The scent of rain on asphalt greeted me as I stepped off the train, a familiar aroma that instantly transported me back to my childhood. Portwood hadn't changed much in the years I'd been away. The same cobblestone streets, the same ivy-covered buildings, and the same sense of quiet anticipation that always seemed to hang in the air.
I adjusted the strap of my satchel and took a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs and calming the flutter of nerves in my stomach. Returning home after so many years was surreal, especially under these circumstances. A sabbatical from the university had seemed like a good idea at the time—a chance to focus on my research without the distractions of city life. But now, standing here, I wasn't so sure.
"Aria!" a voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts.
I turned to see my older brother, Grant, weaving through the crowd with a grin that could light up the darkest room. His sandy hair was tousled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he enveloped me in a bear hug.
"Welcome home, sis," he said, his voice warm and familiar.
"Thanks, Grant," I replied, hugging him back. "It's good to see you."
He pulled back, holding me at arm's length to study me. "You look the same. Maybe a bit more… professor-y."
I laughed. "Is that your way of saying I look tired?"
"Not at all," he said, grabbing my suitcase. "Come on, let's get you home."
As we walked to his car, I couldn't help but notice how little Portwood had changed. The quaint shops, the friendly faces, the sense of community—it was all still here. Yet, there was something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. A subtle shift in the air, a tension that hadn't been there before.
"How's everything been?" I asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
Grant shrugged as he started the engine. "Same old, same old. Work's busy, but that's nothing new."
"And how's Lucien?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Grant shot me a glance, a smirk playing on his lips. "Still brooding and mysterious, as always."
I rolled my eyes. "Some things never change."
Lucien Thorne had been Grant's best friend since childhood. Growing up, he'd been like an older brother to me—albeit a very aloof and enigmatic one. I hadn't seen him in years, not since I left for college. The thought of seeing him again stirred something inside me, a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"He's been asking about you," Grant said, breaking the silence.
"Oh?" I replied, feigning indifference.
"Yeah. I think he's looking forward to seeing you."
I nodded, turning my gaze to the window as the familiar streets of my hometown passed by. The thought of seeing Lucien again made my heart race, though I couldn't quite understand why.
We pulled up to Grant's house, a charming two-story with a wraparound porch and flower boxes in the windows. It looked just as I remembered, a comforting constant in a world that seemed to be shifting beneath my feet.
"Home sweet home," Grant said, grabbing my suitcase from the trunk.
I followed him inside, the scent of fresh-baked cookies wafting through the air. "Did you bake?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled. "No, that was Mom. She insisted on making your favorite."
I smiled, touched by the gesture. "That's sweet of her."
As we settled in, the conversation flowed easily, memories and laughter filling the room. Yet, beneath it all, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. There was an undercurrent of tension, a sense of anticipation that seemed to permeate the air.
Later that evening, as I unpacked in the guest room, I heard the front door open and voices in the hallway. I stepped out to see Grant talking to someone, his back to me.
"Aria," he said, turning to face me. "Look who stopped by."
Standing beside him was Lucien Thorne.
My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met. He looked the same, yet different. Taller, broader, with an air of quiet confidence that hadn't been there before. His dark hair was tousled, and his piercing blue eyes held a depth that made my heart skip a beat.
"Aria," he said, his voice smooth and rich. "It's been a long time."
"Lucien," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "It has."
He stepped forward, extending his hand. As our fingers touched, a jolt of electricity shot through me, leaving me breathless.
"Welcome home," he said, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Thank you," I whispered, unable to look away.
In that moment, I knew that my return to Portwood was going to be anything but ordinary.