Chapter 1
Asya
Do you know what’s my favorite way to wake up?
It’s when my dog pushes his wet nose into my shoulder and nudges me out of sleep, wagging his tail as soon as I open my eyes. It’s infinitely better than the ring of the alarm dragging me into the morning. Perhaps because it means that today I don't have to wake up for a morning shift.
"Go away," I mumble from the pillow and wave my hand at Teddy's persistent sniffing. But we both know that I don't really mean it, and in a minute he's already climbing into the bed with me, stomping over my legs.
Well, good morning to me.
For a few minutes, I do my best to fall asleep again, but with one rude, snoring, and very cute spaniel tucked under my knees, it's too hard (although not impossible, I’ve checked). So in the end I give up and roll onto my back, nudging Teddy out of his slumber and receiving a very disapproving glance in the process.
"What?"
I purse my lips at him, and for a moment we just stare at each other until Teddy gives up and crawls closer to my hand. Okay, okay. How cruel would it be to not give him a morning petting session? I chuckle when Teddy rolls onto his back and graciously gives me access to his belly. But if he wants to go out for a walk, it's time to rise and shine, so I stretch out on the bed and get up.
By the time I change into my jogging set and leave my room, Teddy is already waiting for me at the base of the stairs, glancing at the door as if reminding me to hurry up. I haven't seen Grandma yet, so I guess she's already outside —and as soon as I open the door, I see her back. She's crouching by her precious camellia bushes, checking the soil or humming them serenades, who knows? I've never been as obsessed with gardening as she is.
"Morning, Gran," I call to her, lingering in the middle of the pathway to stretch while Teddy is running circles around Grandma's dear flowerbeds. She glares at him—she loves him, really, it's just that they have a silent war over the garden—before looking at me.
"Good morning. Oh, Asya, isn't it too cold for those shorts?"
I give her an unimpressed look. "It's June." And, in case she hasn't noticed, I point at the bright morning sun right above Raywald. There are clouds running over the mountains, but they don’t make the day any colder.
"Alright, don't give me that look." Grandma brushes it off, waving her hand and pursing her lips, and I chuckle. She tries to make it look like she wasn't the one to start it. "Are you going to work?"
"Yeah, at five," I call out, already on my way to the gates, and Grandma nods and turns away to her bags of fertilizers. Teddy sniffs around her with a wagging tail, but I call him, and together we race to our path into the woods.
The trees are bright green and warm, the rustle of leaves is barely heard above the birds' voices, and life feels peaceful here. The tree line of mountain forests is so close to Raywald that half of the houses here have their backyards buried in the woods. That's one of the things I love about my hometown, to be honest. Every day, I wake up to the sights of Fox and Rabbit Mountains rising above Raywald, their slopes covered with the forests I used to explore when I was a child. You won't see anything like this in any other state or any big city—and I’ve learned it firsthand.
My parents left Raywald almost eight years ago when I was seventeen, dreaming of a new life without the slow and quiet boredom of a small town. They took me with them to Kansas City, Missouri, and I didn't protest—if only for the sake of my rebellious spirit—expecting to see and experience the true colors of life. Can you imagine how disappointed I was?
What can I say, big city life sucks. At least, it does for me.
Mom and Dad are still there though, so I guess it worked better for them. But I was unable to get used to the loud streets and busy crowds of Kansas City. I realized that I preferred Raywald pretty quickly, but obviously it wasn't a good enough reason for my parents to pack their stuff and move right back. They thought I'd change my mind—and I did a few times, falling for the good sides of city life. But in the end, nothing could replace Grandma's pancakes, familiar faces, and the peace of mind I could only find in Raywald.
Yes, after five years in Kansas City and two years of college, I picked up Teddy Bear and came back home.
Raywald streets, our two-story house, and of course, Grandma welcomed me with the same cozy atmosphere and warmth of home that I had remembered. Grandma doesn't need much of my help—she's as strong and healthy as ever unless it's raining—so I took a waitress position at the local diner. Till Dawn may not be a dream destination for every traveler, but it's nice, just like everything around here.
It's been three years since then, and I have nothing to complain about really. I like my job, I enjoy living with Grandma, and I feel like I'm in the right place. But sometimes…well, sometimes, I can't help but feel a little lonely here. Don't get me wrong, I have my best friend Rorie, and Grandma, and Teddy, and I know half the people of Raywald by name, so it's not that I don't have anyone to talk to. But you know how it is. Sometimes just talking is not enough.