Our cramped apartment in Georgia was on the second floor, with a communal backyard and no off-road parking. Carolyn was forever complaining about having to carry groceries up the stairs. Putting the key in the lock, I pushed the door open and sucked in a deep breath—she would have a fit if she saw this place.

A fine layer of dust coated the bedside table and vanity unit. The house was a spacious, open-plan room; the double doors from the bedroom led to a Juliet balcony with a wraparound deck. Most furniture had made its way to Goodwill except for a bed, a few pans in an otherwise bare cupboard, and two stray boxes. My nose recoiled; cigarette smoke remained seared into the walls, but the ashtrays were spotless.

With the sky outside dimming, the rotating beacon from the lighthouse blipped through the room, touching every crevice—twenty-eight seconds on, two seconds off. Throwing open the double doors, I smiled. The surf crashed in a soothing melody as the wind pressed and pulled at my hair. Tumbled rocks cluttered the coastline, with waves rolling inland at high tide.

Lucille's beach had this one funny island offshore that rose mysteriously from the depths, meandering the receding tide. Her house always had a way of amplifying loneliness; that much I remembered but never understood why. Now, long-forgotten memories sparked and played on a loop in my head.

"The crows know your business," Lucille had once said. My father had scolded her nonsense, picked up the pile of seashells at my feet, and directed me to play on the deck.

At least once a summer, before our visits became infrequent and stopped altogether, I would brace the chill, swim out to the island and spend the day diving off its soft polished rock. Tonight, however, the once sea-glass shallows blended with the sky into one gray haze concealing the island in its entirety.

"Death works differently here," she had added once my father had been out of earshot. Her eyes crinkled in the corners as if her words were a secret to cherish. Whatever final argument had transpired between my parents and paternal grandmother, their mutual ends came without resolution.

Years after leaving Benton, cancer swallowed both my parents, and I found it impossible to press them further for the answers I had spent my life wondering: Do I have any other family? Without them, where do I fit now?

My phone pinged in my pocket. Expecting it to be Carolyn, my stomach dropped at the flash of Antoine's name. My heart raced as I stared at the screen.

He was a creature of habit. Never a night went by when he didn't seek an update on the money I owed. Aware of how many ways he could describe inflicting physical harm, I no longer cared to imagine the vivid details.

Our last communication had not come via text; the purple bruising on my arms was a testament to that. Antoine knew my schedule, and with the crumpled eviction notice still in my pocket after a long shift at the campus coffee house, he had been waiting in the parking lot once I'd left.

His message was clear—time was up. Three words that now fueled every decision I made. Lucille's house was the final option for sourcing his money. I was, in effect, a prisoner on reprimand—day release, or in my case, one calendar month. His latest message read: Remember where you came from or what will happen to Carolyn if you do.

How had I let things get so out of control? Swiping away the tears that threatened to spill over, I tried to reassure myself that everything would be okay and that I would find a way to make things right.

As the hours ticked by and sleep eluded me, the only thing I could focus on was the creaking timber of the house, as it knocked behind my head in rhythmic succession and the haunting memory of those eyes—deep-set and without an ounce of surprise in them when I hit...

A strange hum buzzed in my ears, reminding me of the fireflies back home. It wouldn't surprise me if I had a migraine brewing. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, I succumbed to a fitful sleep, my dreams filled with images of twisted metal, accusing eyes, and the ominous knock of an unseen force on the hood of my car.

When dawn began to break over the horizon, casting its first light upon the ocean, I dressed before the birds awoke, knotted my sneakers, and called a taxi. Of course, the plan was never this, but Antoine made me think fast on my feet. I needed my car to get home and serve my debt to him as soon as I'd sold Lucille's and, with hope, return to college and the life I left behind for him.

The cab pulled up outside a one-story brickwork building. I hesitated at the entrance, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. The anxiety about my debt clawed at me, but this was almost as bad.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the workshop. A man waved and gestured me inside to follow him. The scent of gasoline and oil mixed with something sweet and acrid assaulted my nostrils. A concrete floor with oil stains led to two open bays with cars raised on lifts. Every sense of self and the familiar was ebbing further away. I gritted my teeth and plastered on a smile. As always, I would do whatever I needed to get the cash, car and return to my own life.

"Hey there," a voice called out, jolting me from my thoughts. "You must be Dana. I'm Paul's brother, Luke. He told me you'd be coming by."

