Whispers of the Past
Aviana
“Okay,” I begin, my voice calm but soft, “here are my facts… I can speak fluent French, I once had a pet horse named Blaze, and I can bake a perfectly flaky scone.” The room hums with murmurs as everyone starts debating, trying to figure out which of my statements is a lie.
My life is a joke; I could weave a story about anything, and no one would ever know the truth. Only two people here at camp are privy to that — Cade and Nightshade.
When I woke up this morning, I felt his presence lingering, and then I heard a knock on the door. I opened it, surprised to find Cade standing there. He said Madison had called him, claiming a stranger was outside our cabin. Cade went to check, just in case it was someone that took a wrong turn and found the camp by happenstance. Turns out, it was just another camper who had gone on a hike and accidentally fallen asleep outdoors.
But I knew better. It was Nightshade, watching me. Protecting me.
“The pastry one. There’s no way anyone could bake a scone to perfection unless they’ve had years of professional training,” someone announces from across the room.
“Really? My cakes look professional, and I’ve only been baking for a few years,” another person chimes in.
“It’s the horse. No one names their horse Blaze,” someone else says with a laugh .
"Since when does the name of an animal determine if she’s lying?" another voice retorts. "Though, I’ll give her this—her pastries are delicious. Her French, however, sucks."
The voice is oddly familiar, like a whisper from the past, one I can almost place. My heart stutters, and I turn toward the sound, but when I look around, there’s nothing—just the flicker of movement as a shadow slips out the door, disappearing before I can catch a glimpse.
That voice. It stirs something in me, something I can’t quite put my finger on. I know it— I know it —but it feels like a memory I’m trying to forget. The familiarity clings to me, making my skin crawl in the same way that scent does, that leather and spice, dragging me back to a place I left behind.
I stand frozen, my breath catching, as the shadow fades into the hallway. No. It can’t be. But the sensation… the feeling… it’s too real. And for a fleeting moment, I almost let myself believe it. That voice, that presence—it’s someone from my past. Someone I thought I had lost forever.
“Could I?” I mutter under my breath.
“French? Really? You can’t speak French?” someone scoffs, doubt laced in their tone.
I lift my head, narrowing my eyes. “And you can?” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “Because unless you’re about to rattle off a perfect sentence in fluent French, maybe keep your mouth shut.” My heart pounds, heat creeping up my neck as the room falls into a brief silence.
I exhale, my shoulders stiff. “Fine. You got me. I can’t speak French,” I admit, rolling my eyes as if it doesn’t bother me, as if it doesn’t matter at all. But the way everyone is still staring, waiting, makes my skin itch.
Before the tension can thicken, Dr. Carter steps in, his voice smooth, practiced. “Okay, class. Who wants to go next?” His interruption slices through the charged air, but I still feel the weight of the scrutiny, the unspoken questions hanging between me and them.
** *
Cade and I step into his office, and he closes the door gently behind him. “Please, Avi, make yourself comfortable.” He gestures toward the couch, so I move over and curl my feet beneath me as I sit. He takes a seat opposite me, his expression serious yet calm.
“How are you feeling this morning? Any nightmares last night?” he asks, his gaze searching mine.
“Not that I can recall,” I answer, my voice even, controlled. “I actually feel well-rested for once.”
Cade watches me carefully, then gives a small nod, as if he’s convinced. “Good to hear.” He shifts in his chair, his tone staying soft, measured. “Today, I want to focus on the Fraizer family. They were the last foster family you stayed with, right?”
The name lands like a stone in my chest.
“Yes.” The word is stiff, automatic. “I came to them when I was thirteen, and I left at eighteen.” My voice feels distant, like it’s coming from someone else. “Once I turned eighteen, I didn’t stick around.”
Cade pauses, like he’s searching my face for something. “Where did you go?” he asks, voice careful, like he already knows I don’t want to answer.
I stare past him, past the room, past everything .
Where did I go?
The memories should come easily, but they don’t. Not in the way they should. Instead, I see flashes—hazy images that don’t quite connect. The Fraziers’ house, warm and full of voices. Ryan’s voice. Chloe’s baking. Mason’s quiet, steady presence. A life that was never really mine but felt like it could’ve been.
For a moment, I’m there again. Sitting at the kitchen table, the scent of cinnamon in the air, Liam and that Goddamn nickname he had for me, Ryan teasing me about how much I loved the chocolate chip pancakes. Chloe humming under her breath as she moved around the kitchen, Mason rolling his eyes at Ryan’s antics.
A family. My family .
Except it wasn’t. Not really. Because family was supposed to be permanent. And I wasn’t.
I blink, and the warmth vanishes.
I remember leaving . The way I barely looked back. The way I told myself it was better that way. That love was just something people gave you with conditions. And I already knew what happened when those conditions weren’t met.
I left them . I left them before they could leave me first.
My fingers curl into my palms, nails pressing into skin. The room feels too bright, the air too thin. I can feel Cade’s gaze, feel the weight of the question still hanging between us, but the words won’t come.
“Aviana?” His voice is softer now, like he knows I’m slipping somewhere else.
I force a breath in. Then out.
“I rode my bike to the library in town,” I say, carefully leaving out the real reason I left the Fraziers behind. “Spent hours researching my mother, gathering every bit of information I could. Then, I rode a few blocks over to the police station and asked to use their phone to call my aunt—my dad’s sister.”
