Harper looks up from her screen and shrugs. “Viv and Marin texted me. Said to add one last dare and make sure you saw it.”
I groan, already suspicious before crossing the room, flipping open the notebook, and finding Harper’s unmistakable handwriting:
We double-dog-dare you to take the honesty you brought to yourself and bring it to Noah, preferably before breakfast.
Frank lets out a sigh from the porch that’s somewhere between judgment and gas.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Don’t judge me, sir.”
Behind me, Harper clears her throat. “Actually, there’s more.”
She turns her laptop toward me. On the screen is Matt, bleary-eyed and definitely calling from a dorm room that looks like it smells faintly of Axe body spray and poor choices.
“Hi, Mom.” He gives a little wave before stifling a yawn. “Harper said this was urgent.”
I blink. “Isn’t it noon over there? Why’re you still in bed? Is someone dying?”
“Nope.” Harper’s all sunshine. “Just your love life.”
Matt grins. “Late night. Look, I know we had that whole heavy talk, and I meant every word. But I’ve been thinking. And talking to Dad, well, thinking about Dad. And I want you to be happy. For real.”
Harper nods. “You don’t have to carry grief like it’s the price of loving someone.”
“You’ll never replace Dad,” Matt says gently. “But that’s not what this is. This is about not wasting a second chance. If someone makes you laugh, and brings you coffee, and goes to poetry readingswith you?—”
Harper smirks. “—even when those poetry readings are truly awful.”
“—then maybe that someone deserves to know how you feel,” Matt finishes.
I swallow. “You two rehearsed this, didn’t you?”
“Obviously,” Matt deadpans. “Now, what are you waiting for?”
“You never turn down a dare.” Harper pushes the book closer to me, like it’s a fact etched into my DNA.
I stare at the screen, heart thumping. Then I glance at the notebook again. The pink sparkles glint like they know something I don’t.
“You guys are the worst,” I mutter, wiping my eyes.
“And yet,” Harper’s already standing up, “you’re reaching for the leash.”
Frank lets out an excited yip, practically vibrating with anticipation. He may not know what’s happening, but he’s fully committed to the idea of a walk.
“Fine.” I grab a hoodie and jam my arms into it. “But if this goes terribly, I’m blaming both of you.”
“Chalk it up to part of all of our healing journey.” Matt nods. “But also, go get him, Mom.”
Harper gives me a thumbs-up. “Before breakfast. That was the dare.”
I glance down at Frank, who’s already nose-first at the door like a tiny, overdramatic herald of fate.
I sprint up the stairs and run my hairbrush through my long, stick-straight strands before glancing in the mirror. Should I go for a little mascara? Heart check. Will there be any emotional meltdowns or crying that will cause it to run? I think it’s a safe bet to put some on. With that decided, I swipe a few coats of mascara on my lashes, grab Frank’s leash, and push open the door.
Noah should be turning onto Beecher Street a few blocks up right about now. If I hurry, I can hopefully do this whole thing away from the prying eyes of my own neighbors.
We’re halfway down the block when the dark, looming clouds that’ve been hanging around since late last night decide now is the ideal time to unleash their fury.
Perfect.
