Page 1 of Before the Bond
Chapter 1
Olivia
Two minutes ago, I thought he was dead.
A tall man loomed over me, his hands pinning my wrists hard into the grass. It’s at that moment that I realized how much I regret taking this assignment.
The sunset tried to push through the fog. It didn’t.
Figures.
The assignment at Greyhollow arrived the way all new ones did: a phone call, a name, and a fruitless back-and-forth with my employer about her tendency to drop me in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t argue.
It’s temporary. Just like everything else. That’s kind of the point.
In a couple of days I’d be starting at the local walk-in clinic. Twelve weeks, then on to wherever the agency sent me next. It wasn’t the assignment I wanted — too quiet, too small, too far from the kind of facility where things actually happened — but it was available.
I arrived in Greyhollow only a couple hours prior. I didn’t have the full picture just yet, but driving through the town told me three things: it was old, quiet, and definitely wasn’tglamorous. The fog swallowed most of it. Lights blinked out early.
As it got darker, I decided to head inside and get my things in order. I didn’t get another coffee and risk spending the night alone with my thoughts.
I looked around. The rental cottage was… fine. More rustic than the listing made it sound. Wood panels that need refinishing. Too much Americana on the shelves. The fireplace didn’t work.
Of course it didn’t.
In the bedroom, I headed toward the two bags sitting on the quilted mattress. One was a suitcase, the standard belongings: clothes, scrubs, a collection of travel soaps and toothpastes I never seem to run out of. The other was my go-bag, a bright red duffel that I could quickly spot in any situation. It held a compact version of my essentials, alongside extra precautions. First-aid. Flashlight. Anything that fell under the category of “emergency.”
Always ready.
I sighed as I went over my documents and confirmed the details. A nearby brochure the landlord gave me had a small map of Greyhollow. I’d look at it tomorrow.
Normally, I moved through this kind of thing faster. Now I was dragging, flipping through the papers like I had all the time in the world. I could blame the drive, but I knew better.
I moved slower than usual.
I always got like this when it was quiet. It was always worse in a town than a city, too. When you moved around, you didn’t make connections. No one missed you when you left, and you’re perpetually a stranger.
When you kept moving, you didn’t build anything. No roots. No one expecting you to stay.
I was good with patients. Good with coworkers. Good at making people feel like I’d be around. I just wasn’t someone who stayed.
Better that way.
But it’s all temporary, I thought.
That’s supposed to be the benefit for these kinds of things. It’s why I chose this career, for crying out loud. No one stayed in your life, true, but that also meant you didn’t get attached.
I didn’t let anything stay. That’s the point.
You could enjoy things and move without hesitation. You didn’t need to stand still with your own thoughts, and regrets, or worry about whether change was a bad thing. Change was never a bad thing if it was the only constant in your life.
However, an advantage did not feel so pleasant when the reason you wanted to keep moving seemed to follow you around.
I shut the thought down.
After I finished my documents, I made my way to the kitchen. The fluorescent light made the colorful tile backsplash look a lot sadder than it should have.
I noticed a window near the area’s backdoor. Through it, I caught a glimpse of the treeline. Not even the fog could hide it. I frowned. The last thing I wanted was to look at the trees directly.
