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“You’re doing more than trying,” she says, patting my hand. “You’ve been here every damn day. That kind of love leaves a mark, baby. On both of you.”

Before I can reply, she disappears into the kitchen, barking orders like she owns the place—which, in here, she does.

I stay at the counter, coffee in hand, mind spinning with yesterday’s glimpse. The way her eyes had flickered—like something inside her had cracked open for a second. Like a door swinging halfway.

Then my phone buzzes on the counter.

One vibration.

My pulse stutters.

Mac: Are you awake?

A sharp breath escapes me. I fumble for the phone, heart hammering.

Logan: Yeah. You okay?

The reply comes fast.

Mac: I think I might’ve remembered something. About you.

I sit up straighter, the world shrinking to that little screen.

Mac: This is going to sound weird... but do you have a skull tattoo on your ribs?

Jesus.

I don’t move. Barely breathe.

Mac: And a nipple piercing? I don’t know if it was a memory or a dream. It was fast. I just remember flashes—skin, ink, metal. I felt something. Like it mattered.

I reply before I can think.

Logan: Yeah, angel. I do.

Logan: The tattoo’s on my left side. You used to trace it when you couldn’t sleep.

Another pause.

Mac: And the piercing?

Logan: Real. Got it after losing a bet to your brother. He dared me. You laughed so hard, I thought you were gonna pass out.

The typing bubble comes. Disappears. Then comes back.

Mac: Okay… then maybe it was real.

Mac: That’s kind of a relief. I thought maybe I was losing it.

Logan: You’re not. Your brain’s starting to connect the dots.

She doesn’t reply after that. But she doesn’t need to.She remembered me. Not everything. Not our story. But something. A thread. A tether. And that? That undoes me. Patty returns just in time to catch the look on my face. She sets a plate in front of me—eggs, toast, a mountain of bacon that’s absolutely against health codes but always shows up when she thinks I need saving.

“You look like someone just handed you your heart back,” she says.

I blink up at her, the corner of my mouth lifting. “She just texted.”

“And?” Her eyes light up.