Chapter One
Nami’s Birthday
The Voss Estate buzzed with conversation, music drifting through the open-plan living room as guests moved between the kitchen, dining area, and back patio. Fairy lights glowed across the ceiling, birthday decorations hung neatly around the room, and the dining table was covered with enough food to feed twice the number of people gathered.
Nami had wanted a quiet birthday.
Somehow, quiet had turned into a full house.
Nic stood near the kitchen island, chatting with a few guests while keeping an eye on his wife as she laughed with Sierra and Grace.
Across the room, Reyen leaned lazily against the marble benchtop with a glass of bourbon in one hand. Having only recently returned to town, he hadn’t bothered introducing himself to many of the guests. He was content watching from a distance.
Bella, however, had other ideas.
“So…” she smiled, stepping a little closer. “How long are you staying this time?”
Reyen shrugged.
“Haven’t decided.”
“You should stay.”
He simply looked at her over the rim of his glass before taking another sip.
“I could show you around.”
Before Reyen could respond, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway echoed through the house.
Nami’s face immediately lit up.
“They’re here!”
Nic glanced towards the front door before looking at Reyen.
“When she walks in…” he said quietly, “…don’t react.”
Reyen frowned.
“To what?”
“She looks like someone we know.”
Reyen raised an eyebrow.
“Like who?”
Nic didn’t answer.
Instead, the front door opened.
Laughter spilled into the entrance hall before anyone appeared.
“You three are unbelievable,” a young woman’s voice laughed.
“We’re unbelievable?” Adrian replied. “You offered to pick us up.”
Cole smirked.
“I asked nicely.”
“I didn’t,” Nash admitted proudly.
“I just wanted a lift.”
The four of them stepped inside.
Without thinking, Nash, Cole, and Adrian moved aside, letting the young woman walk into the room first.
Bella spotted her immediately and rolled her eyes.
“Oh, here we go.”
Nami shot her a warning look.
“Don’t be rude, Bella.”
The young woman turned her head.
Her gaze travelled slowly from Bella’s shoes to the top of her head before she gave the smallest roll of her own eyes.
She didn’t waste another second on her.
Instead, she crossed the room with an easy smile.
“Nami.”
She wrapped her best friend in a hug.
“Happy birthday.”
“You made it!” Nami laughed, hugging her tightly.
“Barely.”
Navira nodded towards the three boys behind her.
“I had to collect these idiots.”
“We’re standing right here,” Cole replied.
“I know.”
“You could at least pretend to be nice.”
“I considered it.”
Nash laughed.
“For about two seconds.”
The room filled with laughter.
Reyen didn’t hear any of it.
He had gone completely still.
The glass in his hand stopped halfway to his lips as his eyes remained fixed on the woman standing across the room.
The same dark hair.
The same eyes.
The same smile.
The same face.
For a moment, the room around him disappeared.
Nic watched the realisation settle over his brother’s face before quietly saying,
“I told you.”
“…She isn’t her.”
Reyen's jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the glass, knuckles pale against the amber liquid. He stared at the woman across the room—the same dark curls, the same gold hoops catching the fairy lights, the same easy laugh—and forced himself to breathe.
She wasn't Medora.
He knew that.
But knowing and feeling were two different things, and his body hadn't caught up to his mind yet.
Bella tilted her head, following his gaze. Her expression flickered—recognition, then something cooler—before she smoothed it away. "Navira Moretti," she said, her voice light and deliberate. "Nami's best friend. Runs the apothecary with her grandmother."
Reyen didn't respond.
Bella waited a beat, then added, "She's been dating Michael Rossi for a while now. Sweet guy. Works at the garage."
The lie slid off her tongue like honey, smooth and intentional.
Reyen's eyes stayed on Navira. "I didn't ask."
"I know."
Across the room, Navira laughed at something Cole said, her head tipping back, the sound warm and unguarded. Sierra looped an arm through hers, dragging her toward the kitchen, and the moment passed.
Grace stepped away from the group near the window, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood as she crossed the room with the kind of deliberate ease that made people look twice. Her gaze landed on Nash, who stood near the dining table with a beer in one hand, half-listening to Adrian recount some gym incident.