I turned to face him. Luke had the same striking eyes as Paul but in a very different shade. Unlike his brother, his darker hair made his ocean-blue eyes seem translucent. A frown appeared on his forehead and he took a sharp intake of breath, momentarily pausing.

Shaking off the sudden awkwardness, I said, "Yeah, that's me," trying to sound more confident than I felt but I suddenly felt very exposed. "Nice to meet you."

His composure leveled. "Likewise," he said, extending a hand for a quick shake. He pointed to clipboards with paperwork and plastic envelopes containing car keys. "The customer vehicles we have are up there, along with their details."

Luke walked through a door into an office, a newfound grin on his face. There was a single desk large enough for a chair on either side. I had a double view, one of the customers and the other of the workshop, via the door we had come through. A staff room sat off the office via a linked door.

"This is your shared desk," he announced, but it was an anti-climax.

"Jenny sits on the other side, but before you ask, I don't have a clue where she is. But it's more awkward at family gatherings when you fire your cousin for slacking." He let me see the uptick of his mouth before walking back into the shop. I followed.

A man in a coverall pounded on something under the hood of a rusty old truck while another tossed massive tires around as if they weighed nothing. Music blared from an underfloor compartment below one car. It was an old track I couldn't quite put a name to. I jumped at a nearby hiss of air from a man assessing a car's tire pressure.

"The guy in the pit is Paul. You met him already. Over there, that's Carter." He pointed to the guy lugging tires. "We usually have Carlyle too, but he's called in sick today."

Carter gave me a nod and went ahead with his work.

"My office is at the back. If you take the seat nearest the window, it will keep Jenny less distracted. She'll be in soon to show you the ropes. Make yourself at home until then."

Back in the office, I cursed myself for wearing a skirt and blouse more appropriate for a formal environment. A cool breeze from the oscillating fan on the window ledge caught my skin. The weather front from home had arrived. Jenny turned up an hour late with fresh acrylic nails the same shade as her hair—fire engine red. The second she saw me, she smiled a familiar grin that seemed more reserved for barbecues with lifelong friends.

"You got me help, Luke?" Jenny's face beamed. "Is she staying?"

"That's up to Dana. Can you show her more than you do when you come in?"

Jenny launched a pen, but it missed him by several yards. Luke chuckled before turning back to the shop.

Jenny sat down, letting her bag slip from her arm with a thud. "So, new in town, Dana?"

"For a month, sign some legal paperwork, sell up, then back home."

"Where is home?" She leaned in, making a steeple with her elbows, and rested her chin.

"Georgia." I maintained her gaze. Would she think I was taking advantage of her cousins to get a cheap deal on my car?

"You're a long way from home. How do you know Luke and Paul?"

"Don't. I banged up my car last night. Paul's fixing it for me. I intend to pay what I can."

Without missing a beat, she said, "Are you working back a debt?"

I nodded. When was I not? I elaborated no more than was necessary. I waited to see a reaction in her eyes. There wasn't any.

An hour later, the swivel chair creaked as I leaned back. Jenny was on her fourth break, and my hunger had returned after neglecting breakfast. My job consisted of answering a phone—that never rang, chasing debt on outstanding invoices—that I couldn't find, and being a companion for Jenny—who talked at length about everything.

Paul and Luke were in the midst of a deep conversation near the pit that stopped whenever I answered a question from Jenny. They appeared to be listening because one or both would chuckle every so often.

The strange hum that had started the night before buzzed in my ears. I tried to shake off the heavy fog it brought with it that settled over my thoughts, but it clung on stubbornly. I headed to the staff room to grab a glass of water and pop a Tylenol in case a migraine was brewing. The trash in the garbage can was ripe. After my drink, I double-knotted the refuse sack and lugged it into the back and around the dumpster. I held it at arm's length, protecting me from the horror inside.

The heat from the midday sun seared through my thin blouse. I wiped the beads of sweat on my arm and lifted the lid, swinging the bag inside. I felt eyes on me, and then Cigarette smoke wafted in my direction. I turned and hazel eyes arrested me mid-stare.

"How's your first day going?" Paul asked. He smiled, lugging equipment into a storage container and slamming the lid shut. His face, marred by streaks of grease, kept a hint of summer on his skin that I hadn't noticed the night before. He appeared a few years shy of Luke, and I wondered how old he was.

