Page 37

By fall, he was gone—off to some prep school while I stayed behind and pretended, I hadn’t spent months wondering what I’d done wrong.

I shook off the memory and pushed away from the window.

This move was supposed to be a reset. After everything that happened in Chicago—the lies, the whispers, the headlines —I told myself I needed a clean slate. Cedar Hollow was supposed to be quiet and safe. No drama. No memories. Certainly, no Alex Reed.

And yet here I was, standing next to the ghost I’d tried to forget, all grown up and just as irritatingly magnetic as ever.

I walked into the kitchen, flipped on the light, and took in the space. It was bright, airy, with a window over the sink and painted cabinets that were slightly crooked in that charming, small-town way. It had potential. So did I, I supposed.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Gabe : Did you make it?

I smiled. My brother, ever the worrier.

Me : Made it. Place is cute. Also, minor detail—you didn’t mention ALEX REED LIVES NEXT DOOR.

Three dots blinked, then paused.

Gabe : I thought it might come up naturally.

I stared at the screen.

Me : Naturally?!

Another pause. Then:

Gabe : Try not to murder each other. He’s not so bad once you get past the glowering.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I dropped the phone on the counter, dragged one of the boxes over, and sat on it, arms folded across my chest.

Not so bad?

That man had turned my driveway into a battlefield and my memories into landmines—and I hadn’t even unpacked my toothbrush yet.

And still…Still, there had been something in his eyes.

Recognition. Regret?

Whatever it was, it had no place in my new beginning.

I had just pried open the first box marked KITCHEN – FRAGILE – PLEASE DON’T brEAK , when the doorbell rang.

I froze mid-reach, hands still hovering over a nest of bubble wrap. I wasn’t expecting anyone. The real estate agent was long gone, and my brother knew better than to show up without warning—especially in weather like this.

I crossed the living room and peeked through the window beside the door. A small figure stood on the porch, umbrella-free and completely unfazed by the drizzle. She looked about seven or eight, with dark brown hair tied into two uneven pigtails and rain boots three sizes too big.

I cracked open the door.

“Hi,” she said brightly, holding up a square plastic container like it was an offering to a queen. “I’m Lily. My dad said to bring this over. It’s cookies. Store-bought, but still.”

I blinked. “Cookies?”

She nodded and thrust the container toward me. “He said it’s polite to welcome new people with sugar. Or casseroles, but we didn’t have any, so cookies won.”

I opened the door wider, fighting back a smile. “Well, thank you, Lily. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

She stepped over the threshold like she owned the place and peered around with wide, curious eyes. “You’re the new neighbor, right? Dad said someone was moving in and would probably be loud at first.”

I laughed. “He did, did he?”

She shrugged. “He says people who unpack always drop things. And sometimes swear.”

“I’ll try to keep both to a minimum.”

Her grin was missing a front tooth. “I don’t mind. Swears are just grown-up words with too much power.”

That earned her a real laugh. I took the cookies from her and set them on the counter. “Well, I’m Amelia. Nice to meet you.”

“Like Princess Amelia?” she asked, tipping her head.

“Exactly like that. Except with less tiaras and more cardboard boxes.”

She wandered a few steps into the living room and pointed at the open box. “Do you have any pets?”

“Not yet,” I said, “but I was thinking of getting a cat. One with opinions.”

Lily nodded approvingly. “I like cats. They’re honest.”

She was sharp, this one. The kind of kid who noticed everything, even things you didn’t want her to. There was something wide open about her, like the world hadn’t told her yet to guard herself.

“Do you live next door?” I asked, already knowing the answer but playing along.

“Yep.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Dad’s house. It’s big and quiet and kinda boring unless I’m making pancakes or watching cartoons.”

“Sounds like it could use a fun neighbor.”

“That’s what I said!” she exclaimed. “Dad just grunted.”

I bit back a laugh. That tracks.

She turned in a slow circle, examining my empty bookshelves and still-bare walls. “This place is cute. A little yellow, but it smells like cinnamon and rain. That’s a good sign.”

I leaned on the counter, arms crossed. “Do you evaluate all new neighbors this thoroughly?”

She shrugged again, casual and confident. “Just the ones that matter.”

My heart squeezed. It had been a long time since someone said something like that without expecting anything in return.

“Well,” I said, “I hope I pass inspection.”

Lily gave me a slow, dramatic nod. “You’re good. Just don’t go weird on me.”

“No promises,” I said. “Weird is kind of my thing.”

She beamed. “Same.”

She headed for the door, skipping over the threshold with her oversized boots thudding against the porch. Rain dotted her shoulders, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Bye, Princess Amelia!” she called, hopping down the steps.

I smiled and leaned against the frame, watching as she bounded across the front yard, her laughter trailing behind her like a ribbon.

Something warm fluttered in my chest.

I closed the door gently and turned back to the counter. The cookie container sat there, cheerful and unassuming. I popped the lid, expecting a neat row of chocolate chip cookies straight from the supermarket.

But underneath the top layer, something caught my eye.

A folded sheet of paper, crinkled at the edges. I pulled it free and unfolded it slowly.

It was a drawing. Done in crayon, with bright, uneven lines and heart-shaped clouds floating over stick figures. Three of them—one tall with a mop of black scribbles, one shorter in a blue dress, and one tiny with two crooked ponytails.

Above their heads, in purple letters, was a caption.

“Me + Dad + Ami”

I stared at it.

Ami.

My breath caught.

Lily’s handwriting was unmistakable. The drawing was innocent, sweet. But it landed like a stone in my chest.

Had Alex seen it before she tucked it in? Had he told her to call me that? Or was this something Lily imagined all on her own?

The sound of the rain faded into the background. I stood there, the paper trembling slightly in my hands, heart thudding loud in my ears.

It was just a drawing.

But suddenly, this house didn’t feel so quiet anymore.