Alex POV
"The new farmer who just moved in down at Waylon's place? Such a sweetheart," Grandma Evelyn said, carefully arranging daisies into a vase like she was preparing a centerpiece for a dinner party that only existed in her head.
I pulled the orange juice out of the fridge, halfway listening.20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKRt53RN1o
"Yeah?" I muttered, already bracing for what I knew was coming next.
"Yes!" she beamed. "You should go say hello. She seems like a smart girl. Grounded. The kind of person who'd actually remember your birthday."
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and started pouring, nodding along with all the enthusiasm of someone on autopilot.
"—And she's very pretty," she added casually, like she wasn't absolutely trying to set me up.
I laughed under my breath. Classic Granny. She's been on this mission to get me "settled down" since I was sixteen. Meanwhile, she's convinced my dream of going pro is some childish fantasy I'll eventually trade in for a mortgage and a golden retriever.
"Love you, Granny. I'll be back for dinner." I kissed her cheek, grabbed my jacket, and slipped out the door.
Dinner was non-negotiable. George and Evelyn ate at five sharp every day, like clockwork. Miss it, and you'd think you skipped Thanksgiving.
As I headed down the road, the usual creak of the old wooden fence caught my ear, but something felt different today. It was too quiet, almost like the valley was holding its breath.
Then I heard it—20Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk5BxWmArA5
"Alex!"
That voice? No need to guess. Haley.
Sure enough, she was suddenly beside me, perfectly styled and walking like the pavement owed her rent.
"Hey, Haley." I offered a smile. She was one of my oldest friends, but she wasn't exactly subtle. Gorgeous? Absolutely. But when it came to depth... well, let's just say puddles have tried harder.
"You look hot today." She flashed a smirk, eyes scanning me like I was a thirst trap in gym shorts.
I rolled my eyes. "Appreciate the honesty."
"Have you met the new farmer yet?" she asked, popping a piece of gum and acting like we were swapping celebrity gossip.
"Nah, just heard some stuff. Haven't even seen her around."
"I don't think I'll like her." She sighed dramatically and started examining her nails.
"You haven't met her." I raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly. What do I have in common with someone who probably owns six pairs of overalls and thinks a good time is watching grass grow?"
I snorted. "This is exactly why I'm your only friend."
"And honestly, it's working out for me." She gave me a playful shove. "I'm going to do a shoot by the river. Wanna come be my lighting guy?"
"Hard pass. Got a hot date with my meal prep today." I lied without a flinch.
She squinted at me. "Meal prep? Since when do you meal prep?"
"Since today." I shrugged. Sometimes you just need to disappear for a bit. Recharge, reflect, and avoid conversations about hypothetical farmers and designer overalls.
"Whatever. Text me if you change your mind." And with that, she was off, strutting like she was walking a runway made of small-town gossip.
I let out a slow breath, stuck my hands in my jacket pockets, and kept walking—quiet, finally. But as I passed the bend in the road where the trees got thick, the feeling from earlier crept back up my spine. Something wasn't right. It wasn't just the silence or the weird tension in the air. It was like something else was pulling at the edges of the world, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
Maybe it was just the weight of the conversation with Haley. Or maybe it was the way the sunlight broke through the branches, casting strange shadows that didn't quite match up with the shapes around me.
Whatever it was, it was enough to keep me from shaking the unease in my gut.
And I hadn't even met the new farmer yet.
As I walked past the old stone wall that bordered Waylon's property, I paused. Something about the place felt... different. It wasn't the farm itself, but the way the land stretched out beyond it. It was as if the valley was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I shook it off—probably just the isolation getting to me—but the feeling lingered, like the edges of a dream I couldn't quite remember.
I pushed the thought aside, but then something hit me. I remembered the stories my grandpa used to tell—tales of old family heirlooms and whispers of strange things hidden in the woods. At the time, I figured it was just talk, the kind of folklore that gets passed down for generations. But now... something about this place felt different. Like those old stories weren't just nonsense.
Maybe it was the isolation, or maybe it was the thought of the new farmer moving into Waylon's place. But as I kept walking, the thought wouldn't leave me. The valley felt too still, too quiet... like it was waiting for something. For someone.
I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was buried in those old stories was a lot closer to the truth than I'd ever realized.
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