Adrian’s pov
The countryside was supposed to be quiet, but to me, the silence felt heavy enough to crush my lungs.
I stood in the doorway of the small guesthouse, holding my tiny suitcase until my knuckles turned white. The air smelled like wet dirt and old pine trees, a huge change from the crisp, clean scent of Adrian’s penthouse. Mr. Gable, an old friend of my grandfather, smiled at me from behind the wooden front desk. His eyes were kind, hidden behind thick round glasses, but every time he looked at me, my heart took a scary leap.
"It’s so good to see you, dear," Mr. Gable said, pushing a heavy brass key across the counter. "Your grandfather was a good man. When you called and said you needed a place to stay for a while, I made sure we had our best room ready."
"Thank you, Mr. Gab
