9. Bella’s First Night
Chapter nine
Bella’s First Night
By the time I go upstairs for the night, carrying the flowers that Darius Hunt brought me, my brain feels like it’s been run through a sieve and put back together slightly out of alignment.
The kitchen smells faintly of something savory. I follow it to the counter, where a covered dish sits with a neatly folded note tucked beneath the edge.
Welcome to Bloodhaven Cove. You’ll need your strength. —Mrs. Calloway
The mayor’s wife. Finn apparently brought it up earlier.
I lift the lid. It’s a casserole.
“Classic small town stuff,” I murmur, though I’m suddenly aware of how hungry I am. “I’ll have to thank her tomorrow.”
I change into sweats, kick off my shoes, pour a little wine and arrange the flowers from Darius. They are really quite stunning. I take a portion of the casserole and collapse onto the couch with the kind of relief that only comes after a day that didn’t give you time to think.
The casserole is … surprisingly good.
“Okay, Mrs. Calloway,” I say between bites. “You’ve earned my trust on the food front.”
Charlie rests his head on my knee, making quiet, persuasive noises.
“Fine,” I sigh, offering him a small piece. “You get a little taste.” I get up and add some to his dinner bowl, watching his tail wag.
This island may yet prove worthy, Bella. Charlie finishes his portion and looks up immediately. We should trust the casserole woman.
I come back to the couch and reflect on the two patients of today.
Silas shouldn’t be as stable as he is with the kind of wound he had and loss of blood.
Lena was easier, at least on the surface.
Bloodwork limited but confirmed what I suspected—anemia, but not the kind that fits neatly into a diagnosis I can label and move on from.
I sent her home with iron tablets, B-12, a list of foods, and strict instructions to hydrate and rest.
She thanked me like I’d already fixed it. I’m not sure I’ve even started.
“Please come back for a follow up in five days,” I told her. “We’ll see if you have improved then.”
I sit with my casserole and Charlie at my feet.
“First day,” I say softly, like I’m reporting to someone. “One strange wound. One anemia case. One smart nurse. One comfortable house. One very foggy town.”
Charlie snorts softly.
“And one very interesting man,” I add before I can stop myself.
Ah, Charlie says. There it is. I was wondering when we were going to discuss the suspiciously attractive man.
I roll my eyes immediately. “Absolutely not. We are not doing that. Day one is too early to develop questionable professional attractions, if ever.” Even though his voice sounded so familiar. And he has that something about him, that seductive power. That deep voice…
Charlie looks up, ears perked, as if he has opinions.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “He’s—”
Dangerous things are often beautiful, Charlie says simply.
I hesitate, searching for the word to describe him. “He seems familiar. He’s controlled. Gorgeous, of course. Everything about Darius Hunt feels deliberate. Measured. Like nothing he does is accidental.”
The way he looked at me was interesting. He wasn’t exactly curious and he didn’t show much emotion. But he was just very aware.
I take a sip of wine, frowning slightly. “He also walked into my clinic like he owned it,” I mutter. “Which I did not appreciate.”
But on the plus side, he brought me flowers. What woman doesn’t like that, I think as I glance at them.
Charlie settles at my feet, apparently satisfied that I’ve addressed all the important points of the day. Our first day here.
The wind shifts outside. The fog curls tighter around the house.
I flip on the TV, scrolling through options until I land on something mindless—bright colors, predictable dialogue, nothing that requires actual engagement.
For a while, it works.
I finish eating. I relax. I let my brain drift. Charlie comes up on the couch and falls asleep next to me.
But the mystery keeps circling back in my mind. The odd wound. The puncture marks. The blood that doesn’t look or act normal. Lena’s bruises. The way Finn said, We’ve had a few of those lately.
And Darius. That deep voice. Those eyes. My fleeting mind thinks again how attractive he is…
I exhale, leaning back into the couch. “Focus,” I tell myself. “Medicine first. Mysteries second, and handsome men last.”
