"HOWS YOUR HAND?"

Hayden barely blinked at Dr. Morgan's sharp tone, but she felt the way her shoulders tensed slightly.

Sessions with Dr. Morgan were never easy.

They were never supposed to be.

But lately?

They felt damn near impossible.

Because after months—months—of Dr. Morgan chipping away at her walls, getting her to actually open up, actually let herself feel something—

Silver happened.

And suddenly, she was right back to square one.

Right back to locking everything down, to not letting anyone in, to surviving instead of healing.

Hayden exhaled through her nose, flexing her wrapped fingers.

"It's fine."

Dr. Morgan tilted her head, eyes sharp. "You sure? Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look fine."

She hated this part.

The part where Dr. Morgan pretended to be casual but really? She was digging.

Trying to get under her skin.

Trying to make her talk.

Hayden kept her face stoic. Didn't react.

Dr. Morgan sighed, leaning back slightly in her chair. "You know, when we first started, I thought we were getting somewhere."

Hayden shrugged, voice flat. "Guess you thought wrong."

It came out quicker than Hayden meant for it to.

Sharper.

Dr. Morgan just watched her, the way she always did when she was piecing something together.

"No. I think you're scared."

That made something tighten in Hayden's chest.

"I think you were starting to believe things could be different. That you didn't have to live in survival mode forever. But Silver—" Dr. Morgan paused, her gaze unwavering. "He undid all of that, didn't he?"

Hayden stayed silent.

Because yeah.

He did.

She could still feel it. The stone beneath her fists, the blood dripping from her knuckles, the way he smirked when she finally broke.

The way she hated herself for letting him do it.

"Tell me something, Hayden."

Dr. Morgan leaned forward now, elbows on her knees.

"When's the last time you actually let yourself rest?"

Hayden clenched her jaw.

Didn't answer.

Because she didn't have an answer.

And Dr. Morgan knew that.

Knew exactly what she was doing.

"You haven't, have you?" she pressed. "You haven't let yourself stop. Haven't let yourself breathe. Because if you do, what? The nightmares catch up to you? The memories? The part where you actually have to deal with all of it?"

Hayden exhaled sharply, eyes flicking up to the ceiling.

"I'm handling it."

Dr. Morgan's lips twitched slightly, like she was trying not to look too unimpressed. "Are you? Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look like handling. It looks like avoiding."

Hayden's fingernails dug into her palms.

"What do you want me to say?" she muttered, hating how defensive she sounded.

"I want you to tell me the truth."

Hayden let out a slow breath, pressing her lips together.

Dr. Morgan's voice softened slightly, but not enough to back off. "Hayden, you're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to be hurt. He put you through hell. What he did to you—it wasn't training. It was psychological warfare."

Hayden's stomach twisted, but she kept her face blank.

"And what happens when you let yourself admit that?" Dr. Morgan continued, "What happens when you stop pretending you're fine?"

Hayden swallowed hard.

"Then what? What do I do with it?"

Dr. Morgan held her gaze. "Then we deal with it. Together."

Another long pause.

There was that word again. Together. Like she even knew how to be a together.

Like she were reading her mind, she began again. "You have to let people in, Hayden. You can't do everything alone."

Hayden looked away first.

She didn't know how to respond to that.

So she did what she did best.

She avoided.

She deflected.

"Are we done here?"

Dr. Morgan sighed, leaning back in her seat. Not happy, but knowing she wasn't getting more today.

"For now."

But they both knew—

This wasn't over.

—

When Miguel insisted Hayden be there to hear his college essay, she didn't know how to say no to him.

Didn't know how to say that therapy drained her today more than usual.

That Silver had been the main topic of discussion.

And anything having to do with Silver usually took the most out of her.

But Miguel had looked so excited, practically beaming, and when he asked, she didn't have it in her to say no.

So she nodded, forcefully, forcing herself to be present.

Miguel sat a little straighter as he read aloud:

"Not all of us have to learn how to walk twice in one lifetime. But we do all have to learn how to pick ourselves back up when we're down and stand firmly on two feet. In the end, I learned that first steps are harder the second time around. I hope my next step brings me to Stanford University."