"I'll be twenty-two soon. I look younger than Luke—that's what most think. People ask it all the time. Now you don't need to. Are you getting on with Jenny?" He wiped greased fingers on the hem of his shirt.

I nodded. "House on fire. I hope I survive it."

"Good. Maybe Jenny will turn up on time now. And the job?" His eyebrows rose in question.

Unable to conceal a sigh, I said, "Your customers are impatient because I can't find a single invoice to know how to help."

"They're in the file room out back," he said, pointing in the direction I had come. "All the paperwork is in the purple crate. It's not locked. Changed your mind about sticking around?"

"I am grateful for everything you've done for me, but I told you, this is a one-month gig only."

"We need to try harder then." His smile broke into something much more devastating. He pushed off the wall and gestured for me to follow with a tilt of his head. He led me back inside while whistling the same tune from the radio this morning. He pointed to a door at the back concealed by a stack of boxes.

"If you get lost—shout. If something falls on you—don't sue. I'll be back on the shop floor if you need anything. I'll see you around." Paul turned and left, the natural swagger in his step forcing my eyes down to his perfect ass.

I flicked on the light switch and skimmed the mounds of crates full to the brim with miscellaneous small parts. A spot of color caught my eye near a haphazard tower of old tires—a purple container. There wasn't a single box that had its contents itemized. I did that for the next few hours until I cleared enough space to reach the purple crate containing stacks of invoices secured by an elastic band.

My eyes closed when the heat became stifling, and I exhaled a long breath before a sudden flash from the night before jarred them back open.

It was an animal.

I shook off a sense of foreboding that gathered like a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. When the clock hit one, I wandered into town to get lunch, past striped awnings shading the storefronts and a cheap motel with a lit vacancy sign for ten minutes until I found the only store in town.

Patrolling the cream-painted aisles of the grocery store, I carefully selected items. My bank balance was a destitute three hundred dollars, which would seem like a lot, but it was all I had for food and gas over the next month. I passed by an obscure lamp that could have been Carolyn's spirit animal. It was the body of an elephant with its trunk extending into a palm tree-inspired shade.

I could post it to her. But when I saw the price tag, I thought better of it and continued, fishing my phone out of my back pocket as I did. I dialed her number, knowing she wouldn't answer, and was close to tears when she did.

"Couldn't wait longer, could you? I got your text."

"Nope. I discovered one of those trashy lamps you like."

"Are you Dollar Store shopping? I'm at the market. Send me a picture. It can be my Secret Santa. How is it there?"

"Arrived last night. I had a fight with the local wildlife and lost. Currently, I have no car, and Benton has one less deer to worry about. You should see the hood of my sedan—it's a mess. Summer finally showed its face this morning. How are things there? Have you been to the coffee shop yet? Are you going to Sam's later? Are you—"

She cut me off. "Stop. This won't help. Tell me what else you've been doing. How's the house?"

"Ever creeping towards the ocean. I've got a job, and I'll get my car repaired at the end of it, and it won't cost a dime on my insurance. Plus, the management isn't shabby looking."

"So, there are upsides..."

"When I get home, I half expect to see my house floating away. That's not an upside. But, and this is a small but, the house is exactly as I remembered it. The shower works, and rent is free." I sighed. "But I miss home and you."

"We said this would take a maximum of one month. You never know; you could sell within a week. Keep your hopes up. The sale of that property will help sort everything."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. In a last frantic call following my run-in with Antoine, Carolyn had been the one to put perspective to my problem, suggesting I take Lucille's keys and travel to Benton to sell.

"Has he been by the apartment again?" I asked.

Carolyn fell silent. I didn't need to spell out Antoine's name.

"No, he hasn't. But that doesn't mean he won't show up. Antoine isn't going to go away, so you need to be careful, Dana. The man is unstable."

I shuddered at the thought of Antoine appearing at our apartment, his cold, calculating eyes fixed on me as he demanded that I give him what he thought was his.

"Listen," she said. "I know you're trying. I picked up a couple of extra shifts when you skipped town. I'm trying too. No news is good news, right? It just doesn't mean I'm any less petrified every time I leave work."

"Trust me, I was clear. Antoine knows where I am and what I'm here to do. Roughing up either of us does not get that man his money any quicker."

