When was the last time I laughed like this?
I honestly can't remember.
Sage and Jace are both staring at me now, matching grins spreading across their faces.
"There she is," Sage says softly. "There's the Mae I remember."
My laughter trails off, but the warmth it left behind remains. Settled in my chest like a small flame against the cold.
Could this be what I've been missing? Not just the ice. Not just a purpose. But people. Real people who know the messy, awkward, imperfect parts of me and don't run screaming in the opposite direction.
"So," I say, wiping the corners of my eyes. "Lunch?"
"Lunch," Sage confirms.
"Thank god," Jace adds. "I was about to start gnawing on my own arm."
"Drama queen."
"Takes one to know one, Holloway."
They start walking, still trading barbs, and I fall into step beside them.
The fear is still there. The doubt. The years of learned caution that tell me not to get too close, not to hope too much, not to let anyone see the parts of me that break.
But walking down this hallway, flanked by ghosts from my past who turned out to be very much alive, I feel a spark ignite in my chest.
Perhaps bold isn't about being fearless.
Being bold is about being terrified and doing it anyway.
I take a breath.
Square my shoulders.
Let the warmth of this unexpected reunion push back against the shadows.
CHAPTER 3
Cafeteria Confessions
~MABELINE~
The cafeteria at Valenridge University looks like it belongs in a movie about rich people pretending to be normal.
Vaulted ceilings. Exposed brick walls. Edison bulbs dangling from industrial fixtures like they're trying too hard to be casual. The tables are actual wood, not that particle board nonsense from my high school days, and the chairs have cushions.
Cushions. In a cafeteria. What kind of bougie wonderland have I stumbled into?
The food options are equally ridiculous.
A full salad bar with ingredients I can't pronounce. A pasta station with fresh noodles. A grill serving burgers that smell like actual meat instead of cardboard, trying its best. There's even a sushi counter, which feels excessive, but I'm not complaining.
Sage leads us to a table near the windows, her tray piled high with what appears to be three different entrees and a suspicious amount of bread rolls.
"What?" She catches me staring. "I'm a growing girl."
"You're twenty-four."