As soon as he finished, Carmen practically beamed, gripping Miguel's shoulders with proud, teary eyes.

"I'm so proud! I'm gonna cry!"

"It's brilliant! The greatest story since Don Juan DeMarco!" His Ya-Ya declared in Spanish, sniffling dramatically.

Johnny nodded approvingly. "Go more for the jugular at the end. They'll be begging you to go there."

Miguel chuckled, then turned to Hayden. "Thoughts?"

Hayden stood just behind Robby, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, watching Miguel carefully.

She could see it in his face, the way he was waiting—hoping—for her answer.

Approval from Hayden wasn't something people asked for out loud, but when you got it, it meant something.

She gave a small smile. Real. Genuine.

"It's really good, Miguel. Stanford would be idiots not to let you in."

Miguel's shoulders visibly relaxed.

He wouldn't say it out loud, but he liked hearing that from her.

"Really? You think so?"

She didn't hesitate. "Really." She nodded. "I wouldn't change anything."

Miguel's smile softened, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary.

Then, his gaze flickered over to Robby. "What do you think?"

Robby hadn't said much.

Hadn't moved much either.

Instead, his eyes had been glued to the screen, his face unreadable—except to Hayden.

She caught the way his fingers twitched, the way his shoulders sat heavier than usual.

He mustered a small smile, but Hayden saw through it immediately.

"It's great," he finally said, but his voice was a little quieter. "Even though I'm kinda the bad guy in it."

Miguel's brows lifted, instantly scrolling up the essay. "I can change your name."

"No, no, dude, I'm kidding." Robby waved him off, laughing a little, but his words carried a weight Miguel didn't catch.

"It's not like I'm applying to Stanford. Or anywhere, really."

Hayden's stomach clenched slightly.

Because there it was.

That thing he was thinking. That thing he wasn't saying.

She didn't say anything, but she knew they'd talk about it later.

Before she could process it further, Johnny's voice broke the moment.

"Come on, Robby. You have great futures ahead of you, all three of you."

Hayden blinked.

Johnny had included her.

Without hesitation.

Without her needing to prove herself worthy of it.

And something about that?

Something about being seen—not as a fighter, or a survivor, or just another kid who needed fixing—but as part of something...

It meant something.

Hayden flickered her gaze over to Johnny, and for once, she let herself be grateful for it.

"And when we win the Sekai Taikai, doors will be flying open for all of us," Johnny added, like he was already looking at the champs of the Sekai Taikai.

Miguel grinned, clearly energized by the support, but before he could say anything—

His Ya-Ya launched herself at him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, crying dramatically.

"Hey, hey—easy with the waterworks!" Johnny huffed, but his eyes were warm.

Then—a droplet hit the table.

Then another.

And another.

Slowly, they all looked up.

A dark stain spread across the ceiling, water dripping through the cracks—and then—

A loud crash.

The sewage pipe collapsed and dirty water rained down.

Hayden barely had time to react before Robby's hands found her shoulders, pulling her out of the way instantly.

It was instinct, the way he moved to protect her first.

Miguel grabbed her arm, tugging her toward him, eyes scanning her. "You okay?"

Hayden let out a breath, nodding before gesturing over to the side.

"Robby—the bowls! The bowls!" Miguel pointed toward the kitchen.

Without hesitation, Hayden and Robby took off, grabbing whatever they could to catch the water.

Miguel rushed to help, sliding next to her, their shoulders knocking as they worked.

For a moment, it was chaos.

But Hayden couldn't stop thinking about two things. And she wanted to punch herself in the face for it.

The way Miguel had immediately checked on her first.

And the way Robby had pulled her out of the way without hesitation.

She tried to push those thoughts deep down as she passed more bowls to Miguel and Robby, who were trying their hardest to keep the water from falling all over the place.

They failed.

—

Hayden waited on her bed, feet swinging back and forth as she waited for Robby to get out of the shower.

The smell of clean laundry and lavender body wash filled the room—scents that were too soft for how heavy her mind felt.

Her mom had been fine with them stopping by to wash up after the sewage disaster, especially since Johnny's apartment had one shower and five people fighting for it.

And Hayden didn't mind.

Because it gave her time.