"Tell me about these bosses of yours instead," she deflected. "Simon was asking about you the other day. You never told him you were leaving, did you? I said you'd been whisked away by a smoking hot CEO with a fetish for broke students."

I laughed, my most genuine one in days. While Carolyn fantasized about the unobtainable, my own daydreams this afternoon had lingered on a particular hazel-eyed mechanic. Anytime Paul smiled, I thought about those fitness influencers on Instagram that Carolyn fawned over. Get a grip, woman.

I sighed, still with a grin on my face. "You read too much trash. What did Simon say?"

"Didn't need to say anything—the jealousy in his eyes said it all for him. But, listen, I've gotta go. That new guy behind the deli counter is giving me those eyes again, and there's no shame in free meat. I'll call you later in the week. Try, Dana. For me, okay?"

After disconnecting the call, I stood in the grocery aisle, staring at my phone. The sale of Lucille's property was my last hope, and I had to make it happen. I used my credit card to buy a few groceries that could double as either breakfast, lunch, or dinner. A faint chatter traveled from the staff room when I arrived back.

"Dana," Paul called me over. "I've gone over the damage to your car; new bumper, left front light, and a new automatic transmission gearbox part. Does that sound okay to you?"

My heart sank as I imagined the cartoon dollar signs rolling in my eyes. I'd be Pamela's age before I settled the debt. "Sounds expensive."

"Are you insured?"

"Yes, but the excess claim is—"

His gaze softened. "Don't worry about it. We should have it fixed soon, part depending, that is. We don't stock it here. It comes direct from the manufacturer, but I'm not short on favors at the Depo if I need one. Will you have any trouble getting home?"

The taxi into town this morning had cost me an astonishing thirty-six bucks; at this rate, I would deplete what I had left too fast. The sneakers I'd worn this morning had the sole purpose of getting me back home this evening. Although it was a blatant lie, I shook my head, too proud to ask this man for more generosity.

A bell rang. "That will be some parts I'm waiting on. Listen, Jenny lives near you but at the opposite end of the ocean highway. I'll ask her to drive you home. It might even get her to stay a complete shift—you'll be doing me and Luke a favor."

I had every intention of objecting, but before I could, he was gone, bounding towards the external door to let the delivery driver in.

At four o'clock, Jenny declared her stint in hell over and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. I scanned the shop for either Paul or Luke. I wanted to thank them for going easy on me on my first day. I retrieved Luke in his office, knee-deep in paperwork with a phone next to his ear.

A thick frown of worry lined his forehead, and he ran a hand over the five o'clock shadow on his chin. He was striking, with luminescent ocean-blue eyes that any woman would welcome falling into. A throat cleared behind me, and I blinked, realizing how intently I'd been staring.

"Caught you looking, Peach," Paul teased. "Do you get away with that in Georgia?"

I couldn't withhold the wide smile that stretched across my face at the entertained look on his.

He took a step forward. "Gawking at my brother, huh?"

He is wrong. If there were one brother I would gawk at, it would be him.

Paul's amusement morphed into a full grin touching each cheek. He might as well have heard my thoughts because his reaction spiked my pulse, sending a rush all the way down to my toes.

Amused hazel eyes beamed back at me, and for a moment, I was caught in a lock I couldn't break.

"Good night, Paul."

As I walked away, Paul called after me. I turned, he grinned, and I heard it coming before he even parted his lips. "Your secrets are safe with me, Dana."

"I don't have secrets," I said, still shaking my head, smiling.

As I stepped out of the shop and into the fading light of day, I followed Jenny to her car. As we journeyed home, a feeling of uncertainty began to settle in. With each mile the weight of unanswered questions from the night before grew bigger. The distractions of the day were now running low, allowing my own thoughts to creep in. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire and blood, I wondered: What did I hit? And why would it not leave me alone?

The old wooden steps creaked beneath my feet as I approached Lucille's house on the bluff. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it a new chill.

Probably the old house settling, I reassured myself as I fumbled with the key, trying to convince myself that the strange noises and knocks were nothing more than the product of an aging structure. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me, the silence of the house amplifying the sound of my own heartbeat.

As I moved throughout the room, Paul, Jenny, and Luke drifted through my mind and how they had been there for me today when I needed them. And yet, despite this, within the walls of Lucille's house, I felt so alone.