FITZ AND STARTS

“He’s throbbing, each ridge of his interstellar appendage sending electrified shivers coursing through me. One of his tentacles snakes around, teasing a— In one-thousand feet, turn left.”

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“Fuckkk.” Fern exhaled, throwing on her blinker even though she hadn’t seen another car in over an hour.

 

“Slick line down my back before it disappears between my— Turn left.”

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She swung wide onto Wrentham River Road, and the U-Haul attached to her sedan did a little dance before it got back in line. The scene in her book carried on as her mind wandered ahead, down the road to Beckett Falls, where one of her two best friends was waiting for her.

 

Olivia had moved to the rural northern mountain town nearly ten months earlier and established herself as the local teacher before becoming the girlfriend of the town council president. Apparently, they were really into the town council in Beckett Falls, and Ben’s role came with a lot of respect.

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As odd as the place might be, it still offered an exciting opportunity for a fresh start. Fern had heard somewhere that the urge to run away was a trauma response. That kind of made sense. It wasn’t like there was one specific thing that had her fleeing the city for a practically non-existent town two hours from the nearest big town. No, it was death by a thousand cuts.

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That was dramatic.

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An amalgamation of stressors drove her to move. It was an “I’m sick of my job, a new opportunity came up, and my mom annoys me, so I’m going to hit the road” response. That was more like it.

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She was fine, just a typical late-twenty-something who hadn’t accomplished much with her life and was sick of aiming to impress her mom and society as a whole. She wasn’t impressive, and it was exhausting trying to be. She didn’t want “more,” she wanted “different.” She wanted a chance to define who she was on her own.

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A new beginning was in order, and when Liv offered Fern a salon to manage, Fern scooped up the opportunity. Maybe she’d find someplace to settle in and settle into herself. At the very least, she could give it a shot.

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She grabbed her coffee, scritching her nails over the accordioned cardboard sleeve as she avoided a pothole and listened on.

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“Swept into a many-armed embrace, we cocooned inside our sleep pod for the final six trillion miles of our journey. I couldn’t wait to meet his brethren in the morning. Chapter twelve, Xyzandyr.”

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A glow through the trees caught Fern’s attention, then disappeared again when she rounded a bend in the road. Pausing her book to see better, she leaned into the steering wheel and squinted through the dusky woods. Yep, there it was again. Not headlights like she’d thought, but a stationary lamp.

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It had to be the gatehouse Olivia told her to look out for. Sure enough, one final turn in the road delivered her to a quaint little cabin with plank walls and a green roof. It matched the trees. Her headlights lit up the woodsy facade as she rolled to a stop just in time for the front door to swing open.

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A broad guy with dark hair and a pastel outfit stepped onto the porch and lifted his chin. Wearing boat shoes and a sky-blue button-down—rolled to his elbows—he was shockingly preppy given his bouncer-like build and proximity to the forest. There wasn’t an ocean for hundreds of miles.

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Fern’s window squealed on its way down, and the scent of warm pine and mossy earth wafted into the car. Head sticking out the window with her elbows propped on the doorframe, she called, “Hi!”

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“Fern?” Cocking his head to the side, a swath of brown-black hair swung off the top of his head, flopping down in one thick wave.

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He looked vaguely familiar, but he could’ve been a stranger. “Yeah.” She waited for him to introduce himself, and when he didn’t, she continued, “When Liv said to stop at the gatehouse, I didn’t realize I was getting a personal welcome.”

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Laughing, he sauntered closer, explaining, “It’s my job to be out here overnight. Keeps the town safe.”

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“Oh, that’s... interesting.” A little odd but neat. Olivia hadn’t mentioned overnight guards, but she would’ve said something if it was a dangerous place. “And you are?”

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“Adam Ableman.”

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“Oh my god, Able! It’s so nice to meet you in person.” Flinging off her seatbelt, Fern swung open the door, and he hopped out of the way. She gave him no warning before throwing her arms wide for a hug. “The only times I’ve seen you, you were in the background on a flailing phone screen. How are you?”

