Page 8 of Lose You Twice

“Love that for her. Hate that for me.” Weston pushes to his feet and claps his hands once. “All right, Cap. What’s first on the agenda? Legs? Core? More emotional repression?”

I grin at him. “Lucky for you, today is a heavy cardio day.”

His smile drops instantly. “I was afraid of that.”

2

WREN

My phone alarm goes off at 6:05 with a sound I picked specifically because it makes me want to throw myself into traffic.

Which, honestly, is effective.

I slap around blindly until my fingers hit my phone somewhere under the other pillow, then squint against the screen’s brightness.

6:05 — WAKE UP, YOU DELUSIONAL GIRL.

That’s what the label says, because Past Me thinks she’s hilarious.

No. Absolutely not.

Present Me thinks Past Me should learn compassion.

I close my eyes for exactly three seconds before the second alarm goes off.

6:06 — SERIOUSLY. GET UP.

“Rude,” I mumble.

Across the hall, one of the twins shrieks.

Not a scared or injured shriek, but a very specific Calloway-girl shriek that means someone has committed a crime, like using the wrong hairbrush or breathing too close to a precious stuffed animal.

I lie there for one more second and stare at the ceiling.

First day of winter term. First day of my mom’s new hospital shift.

First day of attempting to get four younger siblings out the door before I make it to my own classes looking like a person who has slept, showered, and made responsible life choices.

So, naturally, we are starting with screaming.

Perfect.

I throw off the blankets and grab the sweatshirt off my desk chair, tugging it over the tank top I slept in. My room is already a disaster even though I unpacked less than a month ago. A laundry basket of clean clothes sits beside my dresser, unfolded and judging me. Three notebooks are open on the floor because last night I made a list of the lists I needed to make and then forgot where I put the original list.

Very normal.

Very functional.

My phone buzzes again.

6:08 — PACK LUNCHES. DO NOT FORGET JUICE BOXES. THEY WILL RIOT.

I shove it into my sweatshirt pocket and head into the hallway.

The twins are yelling from their room. I can hear a shower running and music blasting, so I’m assuming Justin is in the bathroom. He claims that the way too loud music is the only way to find his “zen” before heading to school, and who am I to interrupt the method to his madness?

Holden’s bedroom door is shut, which either means he’s still asleep or pretending to be so I don’t ask him to help.