The woman looking back at me is almost unrecognizable from the one who stumbled through these doors six months ago, bloody and broken and barely alive.
The bruises are long gone.
The haunted look in my eyes has faded.
My shoulders no longer curve inward like I'm trying to disappear.
I stand straighter now.
Take up space. Meet my own gaze without flinching.
I look like someone who belongs here, because I do.
Downstairs, the clubhouse is already busy as all hell.
It's Saturday, which means the weekly gathering is tonight.
Brothers coming in from out of town, old ladies bringing food, the whole extended family converging for a few hours of drinking and laughing and being together.
I used to dread these gatherings—too many people, too much noise, too many opportunities to make a mistake.
Now I look forward to them.
Tawny is in the kitchen when I walk in, wrestling with a massive pot of chili.
"There she is," she says, grinning. "Sleeping Beauty finally graces us with her presence."
"It's eight in the morning."
"And some of us have been up since six, slaving over a hot stove." She gestures dramatically at the pot. "This chili isn't going to make itself."
"Need help?"
"God, yes. Paige was supposed to be here an hour ago, but apparently she had a late night." Tawny waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "With Halcyon."
"Paige and Halcyon?" I grab an apron from the hook by the door, tying it around my waist. "When did that happen?"
"About a week ago. They've been circling each other for months, and finally one of them made a move." She hands me a cutting board and a pile of onions. "Speaking of making moves—how's the teaching thing going?"
The teaching thing. My future. The dream I thought Cain had killed, slowly coming back to life.
"Good. I finished my student teaching placement last week. My supervisor said I have a real gift for connecting with kids." I start dicing onions, blinking against the sting. "The certification exam is next month. If I pass, I'll be a fully licensed teacher by spring."
"When you pass," Tawny corrects. "No if about it. You've been studying your ass off for months."
"I know. I just... I don't want to jinx it."
"You're not going to jinx it. You're going to crush it." She bumps my shoulder with hers. "And then you're going to get a job at some school, and those kids are going to be lucky as hell to have you."
The confidence in her voice makes my throat tight. Six months ago, I couldn't have imagined anyone believing in me like this. Couldn't have imagined believing in myself.
"Thanks, Tawny."
"Don't thank me. Just make sure you invite me to your first classroom. I want to see all those little rugrats falling in love with books."
I laugh—a real laugh, full and free—and turn back to my onions.
By late afternoon, the clubhouse is transformed.
