The General Homecoming Romane & Geschichten

I had to reach my grandfather’s old log cabin on the edge of the woods—the one place David forgot to put on his list of assets because it was in the name of a great-grandfather long since considered missing. Pushing through the haze of anxiety was grueling, but I managed to hold on. After the long flight, I finally touched down in Vermont. I moved quickly, dragging my suitcase onto a bus to continue the final leg of the journey. The anxiety slowly faded, replaced by a bizarre sensation in my head and gut. When the bus doors hissed open in front of Miller’s General Store, the night chill cut straight to my bones as if I were standing naked in a blizzard. The snow was falling heavily, white-wa

I lean into him, and he presses a quick kiss to the top of my head like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Across the table, Mariah catches my eye and gives me a knowing smile. “This,” I mouth. She nods. Yeah. This. Later, as the night winds down and the adrenaline finally starts to settle, I sit there between Noah and Mariah, listening to the guys relive every play, every block, every near-miss. And it hits me. This is my only Homecoming. And it’s already better than I ever imagined. Not because of dresses or crowns or rumors.

The last thing I had expected was a welcome home party with so many people turning up. I walked towards the crowd of people and received a lot of hugs and kisses. “We were so worried about you Miss Benson. I am happy you are alright.” My secretary Dani said. “Thanks Dani. I am happy to be back.” Someone handed me a glass of champagne and I sat on the couch with Kevin, watching the people who had come to celebrate my homecoming. “Okay Jan,” Gina said sitting on the arm on my chair. “ I want the whole story. Everything. How did you fall into the hands of those psycho?”

As he walked outside the warehouse, his cell already in hand, the cold night warm against his skin, he called the number he have not called for two years. "Hello?" A sleepy male voice answered. "I'm coming home." He said. "Shit!"

City D was always bustling with a lot of people walking side by side and filled with heavy traffic. However, today, the traffic seemed to be much heavier for there were many cars loudly honking as walking people filled the city. Even the swooshing of the wind and the leaves that danced along with it were moving about busily. It was already June, indicating the start of summer, the hottest season of the year. On this day, there was a certain transparent soul wandering about on the street. Who was this soul?

At the very least, not now. Two days after I was discharged, Aiden finally came home. Chloe was sent to her grandmother's house. I was sitting alone at the dining table, eating a bowl of plain noodles. He walked in, took off his coat, changed his shoes, and glanced at me. His voice was indifferent as he said he was out of town for a conference the past two days. I kept my head down, focusing on my noodles, and didn't bother responding.

Her anxiety took a flight and she didn't want to leave but she had to grab a few things from the house as well. Seeing that the staff was doing the job just right, Sarah kissed Willow's forehead and turned around to leave, she went home with a burden on her chest and a dull ache in her head. Her curiosity peaked when she saw the door to the house across from hers opened again and maybe the same man who she had seen earlier walked out, her steps slowed down as she watched him close the door and turn around.

POV: Grayson Hayes Homecoming was a ritual. Grayson had participated every year—nominated, decorated, photographed, the performance of high school mythology that meant nothing and cost everything. He'd attended with Chelsea, with dates chosen by his father for strategic alliance, with girls who understood the transaction and didn't expect more than visibility. This year, he wanted Avery Blake. The girl who was becoming without a blueprint, who'd called Dante brother and walked away, who'd spent three nights at her aunt's and returned changed—still uncertain, still calculating, but more hers than she'd ever been.