JUNE
Some mornings, it hit me all at once.
The fatigue. The overwhelm. The weight of being needed before I even left the bed.
This was one of those mornings.
Lily had crept in at dawn, her body warm and familiar against mine, whispering something about butterflies and pancakes. I nodded, mumbled something vaguely maternal, and let her pad off to the kitchen.
Now I stood in the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from my mouth, staring at myself in the mirror like I might get answers.
My eyes were puffy. My hair was up in a knot that had been recycled from yesterday. My favorite sleep shirt had a smear of strawberry jam near the hem, and I didn’t even remember how it got there.
I looked like a woman who needed help.
I was also the woman most likely to refuse it.
By the time I got downstairs, Lily was halfway through arranging blueberries into a heart shape on a plate of Eggo waffles.
“I made breakfast,” she announced proudly.
I kissed the top of her head. “Looks perfect.”
Harper sat at the table with her laptop and a legal pad, eyes half-glazed.
Willa wandered in wearing a loose tank top and sipping coffee like it was a fine art.
“I need to walk,” I said, pulling on a hoodie. “Just for a bit.”
No one objected.
Lily didn’t even look up. “Bring back more treasure if you find some.”
I stepped out onto the porch and inhaled the kind of air you can’t find in cities—salty and soft, with that back-of-your-throat coolness that made you want to keep breathing just to taste it again.
I didn’t have a destination. I just needed to move.
The town was already stretching awake—awnings creaking open, chalkboard signs being wiped clean, the sleepy kind of bustle that felt like life on a slower setting.
I stopped in front of the bakery, half-considering a second breakfast I didn’t need, when someone stepped out of the hardware store across the street.
Grant.
Of course.
He was in a navy T-shirt that looked like it had weathered a hundred summer storms, paint flecks on one sleeve. His hair was damp like he’d just showered, pushed back in a way that made my heart do that irritating flutter thing.
He spotted me before I could pretend I hadn’t seen him. “Hey,” he said, crossing the street like it was no big deal. “You out wandering, too?”
“Escaping,” I admitted.
“Fair.”
He paused beside me, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the street like he lived in its rhythm.
“Need company?” he asked after a second.
I hesitated. Then nodded.
