Chapter 2: Exile, Arrival, and Rival Eyes

Then the new governor took office, and my dad was made the scapegoat—hung out to dry as a warning to everyone else.

I thought things couldn’t get worse. Shows what I knew. The news came in a single phone call. My mom’s hands shook as she hung up, and Dad just stared out the window, jaw clenched. There was no trial, no chance to defend ourselves—just a swift, cold decision from people who’d never even met us.

One order from the governor’s office, and we were forced to move a thousand miles away.

The sheriff showed up with a stack of papers and a look of pity he didn’t bother to hide. We packed what we could in the old Chevy, and the rest was left behind—photographs, heirlooms, even my favorite quilt. Gone, just like that. The drive out of town felt endless, the miles rolling by in silence.

Dad couldn’t stand to see me suffer with him, so he rushed me off to the backwoods to find the childhood fiancé I’d once turned down.

Dad pressed an envelope into my hand at the bus station, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You find Eli. He’s a good man. He’ll take care of you, even if you don’t think you deserve it.” I hugged him tight, trying not to cry. The city skyline faded behind me, replaced by endless stretches of pine and dusty roads.

That was the deal. Get married, get a new name, get a clean slate. Or so they said. I clung to that hope as the bus rattled deeper into the unknown.

I stood at the porch, hesitated, then finally knocked.

The wood was rough under my knuckles, and for a second I thought about turning back. But there was nowhere else to go. I took a shaky breath and rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet country air.

Creak—

The door opened a crack, and his face appeared before me.

City boys wouldn’t last a day out here. He looked nothing like the pampered, polished boys from the city.

His jaw was dusted with stubble, hair a little too long and wild. His eyes were sharp, wary, but there was something gentle in the way he looked at me, like he was trying to remember the girl I used to be.

His features were sharp and rugged, his skin tanned and beaded with sweat, jaw set in a stubborn line.

He wore a faded flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the scent of fresh-cut grass clung to him. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he leaned against the doorframe, and I suddenly felt very aware of how out of place I must look in my city dress and heels.

The muscles in his forearms looked hard as steel.

I caught myself staring, then glanced away, cheeks burning. He’d grown up, all right. No trace of the scrawny kid who used to chase frogs down by the creek.

My heart sped up as he came closer. I never expected that scrawny, dark-haired boy from years ago would turn out this good. Flustered, I turned away.

I fiddled with the strap of my duffel bag, trying to hide my nerves. My voice caught in my throat, and I could feel the sweat starting to bead at my hairline. I hoped he couldn’t tell how rattled I was.

He caught the way my hands shook.

Eli Matson’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Miss Delaney?”

His voice was deeper than I remembered, with a hint of a Southern drawl. The way he said my name made it sound almost unfamiliar, like he was trying it out for the first time in years.

I coughed, trying to hide my anxiety. “I’m fine—just wanted to see you.”

The words tumbled out faster than I meant. I forced a smile, hoping it looked more confident than I felt. The porch creaked under my feet, and I shifted from one foot to the other.

Eli nodded, opened the door wider, and let me inside.

He stepped aside, careful not to brush against me, and gestured toward the living room. The place smelled of wood polish and something savory simmering in the kitchen. It was cozy, cluttered with old photos and mismatched furniture.

Didn’t see her at first—she was quiet, head bent over the torn knee of some jeans. A young woman sat on the couch, patching them up.

She looked up, her eyes lingering on me a little too long. Her hands moved quickly, needle flashing through denim, but her attention was clearly fixed on the newcomer.

“Who’s this?”

Her voice was soft but edged with suspicion. The kind you hear when someone’s guarding their territory. She gave me a once-over, lips pressed into a thin line.

I froze, forcing myself to muster a smile.

My cheeks hurt from the effort, but I managed a polite, “Hi,” hoping I didn’t sound as nervous as I felt. I clutched my bag tighter, suddenly wishing I’d worn something less conspicuous.

“I’m Eli’s fiancée.”

The words had barely left my mouth before the girl’s smile stiffened.

Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, and for a second, I thought she might jab herself with the needle. Wouldn’t blame her if she did. The air between us grew heavy, and I could feel the tension thrumming like a live wire. It was almost painful.

She dropped her gaze, fingers twisting the denim, shifting like she was sitting on a bed of nails.

Her foot tapped restlessly against the floorboards, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. The silence stretched, awkward and brittle.

Clutching my duffel bag, my heart tightened. Was this Eli’s wife? Was I way out of line showing up here?

I tried to steady my breathing, but my thoughts raced. Had I just barged into someone else’s life? My palms were clammy, and I shifted my weight, trying to look casual. Like that ever worked.

As I puzzled over it, a few bold lines of text flashed in the air.

[Waiting for the side character to stir up trouble and get kicked out by the werewolf.]

[Drama-queen side character just here to spice up the main couple’s romance.]

[This clueless girl’s about to get exiled and still acts like a pampered princess.]

Gee, thanks, peanut gallery. It was like getting smacked by a chorus of gossiping neighbors, except they were floating right in front of my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear my head, but the words just kept coming.

I grabbed a napkin, wiped my brow, tried to laugh it off.

The napkin crinkled in my hand, and my laugh sounded hollow even to me. I tried to play it off, glancing between Eli and the girl, searching for a lifeline.

“Wow, you’re already married? I didn’t even have time to bring a wedding gift.”

I tried to sound light, but my voice wavered. Well, that landed with a thud. The words hung in the air, awkward and heavy, and I wished I could snatch them back.

Eli frowned, confused. “What wife?”

He looked genuinely baffled, brow furrowing as he glanced from me to the girl and back again. I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of the situation.

Glancing over, I saw the girl’s face flush bright red.

She ducked her head, hiding behind a curtain of hair. Her hands twisted the denim so hard I thought it might tear. She looked like she wanted to disappear.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” she blurted, dropping her sewing and darting inside.

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the screen door slammed behind her. The air she left behind was thick with unsaid things.

[The side character is just a pawn in their little game.]

[Honestly, she’s pretty pitiful.]

[The werewolf kindly takes her in, and she cheats on him? Is that really pitiful?]

[I don’t get it—why would the main girl go for some city pretty boy when there’s a strong man right here?]

Like the world’s worst peanut gallery. The commentary was relentless. I felt exposed, every flaw and misstep on display for the world to see.

The barrage of words made my head spin.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to block out the noise. My thoughts scattered, and I struggled to focus on what mattered.