"For you, Miss Ether."
I snort. "That's not a name, that's a superhero alias."
Bree takes the flower anyway, touches the girl's hand gently. "Thank you. It's beautiful."
We keep walking, past a mother waving from her doorway as Bree adjusts a fallen branch with a gesture. Past an elderly man tending a garden that definitely wasn't there yesterday. Everyone we pass smiles when they see her. Real smiles. The kind that come from gratitude and genuine affection.
And watching her respond to them—shy but warm, giving pieces of herself without thinking—makes something in my chest feel too tight.
I'm proud of her. Proud to be walking beside her. Proud that she chose to let me come along.
But there's something else underneath that I'm not sure I can think about right now.
A group of kids spots us and comes running, eyes bright with excitement.
"Are you the one with the flying knives?" one of them asks, bouncing on his toes.
I grin, pulling a blade from my belt and spinning it on my finger. The kids gasp appropriately, and I show off just enough to earn some impressed whispers before making the knife disappear again.
"Magic," I say with a wink.
Bree's watching me with something soft in her expression. "Show-off."
"Always."
We're still laughing when Bree suddenly stops walking.
Like full-stop, mid-step, air sucked out of the moment.
Her whole posture changes—shoulders tensing, breath catching, head tilted slightly like she's just seen something impossible.
I follow her line of sight.
There's a guy up ahead. Tall. Broad shoulders. Rolled sleeves. He's on a ladder, securing a moss-woven beam for one of the new houses. Moving like he belongs there. Like he's done this a thousand times. Confident. Capable. Maybe a little too capable.
I’ve never seen him before in my life.
Bree stares at him like she has.
She takes a step forward, then another. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Seth?”
And just like that, I know exactly how absolutely fucked I am.
Because I've never heard her say my name like that.
The guy—Seth, apparently—looks down and sees her. And his whole face softens, like she’s exactly who he was hoping to find.
He climbs down slow, steady, measured. Like he’s had practice making people feel safe. Like he'sgoodat it.
When he reaches the ground, he doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t look around. He just looks at her.
“Bree,” he says, and it’s not just a name. It’s an entire sentence. A memory. A promise.
And maybe I’m imagining it, but she sways toward him like her body forgot I was even standing here.
I step forward, throwing on a grin that feels like armor. “Hey there. You new in town?”
He extends his hand. "Seth."
