And that makes everything a whole lot more complicated.
The next morning comes too fast, like I never really slept so much as closed my eyes long enough to pretend everything might make more sense when I opened them again. It doesn’t, and the weight of yesterday follows me all the way into the school parking lot.
I sit in my car for a second longer than I need to, watching kids spill out of minivans and SUVs, backpacks bouncing, voices loud and carefree in a way that feels like a different world from the one I stepped into yesterday, and I let out a slow breath before grabbing my bag and heading inside.
Routine.
I need routine.
The hallway greets me with the usual chaos, teachers calling out reminders, lockers slamming, a group of second graders arguing over whose turn it is to hold the class guinea pig, and even though I’m still new enough here that I don’t know half their names yet and still double-check which classroom belongs to which teacher, something in my chest loosens just a fraction.
This, at least, I’m learning to understand.
“Riley!” a voice calls, and I barely have time to turn before Piper Lane, who I’ve known since we were kids running around River Bend but haven’t seen in years. Now somehow working the front office and knowing everyone’s business before they do is right in front of me, coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other.Her eyes already scanning my face like she’s about to pull a full emotional report whether I volunteer it or not.
“You look like you either had a life-changing moment or forgot to drink coffee,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “I’m hoping for coffee. The other one usually comes with a story and I am not caffeinated enough yet.”
Despite everything, a small laugh slips out before I can stop it, and I shake my head slightly. “Do you always interrogate people before they’ve had caffeine, or am I just lucky?”
“Only with people I like,” she shoots back without missing a beat. “And since we’ve technically met several times, I’m counting you.”
I shift my bag on my shoulder, already feeling the instinct to deflect, to keep this contained and manageable. Once I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for in the middle of a school hallway.
“Let’s go with I forgot coffee and walked straight into a personality test,” I say, it’s easier and at least halfway true.
Piper snorts. “Liar,” she says cheerfully. “But fine, I’ll let you pretend for about… an hour.” She glances at her watch. “After that, I expect details, drama, and possibly snacks.”
“Of course you do,” I mutter, but there’s no real bite to it. I can already tell she’s not the kind of person who’s going to let something go just because I’d like her to.
She leans in just slightly, lowering her voice. “You okay?”
The question lands softer than everything else she’s said, and for a second I consider brushing it off again, but something about yesterday still sits too close to the surface.
“I went out to the ranch,” I admit quietly.
Piper’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh, this is already better than coffee,” she says. “Continue.”
I shake my head, already regretting opening that door. “It’s not like that.”
“Everything is like that,” she says, completely serious. “You don’t just casually go to a ranch full of extremely attractive cowboys and come back normal.”
I blink at her. “That’s not—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t ruin this for me. I have a vision.”
I let out a breath that turns into another quiet laugh, and for a second it feels good, normal, like I’m just another person with a mildly chaotic life instead of someone who just introduced her daughter to her father after five years.
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
Piper grins. “Even better.”
I glance down the hallway, watching a teacher try to separate two kids who are definitely about to wrestle. I latch onto that moment like it’s safer than the conversation waiting for me.
“I have a session in five,” I say, backing up a step. “We’ll talk later.”
Piper points at me with her coffee cup. “You’re not escaping me,” she warns. “I will find you.”
“I know,” I say, she always does.