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He grunted and patted her on the back, tentatively accepting her unexpected embrace.

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“You’re taking it like a champ,” Fern announced before pulling away. They weren’t strangers, not really. He was one of Liv’s boyfriend’s best friends, and Liv had become close with him too. Fern assumed they’d also become buds sooner or later, so she’d gone straight for his nickname and a squeeze—once she realized who he was.

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“I’m doing well, thanks for asking. Liv and co are expecting you up in town.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the darkening woods, and she assumed the village was that way.

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The whole place could’ve been considered a village, population-wise, but Liv had said never to use that term unless Fern specifically meant the cluster of houses and shops on the ridge. That hadn’t meant much to her, but she’d nodded along to Olivia’s lesson, delivered on a video call, and vowed to follow the weird rules.

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A few minutes later, armed with information and back in the driver’s seat, she waved goodbye to Adam, turned off her GPS, turned on her book, and headed toward her new apartment. Xyzandyr waxed poetic about his beloved two-legged, Jessica, while Fern repeated Adam’s directions aloud so she wouldn’t forget them.

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Just as she took a sip of coffee, her phone rang, interrupting the narration. Mom’s deceptively cute picture popped up on the screen, and Fern shoved her drink into the cupholder while smashing the answer button.

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“Made it safely.”

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“Good. Is the apartment nice? I worry since they’re offering it for free, it’ll have roaches.”

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“Jesus— I’m not in the apartment yet, but I don’t think there are roaches in this part of the state.”

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“They’re not picky, Fern.”

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“I’ll be fine.”

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“I know you’ll be fine, you’re always fine.” Her mom sighed heavily, the weight settling right on Fern’s good mood. “I want you to want more for yourself. I want you to be a success.”

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There it was. Inhaling, Fern flipped her phone face down to stop blinding herself while she looked for her turn. “I want to be happy, and I will be. If it’s not here, I’ll go somewhere else.

”

“At least the cost of living is cheaper upstate. Are you still trying to do nails?” Mom scoffed.

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Yes. But Fern didn’t answer, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. She might not be an artist in the strictest sense of the word, but she loved nail art and other crafts. It meant something to her, even if it wasn’t enough for Mom. That stung, but she was trying to get away from it and stop caring about her mom’s judgment. Her own dreams were what mattered. She was the one who had to live them.

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Mom continued, “Hopefully your hairstyling will bring in enough business. Maybe you’ll do well and can take on a partnership role, eventually. You could even expand the enterprise. I’d like to see you find more success there than in the city. I just don’t know why you didn’t study business, finance, accounting…” Mom got all daydreamy, and Fern’s sour stomach threatened to rebel. “Even if the salon doesn’t go well, you could get lucky, and it’ll bring in enough to—”

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“Okay, thanks, Mom! I’m pulling up to the apartment,” she lied. “Talk to you soon. I’ll send pics.”

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Hanging up before she had to hear another rude comment about her life choices, Fern’s eye roll turned into a squint as she spotted a gap in the trees ahead. Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she swung through the turn. Adam said she’d go up a hill, take a left to drive around the square, then left at the bookstore, and she’d be there.

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Scowling and almost to her new home, she cranked the volume knob to drown out her raging insecurities—made worse, as usual, by Mom.

“My bloodsworn brethren, Krylynx and Trynt, will surely find Jessica as intriguing as I do. Two-leggeds are rare and revered in our part of the galaxy. ‘Tell me about your brothers again,’ Jessica requests as my tentacles whirl, spinning dials and pressing buttons to lower our landing gear. ‘Kry’s the red one with three dicks and a bad attitude—’”

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Laughing, Fern rolled down the windows to let in the night air and frowned. She still hadn’t hit that hill, and there were no houses around. The heavy trees finally gave way to a sleepy clearing, alive with fireflies, and she found herself at a dead-end that also served as a driveway. A big shed stood ahead, a hand-painted sign tacked up above the double doors, and a timber cabin framed by flowering gardens sat off to her right, amber light glowing through its windows. The setup looked like a magazine spread—too perfect, too curated. She kind of loved it, though.

