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“Depends,” I muttered. “Are you dying?”

“Actively.” Her nose scrunched in mock disgust.

“Good. Means I’m not alone.” I huffed out a laugh.

She shot me a look, half amused, half concerned. “You’ve always seemed intense, but this feels . . . extra.”

I opened my mouth, ready with a defense, but nothing came. I looked away. We jogged another half lap, our footsteps syncing into a steady rhythm that allowed us both to breathe. The air smelled mildly of wild sunflowers, familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

I used to run on the gravel roads in Kennedy. Back then, running had felt like freedom. Now it felt like survival.

“Are you okay, Cali?” Landry said quietly.

I stopped. The abruptness made her stumble a step before she turned to face me fully, her forehead scrunched together in question. I bent forward, hands braced on my knees again, dragging in air as if I hadn’t been breathing properly for the last ten minutes. My fingers had hovered over Landry’s name for five full minutes before I texted her. Now I wished I’d never pressed send.

“Don’t,” I said between breaths.

“Don’t what?” Her dark eyes looked genuinely confused.

“Don’t do that thing where you pretend you care so you can get the inside scoop.” I knew it was harsh, but every nerve in my body felt raw and exposed.

She was quiet for a second as hurt flickered in her eyes.

“I know,” she said finally. “You probably see me as the same person I was back then. But I’m not.” She wiped her palms against her yoga pants.

“I’ve learned things. Hard things. I’m not looking to be anyone’s inside source, Cali. I’m just trying to raise my daughter as a single mom in a small town. Sometimes it’s a lot, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I want to be your friend. But I’ve also learned that I need boundaries in my life. So, I’m here if you ever need an ear, but please know that I don’t tolerate people treating me like a doormat anymore.” Her voice was steady. Not angry, but firm in a way that told me life had taught her things I didn’t know about yet.

I straightened slowly, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My pulse was still racing, but it wasn’t just from the run anymore.

Single mom? The girl I remembered wasn’t standing in front of me anymore.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not the same person, and I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re friends with Lane, and I would never want to mess that up, but it’s just so hard to see him again, and I took that out on you.” My voice cracked. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I swiped at the sweat dripping down my neck.

Her honesty left me with nowhere to hide. The words felt small and insufficient, but they were all I had. After all these years of carrying them alone, they were finally somewhere other than buried inside me.

“And?” she prompted gently.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “And what?”

“And how are you going to handle seeing him more often?”

I looked at her then. Really looked. Landry Gaines. The reverend’s daughter. Little Miss Perfect on paper. Soft where I’d always been sharp. Sheltered where I’d had chaos. But there was something in her eyes now—something that wasn’t naïve.

“I’ll be fine,” I said automatically.

She raised an eyebrow.

I exhaled, scrubbing a hand over my face.

“I’m . . . not fine at the moment, but I’ll pull myself together and be here for my grandpa for as long as I need to.”

“I don’t know what happened with both of you, but I know Lane has been there for me like a brother, and even brothers can make mistakes. I’m on your side, Cali, if you’ll let me be.”

She studied me, and I immediately saw how similar she and Jonah were. Sure, Landry was more outgoing, but the ability to be perceptive was a trait they both shared.

“Can we start over?” I nearly whispered.

“Absolutely, we can,” she said. “But starting over doesn’t mean pretending none of that happened. It just means we choose what we do with it now.”