She didn't hesitate.
"Nash."
He turned, and his expression shifted—a flicker of surprise, then something warmer. "Grace."
"You're hard to corner at these things." She stopped just inside his space, close enough that the conversation between Adrian and Cole became background noise. "Always circulating."
Nash's mouth curved. "I circulate. You materialise."
"That sounds like a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
Adrian glanced between them, snorted, and deliberately turned back to Cole. "Anyway, like I was saying—"
Grace ignored them completely. Her fingers brushed the label of his beer bottle, a light, incidental touch. "So. How long have you known Nami?"
"Few years. She and my sister are close."
"Navira." Grace said her name like she was testing it. "She seems nice."
"She is. Annoyingly so." But his voice softened when he said it.
Grace smiled, slow and knowing. "Annoyingly nice. That's a specific category."
"You have to meet her to understand."
"Maybe I will." She let the pause hang, then added, "Or maybe you could introduce me properly. Later."
Nash's thumb traced the neck of the bottle. "I could do that."
Across the kitchen island, Nami nudged Sierra with her elbow. Sierra's head turned, catching the same scene—Grace leaning in, Nash's attention narrowing to just her—and her eyebrows shot up.
"Oh my god," Sierra whispered.
Nami bit back a smile. "Don't make it obvious."
"I'm not making it obvious. You're making it obvious."
Navira appeared beside them, a glass of wine in her hand, following their gaze. She watched her brother laugh at something Grace said—a real laugh, not the polite one he used at work—and felt something warm bloom in her chest.
"Finally," she murmured.
Nami and Sierra exchanged a look.
Without a word, Nami took a small step back. Then Sierra. Then Navira, catching on, joined them, the three of them moving in slow, deliberate sync—backwards, heels silent on the hardwood, eyes fixed on Nash and Grace like they were watching a nature documentary.
They made it three steps before Sierra's shoulder bumped the wall.
Nami's hand flew to her mouth.
Navira grabbed both their wrists and pulled them around the corner into the hallway, where the three of them dissolved into barely-contained laughter, shoulders shaking, hands clamped over their mouths.
"Did you see his face?" Sierra gasped. "He's—he's doing the thing."
"What thing?" Nami whispered.
"The thing where he thinks he's being smooth but he's actually just standing there smiling like an idiot."
Navira pressed a hand to her chest, catching her breath. "She's been circling him for months."
"And he's been oblivious for months," Nami added.
"He's not oblivious," Navira said. "He's scared."
Sierra waved a hand. "Same thing."
They giggled again, leaning against the hallway wall, the sounds of the party drifting from the other room. Fairy lights stretched above them, casting soft gold across their faces. For a moment, everything was simple—just three friends stealing a laugh at a birthday party.
Then Navira straightened, smoothing her dress. "I should go say hi to Nic. I haven't seen him yet."
Nami's eyes softened. "He's in the living room. By the fireplace."
"With Reyen," Sierra added, a note of warning in her voice.
Navira shrugged. "I don't know him."
"You don't want to."
"That bad?"
Sierra considered it. "He's… a lot. And not in a good way."
Nami sighed. "He's my brother-in-law. Be nice."
"I'm always nice."
Navira left them arguing softly and made her way through the living room, weaving between small clusters of guests. She spotted Nic near the stone fireplace, his back to the mantel, a glass of red wine in his hand. Beside him, Reyen leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Bella stood a little too close to him, her hand resting on his forearm.
Navira didn't hesitate.
She walked straight up to Nic, ignoring the other two entirely, and wrapped her arms around him in a quick, warm hug.
"Hey," she said, pulling back. "Did you spoil her today?"
Nic's face cracked into a rare smile. "Breakfast in bed. Flowers. The earrings she's been pointing at for three months." He paused. "And I let her plan a party I explicitly said I wanted to keep small."
Navira laughed. "That's love."
"That's surrender." But his eyes were fond.
She stepped back, tucking a curl behind her ear, and finally let her gaze drift to the other two. Bella smiled at her—polite, practiced. Reyen watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"Navira," Bella said smoothly. "I don't think we've properly met. I'm Bella."
