She pulls me into a hug, warm and tight, before stepping back with a mock stern look. “You didn’t tell me you were back. And don’t think I didn’t stalk your Instagram to figure it out. Rob’s not in any of the recent photos.”
I laugh, a little bitter. “That’s because it’s over. He ghosted me the minute things got inconvenient.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Beta men, I swear. They think they’re so emotionally available until life throws a matchstick.”
I smirk. “You’ve clearly met a few.”
“Too many.”
I cock my head. “What about Dorian? I haven’t seen him on your social media in a minute.”
Her face changes the moment I mention her on-again, off-again boyfriend. It’s subtle, but I catch it—a flicker of something like annoyance, maybe regret, maybe something sharper.
She waves a hand. “Don’t get me started. If I start talking about him, I might be tempted to start my own fire.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You guys broke up?”
“We don’t talk anymore,” she adds. “He’s an architect now—big-shot design firm down in the valley. You know how he was—always building things. Still wears loafers with no socks. Still smug.”
“And still good-looking, I’m guessing.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She grimaces.
I laugh. “I feel so bad. I should have known that. Between work and Rob, I feel like we haven’t talked in so long…”
“We’ve been busy, babe. No hard feelings. I was waiting for your return so we could catch up on everything. It’s been months.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better.”
“We’llbothdo better. I should have been better at staying in touch, too. Anyway,” she continues, hooking her arm through mine, “I was just heading out for breakfast.”
“I already got mine,” I say, lifting the muffin bag. “But if you want the company…”
“Lead the way.”
And just like that, it feels like no time has passed at all.
We walk side by side down the main street, her voice spilling memories and updates. Her flower shop—Knightly Blooms—is now entirely hers. She inherited it when her aunt passed, but the last few months she’s been trying to secure new vendors after a blight wiped out half the town’s flower gardens.
She talks with her hands, her words fast and bright, and I let them wash over me. Because for the first time in days, I don’t feel like a walking disaster.
I feel… home.
CHAPTER FIVE
Levi
The lake is so stillit doesn’t seem real.
Sunlight glints off the surface like shards of glass, too perfect, too calm. My lungs won’t expand, and I’m running, feet slipping on wet pine needles, heart in my throat, yelling her name into the trees.
“Tessa!”
A flash of pink floats just beyond the dock. A sandal.
“Tessa!”
I dive in, boots and all. Water fills my ears, my mouth, my chest. I fight the cold and the drag of denim, groping under the surface until I feel fingers—small, limp fingers. Her wrist. I grip her tight and kick toward the surface.
