“I swear to god, Link, if you flip this truck before I get on that flight—”
“Hey now–I’ve got a perfect driving record!” he grins. “And before you bring it upagain, technically, I wasn’t the one who knocked over that Porta Potty in Toledo.”
“That was awind advisory!” I shout from the back, imitating his deep voice before he makes the excuse we’ve heard a thousand times.
Jamie exhales sharply, head thunking gently against the window, and for the first time since her phone rang, she lets herself breathe.
Then she turns in her seat to look at Korbyn, who’s already halfway through a protein bar she found in my tote bag.
“Hey,” Jamie says gently. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna miss your birthday.”
Korbyn blinks, like she hadn’t even thought of it, then shrugs one shoulder. “You’re going tomeet your baby,Jamie. We can celebrate my birthday next year. That’s the great thing about them.”
“Still,” Jamie presses. “I wanted to be there. Has James planned anything?”
Korbyn chews like she’s considering lying, then swallows before replying. “He’s being cagey. Which means either it’s a surprise, or he forgot and he’s going to pretendthiswas the plan all along.”
“Text me if it’s the second one,” Jamie says. “I’ll send flowers and make him sweat.”
Korbyn shoots Jamie her signature smirk. “Deal.”
Linkin glances at her in the rearview mirror. “Wait—when is it again? I always lose track.”
“Next Tuesday, exactly one week from today,” I say before Korbyn can.
He smirks. “Figures. You always know. So… what’d you get her? I might need a little more inspo on what to get her this year.”
I catch his eye in the rearview mirror to double blink at him. “You’ll have to wait and see like everyone else.”
Biting back a smile, I look out the window so no one can read my face. Her custom boots arrived a few days ago. They’re buttery black leather with chunky soles, and just enough studs and flower details to screamKorbynwithout being obvious. I squealed like a little girl when I opened the box, then wrapped them up in ridiculous glitter paper because I couldn’t help myself. They’re hidden in my closet, practically glowing with the secret. I can’t wait to see her face when she tears into them.
Linkin makes a face back at me and throws in, “ Oh, I know! I can make pancakes! Shirtless ones. I’ll call them birthday pancakes ofpassion.”
“No one wants your nipple batter, Link,” Korbyn says sweetly.
“False,” I whisper. “I might.”
Jamie groans. “Get me to the airportnow,before I find a way to eject myself from this truck.”
We all laugh, and even though we’re racing against the clock with not nearly enough time and way too many feelings, I feel the little spark that always shows up when chaos meets love. We’re a mess, sure, but we’reourmess.
And Jamie’s going to make it. We’ll make damn sure of that.
2
Lucian
Ipark far enough that the pain from my prosthetic makes itself known by the time I hit the curb.
It’s a small rebellion, but it’s times like these when I refuse to use my handicapped placard.
After today’s physical therapy session, the long walk leaves my leg aching and my pride a little more than shredded, but it’s better than hesitating at the door like a scared child. I catch my reflection in the storefront and cringe. With my long, messy hair, a five o’clock shadow that’s trying to become a beard, I already look like a ‘before’ photo. I don’t need pity from a receptionist with cat stickers on her clipboard.
The sign over the shelter door is so aggressively cheerful it feels like it’s shouting at me, with its bright blue letters, cartoon pawprints, the whole thing radiating a level of optimism I’m not sure my nervous system can process yet. The bell above the frame jingles when I step inside, a too-bright sound in a spacethat smells exactly the way every shelter smells: cleaner that never fully wins, warm fur, and… yeah. Definitely pee.
My brain twitches toward old cases, to the kennels we tore open, dogs we carried out, and the metallic tang of fear and ammonia clinging to my clothes for hours after. A whole reel of memories tries to spool up.
I shut it down. Not today. Not for this.
