2
The shower helped—but only enough.
The hot water beat against Becca’s shoulders, steam fogging the glass as she stood there longer than necessary, letting it run until her skin warmed and her thoughts slowed. The night still sat heavy in her chest, like something unfinished.
By the time she stepped out, towel wrapped tight, the house was quiet again. Safe. Familiar.
She brushed her teeth, watching her reflection—eyes a little tired, a little guarded. Her hair fell in damp waves down her back as she dragged a brush through it, movements automatic. This was the part she knew how to do. Get ready. Keepmoving. Don’t linger.
She dressed simply. Black, as usual. Pulled her laptop into her bag, grabbed her keys, and stood for a moment at the door with her coffee in hand.
Stepping outside meant facing it all.
The looks.
The whispers.
The mess Izzy had left behind.
She exhaled and opened the door.
Cold air rushed in, sharp and clean. It had snowed hard overnight—the kind of storm that covered everything, like the world had been reset without asking permission. Her driveway was blanketed in white, trees heavy with snow, the sky still pale and quiet.
And then she saw them.
Lilies.
Resting near the steps, untouched by the snow, was another small bundle tied neatly together.
Blue.
Her breath caught.
Not white. Not red.
Blue.
Her favorite color.
A color she wore often—jackets, ink, shadows in her tattoos—but never talked about. No one had ever noticed. Not really. Not enough to remember it.
Not even Izzy.
Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup as she crouched down, lifting the flowers carefully, as if they might disappear if she moved too fast. They were real. Cold from the air. Beautiful in a way that made her chest ache.
Who would know?
Her eyes flicked down the driveway, to the trees, the road beyond—but there was nothing. Just snow and silence.
She went back inside, setting the blue lilies beside the first set on her coffee table. For a moment, she stood there, staring at them together. White and blue. Calm and question.
Then she shook it off.
Later.
She grabbed her keys, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the car.
Work didn’t wait.
