12. Invisible
Chapter twelve
Invisible
Icame to Magnolia Creek planning to be invisible.
Six weeks ago, that had been the whole point. Find a place no one knew me. Keep my head down. Work remotely, pay rent on time, don’t make connections that could be traced or used against me. Exist in the margins of someone else’s town until I figured out what came next.
I’d gotten good at being invisible. Two years with Marcus had taught me how to move through spaces without leaving a mark, how to smile without engaging, how to be present without being seen. It was a survival skill, honed through necessity, and I thought I could deploy it indefinitely.
I was wrong.
Somewhere along the way, that plan had fallen apart completely.
I was known now. Mel at The Daily Grind knew my order and saved me the good muffins.
She’d started setting aside the blueberry ones, my favorite, before I even walked in, leaving them on a plate behind the counter with a sticky note that said S.
The first time she’d done it, I’d stared at the note for too long, trying to remember the last time someone had anticipated what I wanted without being asked.
Lila at the studio treated me like I'd been there for years instead of weeks. She’d given me my own desk, my own coffee mug, my own drawer of supplies.
She’d stopped introducing me to clients as “the new freelancer” and started just saying “my lead designer, Serena.” The title had made something warm bloom in my chest the first time I heard it.
People on the street waved, asked how I was settling in, and how did I like it out at the Thornwood place.
The woman at the bookstore, Vera, had ordered titles she thought I’d like without being asked.
The guy who ran the hardware store knew I was “the one staying at Thornwood” and always asked after “those Voss boys” with a curious look I didn’t quite understand.
I had a routine. I had friends, or something close to friends. I had a place in this town that hadn’t existed six weeks ago.
I had stopped checking the locks before going to bed.
That last one still startled me sometimes.
I’d spent two years double-checking every entry point, testing every window, lying awake listening for sounds that didn’t belong.
And now I fell asleep with my window open, letting in the night sounds of the preserve, trusting that nothing harmful would find its way in.
It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t careful. It was, frankly, the opposite of everything I’d learned to do to survive.
This place made me feel safe: the magnolia tree, the main house below, the three men who lived there in a way I couldn’t explain.
And the brothers...
I couldn't pretend anymore that what I felt for them was normal. That the pull toward them was just loneliness, or chemistry, or small-town hospitality; it was something else. Something that terrified me even as it drew me in.
I’d tried to analyze it. Made lists, of course I’d made lists, bullet-pointing every interaction, every glance, every moment that had felt significant. But the lists didn’t help. The data points didn’t add up to anything rational.
How do you explain knowing someone’s mood before they speak? How do you explain the way your body relaxes the moment you hear their footsteps, before you even see their face? How do you explain wanting three different men equally, impossibly, without any sense of who or how to choose?
I couldn’t. So I’d stopped trying.
Instead, I let myself feel it. The warmth when Jasper smiled at me. The steadiness when Callum was nearby. The understanding when Eli asked his careful questions. Three different energies, three different friendships, all of them real.
Tara thought I was losing my mind. “You’re describing a love triangle,” she’d said on our last call, “except with extra corners. That’s not a triangle. That’s a… love rectangle? Love square?”
“It’s not love,” I’d said, too quickly.
“Sure it isn’t.” I could hear her smirk through the phone. “That’s why you talk about them for forty-five minutes every time we call.”
“I don’t—”
“Callum said this, Jasper did that, Eli looked at me like—”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I talk about them a lot.”
“Maybe.”
“But that doesn’t mean…”
“Serena.” Her voice had gone gentle, the way it did when she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear. “It’s okay to fall for someone, even if it’s complicated. Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s three someones, which, by the way, I am deeply jealous of and also need way more details about.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We haven’t… nothing’s happened.”
“Yet.”
“Tara.”
“I’m just saying. The way you describe these guys, something’s going to happen, at some point. And when it does, I expect a full report. With diagrams, if necessary.”
I’d laughed, but she wasn’t wrong. I could feel it; the tension ratcheting tighter with every shared glance, every almost-touch, every conversation that danced around the edges of something more.
The question was whether I was brave enough to let it happen.
The Founder's Festival was tomorrow. Jasper had promised chaos, good food and a chance to see the town at its most charming. “It’s like a county fair, except with better music and worse parking,” he’d said, grinning. “And you’re coming as my date. Non-negotiable.”
“Your date?”
“My plus-one. My arm candy. My companion for the day.” He’d waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you’d prefer to go with someone else?”
The look he’d given me had made it clear he knew exactly what he was asking. And that he was testing something, testing whether I’d choose him, or admit that the choice was more complicated than that.
“I’ll go with you,” I’d said, and watched his grin widen. “But I reserve the right to wander off if you’re insufferable.”
“That’s fair. I’m frequently insufferable. It’s part of my charm.”
Eli had offered quiet spots if I needed them.
“The festival can be overwhelming for newcomers,” he’d said, in that careful way of his.
“Too many people, too much noise. If you need to step away, there’s a bench behind the historical society building.
No one ever goes there. I can show you where it is. ”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Speaking from a lifetime of finding hiding spots at mandatory social events.” A small smile. “The Thornwood family is expected to be visible at these things. That doesn’t mean we have to be visible every moment.”
“Is that an invitation to hide together?”
His eyes had met mine, and something had flickered in them, surprise, maybe, or something warmer. “Sure, why not.”
I was playing with fire. I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
Callum had said nothing about the festival, and don’t you know that just drove me crazy.
Disappointed, that’s what I felt. Shame on me.
And yet, every time I caught his eye, there was that look, that barely leashed intensity that made me feel wanted and protected in equal measure.
Like he was always aware of where I was, what I was doing, and whether I was safe.
Like watching over me was as natural as breathing.
You’ve gone completely bonkers, Serena. My thoughts jeered at me, but then…
“He’s not much for words,” Jasper had explained once. “Never has been. But he says more with a look than most people say in a whole conversation.”
“What’s he saying when he looks at me?”
Jasper had gone quiet for a moment. Uncharacteristically serious. “He’s saying you matter,” he’d said finally. “That’s not a small thing, coming from Callum.”
I stood on my porch in the evening light, watching the magnolia tree sway in the breeze, and I made a choice.
I was done being invisible.
Whatever this was, this connection, this pull toward three men who were making me psycho and clearly keeping secrets, I was going to see it through. I was going to stop running, stop hiding, stop pretending I was just passing through.
The old Serena would have been terrified.
Would have seen the warning signs: the secrets, the intensity, the way everyone in this town seemed to know something she didn’t, and run in the opposite direction.
Self-preservation. Safety first. Don’t get attached to people who can hurt you, but I was tired of the old Serena.
Tired of living in fear, of building walls, of keeping everyone at arm’s length because Marcus had taught me that closeness was dangerous.
Maybe it was. Maybe these men would break my heart in ways I couldn’t imagine. Maybe the secrets they were keeping would change everything, make me regret ever knocking on that first door.
Or maybe not.
Maybe the risk was worth it. Maybe being known, really known, fully seen, was worth the possibility of pain. Maybe I’d spent so long protecting myself that I’d forgotten what I was protecting myself for.
I wanted to laugh with Jasper until my stomach hurt. I wanted to sit in comfortable silence with Eli and feel understood without words. I wanted Callum to look at me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing, and I wanted to believe it was all true.
I wanted to belong somewhere. To someone. To them. To this family.