I grab a notebook from my bag and start making a list of supplies we need so Finn can handle an order in the morning.
Charlie wakes up and shifts, lifting his head suddenly.
“What is it, boy?” I ask.
He’s not looking at me. He’s looking past me. Toward the hallway. I follow his gaze. The house is quiet. The TV hums softly in the background, casting flickering light across the walls. The hallway stretches away into shadow, the far end just beyond the reach of the lamp.
For a second—
I think I see movement.
Not a shape. Not a person. Just the whisp of a movement. Like something passing from one room to another without quite crossing the space between.
I blink and it’s gone.
Charlie stands, ears forward, body tense again.
“It’s an old house,” I tell him, a little more firmly than necessary. “Old houses make noise. They … shift. They—”
A floorboard creaks. Not under my feet. Not near the couch. Further down the hall. I go very still. The sound fades, leaving the kind of silence that feels heavier than noise.
Charlie does not look away from the dark hallway.
Not alive, he says softly. He pauses a minute. Not dangerous. Sad and polite. The house remembers.
I swallow, forcing my shoulders to relax. “We’re not afraid, Charlie,” I say, mostly to myself now. “Like Finn said, old houses settle.”
Charlie doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t sit back down either.
“Come on,” I say finally, standing. “Bed. We’re tired. Everything is weird when you’re tired in a totally new place.”
I turn off the TV, gather my things, and head for the bedroom, pointedly not looking down the hallway again.
The bedroom is very cute and comfortable and Victorian. The bed is soft, the windows wide, the faint sound of the ocean just audible beneath the quiet and muting of the fog.
I change, brush my teeth, go through the motions of normalcy like they might anchor me.
Charlie circles once, twice, then settles at the foot of the bed.
“Good boy,” I murmur, sliding under the covers. “Guard dog on duty.”
He huffs softly. The lights go out. For a while, I lie there, listening. To the house. To the wind. To the faint, distant echo of something I can’t quite place.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. Or the strange sense that something here has already been waiting for me.
Sleep comes fast. And with it a dream.
I’m standing on some cliffs, like the cliffs I saw when approaching on the ferry this morning.
The fog is thinner here, drifting in slow, deliberate patterns that reveal and conceal in equal measure. The drop to the ocean below is steep, the sound of waves muted.
I’m not alone. I know that before I turn.
Darius Hunt stands a few feet away, looking out over the water. He doesn’t acknowledge me at first.
“Beautiful view,” I say, because apparently even in my dreams I default to small talk.
“It is,” he replies. That deep voice that runs right through my soul...
“Do you come up here often?” I ask.
“Always.”
I glance at him. “That sounds mysterious.”
“It’s accurate. The Hunts were whalers. Owned ships. Very involved in the business. And we always came here to watch. Ships coming and going. To oversee…”
I take a step closer without meaning to. The air feels charged. Like a storm is building somewhere just out of sight.
“You knew I was coming,” I say.
It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He turns then, looking at me fully. There’s something in his eyes I didn’t see before.
“Because you’re already part of this,” he says, looking at my lips.
“Part of what?”
He steps closer. Too close. His hand lifts, brushing lightly against my wrist. The contact is brief. But his touch sends a thrill through me. Then it burns.
“You’ve found your way back to me.”
I should be afraid. I’m not. My heart beats harder, not with panic but with recognition.
It’s the voice and the man from my recurring dreams but in a different setting for the first time.
He leans in to kiss me and I want him to. I want to feel his lips on mine, but suddenly a deep bell tolls, low and resonant. And I wake up with a sharp inhale, my heart racing. The echo of it lingers in my bones.
The room is dark. Quiet. Real.
Charlie is on his feet, staring toward the door.
My heart is racing, breath coming faster than it should.
There’s a soft sound outside the bedroom. Not the creak from earlier. Something lighter. Like a footstep.
Maybe Finn? I sit up slowly, every sense suddenly awake.
“Hello?” I whisper into the dark. “Finn?”
My heart is racing…