I changed into the jeans—they fit, mostly, if I rolled the cuffs—and pulled the tank over my head. It felt like wearing hope. The sweater was light and soft, not the cheap acrylic I was used to. I did a little twirl in front of the mirror, just to see if it was real, then made a face at myself. What a dork.
I rummaged through the bag and found a small cosmetic case. Inside was tinted moisturizer, eyeliner, some mascara, and a nice quality tinted balm. The sight made my eyes sting. I hadn’t put on anything but stage makeup in so long that I’d forgotten the ritual of it, the way it could make you feel like a person instead of a product. I dabbed on the moisturizer, traced a thin line of black along my lashes, and brushed the mascara over the tips. My hands didn’t even shake.
I added the lip balm last, careful to keep from reopening the cut. The cherry scent was pleasant enough. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection, then grinned. I almost looked alive.
I grabbed my toothbrush and gave my teeth a good brushing. I was rinsing my glass when there was a knock at the door. I froze, every muscle going wire-tense. The old habits didn’t die easy. I slid to the wall, heart hammering, and peered through the peephole. My brain took a second to process what I saw.
It was Parker, bouncing on the balls of her feet, wearing a tie-dyed hoodie and bright blue yoga pants. She was flanked by a tall, dark-haired beauty in a sundress and denim jacket. The brown-haired girl had her arms crossed and was watching the hallway like she expected to be mugged by a Girl Scout.
I exhaled and opened the door. Parker grinned. “Well, well. Look who’s up before noon.”
The blonde gave me a big wave. “Hey. I’m Maddie. I brought you some stuff.” She held up a paper sack, the logo from Buttercream & Blessings bakery visible on the side. She strolled in like she owned the place. I heard she’s the Alpha’s sister, so I guess she kind of did.
Parker followed her. The room instantly felt brighter.
“We figured you’d be in need of some company,” Parker said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “Also, we’re all meeting at Aspen’s for lunch. Thought you could use a break from…well, everything.”
I nodded, still a little shell-shocked by how normal this all felt.
Maddie set the bag on the kitchen island and smiled. She had the same eyes as Bronc—ice blue, but warmer. “I brought cinnamon rolls. Aspen says, everybody needs sweets to brighten up their lives.”
I took the sack, mouth watering at the smell of sugar and yeast. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m not… I mean, I haven’t eaten with people in a while.”
Parker gave me a look, not pitying, just sharp. “Yeah, well, welcome to the circus. Aspen is already at the bakery making enough food to feed the entire county. If you want to bail, just say the word and we’ll cover for you.”
I shook my head. “No, I want to go. I just need to, uh—”
Maddie interrupted, “You look great. You’ll beautiful girl, and you’ll fit right in.” She smiled. “Anyways, we don’t stand on formalities. We’re a strictly come as you are pack.”
I laughed, and it was so startling that I had to pause and catch my breath. “That’s a good thing, cuz I’m definitely out of practice when it comes to normal social situations.”
Parker snorted. “Good thing none of us are normal, then.” She jerked her thumb toward the hallway. “You want to grab your stuff? We’ll wait.”
I nodded, ducked back into the bedroom, and paused and thought I should leave a note. I found a post-it and scribbled, “Out with Parker & Maddie. Will be back later. Thank you for everything—H.”I set it next to Jess’s original note, overlapping the corners.
Back in the kitchen, the girls were waiting. Parker had already opened the cinnamon rolls and was licking frosting off her thumb.
“Ready?” Maddie asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We stepped out into the morning together, and for the first time in years, I didn’t worry about what would happen on the other side of the door.
I’d expected Dairyville to be more like a ghost town, the kind of place where the main street was a straight shot between a gas station and a funeral home. Instead, it looked like something off a Hallmark movie set. There was a town square, honest to God, with a big limestone clock tower and benches painted every shade of pastel. The storefronts were trimmed in all colors; the awnings matched the doors. There was even a tiny bandstand in the center of town, decorated with crepe paper streamers.
Parker drove like a woman who’d never seen a speed limit enforced. We rocketed ten miles between the pack compound and Buttercream & Blessings in under 15 minutes, her fancy sports car humming every mile. Maddie rode shotgun and played DJ, flipping through local country stations until she found one with an actual yodeler. The song sounded like a coyote being drowned, but nobody seemed to mind.
When we pulled up outside the bakery, the first thing I noticed was the light. Aspen’s shop was painted the color oflemonade, with a yellow and white awning and flower boxes bursting with actual marigolds. The sign was hand-lettered, no stencil, with the name in curly script and a tiny prairie dog painted beneath it, wearing a monocle and bow tie.
Maddie hopped out first and grabbed my hand. “I know you’ve met Aspen, but you’ll love her more and more the longer you know her,” she said. “She’s like, the opposite of me. Where I’m all a bull in a china shop, she’s made of sugar and optimism.”
Parker snorted. “You’re both dorks.”
We ducked through the front door, and I was hit with a wall of smells: vanilla, melted butter, and just a hint of lemon. The shop was empty except for Aspen. She wore a pale blue swing dress with white daisies and white tights, her black hair pulled into a high ponytail. She looked like a retro pinup, if pinups came with flour up to their elbows and a dishtowel slung over her shoulder.
She glanced up, and her smile was so bright it made my teeth hurt. “Y’all! I thought you’d never make it!”
Aspen’s accent was pure Georgia, the vowels stretching out like a hammock. She swept around the counter and hugged me first, wrapping both arms around my ribs like she’d known me forever. For a second, I almost cried again.
