The next morning came early. Graham didn't sleep much. His body had rested, but his mind hadn't. Too much noise in his head. Too many memories still fresh enough to hurt.
They hit the road just after sunrise. It would be a long drive...four hours, Janet had said...and they passed through long stretches of quiet countryside before the roads started to widen and the skyline began to rise in the distance.
Alphacrest.
That was the city's name. He'd never been there before, but he'd heard about it...always buzzing, always alive. And the moment they entered its outer limits, Graham understood why people said that.
The buildings reached upward in glass and steel, reflecting the morning sun in flashes of gold and silver. Traffic buzzed along wide lanes, horns bleating in a chaotic rhythm that somehow worked. On either side of the highway, businesses were stacked...cafes, clubs, smoke shops, tattoo parlors, barbershops with names like King's Throne and Blades & Beats. Street art covered walls and overpasses like murals from another world, bold colors against dull concrete, with messages about life, loss, survival, and struggle.
This wasn't the quiet suburb he grew up in. Alphacrest had a pulse...loud, raw, unapologetic.
People moved fast here. On the sidewalks, on bikes, weaving through traffic...young, old, dressed in everything from suits to hoodies to fishnets. The city didn't care who you were, as long as you kept up.
There was something wild about it. Unfiltered.
Graham didn't say much, but he watched it all from the passenger seat, eyes moving from block to block like he was trying to memorize it. This was his new home now. He could already tell… it was going to be a different kind of life.
Eventually, they pulled into a quieter neighborhood tucked behind a long row of apartment buildings and old corner stores. Janet's house sat on a peaceful street lined with closely packed homes, most of them a little aged, but cared for. Here, it was calm.
Janet's place was a blue one-story with white shutters and warm-looking. Like a house that had history. Graham stepped out of the car, stretching his legs as he looked around.
Before he could ask anything, the front door creaked open. A girl stepped out onto the porch.
She looked about his age, maybe a year younger...but carried herself with the confidence of someone who didn't take shit from anyone. Dark brown hair fell in lazy waves around her shoulders, her skin kissed by the sun. She wore a cropped tank top that clung to her full chest and a pair of snug denim shorts that showed off her long legs and thick thighs. Her waist was small, her hips wide, and her backside was plump...hard not to notice, even for someone in mourning.
Graham tried not to stare. He really did. But she had that kind of presence you felt before you even looked her way.
"This is Sophia," Janet said as she stepped out of the car, voice light. "Soph, come say hi. This is Graham."
Sophia didn't move at first. She just eyed him, arms crossed, her lips in a flat line. Then she muttered, "Hi," in the most uninterested voice she could muster.
Graham gave a small nod. "Hey."
"Graham's going to be staying with us," Janet added, moving toward the trunk. "I'll get his things."
Sophia stepped down from the porch slowly, eyes never leaving him. Graham felt her gaze like heat. She was beautiful. Too beautiful. And she knew it.
As Janet started pulling luggage from the car, Graham found himself glancing at Sophia again. Just a glance. Maybe two. But when he looked up, she was staring dead at him.
"What?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're staring."
"No, I wasn't..."
"Uh-huh," she interrupted. "Sure you weren't. Freakin' perv."
The word hit like a slap...sharp and casual. She turned and walked back inside without waiting for a reply, hips swaying just enough to make him feel even worse about getting caught.
Graham blinked, stunned.
Janet was still by the trunk, arms full of his bags. "Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he muttered. "All good."
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Janet showed Graham to his room upstairs...a simple but cozy space with a single bed, a wooden desk, and a window that overlooked the backyard. The walls were a soft beige, and the air smelled faintly of lavender, probably from the candle sitting unused by the nightstand. It wasn't home, not yet. But it was something.