Grace was the first to break the silence. She straightened in her chair, plastering on her usual sunny grin. "Anyway! Enough of that doom-and-gloom stuff. June, do you have any idea how excited I am that you're here? Like, seriously, my cousin, finally in Blackstone! I've been begging for this for years."
June blinked, her fork pausing midway to her plate. "Really?"
"Of course!" Grace leaned forward, her chin resting on her palm. "We're starting senior year. The last year of high school. And now I actually get to share it with you. You have no idea how boring it is being surrounded by the same people I've known since kindergarten. Blackstone High is like—" She made a dramatic face. "One big recycled playlist. Same teachers, same gossip, same parties. But now you're here."
June gave a small, cautious smile, warmth pushing aside some of the unease that still lingered from the newspaper. "Well… I'm glad I'll have you."
"Not just glad. Ecstatic," Grace declared, stabbing her fork at her eggs for emphasis. "We're going to ace senior year together, and you'll see how great this town is once you settle in. I mean, sure, it's a little… odd sometimes. But we've got the best diner milkshakes, the best fall festivals, and, okay, maybe the only movie theater for like forty miles, but it counts."
Evelyn smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm, but then turned her attention to June. "I've already made arrangements for your transfer. Blackstone High has all your papers. They're expecting you to start next Monday. But, sweetheart, if you'd rather have more time to adjust, that's fine too. Everything is sorted, no pressure."
June shifted in her seat, grateful for the reassurance. "Thank you, Aunt Evelyn. I think… I'd like to start Monday. It might be better if I just dive in, right?"
"That's the spirit!" Grace clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is perfect. You'll meet everyone—well, everyone worth meeting. And since it's senior year, there'll be a ton of events. Spirit rallies, lacrosse games, prom…" Her voice grew dreamy. "Prom, June. You have to go to prom with me. I don't care if you have a date or not—we'll go together. Cousin power."
June laughed softly, shaking her head. "I haven't even unpacked yet, and you're already talking about prom?"
"Prom is a lifestyle," Grace insisted, grinning ear to ear. "But fine, let's start small. Monday, I'll show you around school, introduce you to my friends—oh, and warn you about the teachers. Especially Mr. Kellan. He's basically a vampire. Not like, a real one—" She caught her mom's glance and coughed, backtracking. "I mean, not literally, just… super grumpy."
Evelyn hid a knowing smile behind her coffee cup. "Grace, let her breathe. She only just arrived."
Grace ignored her, eyes twinkling. "Still, you'll be fine. Just stick with me. Senior year is going to be the best year ever."
June's smile widened despite herself. For the first time since stepping into Blackstone, something felt… lighter.
The rest of breakfast passed in comfortable chatter. Grace was already planning a dozen things June "absolutely had to do," while Evelyn kept reminding her daughter to let their guest rest. By the time the plates were cleared and the sun had climbed higher in the sky, the house felt warmer, more alive.
June excused herself with a soft smile, carrying her bag up the narrow wooden staircase that creaked faintly under her steps. Blackstone homes weren't like the sprawling Bel-Air estate she'd grown up in. Her parents' house had been wide hallways, towering ceilings, and polished marble floors. Here, everything was tighter, closer. The walls bore the faint scent of pinewood polish, and the old family portraits framed in dark oak gave the house a kind of timeless weight.
Her room was at the end of the hallway. Evelyn had prepared it for her—fresh sheets folded neatly, a pale quilt tucked over the bed, and curtains that caught the golden light of morning. It wasn't large, but it was cozy, with a small desk tucked near the window and a dresser waiting to be filled. A vase of fresh lilies sat on the nightstand, their scent delicate but grounding.
June set her bag on the bed and paused. For a moment, her throat tightened. Unzipping the case felt heavier than it should. She pulled out the first neatly folded blouse, her fingers brushing against the fabric, and all at once memories rushed forward—the way her mother had always insisted on pressing her clothes before trips, the way her father had teased her for overpacking.
Her chest ached, but she swallowed it down.
One by one, she began unpacking. Dresses into the dresser, books stacked onto the desk, toiletries lined neatly on the nightstand. Each item carried weight, remnants of another life—her life in Bel-Air, now gone. The silence of the room pressed on her, broken only by the faint tick of the hallway clock.
A knock came on the doorframe. Grace leaned against it, arms folded, grinning like always. "Looks good in here already."
June forced a small smile. "Trying to make it feel like home."
Grace stepped in, plopping onto the bed without invitation, bouncing slightly on the mattress. "Well, you'll get used to it. Blackstone isn't Bel-Air, but it's… I don't know. It's ours. You'll see."
June looked out the window. From here she could see the quiet street below, the sleepy houses lined with hedges, and the distant outline of the forest. The same forest where, just last night, she'd witnessed the impossible. Her grip tightened on the edge of the curtain.
She said nothing.
Grace didn't notice. "Anyway, you'll love school. Mom's right—your transfer papers are sorted. Monday will be your first day, so you've got the weekend to chill. Oh! And if you need help picking clothes, I'm volunteering myself. Senior year first impressions are everything."
June chuckled softly. "I'll keep that in mind."
By afternoon, Evelyn had called June downstairs to go over a few things—the way the house worked, where the spare keys were, the curfew she liked to keep for Grace (and now, by extension, June). She moved through her explanations gently, not as a strict guardian but as someone trying to make space for a new presence in the house.
June listened quietly, nodding when appropriate. Everything still felt surreal. Just two weeks ago, she had been living in a world of chauffeurs, penthouses, and charity galas. Now she was here, in a small town with winding roads and diners with flickering neon signs.
That night, as she lay in bed staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, the silence pressed in heavier than before. Blackstone was supposed to be an escape, a place to heal from loss. But after what she had seen on the street last night—the inhuman speed, the glowing eyes—she wasn't sure if Blackstone would heal her at all.
Still, she had no choice but to stay.