She stares like she’s seeing ghosts.
My stomach drops. “Mac?”
She doesn’t hear me.
Her shoulders tense. Her eyes glaze over, distant. Her breathing changes—shallow and sharp—and I know that look. I’ve seen it too many times in the mirror after Braden died. When your body’s here, but your mind is somewhere else entirely.
I reach across the table, hand covering hers gently. I rub my thumb along her knuckles, slow and steady. “Baby?”
She blinks once. Then again. And again. Her eyes flick to mine—wide, glassy.
Then she laughs.
It’s stunned, breathless. She presses her hand to her mouth, eyes lighting up like fireworks. “Oh my god, Logan…”
I lean in, heart pounding. “What is it?”
“I had a memory.” Her voice cracks with joy. “It was us. Well… all of us. Braden, you, me… the guys. Sam, Chace, Trey.”
I can’t breathe.
She goes on, eyes darting to the basket again. “We were having a Nerf war in the meadow. You found me hiding out back, behind the trees. I took out Braden—”
“And I took out Trey,” I finish for her, voice rough.
She gasps. “Yes! And I said… I said…”
“How do you always find me?”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, laughing and crying all at once. “Yes. That’s it.”
And fuck, I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than I do right now. But I don’t. I just hold her hand a little tighter, like maybe if I anchor her hard enough, she’ll never slip away again.
She’s still staring at me, glowing.
Like I just handed her the moon.
“Tell me more,” she whispers, voice soft, hopeful. “About that day. That memory.”
I shift slightly in my seat, letting go of her hand only to watch her tuck into her pancakes again—eyes bright, cheeks flushed, hair falling over her shoulder. I swear, I’d recite every memory I’ve got if it means keeping that look on her face.
So, I start talking.
“It was Trey’s idea—well, as much as anything is when he’s just finished practice and itching to stir up chaos.” I say, the corner of my mouth tugging into a smile. “Braden went along with it, mostly ‘cause Trey was complaining he was about to get scurvy if we didn’t grill up some meat and veg.” I chuckle under my breath, the memory washing over me like a warm breeze.
“Braden decided, since we were already out back, we might as well turn it into a full-blown barbeque. No planning. No warning. Just him doing what he always did—looking after all of us—like a family.”
I pause glancing at her, the ache in my chest flaring before softening.
“We almost called it off because of all the damn mosquitos. But Braden…”
Her fork pauses, head tilting like she can almost see it, feel it. I keep going, the memory unspooling so vividly in my chest it almost hurts.
“He had this wild grin on his face,” I say, chuckling. “Told everyone to pick a gun—no teams, no rules. Just ‘last man standing gets the first burger off the grill.’ You always loved those dumb plastic guns, so he gave you the biggest one. Said he wanted you to have a fighting chance.”
She grins around her next bite.
“He gave you a five-minute head start while we all stayed in the house. It was Braden’s version of fair.” I lean my elbows on the table, my voice dipping, eyes locked on her. “We all drew names from a hat to decide who followed who. He always liked making it feel official.”