"I know who you are." Navira's voice was pleasant, neutral. "You're a model, right?"
"Something like that."
"That must be nice."
The silence that followed was just a beat too long.
Nic cleared his throat. "Navira, this is my brother, Reyen."
Reyen's head tilted. His mouth curved—not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. Something in between. "We haven't been introduced."
"We haven't," Navira agreed.
She didn't offer her hand.
He didn't offer his.
The moment stretched, suspended in the amber light, and neither of them looked away first.
Bella's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on Reyen's arm. "Reyen just got back into town," she said, filling the space. "He's been away for a while."
"Oh?" Navira's tone was politely disinterested. "Where were you?"
"Here and there."
"That's vague."
"I like vague."
Navira's lips pressed together, not quite a smile. "I'm sure you do."
Reyen's eyes gleamed—amused, sharp, assessing. "You're Nami's friend."
"Best friend."
"Right." He let the word sit. "She talks about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Mostly."
Bella shifted, her smile fixed in place. "Navira runs the apothecary in town, doesn't she? With her grandmother?"
"That's right."
"How quaint."
Navira's smile didn't waver. "It pays the bills."
The conversation settled into polite small talk after that—the party, the weather, the town—but Navira felt Reyen's gaze on her the entire time, tracking her movements, cataloguing her face like he was searching for something he couldn't name.
She didn't like it.
She didn't like him.
When Nami called her over to help with something in the kitchen, Navira excused herself with a wave, leaving Nic, Reyen, and Bella by the fire.
As she walked away, she felt the weight of his stare follow her across the room.
The kitchen was warm with the smell of garlic and herbs, the countertops cluttered with half-empty serving dishes and abandoned wine glasses. Nami stood at the island, transferring pasta salad into a fresh bowl while balancing her phone between her ear and shoulder.
"No, I told you, the lavender honey is in the cabinet above the stove." She paused, listening, then sighed. "The left cabinet. Above the stove. Yes, that one."
Navira slipped in beside her, reaching for a tea towel to dry her hands. "Need help?"
Nami hung up with a muttered thanks and dropped her phone onto the counter. "My cousin. She's trying to find the birthday gift she wrapped three days ago and apparently forgot where she put it."
"The one she left in her car?"
"The one she left in her car."
They worked in comfortable silence for a moment, Navira finding a serving spoon in the drawer and handing it over. The sounds of the party drifted through the walls—laughter, the clink of glasses, someone's playlist shifting to something slower.
Navira leaned against the counter, watching Nami arrange the bowl just so on the crowded island. "You've outdone yourself."
"I've out-ordered myself. Nic handled the catering." Nami's mouth curved. "He claims he enjoys it, but I think he just likes having an excuse to yell at vendors."
"Romantic."
"That's what I tell him."
Navira picked up a stray grape from a cutting board and popped it into her mouth. The juice was tart and cold. She chewed slowly, letting the quiet settle, before she spoke again.
"So."
Nami's eyebrow lifted. She knew that tone. "'So'?"
"Your brother-in-law."
"Reyen."
"Reyen." Navira set the grape stem down and met her friend's gaze. "What's his deal?"
Nami's hands stilled on the bowl. "What do you mean?"
"He's been staring at me like I killed his grandmother."
The laugh that escaped Nami was startled, genuine, and quickly muffled behind her hand. "He hasn't—"
"He has. The entire time I was talking to Nic. And before that, when I walked in. And probably while I was helping Sierra hide from Adrian's story about the gym." Navira crossed her arms. "I felt it."
Nami's smile faded into something more thoughtful. She picked up a dish towel and folded it slowly, buying time. "Reyen is… complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"He's been away for a long time. Traveling. Staying away from Ashwood Falls." Nami's voice softened. "He and Nic don't always see eye to eye, but they're brothers. They'd die for each other. But Reyen carries things. Things he doesn't talk about."
"That doesn't explain the staring."
Nami was quiet for a beat too long.
Navira caught it. "Nami."
"He's not used to seeing new faces here. That's all." Nami's smile returned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Give him time. He'll warm up."
"I don't need him to warm up. I need him to stop looking at me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve."
