irrevocably alone.
I squeezed my eyes shut, a desperate attempt to hold back the deluge, to keep the dam from breaking. But beneath the grief, a new, colder fear bloomed. The weight of 'everything.' The responsibility she'd always shielded me from. The life I'd built away from her suddenly felt hollow and selfish.
"I… I see." I swallowed, my throat tight, raw. "I can be in Blue Ridge Falls in several hours. Where is your office?" The words were automatic, a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of control, to *do* something, anything, to outrun the crushing emptiness that was already consuming me. "My office is on Main Square, just off the cobblestone. Number 14. We can go over everything tomorrow, or the day after. Take your time, Ruby."
"Thank you, Mr. Langland." I choked out the words before ending the call. The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the console. Ava. Gone. The silence in the jeep was deafening, broken only by the frantic beat of my heart. I took a deep, shuddering breath, then another. Ava wouldn't want me to crumble. She would want me to be strong.
My hands trembled as I inserted the key and twisted it. The engine roared to life, a jarring sound in the stillness. I backed out of the parking space, the city a blur of concrete and glass in my rear-view mirror. Blue Ridge Falls. Home.
As I navigated the city streets, merging onto the highway, I connected my phone to the Jeep's Bluetooth. My mother. She needed to know. The phone rang twice before her voice, laced with annoyance, filled the jeep.
"What is it, Ruby? I'm busy."
"Mom," I began, my voice thick with unshed tears. "Grandma Ava… she passed away last night." A beat of silence. No gasp, no sob. Just a flat, emotionless tone. "Oh. Well, I suppose she was getting on."
My jaw clenched. "Getting on? Mom, she was everything to me."
"Yes, yes, we all know how much you adored her." Her voice, a dismissive wave. "So, what happens now? Did she leave you that old house?"
A cold fury, distinct from the grief, washed over me. "She left me everything. Her house. Everything."
"Everything?" Ella's voice sharpened, a possessive edge creeping in. "That't not fair! I'm her daughter! I should get something!"
"You walked out, Mom. Ava raised me." The words were out before I could stop them, raw and stinging.
"How dare you! I had my life to live! She always favored you, always! Making me out to be the bad guy!"
"Mom, I can't do this right now." My voice was tight, strained. I reached for the screen, my finger hovering over the 'end call' button.
"You're just like her, always judging! You think you're so much better than me, don't you? Well, let me tell you, that old house is probably falling apart, and you'll have to deal with it! And who knows what else she left you, probably nothing but junk!"
*Click*. I hung up. The silence returned, this time a welcome reprieve. My mother and Ava always had a difficult relationship, a chasm of resentment and misunderstanding. But to hear her so cold, so devoid of emotion, so utterly selfish in the face of Ava's death… it was a fresh wound.
Four hours. Four hours on the open road, of winding through verdant valleys and rising into the mountains. The jeep hummed, a steady drone, carrying me away from the city, away from the tangled mess of my life, towards the only true home I'd ever known. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in fiery hues, casting long shadows across the ancient peaks, shadows that seemed to stretch out like hungry fingers, beckoning me deeper. Finally, the familiar sign: *Welcome to Blue Ridge Falls*. A shiver, not entirely from the cooling air, traced its way down my spine.
The air immediately changed, cooler, crisper, carrying the deep, earthy scent of pine and damp soil, mingled with something else–a faint, sweet aroma of wood smoke and freshly baked bread, yes, but underneath that, a primal tang that stirred something ancient within me. The road narrowed, winding deeper into the Appalachian embrace, a lover's embrace, both comforting and suffocating. The town itself emerged, a charming anomaly nestled within the towering trees, a secret whispered by the wind. Victorian-era architecture lined Main Square, gas-lamp style streetlights already beginning to glow against the deepening twilight, painting the cobblestones in a soft, inviting sheen. A quaint general store, a bustling bakery whose smells now reached me, a cozy diner–all exuded a timeless charm, a sense of belonging I hadn't felt in years.
Blue Ridge Falls. My grandmother's town. My town. I slowed as I drove through the square, my gaze lingering on every familiar detail. I knew this place like the back of my hand — every shop, every cobblestone. I'd grown up here, exploring the winding trails, losing myself in the forests that cradled the town, forests that held secrets, ancient and wild. And across the mirror-like Blue Lake, on the "other side," lived the shifters.
Ava had always been kind to them, treating them with respect, despite the whispers of some townsfolk who still resented their presence. Shifters. Creatures who could shed their human skin like an unwanted cloak, revealing the raw, untamed power beneath. They had always been here, hidden, a throbbing pulse beneath the surface of the mundane, but in recent decades, they'd become more visible, even in major cities. But Blue Ridge Falls, with its rugged, ancient forests, remained a stronghold, a sanctuary where their true nature could breathe.
My grandmother used to tell me stories about them, about their deep connection to the land, their loyalty, their fierce possessiveness of their mates. Once a mate was found, it was for life, a bond forged in fire and instinct. I'd always been fascinated, always imagined finding someone like that. Someone who wouldn't hurt me. Someone whose wildness would protect, not destroy. Someone who wouldn't be a Percy. The thought of his cruel hands, his mocking eyes, was a cold knife twisting in my gut, a stark contrast to the burning desire for something pure, something primal.
She had encountered shifters before, their primal essence a fleeting tremor beneath the mundane. Powerful bears, their hulking forms barely contained by human skin; agile wolves, eyes holding ancient wildness; elusive felines, shadows melting into shadows. Most remained distant, their true nature a closely guarded secret, but a select few, like the MacCuirc family, wove themselves into the fabric of the community, their strength a quiet, undeniable presence, a low growl beneath the everyday hum.
I often thought of Logan MacCuirc, a man whose sheer height felt like a challenge, a primal dare, his gaze, sharp as honed steel, hinting at depths I instinctively knew were dangerous, depths I was both terrified and desperately eager to explore. He ran the woodcarving shop at the edge of town, the scent of cedar and raw power clinging to him like a second skin, a heady musk that promised both protection and possession. A shiver, half fear, half something far more potent, would trace its way down my spine whenever our paths crossed — a yearning I couldn't articulate, and a hunger I barely understood.
His intensity was a magnet I fought against, a whisper of the wild that called to my dormant curiosities, to the part of me that craved to be claimed. I knew he was a shifter, felt it in the charged air around him, a static electricity that made every nerve ending hum, but the beast within him remained a tantalizing mystery, a secret held tight behind those unyielding eyes, eyes that promised to devour me whole. Shifters were solitary creatures, their world a breath away from mine, yet forever intertwined, a destiny waiting to unfold.
My jeep rounded the final bend, the familiar silhouette of Ava's small, cozy cottage appearing through the trees. The porch light was off. The windows, usually glowing with the warmth of her presence, were dark, like vacant eyes staring into the void. A profound emptiness settled in my chest, heavy and aching, a physical weight pressing down on my lungs. I pulled onto the gravel driveway, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was deafening, filled only by the chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the mountain breeze, sounds that seemed to mock the void in my soul.
I sat there for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles white, staring at the dark house. The house where I'd laughed, cried, learned, and dreamt. The house that was now mine, a legacy of grief and an inheritance of a life I was now forced to claim. My grandmother was gone. And I, Ruby Hawkins, was finally home, whether I was ready for it. The wild heart of Blue Ridge Falls was waiting, and I knew, with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified me, that it was waiting for me.