Page 1 of Where We Stay

One

Blair

By the time the ocean comes into view, I’ve almost convinced myself I’m not running anymore.

Hartwell, tucked against the Maine coast, looks exactly like the kind of place Blair Morgan could begin again.

I pull over at a lookout and climb out of the Kombi, watching the waves crash against the rocky shore. Children laugh somewhere behind me, busy making the kind of memories I spent my childhood wishing for.

The leaves have officially traded their deep summer green for shades of red, orange and gold. Fall has always been my favorite time of year, and judging by the look of this town, that isn’t going to change anytime soon.

I walk back toward my beat-up Kombi van—the purchase that drained almost all my savings. In my defense, she was basically asking me to buy her.

I’m already a little in love with her, which is saying something. I don’t get attached easily.

I climb behind the wheel and turn the key.

“Come on, girly. Don’t give up on me now.”

The engine catches with a low rumble, pulling an immediate smile from me. I bring up the address on my phone and head toward my new beginning.

* * *

My cottage sits just outside town, tucked behind a low white fence and a line of maple trees. The white paneling is slightly weathered, and the porch is barely wide enough for two chairs, but I can already picture pumpkins lining the steps and a ridiculous fall wreath hanging from the front door.

It isn’t grand.

But it’s a proper house.

I’ve never lived in one of those before.

In New York, I had a small apartment in a boring gray building that suited my life a little too well. Before that, I lived in a trailer with my parents, where my bedroom was technically a corner of the living room separated by an old curtain.

So, yeah.

This little cottage feels like a fucking palace.

I push open the front door and step inside. Afternoon light stretches across the hardwood floor, making everything feel warm and soft. From where I’m standing, I can see most of the living room, the kitchen and the hallway leading toward the back of the house.

I tell myself I like the openness because it makes the cottage feel bigger.

Not because I can see almost every entrance from one spot.

A dog barks somewhere nearby.

My entire body locks as adrenaline surges through me.

Run. This was a mistake.

My grip tightens around the strap of my bag, and my pulse starts hammering beneath my skin.

“Fuck.” I press a palm against my chest. “It’s just a dog, Blair. Pull it together.”

I draw in a breath, hold it and slowly let it out.

It takes three more before my body begins to calm.

New town. New house. No reason to be afraid.