Ciarán: Gabe, you’re demi, not blind.
I snort into the empty apartment.
Abbie:Ciarán stop being a creep. We’re here for you Gabe. If it gets too much, or if you need a break. Or a taser. I’m not saying I have one in my purse. I’m also not saying I don’t…
Me:Thank you.
Ciarán:Yes, definitely here for you. And here for the hottie.
Abbie: Ciarán, never stop being you. But also, maybe stop being you a little bit right now.
I huff another laugh at how ridiculous they are, I’m so lucky I found them. The thought of not having them there when everything happened… It’s unbearable.
Abbie:Oh, we should do a housewarming! We can have wine. And tacos. And pepper spray. You’re covered.
Ciarán:Yes! We’ll be over during the week to check him out. When would be a good time to find him shirtless do you think?
Me:I’m blocking you.
I wait ten minutes, then send one more.
Me:I don’t know if he’s definitely moving in or when but come over Sunday morning. I’ll make pancakes either way.
I smile down at the screen, despite the knot still lodged behind my ribs. They always know how to find the exact thread to pull—the one that reminds me I’m not alone.
Even when I feel like I am.
2
NOAH
The first chords of “Take On Me” bounce off the unfinished walls of the gym. My phone is propped on the half-built front desk, volume loud enough to fill the open space.
Aidenhatesthis song—exactly why I play it every morning. I grin as I tighten a bolt on the squat rack, singing completely out of tune. The space smells of fresh plywood and metal. It’s half-finished, but it’s coming together.
I glance out the large windows and smile. Rain streaks the windows. It’s always raining in Willowrun, and strangely, I missed that.
I like coming in early, before any of the tradespeople show up. Before Aiden tries switching the playlist. Before the world gets noisy. The silence here is different from the city—there it was jagged, full of empty noise and strangers’ averted eyes. At first, I thought I liked it, being invisible in a sea of people, but that kind of silence felt wrong over time. This quiet feels different. Spacious.
I step back, and roll my shoulders. I feel more myself than I have in a long time. For the first time in years, I’m notperforming for anyone. Not customers in the high-end gym I worked at. Not the friends I tried to make who weren’t interested in anything but the highs of life, and nowhere to be found for the lows. Not the rare hookups I went home with to avoid being alone. I tried to connect with people, but it was like nobody cared about seeing the real me. Every attempted relationship failed, not that there were many. It was lonely.Iwas lonely.
City life drained me. Out there, I had to beonall the time—grinning, proving myself, never slowing. If I stopped, I’d notice how empty I was. How much I didn’t belong. So I kept going. Until I couldn’t do it anymore.
Coming back to Willowrun wasn’t some big, brave homecoming. I knew if I stayed in LA any longer, I’d burn out completely. When Aiden mentioned this building was up for grabs, I knew it was time to call it.
The closer I got to Willowrun, the easier I could breathe. I always felt this strange call to return, which never made sense, considering that from my teen years, I was counting the days until I could leave. My hand drifts to the compass inked at the top of my spine, the reminder I carry everywhere. A motif from my favorite book, I thought it would guide me to where I belonged. Help me find my people. I never realized it would lead me back here.
My gaze shifts to the dark trees wrapping my left arm, black-and-white lines of pine and willow climbing from elbow to shoulder. Willowrun. My parents made this place feel unbearable at times. They weren’t cruel to me, they just didn’t care. I was invisible to them, but the Shaws… they made this town feel like home.
I haven’t spoken to my dad in years—not since they divorced in my late teens. That bridge is ash. And my mom… well, if I don’t call, we don’t speak. When we do, it’s polite. Surface-level. So I stopped calling.
So, no, I didn’t come back to a warm welcome from my own family.
But the Shaws?
I’ve been folded into their lives since I was eight, when my family moved here. On the first day of third grade, Aiden sat next to me, shoved half his sandwich in my face, and said,“My mom says friends share. So eat that, we’re friends now.”That was it. From then on, I was theirs. Not just his, the whole family accepted me.
Mr. and Mrs. Shaw treated me like one of their own. Birthday dinners. Christmas Eve. Lazy weekends when Aiden and I stayed up too late playing video games, and his brother Gabe shuffled into the kitchen, all bed hair and muttered greetings.
