CHAPTER ONE:MATE
1255 Words
Nevaeh’s POV
Have you ever lived in a town so small that people still talk about the time you vomited at the school’s Christmas carol in third grade?
I have. It’s called Whistlecreek.
Population? Just enough to fill the seats at the town hall and the booths at WhistleWho’s bakery on a Sunday morning. It’s the kind of place where time stretches like a scream no one hears and everybody thinks they’re entitled to your business—especially if they’re the mayor’s wife, or worse, your fiancé.
I’ve worked as secretary to Mayor Colton for a little over three years now. My days are a blur of typing, scheduling, avoiding eye contact, and pretending my life makes sense.
To get through it, I simply pretend that I don’t loathe every time the mayor chews with his mouth open, slaps the receptionist’s shoulder a little too hard, or talks about his son like he’s God’s gift to Whistlecreek. Harold Colton. My fiancé. Walking human red flag.
He was nicer in high school. I don’t know why things changed so much.
Going home at the end of the day brings me so much comfort, eating leftover pasta and a dessert from my best friend’s bakery on my fleabag couch and trying not to spiral over the fact that I’m twenty-two, engaged to a man I don’t love anymore, and still haunted by ghosts no one ever talks about.
My mother died giving birth to me. My twin sister, Heaven, didn’t survive either. I’ve lived with that sentence stitched into my skin since the moment I was old enough to ask why there weren’t any pictures of her. Or my mom. Or birthday candles in twos.
My Dad—Sheriff Neil Burton— doesn’t like to talk about it. The Sheriff is about as emotionally expressive as a bag of coffee beans.
When I was younger, I used to poke him with questions like they were sticks.
“Did Mom have long hair?”
“Do you ever miss them?”
Each time, he’d shut down like someone had unplugged him.
My morning starts the same every other day. I wake up to the sound of my neighbor’s dog barking at absolutely nothing. Shower. Pull on my pencil skirt. Fix my pin-straight black hair into a neat bun. And slap on an acceptable amount of makeup to not attract intervention.
As I got into my minivan—a hand-me-down from my father that sometimes forgets it’s supposed to brake — Kiera, my best friend, texted me Goodluck.
I smile, because Kiera always knows when I need encouragement. She’s the sweetest person I know and owns WhistleWho’s—the only bakery in town worth selling your soul for.
We’ve been best friends since she helped push my swinging Kindergarten.
I drop my phone into my bag and mentally count down the hours to go before I could go get dessert. Brownies and hot chocolate were calling to me right now.
The mayor’s office is housed in a building that used to be the town’s community center. It still smells like dust and old ambition. I spent the first half of my day typing up minutes from last week’s council meeting, which included such thrilling topics as “WhistleCreek: Why the town should get a new name” and “Why the bar shouldn’t sell wine on weekends."
Mayor Colton bursts in just before my lunch break, flinging his leather briefcase onto my desk like I’m not slowly getting frustrated at my day already.
“Morning hon,” he grins, leaning in just enough to make my coffee spill a little.
“Big meeting today. A big-time investor from the city is coming to talk about expansion.” I nod slowly while listening.
“Look alive”. He winked. “Do me a favor and read the proposal, then come brief me in ten minutes. I couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it yesterday”.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, stabbing my keyboard with the kind of energy that deserves an award.
He leaves the scent of cologne and political ego behind as he stomps into his office.
By two o’clock, the office was buzzing. Mayor Colton’s running around like he’s hosting the Governor. I’ve been told eight times to refill the water dispenser, rearrange the welcome flier and sit up straight. Everything smells like desperation and bad cologne.
Then the front door opens.
And I swear, the temperature drops.
The man who steps in is not from around here. He’s tall—really tall—with sharp shoulders under a black coat that probably had its own offshore account. His hair is snow white, which makes no earthly sense. I honestly do not think anyone has that hair color but it looked so natural.
His skin is tan, his jaw is cut from granite, and his eyes are gray. Not soft gray. Not kind gray. But like stormy clouds swirling, like they hold too many secrets and none of them good. He looked about my age.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t glance around. Just walks straight in, like he owns the place.
And then…
He looks at me.
The air shifts, there’s no warning or sound.
Just a presence.
And for the first time in my entire life, I forgot what it feels like to breath.
His lips twitched into a smile, his grey eyes shining he muttered something but I didn’t really catch it. Before he could take another step towards me, Mayor Colton appeared in front of him and his smile immediately vanished.
They shook hands and walked into the Mayor’s office not before the man sent another look my way.
Around four, Harold shows up.
Of course.
He doesn’t ever call ahead. Just strolls in like he owns the place (because in a way, he does), grinning like he didn’t forget our dinner plans last night to play poker with his frat friends from some crypto club.
“Babe,” he says, dragging out the word. “You look tense. Want me to get you something?”
“Yeah,” I deadpan. “A time machine.”
He laughs, thinking I’m joking. I’m not.
Harold leans on my desk, fidgeting with the little nameplate that reads Nevaeh Burton. I want to slap his hand away but settle for a smile that feels like sandpaper.
“You know , I’m supposed to meet that investor today with Dad, right? Big deal. Could be a game-changer.”
“Is that so?” I hum. “Going to pitch him a new coin? ‘CryptoColton’? Maybe call it ColtonCoin?”
He didn’t catch the sarcasm.
He’s too busy checking his reflection in the window.
“I gotta go give my pitch now. Just wanted to see my girl before walking into my next investment, y’know” . I plaster a smile on. He kisses my cheek, and I stare at him as he walks into his father’s office.
By the time the meeting was over, I was ready to leave for the day. I text Kiera to let her know that I’m on my way to the bakery while entering the elevator. Before the doors of the elevator closed, a hand reached out to stop it and the man from earlier walked in.
The doors ping as it closes, he stands still as he faces me. I couldn’t stop myself from staring into his eyes, his lips parted as he uttered one word
“Mate”.
- Writer
