PROLOGUE: WILLOW
Driving all night is finally taking its toll, but out here—in the middle of nowhere—there’s nothing to do but keep going.
The road narrows as it winds through dense forest, tall evergreens pressing close like they’re trying to crowd me off the pavement.
Dawn is just beginning to break, thin sunlight struggling through the canopy, catching on frost that clings stubbornly to the branches.
It’s March, but winter hasn’t gotten the memo up here. Everything looks cold.
Held tight.
Frozen in place.
I know how that feels.
I don’t know exactly where I am in Maine. I stopped paying attention to highway signs hours ago, somewhere after my phone lost signal and my GPS gave up the ghost.
It doesn’t matter.
The point is distance.
Space.
Miles between me and everything I left behind.
The heater in my car died a few states back.
I don’t even remember where—maybe New Jersey, maybe Pennsylvania. I just remember the cold seeping in through the vents, biting at my fingers until I cranked the wheel warmer up and pulled my coat tighter around myself.
Heat is a luxury.
And I decided long before I left that luxuries don’t matter anymore.
That thought hits me harder than it should.
Isn’t that odd? How easily I let that go.
I suck in a deep breath and grip the steering wheel, begging my brain not to wander.
Not now.
Not to go into memories that still feel too sharp, too close to the surface.
I tell myself the past belongs where I left it—behind me, shrinking in the rearview mirror with every mile.
To distract myself, I start to hum.
It’s quiet in the car. Too quiet.
The radio crapped out sometime after the heater, leaving me alone with the sound of tires on asphalt and my own thoughts.
Humming fills the space, shaky at first, then steadier.
I don’t even realize I’m doing it until a familiar melody forms—something soft, something my grandmother used to sing while she cooked.
Living in South Florida for the past eighteen years made me soft when it comes to the cold.
I traded snow for sunshine, boots for flip-flops, layers for tank tops.
