Page 80

She looks down at him, exasperated but amused. "Pickle, c’mon, get over it."

But he doesn’t. He’s like a statue. Ivy sighs, rolling her eyes. "I swear, this dog’s got a mind of his own."

I can’t help but laugh. "I think he’s meditating, trying to reach enlightenment through his squirrel based standoff."

Ivy shoots me a look, but it’s a playful one. "He’s a weirdo, but he’s my weirdo."

I lean down, tapping my fingers against my thighs to try and get Pickle’s attention. "Alright, you little philosopher, the squirrel’s not gonna come back and give you a lifetime supply of treats. You can move now."

Finally, Pickle gives one last look at the squirrel, huffs like he’s been offended by its mere existence, and trots off with a wag of his tail, looking proudly accomplished.

Ivy lets out a laugh, shaking her head. "I swear, he’s got more personality than most people."

I chuckle, watching him happily bounce ahead of us, tail wagging. "Yeah, he’s definitely got more attitude than most of the people around here."

"Yeah, this place is definitely full of… people."

I laugh, kinda getting what she means. "You talking about the small town gossip?"

"Yeah, feels like everyone knows everyone’s business here."

"Not feels like," I say with a half smile. "It’s just a fact."

"Which means…"

I sense her getting serious.

She’s affected by people talking about her.

"I guess I don’t know how much I like the attention, Mitchell. I came here for an escape, not more drama."

Enter me, my twin, and Freddie, I guess.

I clear my throat, my voice softer than usual. "Hey."

She looks up, raising an eyebrow like she’s not sure where this is going.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Everything in me says to keep my distance. That getting too close means getting burned. Again.

But then I look at her, really look at her, and I see it. That weight she’s carrying, the way she’s trying so hard to stay composed when I know she’s unraveling inside. And damn it, I know that feeling too well.

She’s not asking for much. Just something real. Something steady.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I want to give that to someone.

To her.

I reach for her chin, tilting her face up to mine. My thumb brushes against her skin as I push a loose strand of hair out of her face. It’s slow, deliberate, like I want to make sure she gets it.

That this isn’t a fluke.

That I’m choosing to show up.

"I know it’s hard, but I am here for you."

I see something flicker in her eyes. That tension she’s been holding tight to starts to loosen a little, but she doesn’t let it go completely.