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The old second-story farmhouse I shared with my brother greeted me as I sprinted the last stretch of our driveway as fast as I could, arriving at the worn front steps of our wrap-around porch.

I keeled over, bracing my hands on my thighs to breathe through the ache in my lungs, right as the screen door kicked open, followed by the sound of my brother’s footsteps.

Hunter laughed at my condition, patting my back as he passed me. “Good run?”

I straightened, stretching my neck from side to side, trying not to wheeze through my words. “Horrible, per usual.”

He laughed again, smoothing his hand down the front of his uniform, subconsciously making sure it was wrinkle-free. He looked impressive in The Guard’s standard camouflage. His tan combat boots laced tight. Blond hair buzzed short.

Envy soured my gut. “Heading to base?”

Hunter paused, so quickly I almost missed the sadness in his blue eyes, before he stepped down the stairs. “Yeah, figured I’d get a jumpstart on the day before the recruits arrive.” He turned toward me, considering his next words. “Everyone’s been asking about you . . . We’re all wondering when you’re coming back . . .”

I forced my body to remain still, not wanting him to see how deeply his words affected me. This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have right now, or ever. If I was being honest with myself, I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and live there for a long while.

“Bryn . . . come on, we need to talk about this. We’re all just worried about y⁠—”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped.

He winced, as if I’d struck him.

It made me feel sick. “I’m sorry . . . I know you’re just trying to help. I just don’t want to get into it right now, okay?”

I’m not myself right now. I’m barely surviving.

Hunter held up his hands in a lighthearted surrender, his smile nervous. “Just know I’m here, we’re all here, if you need anything.”

I nodded, silently thanking him as I opened the screen door and waved goodbye.

One day I would be able to talk to him about everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time. But not today.

Before I could close the door, Hunter called from where he stood in the driveway by his truck. “Don’t forget your session with Dr. Mallory this afternoon. The Guard’s mandate, Bryn. They’re not going to let you get away with missing another one.”

I ignored him, shutting the door firmly.

The thought of sitting in a therapy session brought back all the tension I had tried so hard to loosen during my run.

I closed my eyes, breathing through the tightness building in my chest.

A memory came so quickly, I didn’t have time to stop it.

Hands held me beneath the surface as I struggled to come up for air.

I knew these hands.

Trusted these hands.

I tried to fight, kicking out.

I tried to scream, but there was water everywhere.

I was overwhelmed by it as it clogged my nose.

As it filled my throat⁠—

I ran to the bathroom and reality rushed in as the memory faded. My knees hit the tiled floor just in time before vomit sprayed against the back of the ceramic bowl of the toilet.

But it wasn’t over yet.