“Time to earn it back,” I murmur.
For a moment, I imagine his answering smile—the one he rarely showed, but that meant he approved.
Outside, the first rays of sunlight hit the river, turning it to gold, and for the first time in years, I feel sober in more ways than one.
Chapter 5
Roxy
The forest is alive around me. Dark trunks rise like columns into mist, and every breath tastes like pine and cold air and danger. My legs burn as I run, the hem of my dress catching on roots and damp leaves, but I can’t stop. Behind me, something moves—heavy, deliberate. The rhythm of its steps matches my heartbeat.
I know what it is.
A bear.
The sound of its growl rumbles low, closer this time, and it isn’t just fear that makes me stumble.
It’s something else—heat curling under the terror, the same wild pull that lives somewhere between a scream and a sigh. I should be afraid. I am afraid. But there’s a thrill in it too, in being chased, in knowing that if he catches me?—
A shout breaks through the dream.
“Mom! Moooom!”
The forest splinters apart. The sound of footsteps fade, replaced by the thump of smaller feet running down the hall.
“Mom, wake up!”
I blink against the soft morning light spilling through the blinds. My heart is still pounding, my breath shallow. For asecond, I expect to see the forest outside my window, but it’s only the familiar view of the apartments across the street. Pretty pastels with beachy decorations, the old man on the porch to the right smoking a cigarette already.
Then a small face appears beside the bed, haloed by messy curls.
“Mom,” Andi says, exasperated. “You’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to leaveearly!Grandma said if we get there by lunch she’ll make cinnamon rolls, remember?”
Her little hands plant on her hips in a perfect imitation of Kat as a teenager, and I can’t help the low chuckle that escapes me. Andrea is only six, but has all of Kat’s spunk and all my shrewd perception. A dangerous combination.
“Good morning to you too, bug.”
Andi’s expression softens into a grin. “Morning! You had that face again. Like you were dreaming.”
I stretch, letting the sheets slide down, my body heavy and warm. “Maybe I was. What did you dream about, babe?”
She climbs on the bed beside me, crosses her legs, and rambles off seriously: “I dreamed that the new school has dinosaurs! And everyone gets their own dinosaur, and?—”
Her chatter fills the room, and I let it wash over me, grounding me in something real.
But part of me is still caught in the woods with a pounding heart and prickling skin. The dream lingers like smoke, curling through my thoughts, too vivid to be dismissed. I can almost feel that chase, the rough breath behind me, the thrill of beingseen.
Ridiculous, I tell myself.
I’ve had different versions of this dream for years, always the same. Sometimes it’s a forest, sometimes snow, sometimes nothing but darkness and a heartbeat in my ears. It always ends the same way: I wake just before I’m caught.
“Mom?”
I blink, realizing Andi’s staring at me, head tilted. “Huh?”
“You were smiling weird.”
“Was I?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Guess I was thinking about Grandma’s cinnamon rolls.”
