Page 62 of The Blairville Legacies

“Good morning to you, too, Ezra,” I teased and left the house without turning back to my sighing brother.

For once, and only because it was the first day, I had let my brother take me to university.

“Did you have to park so far away?”

Ezra didn’t reply, so shaking my head, I slammed the car door and checked to make sure I had everything with me.

As I was about to turn around, Ezra called out to me. “Hey...”

I looked at him, his gaze filled with concern, and he could barely hold it.

“Have a great first day.”

I forced myself to smile. Because even though we hadn’t been on the same page since the accident, he was still my brother.

“Thanks.”

I turned without looking back again and made my way across the parking lot.

I almost tripped over a raven, happily hopping around in a water-filled puddle, splashing its wings.

It made me smile.

Ravens were cute animals, and whenever I saw any on the streets of Blairville, they made me grin.

At leasttheyfelt comfortable in the city.

I kept walking past heavily packed newcomers... And then I understood why Ezra had parked so far away: In front of me was Nash’s car. A dark blue jeep.

Why did I associate so many painful memories with a damn car?

I swallowed, trying not to let the tears out. There was only one place I was allowed to cry, and it definitely wasn’t here.

“Are you okay?”

I whirled around.

A girl with long light brown almost blonde hair, a black leather jacket and a stunning figure swung off a motorcycle and took off her helmet.

“Yeah...” Shaking my head, I turned away from the Jeep and looked at the loaded motorcycle. “Did you bring all your stuff here on that motorcycle?”

A sly grin traveled across the girl’s lips, and she began unbuckling the suitcase.

“Don’t ask me how I did it,” she laughed, “Especially this far.”

She eyed her luggage before loosening it further.

“Are you from town?” I asked curiously because I had never seen her in high school. Someone like her would have just caught my eye instantly.

Again, she laughed and raised her hands defensively. “No, for God’s sake.” Then she managed to untie the suitcase and looked back at me. “You?”

“I grew up here.”

It sounded prouder than I was on it, and even the smile felt, after all, indescribably fake.

“My condolences.”

Dumbfounded, I looked at the girl.

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