Page 1 of Wild Claim

Chapter One

MINA

Maple Ridge, the towntime forgot. Same old faces, same old gossip. While the world outside went crazy, this place clung to its small-town ways like a stubborn tick. It was oddly comforting, if a bit suffocating. At least I knew what I was in for, with nosy neighbors and all. The weathered farmhouse stood, waiting, like some ancient reminder of roots you can’t shake. Generations of baggage, all wrapped up in wood and nails.

Cramped muscles protesting, I unfolded from my pickup truck. The mountain air hit me like a slap, all pine and frost. Isucked in a breath as I took in the view. Fields stretched out, towering trees, and that old dirt road snaked off into the woods. Nothing had changed.

Grandma’s legacy, frozen in time.

I popped the trunk and hefted out a suitcase, then a cardboard box labeled, “Mina’s Stuff” in my grandmother’s slanted cursive. It still seemed impossible that she was gone, that all this was mine now. The weight of the boxes was nothing compared to the weight of that thought, so I shifted it to the back of my mind and made for the front porch.

The lock fought me for a second before giving in. I pushed the door open, wincing at the screech of rusty hinges. For a split second, I could’ve sworn I saw Grandma’s ghost, ready to tear me a new one for making such a racket. But reality hit hard. The place was dead quiet, except for some old clock ticking away and the wind whistling through the cracks.

Empty. Just like my chest felt right then.

I set the boxes down and paused in the doorway. Lavender and musty wood hit my nose, yanking me back to summers past. Felt like a lifetime since I’d last crashed here, running from whatever teenage drama I thought was the end of the world. Now? This creaky old house was all I had left. My world had shrunk to these four walls, and the weight of it settled on my shoulders like the dust on every surface.

“Well, I’ll be! If it isn’t little Mina!” a voice rang out, startling me from my thoughts. Mrs. Larkin, my grandma’s neighbor and partner-in-crime, was waving from across the street. Her silver hair was pulled back tight, and she had flour smudged on her cheek.

I smiled. “Hey, Mrs. Larkin. Long time no see.”

“Too long, honey. You look tired. Come over for some pie later, will you?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a lot to sort through here.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Your grandma was one of a kind. We all feel the loss.”

“Yeah, she really was. I appreciate you keeping an eye on things.”

“Of course, dear. That’s what neighbors do. I’m just a holler away if you need anything. Even just to chat.”

Her kindness threatened to crack my composure. I gave a quick wave and ducked inside, not trusting my voice to say more.

The living room was just as I remembered, with grandma’s hoarding tendencies on full display. I ran a hand over the faded floral sofa, worn smooth from years of butts parking there. The coffee table looked like it had survived a war, all dents and water rings. Sunlight sliced through the dusty air, making the whole place feel like some weird dream I couldn’t shake. It was exactly how I remembered it, and that was the problem.

I dug into the box with my name. Clothes I’d forgotten existed, books with dog-eared pages, and a handful of photos. One caught my eye, an old Polaroid of Grandma and me, right here in this room. We’re decked out in the world’s ugliest Christmas sweaters. The photo was still in good shape. Classic Grandma, refusing to touch anything more advanced than her ancient camera.

My fingers lingered on the frame, and suddenly my throat felt tight. I blinked hard, willing the tears away. Not now.

I couldn’t fall apart just yet.

A blaring horn jerked me back to reality. Outside, Jake Mulligan’s rusty green pickup screeched to a halt. Maple Ridge’s resident handyman bounded out, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Hey, city girl! Want some muscle for those boxes?”

I shuffled onto the porch. “I’m good, thanks. How’s life treating you, Jake?”

He shrugged, leaning on his truck. “Same old. Fixed Miller’s roof again. Swear that geezer’s trying to keep me in business single-handedly. You back for good this time?”

“That’s the plan,” I said, not entirely convinced. “Appreciate you for checking in on the place.”

Jake’s smile faded a bit. “Your grandma was a real firecracker. We’ve got your back if you need anything, okay?”

His truck rumbled away, and a jumble of feelings hit me like a sucker punch. These people had always been there, but now it just emphasized the gaping hole in my life. I stumbled inside and sank into the nearest chair, exhausted. This homecoming was going to be rougher than I thought.

My phone buzzed. It was Jess. I answered, bracing myself for our talk.

“How’s small-town life treating you?”

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