Page 73 of First Echo
Whatever came next—whatever complications awaited us back in the real world—this moment was ours. This happiness, this freedom, this connection that felt both brand new and somehow like coming home.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn't afraid of what might happen. I wasn't bracing for loss, for abandonment, for disappointment. I was simply here, present, alive in my own skin, with MadelineGraceHayes looking at me like I was everything she wanted.
And it felt incredible.
CHAPTER THIRTY
MADELINE
Time melted away in the small clearing, the world beyond the snow-laden trees ceasing to exist. After our final toboggan run, we'd collapsed into a tangled heap, laughing and breathless, neither of us willing to break the spell by suggesting we return to reality. Now we lay side by side on the upturned sled, my head resting on Brooke's shoulder, her arm wrapped around me as if she'd always held me like this, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The adrenaline of our runs had faded, replaced by a different kind of exhilaration—quieter but no less potent. I could still taste Brooke's chapstick on my lips, still feel the ghost of her touch on my skin, still hear the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears. My body felt alive in a way it never had before, every nerve ending hyperaware of her presence beside me.
It was perfect. Utterly, completely perfect.
And that's what scared me most.
Perfect things don't last—not in my experience. Perfect things are fragile, easily shattered, impossible to maintain. I'd spent my whole life cultivating an image of perfection, and I knew better than anyone how exhausting, how hollow it could be. What if this was just another illusion, another performance that would eventually crumble under the weight of reality?
What if I don't deserve this?
What if I can't be what she needs?
The questions circled in my mind like vultures, threatening to consume the joy I'd found in Brooke's arms. I'd spent so long being who everyone else wanted me to be—the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect queen bee—that I wasn't sure I even knew who I really was anymore. How could I offer myself to someone else when I barely understood myself?
I shifted slightly, turning to look at Brooke, studying her profile in the winter sunlight. Her dark hair had escaped from her beanie in places, falling across her forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back. Her cheeks were flushed with cold, her breath forming small clouds in the air with each exhale. I'd never seen anyone more beautiful, more real, more utterly captivating.
"So... what do we do now?" I asked, my voice softer than I'd intended, betraying my uncertainty.
Brooke glanced over, one arm propped on the sled rail, her expression relaxed yet attentive. "We go back. Change. Pretend we didn't almost flip a sled and die," she said, the corner of her mouth quirking up in that half-smile that made my stomach flutter.
I gave a weak laugh, shaking my head slightly. "That's not what I meant."
A beat of silence stretched between us, charged with everything unsaid. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage.
"I meant... us."
Brooke didn't move, but I felt her attention sharpen, felt the subtle shift in her posture as she braced herself. Her voice dropped slightly, becoming more careful, more measured. "You tell me."
The ball was in my court. Of course it was. After everything that had happened between us—the arguments, the tutoring sessions, the tension that had finally snapped last night in a rushof desperate kisses and searching hands—it was only fair that she wanted clarity.
I looked down at my gloves, picking at a loose thread, swallowing against the fear crawling up my throat.
”I don't know what I am," I admitted, the words feeling rough and unpolished.
"Like... I've never thought about girls that way before. And now all I can think about isyou. But I don't know if that means I'm gay, or bi, or if I've just completely lost my mind."
I laughed, but it cracked in the middle, betraying the emotion behind it.
”I don't want to screw this up because I'm confused," I added quietly, finally voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me since I woke up this morning, since I felt the weight of Brooke's absence in my bed, since I realized how desperately I wanted her back there.
Brooke was quiet for a second, considering my words. Her gaze was steady, unflinching, even as I struggled to meet it.
"You don't need to know what you are," she said finally, her voice gentle but firm.
"You just need to know what you feel."
I looked up, something in her tone drawing my eyes to hers. She wasn't smiling now, her expression serious, almost vulnerable. Her voice stayed steady, but I noticed her fingers curling slightly against the sled, as if she was trying to keep herself still, to maintain control.
