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It’s ironic, I feel the void now more than ever.
Nova and I used to spend so many nights with endless conversations, laughter, and underage drinking. Now, we barely see each other.
“I know,” she whispers back. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t fix things with Nova or talk to Kat about what’s going on. They’re your sisters, Jordyn. Kat might even have some good insight.”
I run a hand through my hair, “I know . . . it’s just . . .”
Mom finishes for me. “Complicated?”
“Yeah,” I let out a bitter chuckle, “Complicated.”
Every word feels like a stone sinking in the pit of my stomach, pulling me down.
I’m not here to focus on the drama with my sister. I’m here to have a nice outing with my mother, so I need to do that.
“Did you want to go to any other stores after we’re done here?” I ask as I finally get the next dress all zipped up.
Mom laughs, “Oh, they gave me their cards, so hell yes I want to.”
I laugh hard, knowing I won’t have to pay for a damn thing today.
God, my mom is a hoot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bama
The four-wheeler roars beneath us, kicking up dust and gravel as we tear through the back of the property.
Jordyn’s laughter is a melody I could listen to forever, her arms wrapped tight around my waist.
The air smells like pine and freedom.
“Hold on!” I shout over my shoulder, feeling her grip tighten.
I take a sharp turn, the wheels skidding before they find their grip again.
Her squeal of delight sends a rush of adrenaline through me. This—right now—feels like living.
We crest a small hill, and the land opens up, stretching wide and wild before us.
I slow down, letting the engine purr as we come to a stop.
The creek glimmers right in front of us.
“Thought I’d bring you somewhere special,” I say, cutting the engine.
She slides off the seat, her caramel-highlighted hair catching the sunlight. “Special, huh? It looks like you just have to impress me, Bama.”
“Always do.” I wink, unstrapping the picnic basket I’d ratchet-strapped down earlier.
The silence of the creek swallows the echoes, leaving just the sound of water trickling over smooth stones.
God, Montana really is God’s country. Alabama might be beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to this.
I glance at Jordyn, her cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling like the damn stars.
Everything about this moment feels right.
