Naeva Quinn

I woke up to a ceiling I didn’t recognize and a smell that was strange. For a brief moment, I laid completely still, letting my eyes adjust to the dim morning light seeping through faded curtains.

My head throbbed with a dull ache, and my limbs felt like they were lifeless. The air smelled like old wood, coffee, and something faintly herbal, lavender, maybe. All of which reminded me of my grandparents.

A tall figure stood a few feet away, half-turned toward the door. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight. It was Jax. He looked… worried. It vanished the second our eyes met. Like a switch, his expression flattened into something unreadable, more stern and composed.

"You're awake," he said.

I tried to sit up but the world tilted hard to the left. A sharp wave of nausea rolled over me, and I slumped back with a wince. My hand instinctively reached for anything to steady myself, and it found Jax's arm.

His grip tightened gently around mine, strong and grounding. “Easy,” he murmured, helping me upright with surprising care. “You were out for a while.”

“What… happened?” My voice came out dry and hoarse, like I’d swallowed a fistful of sand. I cleared my throat, hoping the room would stop spinning but it wasn't the room's fault.

Before Jax could answer, another voice chimed in from behind him.

“You fainted,” Theo said, breezing into the room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He was dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and jeans, his curly hair sticking out in all directions like he’d just rolled out of bed or never made it there to begin with.

“Scared the hell out of everyone. I told you to eat more than two bites of that gas station sandwich.”

I blinked at him, disoriented. Theo took a sip of coffee, then added with a smirk, “Might wanna get checked. Could be alien parasites. Or just iron deficiency.”

I almost smiled. Almost. But something inside me twisted instead.

I looked around the room. The walls were lined with yellow wallpaper, the kind with faded floral patterns that probably looked charming thirty years ago.

There were doilies on the side tables and a crocheted blanket draped over the worn-out couch in the corner. An old grandfather clock stood against the wall, ticking steadily in the silence between words.

It was a house with history. It felt inherited. Not lived in, not exactly, but held onto. “Where are we?” I asked, still gripping the edge of the bed.

Jax crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Our grandfather’s house,” he said. “He passed away a few years ago. We’ve kept it mostly untouched since.”

That explained the time capsule vibe. I wondered if they had memories here of childhood summers or winter holidays echoing in these dusty corners.

But I didn’t ask. I just nodded slowly and looked away, trying to piece together the last thing I remembered. My stomach dropped. River.

I scanned the room again, more urgently this time. There was no sign of him , My pulse quickened.

I wanted to ask him so many questions. The question burned on my tongue, but I couldn’t find the words. Jax was watching me too closely. I didn’t want to seem fragile.

Instead, I looked down at my hands. “How long was I out?”

“Almost a full day,” Theo replied. “We thought about taking you to a hospital, but… you didn’t seem hurt. Just exhausted.”

“River?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jax’s eyes flicked away, just for a second. It was quick, but I saw it.

“He’s not here,” he said, carefully.

That was all he offered. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. The ache in my chest pressed heavier.

Theo cleared his throat and said something about making more coffee, disappearing before I could respond. Jax stood in silence, watching me like I might shatter all over again.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to stand. I wasn’t. But I didn’t want to lie in this ghost of a house feeling helpless.

“You don’t have to be,” he replied quietly.

I turned away, pretending not to hear him. Then I suddenly remembered I had a family.

“My dad—” I breathed, nearly stumbling again. “He must be looking for me.”

Panic surged through me, I turned in a half-circle, scanning the room for a door but everything looked like a wall instead.

“Where’s the way out?” I asked, louder now, more desperate.

Jax appeared beside me with a faint frown. “Naeva, calm down.”

“I have to go,” I snapped. “God, he’s probably losing his mind.”

Jax nodded slowly, then gestured toward the far side of the room. “The front door’s this way. But Naeva…” He paused, watching me with unreadable eyes. “It’s snowing. Are you planning on walking back alone in that?”

I hesitated a little. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. My head was still buzzing with the panic of being gone too long, of not calling, of disappearing.

I didn’t answer him. Jax sighed, grabbed a jacket off a nearby hook, and tossed me another. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride back. The bike's warm.”

We stepped outside into a world dipped in white. Snowflakes fluttered down in lazy spirals, the air was cold enough to bite, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t think about anything except getting home.

The motorcycle was waiting at the end of a narrow path, slick with frost. Jax handed me a helmet, climbed on, and waited. I didn’t say anything as I slid on behind him, didn’t ask questions. My hands clutched the back of his coat, and when the engine growled to life.

Halfway down the road, I felt it. That feeling, It was faint, but unmistakable. I closed my eyes against the wind, swallowing the chill rising in my chest.

When we reached the end of the street, I saw my house before I saw anything else, its porch light still on despite the daylight, the front door slightly cracked open. My stomach twisted.

“Thanks,” I muttered, already hopping off before the engine cut. My boots crunched against the snow as I rushed up the walk.

“Naeva—” Jax started, but I didn’t let him finish.

I turned briefly. “Thank you,” I said, this time with a little more weight. He met my eyes for a second, then nodded just once.

I stepped inside and shut the door before I could look back. “Naeva!”

My dad’s voice nearly cracked in half. He rounded the corner from the kitchen in seconds and pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

“Where the hell were you? I called everyone. I thought something—something had happened—”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He pulled back, searching my face, but I looked away.

“I just needed to clear my head,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t believe it. But he didn’t press, either. Not yet.

I went to my room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the dark window. My thoughts were too loud. Questions circled like vultures in my head.

Who were they really? What had happened to me? Why had I fainted? And why did I feel something impossible every time I was near them?

I picked up my phone, thumb hovering over to send a message to Theo.

But I stopped. I already knew what would happen. They wouldn’t answer. Not properly. Theo would make a joke. Jax would change the subject. Neither of them would tell me the truth.