Chapter 1
Sierra
I hate small towns. They smell like boredom and bad decisions. And yet… here I am again.
Nothing ever happens here. Nothing worth talking about, anyway. Unless you count that accident ten years ago—the one that turned this town into a circus of pity and gossip for a while. Since then, I’m pretty sure this place has gone right back to being exactly what it’s always been: dull, predictable, and desperate for something to talk about.
Even if it’s nothing remarkable to anyone passing through, it still holds every piece of my childhood, every version of me from before I understood what the world could offer.
The years I spent away were good—more than good. Different energy, new people, a different kind of life. The kind built on money, access, and rooms full of people who all looked like they belonged there. And technically, I did too. I could affordeverything they could, walk into the same places, live the same life. But over there, none of it made me special. I was just another rich girl in a city full of them, another polished face in a sea of polished faces.
Here, it’s different. Here, I don’t blend in. I don’t disappear. The second I walk into a room, people notice. Here, my name still means something.
I adjust my sunglasses, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. The road is almost empty, with just a few cars ahead moving slower than I’d like. And of course, there’s always that one idiot who couldn’t tell an engine from a shopping cart yet still has the nerve to get behind the wheel.
“Are you close or are you doing that thing where ten minutes actually means thirty?” Tess’s laugh crackles through the speakers, filling the car.
My beautiful cousin. We used to be close once, back when being family made everything simpler. Somewhere along the way, that changed. No dramatic fallout, no scene worth retelling—just years of small fractures that never healed quite right. These days, we keep things civil out of habit more than affection. Family has a way of expecting that.
“I’m ten minutes away.” I tighten my grip on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I’d be there in five if the asshole in front of me wasn’t driving like a complete liability.”
“Wow. You’ve been gone how long, and you’re already starting?” She lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more like avoidance than amusement.
“I never stopped.”
“Clearly.”
I smile to myself as I change lanes. “You say that like it’s a flaw, Tess, when really it’s the only reason I’ve never ended up as forgettable as everyone else around here.”
The line goes quiet, and I can almost picture the tight little expression she gets when she’s forcing herself not to react.
“You always did enjoy hearing yourself talk.” She says it lightly, but there’s something else buried beneath the teasing.
“And you always did confuse self-control with having nothing worth saying.” I let the words settle before adding sweetly, “Still, it’s nice to know some things never change.”
I switch lanes smoothly, sliding past the car in front of me without easing off the speed. As I pull alongside, the window slides down halfway and I call out to him.
“Maybe try using the gas pedal next time, you dick!” I barely acknowledge the driver before focusing on the road ahead again.
“Wow. Still just as calm as I remember.” Tess’s dry tone pulls a quiet smile out of me anyway.
“Perfection isn’t something you improve, darling.” I let out a faint laugh, keeping one hand loose on the wheel.
“Yeah, right—where the fuck are you?”
Instead of answering, I press the horn hard enough to make her jump in those ridiculous heels. She spins around already irritated, eyes sweeping the street as if I’m about to materialize out of thin air just to inconvenience her personally. It takes a second before she finally spots my car.
“Right behind you, bitch.” I keep my voice calm, like that should’ve been obvious from the start.
The second she realizes, her face changes, and she lifts a hand to flip me off without a trace of hesitation.
I laugh before I can help it, sinking back in my seat as she starts laughing too, shaking her head at me like I’m still the exact same person she remembers.
Honestly, she’s not wrong.
I end the call just as she starts walking toward me, then grab my bag and push the door open. I step out without hurrying, my Prada heels meeting the asphalt one after the other—sharp, steady clicks that carry nicely through the quiet street.
Her eyes drop immediately. She stares at my shoes, then looks back at me like I’ve stepped out of a spaceship instead of a car.
