Chapter 238
DEMI
I wake to the sound of someone trying to break my door down.
For a moment, I think I’m dreaming. My mind is still thick with sleep, my body warm beneath the covers, the faint gray light of early morning slipping through the thin curtains of the cottage bedroom. But then the banging comes again. It’s louder this time, heavy and urgent.
My eyes fly open.
Who on earth...?
The knock comes again, three hard blows that rattle the doorframe.
I groan and push myself upright, rubbing my face. My heart is already beginning to thump faster as I swing my legs out of bed and pull on the sweater I tossed over a chair the night before.
The cottage is still unfamiliar in the way new places are when you’ve only slept in them once, yet I’ve been here a week. The creak of the floorboards, the faint scent of old wood and dust, the way the hallway seems longer in the half-light. All of it feels slightly unreal, like I’m still halfway between Danvarr and here.
The banging continues. "Okay, okay," I mutter, shuffling toward the door. "I’m coming."
I reach the front entrance and lean forward to peer through the peephole. The sight on the other side instantly wakes me.
"Uncle Marcel?"
I pull the door open. He steps inside without waiting to be invited.
As usual, my uncle looks sharp-eyed. But this morning there’s something different about him. His shoulders are tense beneath his coat. His gaze darts around the small entryway as if he expects something to jump out of the walls.
Neither of us speaks for a moment. I don’t care how he found me. I always knew he would but I am not prepared for this moment when we have to talk, given how hurt I feel because his last departure felt like abandonment to me.
I walk further into the living room while he shuts the door behind him. The silence stretches between us, thick with things neither of us has said yet.
Finally, he breaks it. "Why would you leave Danvarr without telling me?"
His voice is sharper than I expect. I turn to face him, folding my arms. "Why would I need to tell you?"
His eyes widen in disbelief. "You know exactly why."
"Actually, I don’t. I don’t remember agreeing to keep you informed about my life when you disappear for weeks at a time."
His jaw tightens. "I had an emergency."
The sarcasm slips out before I can stop it. "Of course you did. There’s always something going on with you, isn’t that right?"
He opens his mouth as if to argue, then stops himself. I see the moment the fight drains out of him. His shoulders sag slightly.
"You’re right to be mad. I shouldn’t have left the way I did."
Something in my chest softens for a fraction of a second, but it’s quickly replaced by suspicion. Marcel has always been good at saying the right things without actually explaining anything.
"What emergency?" I ask him.
He hesitates. Then he says, "I had to go back home, to Melville."
I stare at him, feeling my irritation flare instantly. "That’s interesting," I bite back.
His brow furrows. "What is?"
"I heard from the locals that you were here days ago."
His face goes still.
"At this very cottage." I add with grit. "You came here, did you not?"
His gaze flickers toward the hallway behind me before returning to my face. "You’re mistaken."
"No, I’m not." Even though I wasn’t sure at first, his reaction tells me all I need to know. Anger begins to rise in my chest.
"Why are you lying to me?"
"I’m not..."
"Yes, you are." I rake a hand through my disheveled hair and step closer to him. "What is going on with you lately, uncle? You disappear with little to no explanation. Then you show up again unannounced. You lie about where you’ve been. And now you’re standing here acting like I’m the one who did something wrong."
Marcel exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look kid, I’ll explain everything."
"Then explain it, and DON’T call me a kid."
He exhales sharply. "Fine, Demi but not here."
"Why not?"
He gestures vaguely around the cottage. "This place...it holds too many bittersweet memories of our family, your parents. It’s...hard on me."
I incline my head at him, my eyes narrowed in surprise. I know he mostly grew up in this town but I didn’t expect it to be hard on him since my parents’ gruesome death occurred far away from here. Did something else happen in this town to give him chills?
"What are you talking about?" I ask him.
"Come back to Melville with me," he says quickly. "We’ll hash out everything there. I want you packed and ready to leave by nightfall."
The urgency in his tone is impossible to miss. This makes my suspicion harden instantly. "You still haven’t explained what about this place makes you uncomfortable. You’re not making any sense."
"Demi, don’t start a fight. I just told you..."
"That was not an explanation; that was an order," I reply coolly.
His expression tightens. "Demi..."
"The answer is NO. I’m not leaving."
His eyebrows draw tighter and when he speaks again, frustration laces his words. "Why would you even come here in the first place? If you wanted a fresh start away from the Rollins family and all their bad luck, you could’ve gone anywhere: a retreat on some island, another country, a city where no one knows you."
His voice sharpens. "But you chose to come here." He gestures at the house. "Why?"
The question hangs between us. I take a breath and plunk down on the couch. "Because it’s home."
The words feel heavier than I expected. Marcel’s expression flickers.
"You barely remember this place."
"I remember enough."
I glance around the living room; the worn couch, the wooden beams across the ceiling, the soft morning light filtering through the windows.
"My parents loved this cottage. I remember that much. I wanted to feel close to them again. The sparse memories I recall here remind me of them, of a time when my life was full and happy. That’s something I need right now and I can’t find it anywhere else."
The room goes silent. Marcel’s face changes slightly when I say that. His eyes darken in a way I can’t quite interpret.
"Demi, this place is also full of painful memories."
"Maybe but they’re not MY memories. Why don’t you enlighten me. That’s the only way I can understand your concerns."
He says nothing to that, just clenches his jaw in defeat.
"I’m not leaving," I repeat to drive home my point.
He tries one more time. "You don’t understand. I need you to trust me on this..."
"Then help me understand." I tilt my head slightly. "Why did you come here few days ago? You didn’t clean the place so you clearly didn’t stay long enough to spend the night. That tells me you probably came here to get something."
His eyes flick toward the hallway again.
"What were you looking for?"
