“Mama!”
The mattress bounces once.
Then again.
My eyes fly open to find Livy on her knees beside me, hair wild, cheeks pink, wearing a sweatshirt that’s not hers and socks that go halfway up her calves.
For one glorious, confusing second, I forget why we’re not home.
Sunlight spills through tall windows covered in cream curtains, and somewhere beyond the door, I hear voices moving quietly through a house that is definitely not ours.
Then yesterday comes back.
Fire.
Smoke.
Billie.
The house.
Livy in a hospital bed.
My chest tightens so fast I almost can’t breathe.
Livy grins down at me.
“Maverick said today is school skip day.”
I blink.
“What?”
“School skip day,” she repeats, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “For all the kids on the estate. He said nobody is going to school today because we had a traumatic event, andtraumatic events require togetherness, supervision, snacks, and possibly grilled meat.”
I stare at her.
“He said those words?”
“Not exactly. That was my summary.”
“Of course it was.”
She flops dramatically onto her stomach beside me. “Also, we’re having a cookout down at the compound.”
I push up on one elbow.
Too fast.
The room tilts.
Livy immediately stops bouncing. “Mama?”
“I’m okay.” I close my eyes for a second, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Just moved too fast.”
She scoots closer, all excitement dimming into concern. “Do you need Mav? He said if you looked pale, I should get him.”
I open one eye. “Did he now?”