"Maybe you are."
Navira's brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The kitchen door swung open before Nami could answer.
Sierra swept in, her dark hair slightly mussed from the humidity of the crowded living room. She beelined for the wine bottle on the counter, grabbed it by the neck, and took a long drink straight from the rim.
"That bad?" Nami asked.
Sierra lowered the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Adrian just told Cole the story about the werewolf bar in Vermont. The one where—"
"The fight over the pool table?" Navira supplied.
"The fight over the pool table." Sierra shuddered. "He gets more dramatic every time he tells it. I love him, but I needed air."
She refilled her glass properly and joined them at the island, her sharp eyes flicking between them. "What did I walk into?"
"Navira wants to know why Reyen won't stop staring at her," Nami said.
Sierra's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you noticed that?"
"Everyone noticed that," Navira said dryly. "I'm pretty sure the plants noticed."
Sierra snorted. "He's always been intense. Even before he left. The way he looks at people—it's like he's reading a book you didn't know you were holding."
"I don't like being read."
"No one does. That's kind of the point." Sierra took a sip of her wine. "But he's not dangerous. Not in the way you're thinking."
"What way am I thinking?"
"The way where you're already deciding you don't like him because he's unpredictable." Sierra's voice was gentle but knowing. "I saw your face when he talked to you. You'd already written him off before he finished his first sentence."
Navira opened her mouth. Closed it. She picked up a grape and ate it rather than answer.
Nami hid a smile behind her glass.
"He's not that bad," Sierra continued, leaning her hip against the counter. "He's sarcastic. Arrogant. Flirts like it's a reflex. But he's also loyal. Protective. When Nami first moved here, before she and Nic were together, Reyen was the one who made sure she felt welcome."
"He did?" Navira asked, surprised.
"He brought her coffee every morning for two weeks," Nami said quietly. "Didn't say much. Just left it on the porch and walked away. I didn't know it was him until Nic told me."
Navira considered that. The image didn't fit the man she'd met by the fireplace—the one with the sharp smile and the watchful eyes. But she'd learned long ago that people were rarely one thing.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Maybe he's not just an ass."
"High praise," Sierra said.
"I'm generous."
Nami set down her glass, her expression shifting into something more serious. "Navira, I know he came on strong. But if you give him a chance—a real one—you might be surprised."
"Why do you care so much whether I like him?"
Nami's pause was barely a heartbeat, but Navira caught it.
"Because you're my best friend," Nami said simply. "And he's family. I want the people I love to get along."
Sierra raised her glass. "To getting along."
Navira rolled her eyes, but she lifted an empty glass in salute anyway. "To not killing each other."
"I'll drink to that."
The kitchen door swung open again, and this time it was Grace, a half-empty champagne flute in her hand and a bemused smile on her lips. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"
"Never," Sierra said. "Come. Join the conspiracy."
Grace laughed, stepping inside. Her gaze swept the room before landing on Navira with warm curiosity. "You're Nash's sister."
"Guilty."
"He talks about you a lot." Grace's smile turned knowing. "Always 'Navira says this' or 'my sister thinks that.' It's sweet."
"He's a good brother." Navira studied Grace with renewed interest. Up close, she was striking—blonde hair swept back from her face, brown eyes warm and steady, the kind of calm confidence that came from knowing exactly who she was. "He talks about you too."
"Does he?"
"More than he'd admit."
Grace's smile deepened, but she didn't press. She had the grace to let the moment settle, turning instead to the counter. "Is there more of that pasta salad? I think Adrian ate half of it."
Nami gestured to the fresh bowl. "Help yourself."
Grace reached for a plate, and the conversation shifted naturally—Sierra's complaints about the humidity, Nami's birthday wish list, Grace's upcoming marketing campaign. Navira listened, laughed when expected, but her mind kept drifting back to the fireplace.
To the way Reyen had looked at her.
Not like he wanted something from her. Not like he was trying to intimidate her.
Like he recognized her.
But they'd never met. She would have remembered.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the kitchen door open again. Didn't notice the shift in the air until Sierra's voice cut through her reverie.
"Speak of the devil."
Navira turned.
