I shouldn’t go out there. I know better.
I lace up my shoes anyway.
A run will burn this off. It always does. Or at least it used to.
The door shuts quietly behind me, and the cold slaps me awake the second I step outside. My breath fogs instantly. The sky is clear, stars sharp and distant.
I take off down the road before I can think too hard about anything else.
At first, all I focus on is the slap of my feet on pavement. The pull in my calves. The burn in my lungs. The way the cold scrapes at my throat and demands my attention.
But memory has never respected physical effort.
I had a nightmare last night. It involved me and Jude fucking Norah on my sofa. Then her face morphed into Claire’s, and I woke up not only confused but with a raging boner.
At least the boner part was thoroughly dealt with. The rest…
Is it guilt?
Claire slides into my thoughts without warning, like she always does.
Claire, with her sharp laugh and reckless grin. Claire, who used to sit on the hood of Jude’s truck and talk about the future like it was a promise instead of a gamble.
The three of us thought we were unstoppable. We talked about houses and land and kids, like it was inevitable. Like nothing could touch us if we stayed together.
Right before Christmas, I’d begged her to come home. She had been with her own family, visiting for the holidays, but I was needy and I was restless and, to be quite honest, I just missed the girl that I loved.
So I’d begged her to come home. She had complained about the roads being icy, but eventually, between Jude and me, we convinced her to take the long drive here. I told her to text when she got home. She never did.
The crash was fast, they said. That’s supposed to help. It doesn’t.
A part of me died with her that night. Something foundational. Something that never grew back the right way.
I run harder, jaw clenched, breath ragged.
Then Norah happened.
Soft and stubborn and brave in ways that surprise me. Sweet smile, smart mouth, a body that draws my eyes even when I try to look away.
She fills space differently. Doesn’t demand anything. She exists, bright and impossible.
I don’t know when she stopped being just Jude’s friend and started being something else to me. I only know that once it happened, there was no going back.
I hit the edge of town before I realize how far I’ve gone. The streets are quiet, most places dark. I pass her flower shop without slowing, windows black, sign turned. Closed.
I smile anyway.
Of course she’s not here. She never is this early in the morning.
I grab a hot cocoa from the one place open, fingers wrapping around the cup like it is an anchor. The heat seeps into my hands, grounding me just enough to turn back toward home.
That’s when I notice the car.
It’s parked half a block from my place, engine off, windows fogged from the inside. The plates aren’t local.
Amber.
My steps slow.