Time to ask what she already knew was weighing on Robby's mind.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Hayden glanced up just in time to see Robby step out, towel draped around his neck, steam curling behind him.

His hair was wet, strands sticking to his forehead, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and the cotton of his borrowed t-shirt clinging slightly to his chest from the residual heat.

It was annoying how good he looked fresh out of the shower.

But she pushed that thought aside.

Because she was here for something else.

"Feel better?" she asked, shifting slightly on the bed as he walked in.

Robby ruffled his hair with the towel, shrugging a little. "Yeah. Not smelling like a sewer is always a plus."

She smirked faintly, but her eyes lingered.

She could still see it—the weight in his shoulders, the way his movements were just a little slower than usual.

"Robby."

He stilled slightly.

She didn't say anything else—just his name.

But she didn't have to say thing else, because like a form of silent communication, he already knew.

A sigh left him as he sat down next to her on the bed, close enough that their knees brushed.

"I don't know what I'm doing after high school."

His voice was quiet, like saying it out loud made it more real.

Hayden turned her body slightly, watching him. "What do you mean?"

Robby exhaled through his nose, rubbing the towel over his damp hair one last time before tossing it aside.

"I mean... Miguel's got Stanford. Sam's got UCLA. Everyone's got something. But me?" He shook his head. "I'm not applying anywhere. I don't even know what I'd apply for."

He glanced at her, eyes uncertain, lost in a way she didn't see often.

"I just... don't know what I want to do with my life."

Hayden let his words settle, her gaze never leaving his.

She understood that feeling better than anyone.

"That doesn't mean you're lost, you know." Her voice was softer now, like she didn't want to scare him out of this moment of honesty.

Robby huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "It kinda feels like it, though."

There was a quiet moment where they just sat there, the sound of the bathroom fan humming in the background, the scent of shampoo still lingering in the air.

Then Hayden reached over—slowly, deliberately—and placed her hand over his.

Not squeezing. Not forcing. Just there.

His fingers twitched slightly beneath hers, but he didn't pull away.

"You don't have to have it all figured out right now." Her voice was steady. Certain.

"Maybe," he muttered, his thumb grazing the edge of her fingers absentmindedly.

There was a tension in the air now—something unspoken pressing between them.

"Whatever you end up doing, whatever you end up becoming... you're gonna be okay, Robby."

He swallowed, his eyes flickering over her face, like he was searching for something.

The way he was looking at her—soft, but intense, like she was something he didn't quite know how to touch—made her stomach feel like it was tied in knots.

Her hand was still over his, and she could feel the warmth of his skin beneath hers, the slow brush of his thumb.

"You really believe that?" he asked, voice low.

Hayden nodded once. "I do."

A beat of silence.

Then—so quiet it was barely there—

"You have more faith in me than I do, then."

Hayden smirked faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm good at rooting for you even if you don't."

They were too close now.

She could see the droplets of water still clinging to his hair, the way his breathing had slowed just slightly, the way his fingers lingered under hers like he was debating whether or not to turn his palm and really hold onto her.

For a second, it felt like something was going to happen.

Like if one of them leaned in even a little bit, they wouldn't stop.

But then—

A floor tile creaked down the hall, under the pressure of someone's weight walking, breaking the moment like a snapped thread.

Hayden pulled her hand away a little too quickly, clearing her throat as Miguel walked in, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"My turn, huh?" he grinned, tossing his towel over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Robby muttered, running a hand through his damp hair, his voice just slightly offbeat.

Hayden's heart was still hammering but she quickly forced herself up, catching Robby off guard.

"Let me show you to the bathroom."

—

Hayden stared down at the stack of pamphlets in her hands, flipping through them absentmindedly.

Santa Cruz. San Diego State. Northridge.

She wasn't planning on attending any of them.

She knew she'd probably never get accepted—not with the way she'd fallen behind, not with everything that had derailed her life the last couple of years.

But it was nice to pretend.

Pretend she had never gotten off track with school.

Pretend her hand was okay and didn't ache every time she so much as curled her fingers.

Pretend she didn't wake up every night, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat from nightmares that still smelled like blood, stone, and Silver's voice in her ear.

Pretending was nice.

Until she remembered her reality.

"You've got a little collection there."