Cade’s brow furrows, his expression shifting to confusion. “Wait… so all this time, you had family who could’ve taken you in?”
I hesitate, the words heavy on my tongue. “Not really,” I finally admit. “After I called her—talked to her for probably longer than the officers would’ve liked—she told me something I wasn’t expecting.” I swallow hard, the memory coming back to me. “My dad never told them about me. They didn’t even know I existed. They knew he’d gotten married, but according to her, my mom always complained about how unhappy she was, so… I guess he told his family the marriage was loveless. And if there was no love, there was no child. At le ast, that’s what they believed.”
The weight of that revelation hangs in the air, and Cade doesn’t press further for a moment. Instead, he looks at me, as if trying to process everything I just shared.
“Well, I guess we’ll focus on that later,” he says, trying to brush it off. “Tell me about the Fraziers. You were with them for five years, so it must’ve been a good time, right?”
I hesitate to answer. But eventually, I relax enough to recount the story I told Nightshade yesterday. It makes me wonder why he was so angry about that story, but not as upset when he found out about Mr. Widlow and Maverick.
“Was that the only thing that happened during your time with the Fraziers, Aviana?” he pressed.
I hadn’t told anyone else what went on during those long five years. I had hoped to bury it deep inside me, keep it locked away.
“Avi?” His voice draws me back to the present, his hands gently reaching for mine. I remember what Nightshade said about marking me as his, and instinctively, I pull my hand away. I don’t want to put Cade in any danger by being near me with Nightshade around. He could be watching me right now for all I know. The thought makes me stand and move toward the window, peering out toward Cade’s office.
“Avi, are you okay?” Cade asks, concern lacing his voice.
***
Past
Age 15
“Hey, Little Screamer,” Liam says, bursting into my bedroom doorway, making me jump out of my skin.
“What do you want?” I snap, my voice thick with disgust.
“I need you to come help me in the barn. Our new horse from the auction’s arriving soon, and we’ve got to get things ready for him.”
“Why don’t you ask Ryan?” I reply, hoping he’ll just leave me alone.
“Quit being such a bitch and come help me out. Ryan’s with Dad getting the horse, and Mom doesn’t do heavy lifting. I’m not letting her.”
“But you’ll make me do it?” I shoot back.
“You need to pull your weight around here. You can’t just sit in here reading and painting your nails all day. Who are you trying to look pretty for, anyway?”
“Definitely not you,” I snap, rolling my eyes.
“You’ve got five minutes to get your lazy ass to the barn, or I’ll carry you there myself.”
“Get out, asshole,” I bark.
“You’d better watch that mouth before I find a better reason for you to use it.”
I glare at his retreating back as he storms out, the door slamming so hard the walls tremble. My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The nerve of him. My heart pounds in my chest, anger swirling in my veins, but beneath it—buried so deep I almost don’t want to acknowledge it—is something else.
Dread.
Because I know he means it.
I huff in frustration, grabbing my jacket and boots before following Liam downstairs.
As we step outside, I spot Mason backing the trailer up to the barn with Ryan’s help. Ryan, now 19, works at the tack shop in town and helps out around the house. I take off running toward the barn.
“Wait up, Little Screamer. I thought you didn’t want to help?” Liam calls, confused as I dart ahead.
I run towards Ryan and slam into his arms for a big hug. He laughs and hugs me back, “Hey, Avi,” a nickname I hated so much after Maverick but when Ryan said it, it sent a wave of new beginnings over me.
Mason calls from the truck, “Hey there Aviana, you’re really going to fall in love with this beast,” but I can’t pull my eyes away from Ryan. As he lowers the ramp, I notice how his body commands attention. Broad shoulders, defined chest, and arms that flex with solid biceps and forearms. His abs are subtly defined beneath his shirt, enough to make my heart race .
His hands, rough and slightly calloused, move with a gentleness that shows he knows his strength. His legs are strong, built for endurance, and when he moves, there’s a calm power in his every step. His body isn’t just strong—it makes me feel safe and intrigued, like I want to lean in for comfort but also be held by it for protection.
“Meet Blaze,” Ryan announces, his voice full of pride as he gestures to the large Tennessee Walking Horse with a coat that is a rich brown color and a stunning blonde mane and tail that glisten in the light.
“Beautiful, huh?” he asks, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. My heart skips a beat, and suddenly I feel a flush rise to my cheeks. I quickly glance down, feeling a rush of guilt and confusion. He’s 19, I’m just 15, and we’re foster siblings—what I’m feeling, the way my chest tightens when he looks at me like that, it’s wrong.
I shift uneasily, kicking the dirt beneath my boots. “I should go help Liam in the barn so Blaze can come in.”
Ryan frowns, shaking his head. “Liam can manage. Why don’t you take Blaze for a walk while he works?”
“I really should help,” I insist, my voice trembling a little. “I don’t want to be seen as lazy or like I’m just some charity case.”
Ryan’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand gently lifting my chin. “Avi, listen to me.” His eyes lock onto mine, full of sincerity. “Don’t ever think that about yourself. You do more here than you realize. Did Liam say something to you? If he did—”
“Ryan, please,” I cut him off, my voice barely above a whisper, “Everything’s fine between Liam and me. He didn’t say anything, I swear.” My words feel heavy in the air, but I can’t seem to convince myself, let alone him. I try to sound confident, but the tremor in my voice betrays me.
***