"It's not ridiculous. It's wonderful." She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You deserve this. All of it. Don't let anyone—especially not Trinity—make you think otherwise."
I squeezed back, feeling the warmth of her friendship like a tangible thing. "I'm trying. It's a process."
"Everything worth doing is." Viola glanced at her watch and grimaced. "I have to go—Lucas and Travis will kill me if I'm late opening again. But Daphne? What you did today, standing up to Trinity? That's the kind of thing that changes everything. Remember that when the doubt creeps back in."
She was gone before I could respond, leaving behind the echo of her warmth and the slowly cooling remains of her espresso. I finished my latte alone, but it didn't feel lonely. It felt like a pause—a moment of quiet between chapters, a breath before the next adventure. I drove home with the windows down, letting the wind tangle my hair and the afternoon sun warm my skin. The encounter with Trinity still lingered—a knot of tension in my stomach, a whisper of fear at the back of my mind but it was manageable now. Contained. One more thing I'd faced and survived.
At the cabin, I unpacked my groceries and put on a pot of tea, moving through the familiar routine with new appreciation. This space I'd built, this life I'd created—it wasn't a prison anymore. It was a foundation. A launching pad for everything that was still to come.
My phone buzzed as I was settling onto the porch with my tea. A text from Levi: Monday still good for our date? Fair warning: wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty.
I smiled and typed back: Monday is perfect. I'll wear clothes I don't mind ruining.
Another buzz, from Garrett:How are you feeling after yesterday? Any sore muscles?
A few,I admitted.Worth it though. That view is going to stay with me for a long time.
Good,he responded.There are more views to show you. When you're ready.
And then, unexpectedly, from Micah:Weather forecast looks clear for Friday—optimal viewing conditions for the meteor shower. I've prepared a list of constellations we should be able to identify.
The message was so quintessentially Micah—precise, informative, slightly formal—that I laughed out loud.I look forward to it,I typed back.I know almost nothing about astronomy, so I'll be relying on you to educate me.
That would be my pleasure, came the reply, and I could almost hear his voice behind the words—measured and serious, with just a hint of warmth underneath.
The thought no longer terrified me the way it once had. Instead, it felt like possibility. Like the first green shoots of spring, pushing through soil that had been frozen for far too long. Trinity's words echoed briefly—nothing, nobody, sad little omega—but I let them pass through me without taking root. She didn't know me. She didn't know what I'd survived, what I'd built, what I was capable of becoming.
I did. And what I was beginning to realize was, that was the only opinion that truly mattered. The sun was setting by the time I finished my tea, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. I watched the colors shift and change, thinking about everything that had happened, the confrontation at the store, Viola's encouragement, the texts from the pack—and felt something settle in my chest.
Peace. Fragile and new, but unmistakably present. I went to bed early that night, tired in a good way, and dreamed of mountaintops and meteor showers and the sound of four different voices saying my name like it meant something.
Like I meant something….and maybe, finally, I was starting to believe them.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Micah
The smell of coffee hit me before I even made it to the kitchen—rich, dark, with that slightly burnt edge that meant Levi had been distracted while brewing. I followed the scent down the stairs, my bare feet silent on the worn wooden steps, the early morning chill seeping through my thin t-shirt.
Friday. Two days until my date with Daphne. I'd spent the better part of last night researching viewing conditions for the meteor shower, cross-referencing weather forecasts and light pollution maps to find the perfect spot on our property. The others would probably call it obsessive. They wouldn't be entirely wrong.
The kitchen was already occupied when I rounded the corner. Garrett sat at the table, his massive hands wrapped around a mug, steam curling up past his face. Oliver stood at the stove, the sizzle and pop of bacon filling the air with a salty, smoky aroma that made my stomach growl. Levi was perched on the counter—despite Oliver telling him a hundred times not to—scrolling through his phone with a frown that seemed out of place on his usually cheerful face.
Something was wrong. I could feel it in the tension that hung in the room like humidity before a storm, thick and oppressive. The usual easy banter was absent, replaced by a weighted silence that made my skin prickle.
"Who died?" I asked, moving to pour myself a cup of coffee. The liquid was dark as motor oil, and when I took a sip, it was bitter enough to strip paint. Definitely distracted brewing.
Levi looked up from his phone, his blue eyes troubled. "Trinity cornered Daphne at the general store yesterday."
My hand froze halfway to my mouth. The coffee mug suddenly felt too heavy, too solid, an anchor dragging me down into cold water. "What?"
"Mrs. Morrison called Oliver this morning." Garrett's voice was low, rough with barely contained anger. His knuckles had gone white around his mug. "Apparently Trinity waited until Daphne was alone in the produce aisle and went after her."
I set down my coffee with more force than necessary, the ceramic clinking sharply against the counter. The sound echoed in the quiet kitchen like a gunshot. "Went after her how? Did she hurt her?"
"Not physically." Oliver turned from the stove, his jaw tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. The spatula in his hand looked like it might snap in half from how hard he was gripping it. "But she said some things. Called Daphne pathetic, desperate. Said we were settling for her, that she'd done something to manipulate us."
The words landed like physical blows, each one making my chest tighten further. I thought of Daphne on her porch that morning weeks ago, the careful way she'd let herself sit beside me, the vulnerability she'd shown in admitting she wanted to try. All the progress she'd made, all those tiny steps forward—and now Trinity had tried to knock her back down.
