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I glare at the black-and-white photo of my tits on the wall in front of me and inwardly curse my lack of shame. The moment I open my door, Daisy’s going to get an eyeful of my body whether she wants to or not. Talk about overstepping boundaries.

“We can talk in the living room,” I suggest.

“I don’t mind talking in your room. Unless that’s a boundary?”

I roll my lips together. “No. It’s not a boundary.”

Cracking the door open a few inches, I’m greeted with a soft-featured Daisy. She’s still in her sweat shorts and baggy shirt,but the way they hang off her is nice, easy. I’m used to seeing blue eyes reflected in mirrors and windows, but there’s something about hers that are intriguing. Bright without being blinding and soft without losing all their edge.

“Actually, do you want to go out? Get out of here for a little while?” she asks, a nervous flutter in the words.

“To do what?”

“I’ve got to bring my supplies over to the school and start getting my room set up. It’s a bit last-minute, but I’ve been kind of . . . procrastinating it. New job nerves and all that. I could use the support, if you were up for a bit of a field trip?”

If it means we can get out of this room before she can get a good look inside, then yes. “I need to shower first.”

“Totally fine! I’ll get everything together and wait,” she rushes out, her soft smile growing into one that makes me glad I didn’t turn her down.

My stomach feels tight when she grips the doorframe and her sunbeams threaten to spill into my room.

“See you soon!” she squeaks.

I watch her leave and, a beat later, listen as her bedroom door clicks shut. It takes me a minute to gather myself enough to shower and get dressed, but once I’m finished, I put my hair up and slip on my boots.

Time to myself has dulled my nerves, leaving me cool and collected once again. Back to the person I’ve always been.

Wiggling the silver belt buckle at the front of my straight-cut jeans, I let out a slow, controlled breath at the familiarity of my outfit. The bleached black Linkin Park band tee is comfortable and couldn’t be further from the frilly, white blouse I’m forced to wear during the week.

Daisy’s already waiting in the living room when I get there. The two blue tubs that were in the corner of her bedroom are by the door, overflowing with school supplies and thick paper shapes that I assume are supposed to get hung on the classroom walls.

“Ready?” I ask, snatching my keys and wallet from the coffee table.

She jumps to her feet and reaches for the first tub before lifting it into her arms and starting toward the door. “Ready.”

I move past her and hold it open for her to walk through before unlocking my car and grabbing the second tub. She’s just set hers down on the street when I drop mine beside it, and then we shove them into the car.

Luckily, it’s only a three-minute drive from my place to the school, and we’re not suffocating in awkward for silence for too long.

“Before my interview, I hadn’t been back here for years,” she says once we’ve started our walk toward the front of the building.

“I’ve come with Darren a few times. For Abbie.”

Her first Christmas recital was . . . surprisingly well put together. For a bunch of five-year-olds, they followed their choreography to a T and hardly missed a lyric of “Jingle Bells.”

“That’s right. She’s going into first grade now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll get to teach her next year.”

“You’re planning on staying in Cherry Peak?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Daisy balances her tub on her knee in order to scan her pass to get into the school and pull open the door once it unlocks.

“I would like to. My family is here, and I won’t tell Johnny this, but being away from him was the hardest out of everyone and everything. It’s absolutely a twin thing, but he’ll get arrogant about it.”

The hem of her long cardigan brushes my thigh when I follow her inside and adjust the tub in my arms. Our fashion senses couldn’t be more opposite. I’ve never worn a cardigan in my life, let alone a thick wool one that reaches my ankles or heeled booties with zipper charms. I’ve always preferredsomething made from jean material, T-shirts, and cowboy boots. Easy and simple.