No Winters needs an introduction in the state of Kentucky.

It didn’t take long for the residents of Landry to move past the news of my father’s death last month, although the reception in the hallway confirmed no one’s forgotten about it. Not only because he was an outsider. Not only because of the circumstances surrounding it. But because it was overshadowed by the speculation of why Andrew Winters was moving back to Landry with his wife and only son. By excitement that Landry’s most respected family is expanding its presence in town.

Caleb Winters looks wealthy. Important. He also appears annoyed. A scowl mars his otherwise perfect features, indicating he’s about as thrilled to be here as I am. His black hair is ruffled, like he’s just run his hand through it; his blue eyes blaze, like the flame at the base of a candle absent of soot.

He strolls out of Principal Owen’s office and into the main office like he’s walking along a red carpet that was rolled out just for his arrival. I can practically feel the entitlement wafting off of him, cloying the citrus-scented air.

“Perfect timing,” the secretary says, conveniently ignoring the fact she never completed her request. And that I never answered, much less accepted. “Mr. Winters, Ms. Matthews here has the same homeroom as you. You can find your way there together.”

I’m tempted to argue, but all that would accomplish is prolonging this interaction out longer. So, I simply nod, and turn back around to leave the office again. I fling my full weight against the metal bar, enforcing enough velocity it swings open without the grumble I was met with before. I stride out into the rapidly emptying hallway, trying to act as though I don’t have a care in the world. As if this is just a mere inconvenience on an unremarkable day. In reality, I’m closely listening for the sound of footsteps behind me. There’s nothing, and then . . .

“I hope they haven’t inflicted your idea of a welcome tour on anyone else.” The words are dry. Judgmental.

I scoff as Caleb Winters falls into step beside me, but I feel more like smirking. Weirdly, I welcome his combative tone. More of the cold silence he displayed in the office would have been easy to ignore, but I’m already in a bad mood. I’m angry. Embarrassed. Sad. The secretary in the office didn’t do anything to incite my wrath, and yet I wanted to snap at her. Caleb is asking for it. And I’m happy to deliver.

“Don’t tell me I’ve offended a Winters.” I inject as much mocking incredulity as I can muster into his last name. “The horror. And on my first day.”