Reyen stood in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, his hands in his pockets. He wasn't looking at Sierra or Grace or Nami. His dark eyes found Navira immediately, as if he'd known exactly where she'd be.
There was a beat of silence.
"Nami," he said, not looking away from Navira. "Nic's looking for you. Something about the wine delivery."
Nami's gaze flicked between them. "Now?"
"Now."
She hesitated, then set down her glass. "I'll be right back." She brushed past Reyen, and Sierra caught Navira's eye with a look that said I'm watching this before following Nami out.
Grace lingered a moment longer, then shrugged and slipped past Reyen with a polite nod.
The door swung shut.
Navira and Reyen were alone.
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller. The fairy lights overhead cast long shadows across the tile floor, and the hum of the party seemed to recede, muffled by the walls and the silence between them.
Reyen didn't move from the doorway. He just watched her, his head tilted slightly, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth.
"You've been avoiding me," he said.
"I haven't been avoiding you." Navira picked up her glass of water, more for something to do with her hands than because she was thirsty. "I've been helping Nami."
"In the kitchen."
"It's where the food is."
His smile widened, just slightly. "And where I couldn't follow."
"And where you couldn't follow," she agreed.
He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, slow and unhurried, like a man with nowhere to be. He stopped on the other side of the kitchen island, his hands resting on the marble countertop. The distance between them was deliberate—close enough to talk without raising his voice, far enough that she didn't feel cornered.
"You don't like me," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"I don't know you," Navira said.
"You've decided anyway."
She set the glass down and met his gaze. "You stared at me for ten minutes before we were introduced. You didn't blink. You barely spoke. And when you did, it was like you were testing me."
Reyen's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I wasn't testing you."
"Then what were you doing?"
He held her gaze for a long, stretching moment. The air between them felt charged, like the seconds before a storm breaks. She could see something flicker in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or recognition—before he smoothed it away.
"You remind me of someone."
The words were quiet. Barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.
Navira's breath caught, though she couldn't have said why. "Someone you knew?"
"Someone I knew a long time ago." He looked down at his hands on the counter, his fingers flexing once before stilling. "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight."
"I wasn't expecting to be stared at."
His mouth curved again, but it was thinner this time. Less amused. "Fair."
The silence stretched. Navira could hear the ice settling in her glass, the distant thrum of bass from the living room speakers. She studied him—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shoulders were set like he was bracing for something, the shadows under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.
"Who was she?" she asked.
Reyen's eyes snapped to hers. For a second, something raw passed through them—pain, maybe, or rage—before the mask slid back into place.
"No one you need to worry about."
"You're the one who brought it up."
"I'm the one who's leaving it there."
Navira held his gaze. She should have let it go. Should have smiled, excused herself, and walked back to the safety of the party. But there was something in his voice—that quiet, almost reluctant confession—that made her stay.
"For what it's worth," she said slowly, "I'm sorry."
He blinked. "For what?"
"For reminding you of someone who clearly hurt you." She picked up her glass again, running her thumb along the rim. "That's not easy to carry."
Something shifted in his expression. The wariness didn't disappear, but it softened—just a fraction, just enough for her to notice.
"You're nothing like her," he said.
The words landed somewhere unexpected, settling in her chest like a stone dropped into still water.
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Because you're still standing here," he said quietly. "Talking to me. Most people would have walked away by now."
Navira's throat tightened. "Maybe I haven't decided if you're worth walking away from yet."
Reyen's laugh was low, surprised—a sound that seemed to cost him something. "Give it time."
He pushed back from the counter, and the moment broke. The air thinned, the shadows retreated, and the sounds of the party rushed back in like a wave.
"I should let you get back to your friends," he said.
"Probably."
He turned toward the door, then paused. His hand rested on the frame, and he looked back at her over his shoulder. "Navira."
She waited.
His mouth opened, then closed. Whatever he'd been about to say, he reconsidered. Instead, he gave her a small, crooked smile—the first genuine one she'd seen from him all night—and said, "Thanks. For not walking away."
Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving Navira alone in the kitchen with a half-empty glass of water and a heart beating faster than she wanted to admit.