"I just wanted to check on the property."
The answer comes too quickly. I almost laugh. "That’s not true."
He doesn’t respond or bother to defend the poor lie. For a moment, I consider pressing him harder, forcing him to tell me the truth but the look on his face stops me. It’s not fear exactly; it’s something more complicated. It’s almost like someone guarding a secret they believe is necessary.
I exhale slowly. "Uncle Marcel, I need you to leave. I came here because I needed space and a fresh start." I hold his gaze as I continue. "I can’t do that if you’re hovering over me and trying to drag me somewhere else. I’m grown now. I need you to respect my decisions and trust me to make the right ones henceforth."
He studies my face for a long moment. "How long are you planning to stay?"
"I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it. But I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon."
He sighs deeply, hugs me and kisses my hair. "Just promise you’ll pick my calls, always."
I mumble in agreement. It’s the only concession I’m willing to give. Marcel stands there for another few seconds, like he wants to say more. Then he nods slowly and heads toward the door. When it closes behind him, the cottage feels strangely quiet again.
I release a long breath. What is he hiding? The question lingers in my mind long after he’s gone. Part of me considers mentioning what the woman at the grocery store said yesterday, about me having a brother.
But I’m almost certain Marcel would’ve denied it, and I’m tired of hearing his lies. So, I make a silent promise to find all the answers myself, one way or another. This town seems to hold secrets about my family that even I don’t know.
If the people in this town remember my parents—especially my mother—then someone knows the truth.
All I have to do is listen carefully.
***
The next morning, I decide to look for a job. I don’t really need the money but sitting alone in the cottage all day is driving me crazy.
The town is small. It’s exactly the kind of place you see in those cozy Hallmark movies where everyone knows everyone else’s business. The streets are lined with old brick buildings, flower boxes hanging beneath windows, and the occasional café where locals sit outside drinking coffee and gossiping.
As I walk down the main street, I spot a sign that makes my heart lift; Town Library.
The building is beautiful. It has large windows, a wide wooden door and ivy climbing along the stone walls. Inside, the air smells of dusty paper and ink. Rows of books stretch in every direction.
For a moment, I forget why I came here. My fingers trail along the spines as I wander through the shelves but the comfort doesn’t last. I instantly recall Rahl’s bookstore, the little shop in Danvarr where I used to work, the place where so many things in my life changed and where I met people who would become tangled up in my fate in ways I never could’ve predicted.
I force the thought away. I’m not thinking about the Rollins family today, especially not Ashton.
"Are you new here?"
The voice startles me out of my thoughts. I turn to see a woman smiling at me. She’s probably in her twenties, with soft blonde curls and kind eyes.
"I am," I admit.
"Well, welcome to our little town." She gestures toward the shelves around us. "I help run the library."
We start chatting. Her name is Margaret, and she quickly informs me that she and a group of friends run a book club that meets here every Saturday.
"You should join us," she says enthusiastically. "Trust me, it’s the best way to make friends around here who are going to bring you up to speed with town gossip if you care to know."
I hesitate for a second. She’s right. I need to talk to people and not just in my sleep.
"Alright. I love books too and I’d love to meet people."
She beams. Whipping her hair, she turns and steers me to a cozy part of the library where she introduces me to the book club members.
There are six of them; four girls and two guys. I notice the quiet one immediately. He’s impossible not to notice. He’s tall with broad shoulders and dark curly hair that falls slightly over his forehead. Except his hazel eyes, he reminds me of Ashton in an unhealthy way. If anyone wanted to cosplay my ex, this guy (Brad) would be in the top five.
He watches me with an open curiosity throughout Margaret’s introduction, ignoring one of the girls striving for his attention. The conversation flows easily after that. I politely respond only when spoken to.
Night fall catches us by surprise. A little panicky, I spring to my feet, in a haste to get to my cottage on time. Brad jumps up after me and offers to walk me. he man eventually walks me out when the meeting wraps up.
"It’ll be difficult to get a cab at this hour. Let me walk you. It’s the least I can do to welcome you to our town." His charming smile is a little disarming, just like Ashton’s. Left without a better alternative, I agree to his offer. We walk down the quiet street together in silence for the first minute.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat.
"Would you like to get dinner sometime?"
The question is straightforward, hardly what I expected. I stop walking.
"Evan..." He looks at me expectantly. "I just got out of a relationship. I’m not really in the right place for anything like that right now."
His smile doesn’t falter as he nods. "That’s fair. I hope we can still be friends though."
I smile in relief. "I’d like that."
We continue walking for another block before he speaks again. "You know, I think you’re pretty strong."
"For what?"
"For walking away from the powerful Rollins family. That was very brave of you."
The words stop me cold. "You...you know about my past?"
Evan looks surprised. "I spend a lot of my vacations in Danvarr. That family was always in the news, blogs, pretty hard to miss. That’s how I knew about you." His smile fades when he notices me go ashen. "I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?"
My stomach twists. For someone who appears to not be fans of the Rollins family, it makes no sense how he’s gone out of his way to look like one of the quads. Is this his style or was he really trying to mimic Ashton?
"No, I’m just feeling a bit queasy. Thanks for walking me. I think I can make it home on my own now."
His expression softens. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It’s okay, Evan. I’ll see you on Saturday."
After he leaves, I continue toward the cottage. The sky has turned deep blue by the time I reach the front door. My mind is whirling. I hate how Ashton’s ghost follows me everywhere. What is fate trying to tell me? I just need time to purge myself of everything so I can make life-changing decisions with a clear head. Is that too much to ask?
I unlock my door and step inside. My skin instantly prickles with goosebumps as I step in. Something about the air felt wrong. A faint creak sounds somewhere deeper in the house and suddenly I know.
I’m not alone.