The Move
(This book is in the process of a MAJOR rewrite. The first submittal was just a quick story telling and now I'm going back and adding depth and more plot. Please give it time. The first few chapters will seem different since they have been rewritten.)
Life throws unexpected twists, and mine took me somewhere I never imagined, yet it’s that very place that ended up shaping my entire future.
Moving to a new school for your senior year has to rank somewhere near the top of the emotional trauma scale. And not just any school, one in a small town in Texas. My dad had been promoted to police chief, which sounded impressive on paper, but to me, it just felt like being ripped from the only life I’d ever known.
Montana had been home. All my memories, my friends, my future, it was all there. I’d grown up in that state, and now it felt like I’d been cut out of my own story. I tried everything to stop the move. I screamed until I couldn’t talk. I tried running away. I even told my dad the money wasn’t worth it. That one made him laugh.
“Autumn, lose the dramatics already,” he said, like that would somehow stop my chest from aching.
Now I sat slouched in the back seat of his Ford SUV, music blaring through my headphones loud enough to drown out everything, including my thoughts. Bryce sat next to me, also zoned out behind his music wall. He was only five minutes younger than me, but acted like he was older, wiser, and more in control. Classic twin brother energy.
Back home, he was the golden boy, the school’s star quarterback, the guy everyone knew, the guy girls tripped over themselves for. He had Mom’s thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes, but Dad’s killer dimples and perfect teeth. At seventeen, he was already edging past six feet, taller than our dad and still growing.
He was staring out the window now, calm and focused, and I realized something I hadn’t before: he’d lost things, too. But unlike me, he was looking forward to the move. Bigger state, bigger football leagues, bigger chances. He always had a way of zooming out and seeing the bigger picture. I wished my mind worked like his. Mine just... looped on what I’d left behind.
Montana was my world. I had been Cheer Captain. I had a name, a place, a rhythm. Now I was about to walk into a school where no one knew my name or my face, let alone what I could do. Starting over wasn’t just hard, it felt impossible.
Especially with what had happened.
That secret sat heavy in my chest, silent but suffocating. A part of me had to stay hidden now. The move wasn’t just about Dad’s promotion it was about getting away. And I knew it. He knew it. None of us said it out loud.
I glanced toward the front seat. Dad was tapping the steering wheel in time with whatever was playing on the radio, swaying just slightly with the beat. A small smile pulled at my lips. I looked like him more than I wanted to admit. The same storm-gray eyes, same auburn hair, though mine was a little darker. I’d bleached it out with blonde highlights last summer just to feel different, but the resemblance still held.
Then he started singing. Off-key, loud, and unapologetic.
For a police chief, my dad was ridiculously laid back. He could switch between stoic and embarrassing dad mode in two seconds flat. Sometimes he made me and Bryce laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe. Other days, he made us want to disappear into the floor. Today was somewhere in between.
My gaze shifted to the empty passenger seat. The space that still felt like hers.
My chest tightened. Mom died when I was fourteen. A drunk driver ran a red light and took her from us in a blink. We’d stayed in the same house for years afterward, partly because none of us could let go of her memory. She was in every room, every photo, every piece of furniture.
Leaving it behind felt like letting her go all over again.
But deep down, I knew she’d want us to keep living—to find some new version of happiness, even if it was in a town I didn’t want and a future I didn’t ask for.
We turned onto a quiet street, neat and manicured like someone had taken too much pride in it. As we pulled up to the fifth house down, I paused my music and yanked out my earbuds, more out of habit than curiosity.
Then I saw it.
A massive Southern-style plantation house loomed ahead, like it had been plucked from a postcard—or maybe a movie set. The wraparound porch was the kind people fawned over in magazines, and yeah, I’d once imagined something like it for my “someday” house… back when I still believed in fairytales.
The whole place was painted a blinding white, with a pale blue and gray roof that looked too clean to be real. Off to the side, a turret—yes, a literal tower—rose next to the garage like this was some kind of Southern castle. It was two stories tall, perfectly polished, and practically screaming look at me.
Nice? Sure. But perfect houses like this always came with cracks you couldn’t see from the street.
Dad pulled up to the curb and parked just behind the moving van already sitting in the driveway.
“We’re here!” he shouted, like I still had my music blasting. His voice practically pierced my brain.
“OKAY!” I shouted back, pointing at my bare ears.
He blinked, then laughed when he realized I wasn’t wearing my headphones. “Whoops. Well, at least it woke you up. Now hop to it!”
He hit the unlock button and climbed out. I turned and slapped Bryce’s shoulder.
He flinched, yanking out his own earbuds. “What?!”
I smirked and pointed toward the house. “We’re here, dumbass.”
He narrowed his eyes, tried to flick my forehead, but I was already halfway out the door. I sprinted up the walkway toward the front door, where Dad was fumbling with the keys. Bryce rounded the car, glaring at me like I’d committed some major crime.
I grinned at him with the most obnoxious, smug smile I could muster.
Truth was, we actually got along… annoyingly well. As much as I hated to admit it, Bryce was kind of like a built-in best friend just with the added perk of getting under each other’s skin every other minute.
Dad pushed the door open, and I darted past him.
“First dibs!” I yelled, disappearing into the house
I thundered up the stairs, my feet hitting every other step with a heavy thud as I skipped two at a time.
“YOU CHEATER!” Bryce’s voice echoed behind me, followed by the slap of his feet trying to catch up.
I reached the landing and veered hard to the right, sprinting down the hallway. Without hesitation, I threw open the last door and stepped inside—only to freeze.
It was perfect.
A massive bedroom stretched out in front of me, but what stopped me in my tracks was the loft. A second level, tucked up into the tower, with its own little staircase. I didn’t even hesitate. As I heard Bryce charging down the hallway, I jumped in front of the doorway, throwing my arms and legs out in an X.
“CLAIMED!”
He skidded to a stop in front of me, his expression dropping into a full-on pout.
“Aw, come on!” He opened the door next to mine, took one look inside, and groaned louder. “Why does yours have a loft and mine doesn’t?!”
I just shrugged, the corner of my mouth twitching into a victorious grin. “I don’t make the rules.”
I shut the door behind me before he could argue, already taking in the space that was now mine. I crossed to the window and looked out—my room sat above the garage, and the only reason it even had a loft was because of the tower attachment. The loft was circular, almost turret-like, with its own small window at the top. I could already picture a giant beanbag chair up there, maybe some string lights. It was going to be my spot.
The view was nice, too. Nothing dramatic just a sleepy neighborhood with quiet streets and neatly trimmed lawns with huge houses, but something about it felt like the start of something good. Like maybe I could settle in here. Maybe even belong.
