Chapter 1 #1

Chapter 1

~ Jade ~

The airport smelled like two things: departure and grief.

"Welcome back, sweetheart. Welcome back." Aunt Elena was crying before she even got both arms around me. She pulled me into a hug that felt… rehearsed. Like she’d been standing in front of a mirror practicing exactly what to say and how to hold me to make this nightmare feel a little less like a horror movie.

I just let her. That’s the thing about being the one who suffered the tragedy — you spend a lot of time letting other people feel helpful.

Obed stood two feet away, hands shoved so deep in his pockets I thought he might rip the fabric. He watched us like we were actors in a play he hadn't auditioned for. It had been one month. We’d been shipped off to relatives while LoveCreek City moved on without us. The news was still calling it a "tragic animal attack," like our parents hadn't been torn apart and left on a roadside.

"Okay, I need her now. Thank you, Elena!" Ashley materialized out of nowhere. She physically peeled me away from my aunt with the kind of bossy confidence you only get from eleven years of being best friends.

Aunt Elena laughed through her tears, dabbing her eyes. "Oh, Ashley, you haven’t changed a bit."

"And I never will." Ashley was already hooking her arm through mine, steering me toward the exit. "She’ll be right there in the car, I promise! We just need a bestie minute."

I threw an apologetic glance back at Aunt Elena. She just waved us on, still smiling through wet eyes. That familiar pang of guilt hit me  — the one I always felt when I saw her trying so hard to be "okay" for us.

As Ashley pulled me through the crush of arriving travelers, I wasn't watching my step.

My shoulder clipped a tall, broad frame cutting sharply against the flow of the crowd.

"Oh, sorry…" The apology died right in my throat.

The guy I’d bumped into spun around. He was pale… almost shockingly so… with messy dark hair and features so sharply carved they looked dangerous. But it was his reaction that made my stomach drop into my sneakers.

The moment our coats brushed, he recoiled as if I had shoved a hot iron against his skin. His hand snapped up over his nose and mouth, fingers digging in so hard the knuckles blanched white. He glared down at me, his chest hitching in a violent, choked hitch, and for a terrifying second, his eyes blazed with a shade of electric, furious blue so vivid it felt like a physical shock through my veins.

I froze. "Are you... okay?"

He didn't speak. He looked at me with pure, unadulterated hostility — or panic, I couldn't tell which — before he turned on his heel and sliced through the crowd with impossible speed, disappearing into the terminal before I could even blink.

Ashley gave my arm a sharp yank, completely oblivious. "Jade, stop staring at random airport weirdos. I have exactly forty-eight hours before I’m on a plane to India, and I need you to know something life-altering."

I rubbed my shoulder, shaking off the sudden chill that had prickled over my skin. "Ashley, did you not see how pale that guy looked?"

"Oh I don't care about that now," Ashley rolled her eyes, dropping her voice an octave "There is a boy I met."

I stopped dead. "You’re having heart surgery in two days."

"I am very aware of my own medical schedule, thank you very much." She squeezed my arm and kept us moving. "The timing is trash and I’ve already cried about it, so you are legally forbidden from making me cry again." She pointed a warning finger at my nose. "Heart surgery waits for no one, Jade. Not even you."

What could I even say to that? Ashley had lived with a heart condition her whole life, just like she’d lived with that permanent smile. That was just who she was. In two weeks, she’d come back "fixed." Whole.

But two weeks felt like a lifetime without her.

We piled into Aunt Elena’s car — Obed up front, Ashley and me in the back. Before the engine had even warmed up, Ashley dropped her voice to that conspiratorial whisper I knew by heart.

"So, I was at the tailoring shop last week," she started, her eyes getting that spark. "Getting my transfer school uniform fitted. And then he walked in."

"Ashley, there is always a guy."

"No, no, no." She grabbed my wrist. "Not like this. Jade, you have to understand — something happened to me. Like, physically. My heart actually stopped."

"Ashley!"

"Metaphorically!" she corrected quickly. "The doctors say I'm stable. But his name tag said Arthur Fletcher." She said the name like it was a sacred spell. "Grade twelve. Our year. He looked right at me and smiled, and honestly? I died. I’m a ghost now."

Up front, Aunt Elena tried to break the ice. "Obed, honey, are you hungry? We could stop at that diner you used to love..."

"I’m fine." Obed’s voice was a flat line. He didn't even look away from the window.

A heavy silence settled over the front seat. I watched Elena’s shoulders drop just a fraction. She was only twenty-six. Nobody gives you a manual on how to suddenly raise two grieving teenagers. She was flying blind, and I could tell she had no idea if she was even hitting the target.

"I need you to find him," Ashley whispered, yanking my attention back.

"Find who?"

