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What?

A gift bag appears in her hands. “Before everyone gets here, this is for you.”

Brows pinched, I reach into the bag, pulling a small frame out that sends emotion shooting through me so fast I go dizzy. It’s me, nearly twenty years ago, in a hospital gown with a baby in my arms. Me the day I had Blue; the only picture that exists of us together. I look at her, her eyes wet as she smiles. I can’t speak.

“There’s one more,” she says.

I reach in, feeling something bigger. It’s a canvas. A large photograph of the lake, cut in half with a band of light. Across its entirety, a murmuration of starlings form a breathtaking shape as they fly across it. It’s stunning.

“It was Ford’s idea,” she fills in. “Again.”

In my belly, every wing in the photo flaps.

“What’s going on, Joo?” I whisper with a sniff.

“We’re filling your walls, and Ford’s . . .” She looks through the wall of windows to the flat-watered lake. “Sweeping you off your feet.”

Before I can argue or demand more information, she gives me a quick hug then turns to the kitchen and claps her hands. “This is going to be so fun!”

I don’t move—I can’t.

The door swings open and in walks Wren, smiling wide, another bag in her hand. “June, Dad’s outside—hey, Scotty.”

“Wren?” She shouldn’t be here.

Wren sets the bag on the counter which June immediately digs through, then steps next to me and hands me a frame. Her and I fill it with the picture she took for the homecoming slideshow, both of us smiling post-pumpkin stabbing.

I don’t know what’s going on or why she’s here, but when she gives me a slight shrug, I wrap my arms around her.

And then, I cry.

Forty-Nine

Thetriangleinthewoods is pure pandemonium. June, Lyra, and Wren buzz around the kitchen, shuffling pans in and out of the oven and around burners of the stove. Every outlet has a crockpot plugged into it.

I try to help, but since I might be in shock, I opt to stand in the way.

A muffled shout from outside grabs my attention. There, a literal team of boys is unloading folding chairs and tables from the back of Camp’s truck as Ford and Camp stand off to the side directing the boys around the yard.

Ford smiles and waves like this isn’t at all shocking. Like I have a damn clue as to what’s happening.

“So,” June says, stepping next to me on the porch. “There are people coming.”

“No shit, people are coming. Why is my yard covered in teenage boys?”

“They’re helping.” She smiles with all her teeth before disappearing.

Four long tables get set up in the yard, surrounded by metal folding chairs, and two more tables go on the porch, which immediately get filled with crockpots that are plugged into extension cords. Off to the side, one lone table.

Ford strolls over to me. “Hi.”

Despite how handsome he looks in his dark jacket and subtle layer of scruff on his jaw, I scowl. “What the hell?”

His lips twitch then he leans in to kiss me. “I love you, Scotty, but you’re stubborn as hell.” He kisses me again. “I told you I’m not letting you push me away.”

All I can manage: “Doubt that.”

He chuckles, kisses me again. “Mm. I’ve missed you.” And again. “And I can tell you have too by the way you’re gripping on to my shirt.”