Chapter 1: The Call
The Call
Olivia Carter
The air felt fresher somehow.
As I stood on top of my balcony, overlooking the waves crashing against the rocks below, just a few hundred feet away from my humble abode, I felt a sense of comfort.
Freedom.
I couldn’t remember the last time in five years I had ever felt more at peace.
My life had been a turmoil, a whirlwind some may call it, before now. I just had to escape, for me. For my sanity.
And just when I finally got that sanity back, the phone rang.
Of course it did.
I stared at it through the glass door, sitting on the kitchen counter where I’d left it after breakfast. The screen lit up, buzzing insistently against the marble.
Unknown Number.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Almost.
With a sigh, I stepped inside and picked it up.
“Hello?”
For a moment, there was only static.
Then a voice I hadn’t heard in years.
“Olivia?”
My stomach dropped.
“Aunt Diane?”
“Thank God.” Her relief crackled through the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
Every muscle in my body tensed.
No one from home called unless something was wrong.
“What happened?”
Silence.
The kind that tells you everything before the words ever arrive.
“It’s your Father.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“What about him?”
“He collapsed yesterday morning.”
My heart skipped.
“He what?”
“The doctors think it was a heart attack. They’re still running tests.” Diane’s voice trembled. “It was serious, Liv.”
I closed my eyes.
Five years.
Five years since I’d spoken to my Father.
Five years since I’d packed a suitcase, climbed into my car, and left Willow Creek without looking back.
Five years since he’d stood on the porch and told me not to come back if I walked away.
Neither of us had broken first.
Until now.
“Is he...” I swallowed. “Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
The breath rushed from my lungs.
“He’s stable for now.”
For now.
Two words capable of carrying a thousand fears.
I walked back onto the balcony, staring out at the ocean. The waves crashed against the cliffs with the same rhythm as before, but the peace I’d felt moments ago was gone.
Completely gone.
“He asked for you.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
A sharp, bitter sound.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Olivia—”
“He hasn’t wanted anything to do with me for years.”
“He asked for you,” Diane repeated quietly.
The conviction in her voice hurt more than I expected.
I rested my forearms on the railing.
Far below, sea spray erupted against the rocks.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“He’s your Father.”
I closed my eyes again.
Those words used to mean something.
Now they felt complicated.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
“He needs you.”
No.
The truth was that he hadn’t needed me.
Not when Mom died.
Not when I struggled.
Not when I begged him to understand why I wanted a life beyond our tiny town.
But despite everything, guilt crept into my chest.
Because what if this was it?
What if I stayed here, safe and comfortable, only to get another call next week?
Another call that started with silence.
Another call that ended with regret.
The thought settled like a stone in my stomach.
“When?”
“What?”
“When should I come?”
Diane exhaled shakily.
“As soon as you can.”
I nodded before remembering she couldn’t see me.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
The word tasted strange.
Unwanted.
I looked out at the endless horizon I’d grown to love.
The life I’d built. The distance I’d fought so hard to create.
And suddenly it felt fragile.
Like something slipping through my fingers.
“I’ll come home.”
After hanging up, I stood there for a long time, listening to the waves.
Home.
The word felt wrong.
Willow Creek had never really felt like home.
Not after Mom. Not after him.
Not after the night everything fell apart.
Yet twenty-four hours later, as my car rolled beneath the familiar town sign welcoming visitors to Willow Creek, I felt something I hadn’t expected.
Fear.
The streets looked smaller than I remembered.
The storefronts were unchanged.
The old diner still sat on the corner.
The church steeple still pierced the skyline.
Five years had passed, but somehow nothing had changed.
Except me.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
Then my gaze landed on the hospital rising above the town centre.
And for the first time since receiving the call, the reality hit me.
My father might not survive this.
The anger I’d carried for half a decade suddenly felt a little less certain.
A little less important.
Almost like it was non-existent.
As I pulled into the hospital parking lot, my pulse hammered in my ears.
Whatever waited beyond those doors, there would be no turning around this time.
I had finally come back.
And Willow Creek was waiting.