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She must’ve missed her turn and gone too far into the valley. Growling like Xyzandyr, Fern made a painstakingly slow U-turn, which was more of a seven-point turn, then glanced left and yelped.

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Another linebacker-looking motherfucker stood in the doorway of the house, silhouetted by the lights inside. He stepped forward, triggering some motion sensor that illuminated his gray sweats, tight T-shirt, a well-groomed beard, and wavy brown hair thrown up in a top knot.

It was just Elliott.

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Christ, she hadn’t realized he was so huge. Another of Liv’s new friends, Fern had only seen him on the occasional video call. But something about him stood out—probably his hair.

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She paused her book. “Elliott?”

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His bushy brows pulled together. “Fern?”

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“Hi. Yeah. I think I’m lost. Could you tell me how to get up to the town? I guess I can put it in my GP—”

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“It won’t come up.” He lumbered over, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the way his pants pulled taut around his thick thighs with each step.

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Two enormous hands landed on her doorframe, and her gaze flitted over his short nails, rough knuckles, the smear of dried clay on his wrist. He had an artist’s hands. She blinked the thought away as he leaned down to peer in her open window.

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“You’ll need to—” With an inhale, his fingers clenched, muscles tightening all the way up his arms as he pushed away from her car. Stiffly, Elliott cracked his neck, and when his eyes met hers, they caught the light of her dashboard, glowing amber for a moment. Crossing his arms, he cleared his throat.

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What the fuck? Did she smell? Have coffee breath? Or was she just too annoying for him? She scowled, recalling a rude comment he’d made on a phone call last month. Liv had just announced her pregnancy, and Fern reacted accordingly, only for this big jerk to call her “way too chatty” when she’d been ecstatic over the news.

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“I’m not going to talk your ear off, Elliott. I just need directions, and I can get out of your hair.”

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He growled—literally growled—not like Xyzandyr with his sexy snarls. “You can call me Fitz.”

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A snort of laughter flew from her. “That’s an old-man name, but sure.”

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“What makes you say that?”

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“It’s my grandpa’s name.”

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He lifted a hand as if to run it through his hair before realizing it was up. Scrubbing his jaw and looking pointedly away, he said, “Elliott’s fine, I guess.”

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“Directions? Please.” This guy was unbelievable. How was he one of Ben and Liv’s good friends? She’d keep it short. Wouldn’t want to run the risk of offending him.

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He inhaled slowly, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. I— Uh— hit my bong a little too hard.”

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Oh ho, maybe they had more in common than she thought. That also helped explain his strange behavior, though it didn’t excuse it. “You got it on you?” she blurted, deciding she wasn’t in that big of a rush and had put up with weirder people before.

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“Does it look like there’s a bong in my pocket?”

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Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants. “I’m not answering that.”

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With a shake of his head, Elliott called her attention to his broad shoulders—broad everything. He was a big guy. About the same height as Able, if she had to guess, he was a little softer, more casual, more anti-social.

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Leaning out the window, she asked, “Can I get those directions?”

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“Oh, yeah. Go back to the river road, then hang right. At the first turn—the only one on the right—go up the hill. At the square—”

 

“Get to the opposite side and park behind Reads & Roasts?”

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His reply was a silent nod.

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The moment she fired up her engine, he lifted one of his big hands in a small wave, then turned tail and jogged inside. The screen door slammed before she could even roll up her window.

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God, he was awkward. She didn’t remember him being that weird when they were on the same phone calls in the past. He was a treat to look at, though, even if his conversational skills were lacking, even if he thought she was annoying, even if he sucked. She’d just keep a buffer between them in social settings and enjoy him from afar.

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Checking her phone before she drove off, she found a text from Liv.

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Olivia:  Where are you???

Fern: Got lost, sry!

Fern: On my way

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Fern hit play on her audiobook and smashed the gas, spinning gravel beneath her wheels until her car found purchase—pulling a U-Haul was no joke—and she got back on her way. Things weren’t off to an auspicious start... but hey, it could only go up from there.