Chapter 1 — The Collision

Evelyn

The rain cascaded steadily, drumming against the windshield of Evelyn Marlowe’s sleek silver sedan as she maneuvered through the congested downtown streets. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her pale knuckles nearly blending with the dark leather. The rhythmic patter of rain, typically a soothing backdrop to her morning drives, only heightened her tension today. A last-minute email from the department chair had delayed her departure, threatening her meticulously planned schedule. Punctuality, like professionalism, was a cornerstone of her life—a touchstone of control in an otherwise unpredictable world.

She glanced at the dashboard clock. 8:42 a.m. Theoretically, she could still make it in time for her lecture—if the lights cooperated. If traffic cleared. If—

A sudden jolt wrenched her forward. The seatbelt locked against her chest with bruising force, halting her momentum. Her breath hitched, her heart pounding as she froze, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The steady rhythm of her thoughts fragmented, leaving her momentarily suspended in disorientation.

After a deep, steadying breath, she exhaled shakily and glanced in the rearview mirror. Through the rain-slicked glass, she caught sight of a dark green pickup truck idling behind her. Its headlights glared back like accusatory eyes in the gray morning. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she unclipped her seatbelt with deliberate precision.

Irritation simmered beneath her calm exterior, but she quelled it instinctively. She was a professional. And professionals remained composed under duress.

Stepping out of the car, she was met with the cold insistence of the rain, which soaked through her sensible pumps almost immediately. Her umbrella snapped open with a sharp click, its black canopy offering minimal reprieve from the deluge. Stray strands of chestnut-brown hair clung stubbornly to her neck, dampening her carefully composed appearance. Evelyn straightened the hem of her navy blouse, the familiar motion grounding her as she prepared to address the situation.

The door of the truck swung open, and out stepped a tall man with an air of effortless ease, as though entirely unbothered by the downpour. His dark hair, curling at the edges, glistened with rain, and his leather boots splashed heedlessly through shallow puddles. He rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw while squinting at her through the rain with an expression that teetered between sheepishness and amusement. Despite the dreary surroundings, there was a brightness to his blue eyes, a sharp contrast to the weather.

“I guess that’s my fault,” he called over the rain, his voice carrying an easy warmth that felt absurdly out of place. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth, as though this were some lighthearted mishap in a coffee shop rather than a collision on a rain-slicked street.

Evelyn tilted her umbrella against the rain, though it left one shoulder exposed to the elements. “Yes,” she said coolly, “it certainly is.”

The man stopped a few paces away, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Bad start to the morning?”

She glanced briefly at the vehicles. The truck had only a faint dent in its front bumper, but the pristine rear fender of her sedan bore a noticeable scuff. Suppressing her sigh, she folded her arms, the motion causing her pumps to slip slightly on the wet pavement before she steadied herself. “If you’ll provide your insurance information, we can handle this quickly. I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Straight to business,” he said, his grin widening. “I like that. Name’s Grayson Holt, by the way. And you are?”

“Uninterested in pleasantries.” Evelyn retrieved her phone from her purse, her tone clipped. “Your insurance information, Mr. Holt?”

Grayson let out a soft chuckle as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket with infuriating leisure. “Sure thing,” he said, handing her a card. “Here you go. You know, this rain doesn’t make things easy, huh?”

“Neither does inattentive driving,” she replied, snapping a photo of the card before handing it back to him. Her green eyes flicked toward her car, cataloging the damage in clinical detail. “It’s fortunate the damage is minimal.”

“Hey, I’ll own up to it,” Grayson said, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Got distracted for a second, but in my defense, it’s basically a monsoon out here. You’re in one piece, though, so there’s your silver lining.”

“I find silver linings redundant in situations like these,” Evelyn said sharply. Her gaze flicked briefly to the leather strap slung across his shoulder. The swirling leaf pattern etched into the worn leather seemed oddly deliberate, out of place on someone so otherwise carelessly casual. She dismissed the thought and turned back toward her car. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait,” he called out, stepping closer but pausing at a respectful distance. “Your taillight’s busted. You might want to get that checked before someone else rear-ends you.”

Evelyn arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’ll manage, thank you.”

Grayson tilted his head, his grin softening into something that might have passed for sincerity. “Alright. Well, drive safe, Professor.”

She stopped mid-step, narrowing her eyes. “How do you—?”

He gestured toward her windshield. “The Elmfield University decal. You’re not exactly flying under the radar.”

For a fleeting moment, Evelyn felt a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. She brushed a damp strand of hair from her face, her fingers briefly grazing the pearl pendant at her collarbone, a steadying gesture she didn’t register. “Perceptive,” she muttered dryly.

Grayson shrugged, his grin returning. “Sometimes. Moments like this make for interesting stories, don’t they?”

Evelyn said nothing, instead stepping back into her car and shutting the door firmly against the rain—and the infuriatingly casual man standing outside. The steady hum of the engine and the rhythmic drum of rain against the roof filled the enclosed space as she adjusted her rearview mirror. Through the rain-blurred glass, she caught a glimpse of Grayson walking back to his truck, his movements unhurried, as though the day had nowhere particular to take him.

As she merged back into traffic, Evelyn focused resolutely on the road ahead. It was just an inconvenient start to the day. A collision, nothing more.

And yet, as the rain continued to fall in steady sheets, a faint, unwelcome thought lingered in the back of her mind. Something about the man—his easy grin, his unbothered demeanor—had left an impression she couldn’t quite dismiss. She straightened her posture, forcing herself to focus. Routine would restore balance. It always did.

Still, the feeling remained, elusive and unsettling, like the rain itself.