"Arthur Fletcher!" She started counting off on her fingers. "When he gets to school. Who he sits with. What he eats for lunch. If he’s funny. If he’s actually kind or just 'pretty-boy' kind." She ran out of fingers and just squeezed my hand. "Everything, Jade. I need to know it all."

I looked at her — this girl facing surgery in two days, grinning about a boy she saw once across a tailor’s shop. A weird mix of a laugh and a sob got stuck in my throat.

The truth was, I needed this. I needed a distraction. I needed something to fill my head that wasn't the image of my parents, or the "animal attack" story that felt like a lie, or the silence Obed wore like a second skin. Or that pale boy at the terminal with the glowing blue glare.

"Fine," I said.

She gasped like I’d just saved the world. "I knew it! I knew I could count on you!"

"You owe me."

"For the rest of my natural life." She was practically glowing. "Arthur Fletcher. Do not let me down."

I actually laughed. A real, genuine laugh. It felt weird on my face.

Outside, LoveCreek City blurred past — familiar, sunny, and completely unbothered, as if our entire world hadn't just imploded.

Arthur Fletcher, I thought. Okay. I can do that.

….

I think I slept for maybe three minutes total.

The rest of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, flinching at every creak the house made. I kept telling myself the wind was just wind. That I was safe. That the doors were locked. But a small part of me kept whispering that whatever "animal" did that to my parents wouldn't care about a locked door.

I didn't feel safe in LoveCreek. Not anymore.

When Aunt Elena knocked at 6:30 AM, I was already dressed and waiting.

The drive to school was a silent affair. Obed hadn't uttered a single word since we left the house. When we reached the gates, Elena put the car in park and gave us a bright, forced smile. "Have a great first day back, okay? Both of you."

"Thanks, Elena." I reached forward and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

Obed said nothing. He just opened the door and vanished.

I caught up to him on the sidewalk, matching his pace as students swirled around us. I could feel the stares. The "Casteel kids" were transferred here. I could practically hear the whispers following us like a shadow.

I stopped and touched his arm. He turned, and for a split second, the blank mask slipped. He looked absolutely exhausted.

"Hey," I said softly. "Look at me."

He did.

"Smile. Even if you have to fake it. It stops the pity looks and keeps people from asking questions."

He pulled his mouth into something that technically counted as a smile and gave a stiff nod. "See you after school," he said, disappearing into the crowd.

I watched him go, feeling the ache in my chest. First period. English. Find Arthur Fletcher. One step at a time.

…

The English classroom was buzzing with that "first day of school" energy when I walked in.

"Everyone!" The teacher clapped, her face beaming. "We have a new face joining us today." She beckoned me forward. "Come on up, sweetheart. Introduce yourself."

Twenty-something pairs of eyes landed on me.

My stomach did a somersault. Stage fright — my oldest, meanest enemy. My mom used to tell me the only cure was to look at the tops of people's heads instead of their eyes.

I took a breath, aimed my gaze just above the crowd, and spoke. "Good morning. My name is Jade Casteel. I transferred here this semester, and I’m looking forward to meeting everyone. Please take care of me."

A few people clapped politely. Feeling a bit braver, I actually let myself look at the faces.

That’s when I saw him.

Three rows back.

My breath trapped in my throat. It was him. The guy from the airport.

Dark hair, a jawline that could probably cut glass, and skin so pale it looked like he’d never seen a ray of sun in his life. He was, without a doubt, the most striking person I’d ever seen.

And he was staring at me like I’d just kicked his dog.

His brow was furrowed, his jaw tight. Just like at the terminal, he had his hand clamped up over his nose and mouth, fingers curled, looking like he was physically suffocating just sharing the same oxygen with me.

I looked behind me. Nothing.

I discreetly sniffed my own wrist. Vanilla body wash. Clean. I definitely don't smell.

So what was his problem? Why was he tracking me like this?

"Jade, you can take the empty seat right next to Lancelot."

The teacher pointed toward the boy who was currently looking at me like I was a walking natural disaster. Of course.

The closer I got to him, the worse he looked. He shifted in his seat, turning his body completely away from me. His jaw clenched so hard I thought it might snap. He pressed his fingers tighter against his nose and mouth, refusing to breathe.

It was like watching someone brace for a tidal wave.

I sat down, trying to ignore the blatant rudeness. He went completely still. I turned to look at him—those electric blue eyes were stunning, and for a second, I almost forgot to be annoyed.

Then, he stood up. He scraped his chair back with a loud screech, and without a word, walked straight out of the room.

"Lancelot!" the teacher called out. "Lancelot, class hasn't even…"

The door slammed shut.

The room fell into a dead silence. I sat there, the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, and did the only thing I could think of.

I lifted my wrist and took one last sniff.

Still vanilla. No foul smell.

What on earth was wrong with this boy?