Page 39 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

My stomach drops.

Unknown Number.

Three texts. All from Max. Again! He needs to stop doing this.

Unknown Number: June, please.

Unknown Number: I’m sorry.

Unknown Number: Come home and we’ll talk.

My chest aches in that stupid, familiar way it always does when he tries to pull me back in. Not because I miss him. Because my body still remembers the pattern. The guilt. The pressure. The way he made me feel as though leaving him was cruel.

I don’t respond.

I just stare at the screen until the ache dulls, and then block this number too. Not that it’ll stop him. He always finds a way to get to me.

Then I grab my jacket and slip out of the house. I guess I need to explore the town at some point. I might as well start now. Otherwise, this house might kill me.

The River Road and Suspension Bridge are even prettier at dusk.

Mist curls low over the water, turning the world soft around the edges. The bridge creaks slightly under my feet, and I pause halfway across to look down at the river.

It moves confidently, knowing where it’s going.

I envy it.

On the other side, the town lights beam against the trees, and finally, I can breathe freely without someone watching.

The Redwood Run Café is easy to spot. Warm windows, a sign out front, and the smell of coffee reaching me before I even open the door.

Inside, it’s cozy and warm, full of talking voices and clinking cups. A couple of kids are doing homework at a corner table. Behind the counter is a woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile, an apron tied around her waist.

She looks up the moment I enter.

“You’re new.”

I blink. “Is it that obvious?”

She grins. “We don’t get many strangers in Redwood Run. I’m Lorna. What can I get you, honey?”

“Um,” I say, scanning the chalkboard menu. “Latte? Please.”

“A latte for the new girl,” she calls over her shoulder, announcing my existence to the whole café.

My cheeks heat up.

A younger woman with a messy bun and kind eyes turns from the espresso machine.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. “You must be June.”

My heart stutters. “How does everyone⁠—”

Ellie’s grin is bright. “Sandra.”

“Right,” I mutter, half amused, half horrified.

Ellie makes my drink with practiced ease, then slides it over. “Welcome, June.”