Macy’s pov
The sun blazed high overhead, casting sharp, golden beams across the pavement as I pulled into the studio parking lot.
A fresh Monday. But not just any Monday there was something different in the air. A tension I couldn’t quite explain.
Maybe it was the beginning-of-the-week chaos. Maybe it was nothing.
Or maybe it was the storm I couldn’t see coming.
My name is Macy Brooke, and I’m 23 years old. I run a small music school in the city. I teach classes, rent out instruments, and spend my days surrounded by melody and movement. Music has always been my safe place, the one language I could speak fluently even when life felt out of tune.
And today? Today was exam day for my students. Meaning stress, last-minute panic, and a to-do list long enough to wrap around the building.
As I stepped through the studio doors, the familiar scent of polished wood, sheet music, and fresh coffee washed over me. The distant sound of someone warming up on a violin floated down the hallway.
“Good morning, Macy,” called Lori from the front desk.
I smiled at my ever-organized secretary. “Morning, Lori. How was your weekend?”
“Peaceful,” she said, flipping through her notepad. “Zara canceled this afternoon’s meeting. Also, you’ve got an appointment at noon—Mrs. Jake wants to talk about the birthday party music for her husband.”
“Got it. Thanks. And can you remind Class One to be ready for their presentations?”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said with a nod before disappearing down the hall.
From there, the day swept me up like a fast-moving river. Between coaching nervous students, giving feedback, tuning instruments, and keeping the studio from combusting under exam pressure, I barely had time to breathe.
When I finally made it home, I kicked off my heels, dragged myself to the shower, and threw together a lazy dinner—nothing fancy, just whatever I could microwave without effort.
I had just settled on the couch with my plate when my phone lit up.
Derick.
I answered without hesitation. “Hey.”
“Hey, babe,” came his deep voice, warm and familiar like velvet over gravel.
“How was work today?” he asked.
“Long. Loud. Exhausting,” I sighed.
He chuckled softly. “Sounds like a Monday. Have you eaten?”
“I’m eating now,” I said, stabbing a fork into the pasta.
“I miss you,” he said, his voice dipping into something low and soft. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
My chest tightened a little at his words. “I miss you too, love.”
Derick Torres wasn’t like the guys I’d dated before. He was patient. Grounded. The kind of man who made you feel like the rest of the world could fall away and you’d still be safe in his arms. We’d been together for a year now, and it still didn’t feel real sometimes—like waking up in someone else’s dream.
I didn’t know much about his family or where he came from, but I knew enough to know he was worth holding on to.
The week passed in a blur of rehearsals and late nights. By Friday, all I wanted was a hot bath and ten hours of sleep, but life had other plans.
When I pulled into the apartment complex after work, something immediately felt off. My front door was slightly open.
My heart caught.
I stepped forward slowly, one hand tightening around the strap of my bag—ready to swing it like a weapon if I had to.
Then I saw him.
Derick stood in my kitchen, wearing a navy-blue apron, humming under his breath while stirring something on the stove. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air.
I exhaled sharply and leaned against the doorframe. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He turned around, grinning. “Well, that’s not quite the ‘welcome home’ I imagined.”
I laughed, heart still racing. “You left my door open.”
“I wanted to surprise you. Didn’t think you’d be home this early.”
“Well, consider me surprised. What are you cooking?”
“You’ll see,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Go sit down. I’ve got this.”
Dinner was perfect. Cozy. Effortless. The kind of night that made it easy to forget stress, work, and everything else outside these four walls. After we cleaned up, we curled into bed, tangled limbs and tired laughter lulling us to sleep.
The next morning, I woke to soft kisses trailing along my thighs.
I blinked, groaning playfully. “Is this your idea of a wake-up call?”
Derick smirked. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
I was still half-asleep, but his warmth made it easy to melt back into the moment. After a lazy morning and a quick breakfast, he set his mug down and looked at me seriously.
“Alright, time to get ready.”
“For what?” I asked, still in pajama shorts.
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“My mom’s birthday. It’s tomorrow. We’re heading to Waterfall today, remember? My brother’s coming home. We talked about this.”
My eyes widened. “Oh no. Derick, I’m so sorry—I completely forgot.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I figured work’s been crazy. It’s fine.”
“Are you mad?”
“No,” he said, walking toward me with that teasing smirk again. “But... you’ll have to make it up to me.”
I didn’t need to ask what he meant.
After a shopping run and a few last-minute packing disasters, we were finally on the road. Waterfall, Derick’s hometown, was about an hour’s drive. He always spoke fondly of it, even though I have visited a few times—of quiet trails, big skies, and the kind of peace you can’t find in the city.
“What’s your brother like?” I asked as we cruised down the highway.
Derick glanced at me, his jaw tightening slightly. “Liam is... different. He’s protective. Serious. But also fiercely loyal. He’d do anything for the people he loves.”
I nodded, but something unsettled stirred in me.
This wasn’t the first time I’d visited Waterfall. I’d met his parents before. Sweet people. Kind. A little guarded, maybe—but nothing that raised any red flags.
But I’d never met Liam.
And something about this visit felt... different.
I turned my gaze to the trees rushing past the window, a flicker of unease tightening in my chest.
I couldn’t explain why. I just knew—something was coming.