Page 10

I take a long sip of tea, letting the sweet coldness wash down my throat. I’ll tell them everything, but not today. Today, I want to sit with them and pretend the last ten years never happened.

But the drawing on the fridge catches my eye again, and I know that no matter how hard I try, I can’t outrun the past. Not when pieces of it are staring back at me from my parents’ refrigerator.

The early morning sunlight streams through my curtains, painting the walls of my childhood bedroom with golden warmth. I can’t remember the last time I slept this deeply. For once, I didn’t jolt awake in the middle of the night, heart racing, wondering if I’d forgotten to put something away that would set Theo off.

I stretch and stare at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint why I feel so different this morning. The answer is obvious. I’m not walking on eggshells anymore. For years, I’ve been hyper-aware of Theo’s every mood shift, anticipating his reactions, making myself small to keep the peace.

“Jesus,” I whisper to the empty room. “How did I let it go on so long?”

In the beginning, we’d laugh until our sides hurt. He’d kiss my paint-stained fingers and call me his muse. I was so stupid. Naive. The truth is, Theo saw me, a small-town girl with no family or friends nearby, and he took advantage.

After dinner with Mom and Dad last night, we watched a movie together. The simple normalcy of it nearly made me cry. Everything about being home has me so emotional. Or maybe that’s years of repressed emotions finally spilling out. With Theo, I wasn’t allowed to feel anything but what he expected.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and glance out the window at the mountains. When was the last time I ran outside? In NYC, I only ever felt safe running in a gym. The open air and total lack of pedestrians beckons. The familiar urge to outrun the world slams into me.

Ten minutes later, I’m lacing up the running shoes I found buried in my closet, earbuds dangling around my neck. Mom’s already up, puttering around the kitchen.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Her hazel eyes scan my outfit. “Going for a run?”

“Yup.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admit with a shrug.

Her eyebrows pinch together. “The mountain air will be good for you. Your dad and I are heading into town later for the market. Do you want us to wait?”

“Nah, I want to relax before my first shift at The Bar.”

Honestly, I need space to sort the jumble of emotions I’ve been carrying since I hit the Big Ridge town limits. The only thing about coming home is that I have no choice but to face my past. I’m not sure which part scares me more, everything with Theo or everything I left behind.

Don’t think about it.

Outside, the crisp morning air fills my lungs as I plug in my earbuds, scrolling to my running playlist. As the music kicks in, I jog up the familiar winding road. My parents’ house sits on the outer edge of town, with mountain views on one side and Big Ridge proper on the other. I follow the road that leads away from town, letting my muscle memory guide me. My feet know these curves, these hills. My body remembers this place even if my mind has tried to forget.

I’m so caught up in the music and the familiar-yet-strange surroundings that I don’t hear the truck until it’s practically on top of me. Dust billows around me as a massive black pickup races by, cuts in front of me, and skids to a halt feet away. My heart slams against my ribs as I rip out my earbuds.

“Watch it, asshole!” The words burst out of me, a very old Callie type of response. Two tall figures get out of the truck and my jaw almost unhinges.

The twins—Brax and Jax Williams—are one year younger than Knox and me. They round the vehicle and stop a few feet away. Time has only emphasized what genetics blessed that family with. Both stand at six feet, all lean muscle and sharp angles, their brown hair styled in that deliberately messy way that probably takes more effort than they’d ever admit.

But it’s their eyes that catch me. Jax’s are dark blue, like the ocean, and Brax’s are light blue, almost the same shade as his older brothers. Everyone says they got the color from their mom who ran out on their dad when the boys were little. No one really talks about her and there are no pictures of her, but if she looks anything like their Aunt Lulu—her sister—she must be beautiful. She had to be because these men are drop dead gorgeous. Their gazes are locked on me now, with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. The last time I saw them, we were much closer and missing all of our clothes.

“Did you think you could come back and not say hi?” Brax asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He has a tiny scar above his right eyebrow from when we were twelve and he tried to prove he could climb higher than me in the old oak behind the school.

“You look good, Callie,” Jax adds, his voice a touch deeper than his brother’s. His eyes roam over my toned legs.

My stomach flips. I straighten my shoulders, suddenly conscious of my sweaty tank top and running shorts. “Were you two trying to kill me?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Brax’s lips. “Still dramatic, I see.”

“Says the guy who once staged a funeral for a spider I killed.”

“That was Bella! She was going to be my pet,” Brax protests, but I catch the twitch of his mouth fighting a grin. That spider deserved to die and he knows it.

For a fleeting moment, it’s as though nothing has changed. Like we could slip back into the easy banter and unspoken understanding we used to share. But then I remember everything that happened my senior year, and I feel my walls slide back into place.

“What are you guys doing out here?” I ask, taking a step back.