Chapter 1 — Homecoming

Alina

The train groaned to a halt, its brakes screeching like a hawk’s cry as the sound echoed along the cliffs. Alina D’Arcy clutched the worn leather strap of her duffel, her sea-green eyes scanning the platform as she stepped onto it. The salty tang of the sea rushed to greet her, mingling with a faint undercurrent of wildflowers carried by the wind. Over a decade had passed since she’d last stood here, and yet, the scene before her felt like it had been preserved in amber. The pastel-painted cottages still leaned against one another like old friends, their shutters bright against the graying sky. Gulls spiraled above, their piercing calls melding with the distant hum of life from the town square below.

And yet, for all the familiarity, Alina felt unmoored.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her fingers brushing the small silver compass pendant that rested lightly against her collarbone. The faint scuffs on its surface reflected years of wear, and the needle within, though unreliable, seemed to quiver faintly as if it, too, sensed the weight of her return. She told herself she was here for Lila. Just Lila. One weekend, maybe two. Long enough to toast her sister’s happiness under a canopy of fairy lights and disappear again, slipping back into the anonymity she had crafted after her career had unraveled.

But as her boots struck the cobblestones of the sloping path toward the square, her resolve began to crack. The town seemed to hum with a kind of life she hadn’t felt in years. Children darted around the fountain in the square’s center, their laughter rising above the gentle burble of water as though it were a hymn to simpler times. A vendor at the flower stall plucked a fistful of sunflowers, arranging them in buckets glimmering with morning dew. The colors—bursting with yellows and violets—seemed too vibrant to ignore, as though the town itself was determined to show her what she’d left behind.

And then, she saw it. Merrick’s Books.

Her steps faltered, her breath catching mid-inhale. The bookstore stood stalwart on the corner of the square, yet time had etched its toll into every piece of its facade. The once-vivid sign above the door had faded to soft blues and peeling edges, and a crack meandered across one of the bay windows, like a scar no one had bothered to mend. A shadow of neglect hung over the building, clinging to it like a low fog.

Despite the state of the store, or perhaps because of it, her feet moved without instruction, drawn forward by a current as inescapable as the tides that had once terrified her as a child. Memories surfaced unbidden—long afternoons spent nestled in the reading nook by the fireplace, the low murmur of Theo’s voice as he read aloud from a favorite novel. Her hand instinctively reached for the peeling blue paint of the doorframe, its rough texture sending a jolt through her.

“It’s just a bookstore,” she whispered, though the words tasted hollow. The small compass at her neck grew heavier, its chain digging faintly into her skin, as if the talisman itself knew better.

Swallowing hard, she pushed the door open.

The scent hit her first—a heady mix of aged paper, polished wood, and the faintest trace of saltwater that seemed to cling to the town’s very bones. Dust motes twirled lazily in the sunlight that filtered through the bay windows, catching on the bowed edges of the bookshelves. The floorboards beneath her boots creaked in soft protest, a sound so familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

But nostalgia soon gave way to a sinking realization. The bookstore she remembered had always felt like a sanctuary of order and care, but now, the weight of neglect was undeniable. Shelves sagged from disorganization, the spines of books leaning haphazardly like drunken sailors. Watermarks marred the once-pristine ceiling, their edges curling like the pages of a well-loved book left in the rain.

And then she saw him.

Theo Merrick stood behind the counter, his head bent over a ledger. His dark brown hair was tousled in that familiar way, as though he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. He wore a corduroy jacket, its elbows patched in a way that suggested both pragmatism and sentimentality. A shadow of stubble framed his jawline, adding to the air of quiet intensity that had always surrounded him, as though the weight of the bookstore—and perhaps the world—rested squarely on his shoulders.

Alina’s breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, she considered retreating, slipping out before he saw her. But before she could act, her voice betrayed her, cracking the silence like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Merrick himself. Still keeping the literary masses in check?”

Theo’s pen froze mid-stroke, his head snapping up. For an instant, something unguarded flickered in his hazel eyes—recognition, surprise, and perhaps something softer that she couldn’t quite name. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a cool, measured calm that stung worse than outright anger.

“Alina.” His tone was brittle, like winter frost clinging stubbornly to a branch. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “I’m here for Lila’s wedding,” she said, aiming for breezy but landing somewhere closer to uncertain. “Thought I’d stop by. The place looks…” Her words trailed off as her gaze swept the room, landing on a sagging shelf held together by what looked like sheer determination.

“Like it’s barely holding together?” Theo supplied. He raised a single eyebrow, his expression sharp enough to cut.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly, though the guilt twisting in her chest betrayed her. Her hand drifted to her compass pendant, gripping it as though it might anchor her.

Theo straightened, closing the ledger with a deliberate snap. “Well, it’s been a long ten years. Not all of us get to leave and chase dreams.”

The bitterness in his voice was soft but unmistakable, and it hit her like a slap. Her defenses flared instinctively. “I didn’t—” she began, but the words tangled in her throat. How could she explain the choices she’d made, the reasons she’d left? How could she tell him that none of it had turned out the way she’d hoped?

Theo’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Enjoy your stay,” he said curtly, his tone making it clear the conversation was over before it had begun.

Her throat burned as she stood there, rooted in place. A thousand words of apology and explanation clattered uselessly in her mind, too tangled to escape. Finally, she turned, her boots scuffing against the wooden floor as she made her way to the door.

“Theo,” she said softly, her voice almost swallowed by the quiet.

He didn’t look up.

The salty breeze hit her like a cold slap as she stepped outside, the square’s familiar sounds and colors now muted by the weight settling in her chest. Adjusting the strap of her duffel, she began walking, her steps uneven against the cobblestones.

As she passed the fountain, she caught sight of her reflection in the rippling water. The auburn waves of her hair, tangled by the wind, framed a face she barely recognized. Her sea-green eyes searched the distorted surface, and she felt the compass pendant press against her collarbone like a question she couldn’t answer.

“I’ll figure it out,” she murmured, though her voice trembled under the weight of uncertainty.

The town stretched out before her, a patchwork of memories she wasn’t ready to face. But even as she walked away, the past clung to her—persistent, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. And for the first time in years, she felt the pull of something unfinished, a call she wasn’t sure she had the strength to answer.