They all look at me again—but this time, there’s no shock. Just something warm and open and full of hope.
Trey’s grin turns crooked, satisfied. “Hell yes, we can go.”
“I’m in,” Chace says around a mouthful of chips. “I need a good forest reset.”
Sam raises the aged can. “I’m in, but ya’ll are joining me at least once for their dawn yoga.”
“Pass,” Trey coughs. “Hard pass.”
“They might have goats.”
“Goat yoga? Alright, fair. Then I am right back in.” Trey says looking serious.
Logan doesn’t say anything at first—he just presses his mouth to my temple, lips lingering. A silent yes. A yes laced with a thousand memories I might not have back yet, but I feel them all the same.
“You sure you want to?” he finally says, low against my skin.
I nod, closing my eyes.
“I want to go,” I say quietly. Just thinking of being there with Logan. But when I see the expectation on the others faces, I crack a grin, unable to contain it. “With all of you.”
I slip away quietly while the boys argue about festival fashion, murmuring something about needing to change. Logan lets me go, but I feel his eyes on me until I turn the corner and disappear up the stairs.
The creak of each step is familiar and strange all at once.
In my bedroom, I close the door behind me and make my way to the old vanity tucked under the window. I sit down slowly, the fabric of Logan’s throw blanket slipping against my skin like a ghost of comfort. The wood is chipped at the corners, the mirror slightly warped at the edges. I used to sit here for hours, braiding my hair, putting on lip gloss I didn’t need, stealing my mom’s perfume and pretending I was someone older—someone fearless.
I stare at my reflection now, and I barely recognize the girl in front of me.
Blue eyes. Olive skin. Brunette hair.
I lift a lock of it between my fingers, and my chest tightens with something sharp and suffocating.
I hate it.
It’s not me. It’s not them.
The brown is too dark, too warm—fake. It drowns out the pieces of me that belonged to Braden. To Mom. That particular shade of ash blonde we all had. Cool-toned, almost silver in the right light. In summer, it would catch the sun and turn white atthe ends, like fireflies had kissed it. It wasn’t dad’s tone either… something… dark and moody? Or just something different?
My Mom, Braden and I could have been cut from the same set.
Now, I look like a stranger wearing my skin. Someone pretending to be me.
My throat tightens, and I blink too fast—too late.
A tear escapes and slides down my cheek.
The door creaks open behind me, gentle and unintrusive. I don’t move. I don’t have to. I know it’s Logan.
“Mac?” Logan’s voice is soft as velvet, cautious. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer right away. Just stare at the girl in the mirror.
“She doesn’t look like them,” I whisper. “She doesn’t even look like me.”
He steps closer. I feel him kneel beside me, one warm hand coming to rest on my knee.
“What do you mean?” he asks gently.