Page 97 of Lose You Twice

Lily circles us. “There’s a bump.”

“I know.”

“You have to brush under the bump.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Wren uses water.”

Of course she does. Walking to the sink and getting the brush wet, I do the best I can. The end result is not perfect. I can admit that, but it is centered, secure, and high enough that Daisy swings her head twice and declares it “good enough.”

Lily lets me do hers next, with far more instructions.

“Not too tight.”

“Okay.”

“But tight enough where it won’t get in my eyes when I play at recess.”

“Okay.”

“And no bump.”

“I’ll do my best.”

She studies me in the reflection of the microwave. “Wren says boys don’t listen.”

“Wren is usually right.”

I smooth Lily’s hair back carefully. My hands are bigger than they were when Harlow used to sit on the bathroom counter and complain that I was pulling. For a second, my chest tightens with an ache I don’t see coming.

This feels domestic in a way that should scare me more than it does. Lunches lined up. Kids eating toast. Hair ties on my wrist, the twins trusting me with their hair like I didn’t disappear from the edges of this family years ago.

It should feel foreign.

It doesn’t.

It feels too easy to slip back into.

That is what scares me.

Wren finally comes back downstairs at 7:05, freezing when she reaches the bottom step.

Daisy is eating toast with a finished ponytail. Lily is standing in front of me while I wrap the tie around hers. The counter is wiped down. The water bottles are filled. Shoes are mostly on feet.

Wren blinks.

Once.

Twice.

“What happened?”

Daisy lifts her hand. “Hockey Kai did my hair.”

Lily tilts her head so Wren can inspect. “Mine too.”

Wren looks at me, not annoyed, just stunned.