“Uh oh,” Lila murmurs, locking her phone and turning toward me. “I know that look. Spit it out.” She wraps the blanket around us both and pulls me in close, the motion smooth and instinctive—muscle memory from years of midnight confessions and bad nights. I let myself sink into her, exhaling for what feels like the first time since the nightmare.
“I think… I remembered something,” I say carefully, my voice barely above a whisper.
Lila doesn’t push. She never does. She just nods once, slow and steady. “Do you want to talk…or do you want to breathe?”
I close my eyes and press my forehead to her shoulder. “Can I just exist for a minute?” I whisper.
“Yeah,” she says instantly, no hesitation. “You can do that here.” We stay like that for a while, the house is quiet around us. Dawn is still a rumor behind the windows. Whatever came back to me doesn’t have words yet. But I know one thing for sure: I wasn’t alone down there.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my voice low. “You can’t tell him.”
Lila doesn’t hesitate. Not even a blink. “Okay.”
“I don’t even know what it means yet,” I add softly. “I don’t have words. Just… pieces.”
“That’s fine,” she says gently, pulling me closer. “The pieces are still yours.”
I let out a shaky breath and nod, my hands twisting tightly into the blanket. “If I say it out loud too soon…it’ll turn real.”
Lila bumps her forehead gently against mine. “It already is,” she whispers. “Saying it just makes it louder.”
I huff a weak laugh. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“Years of practice keeping you alive,” she giggles softly. “I’ve got range.” Silence settles again. Not awkward. Just guarded. The kind that holds rather than presses. “Did it feel bad?” she asks finally.
“It felt…old.” Lila’s arm tightens around me as the words come out.
I rest my head back on her shoulder, eyes drifting shut. The house creaks somewhere down the hall. Sterling shifts in his sleep, unaware. For now, it stays here—between the girl who knows how to hold secrets without letting them rot.
We don’t go back to sleep. Instead, we stay wrapped in the blanket. Whatever came loose in my head tucks itself in a quiet corner, not gone, but content. Eventually, Lila nudges my knee with hers. “If we stay here too long, Cam’s going to burn something.” That earns a weak smile from me.
We slide out of bed together and move quietly down the hall, still respecting the hush of the morning as dawn creeps in through thewindows. The kitchen is already awake. Cam stands at the stove, hair a mess, jaw tight, flipping something aggressively in a pan. Sterling leans against the counter with a mug in his hand, watching him like this is prime entertainment instead of breakfast. “Here we are,” Lila announces brightly. “Alive. Functioning…mostly.”
I grab a mug and pour myself coffee without asking. No one comments. The silence feels intentional. Sterling’s eyes flick to me—quick and searching—but he doesn’t say anything. “Sleep help?” he asks lightly.
I shrug, staring into my coffee. “Didn’t sleep. But I feel,” I pause, searching for the right word, “steadier.”
Cam snorts from the stove. “That’s not how science works.”
“Shut up,” Lila says immediately, shooting Cam a look. “She’s doing great.”
I lean against the counter, letting the warmth from the mug seep into my hands, grounding me in the present. The house hums softly around us. Normal sounds. Normal chaos. For now, that’s enough. Whatever I remembered can wait. Breakfast comes first.
Cam slides a plate onto the counter with more force than necessary. Eggs, slightly burnt toast, and something that might have once been bacon. “If anyone complains,” he says flatly, “you’re on dish duty for a week.”
Lila squints at the plate, tilting her head. “Is this… breakfast or a cry for help?”
“It’s protein,” Cam deadpans, sliding the plate closer. “And survival.”
I snort before I can stop myself. Sterling’s mouth twitches like he’s been waiting for that exact reaction. Lila grabs a fork and immediately starts stealing food off Cam’s plate. “You’re tense,” she observes, not even looking up. “Which means either you didn’t sleep or you did and hated it.”
Cam glares at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. You were in my bed for six hours, and now you’re a licensed therapist? Please, continue psychoanalyzing me. I’m dying to hear your diagnosis, Dr. Fallon.”
“Six hours?” Lila gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s been mortally wounded. “Wow. We’re basically in love. Should I start planning the wedding, or are we eloping to Vegas?”
He points the spatula at her like it’s a loaded weapon. “Eat. Quietly.”
Sterling leans over. His voice is a low murmur against my ear. “This is better than cable.”