Hayden blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, and turned to see Miguel standing beside her, his usual warm, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

She exhaled, forcing herself to smile back, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she murmured.

Miguel was good at reading her.

Better than she liked, sometimes.

And right now, she could tell he caught it immediately—the sadness in her expression, the weight she was trying to bury beneath nonchalance.

"What's wrong?"

"Nah, nothing. Just... thinking." She shrugged, lowering her gaze. But then her eyes flickered down to his hands and lit up slightly.

"You got a Stanford brochure."

Miguel glanced at it, almost like he had forgotten he was holding it.

"Yeah, I did."

And just like Miguel was good at reading Hayden, Hayden was just as good at reading Miguel.

And something in his voice—hesitant, quieter than usual—made her eyes narrow slightly.

"What's up?"

Miguel exhaled through his nose, shifting the brochure between his fingers.

"I heard my mom and Johnny talking last night. About money."

Hayden's brows furrowed.

"They don't know I was listening, but... I don't think Stanford is realistic." He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the brochure. "It's crazy expensive. I mean, even with scholarships, it's gonna be a lot. And I don't want to put all this pressure on my mom and Johnny, especially now with the baby coming."

Hayden watched him carefully, the way his voice dipped lower, the way his fingers tightened around the paper like it was slipping away from him.

"And that's if I even get in," he added, his laugh short, humorless.

That's what this was, really.

Not just the financial weight.

It was doubt.

The kind that creeps up on you when you're alone, when you start convincing yourself you're not enough, no matter how many people tell you otherwise.

Hayden knew that feeling too well.

She nudged his side, gentle but firm.

"Hey."

Miguel looked at her.

"Stop." Her voice was calm, steady in a way that didn't leave room for argument.

"Stanford is your dream, Miguel. And yeah, it's expensive. And yeah, it's terrifying. But you can't psych yourself out before you even know what's gonna happen."

Miguel exhaled, eyes flickering over her face. Listening. Processing.

She held his gaze.

"You're gonna get in," she said, like it was a fact, not a possibility.

"You don't know that," he murmured.

"I do," she countered immediately, tilting her head slightly. "I have no doubt in my mind."

Miguel huffed a small chuckle. "Why is that?"

"Because you're the smartest person I know."

"Really?"

She shrugged, "Eh. You're a better learner than fighter, so."

That made him laugh—really laugh—his head tilting back slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

And Hayden just watched him, taking in the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his dimples deepened, the way he always managed to make her stomach feel lighter, even on the worst days.

Miguel shook his head, gaze lingering on her now.

"Couldn't just give the compliment, could you?"

Hayden smirked slightly. "Wouldn't be me if it did."

There was a beat of silence.

The kind that felt different.

The kind that made the air shift, charged with something unspoken.

Miguel was still looking at her, something unreadable in his eyes.

"Hey!" A voice in the distance tore into their moment.

Miguel blinked, snapping out of it, his head jerking toward the sound.

Hayden exhaled, forcing herself to lean back, putting space between them.

Before Eli and Hawk got any closer, Miguel turned to her.

"Thanks," he said softly.

Hayden shrugged, but her heart was still hammering in her chest.

"All of our trials and tribulations of nerdom have finally come to this. We're the belles of the ball." Demetri smirked, his gaze around the group.

"Is that what we are?" Miguel asked in amusement, meeting Hayden's gaze full of humor.

"Oh, yes, my friend. They are fumbling around our dresses trying to cop a feel of our tantalizing brains."

Hayden made a face at the sound of an indirect innuendo. "Demetri, your thoughts are disturbing and I'm walking away now."

The boy's chuckled, all saying their byes to her. She placed a hand on Miguel's arm before she left, though. "Don't forget what I said, okay?" Her voice was low and soft, something that caught Miguel off guard.

Hearing the softness and sincerity in Hayden's voice was rare, and hard to get out of her.

The side of her where she allows herself to feel. To be vulnerable freely. Without feeling the fear of betrayal, insecurity, or doubt seep into her brain second by second.

It was a side he wanted her to know was okay to come out of around him. To know that he wanted to stay around for as long as she'd allow him to be.

But Hayden was working that part out. The part where she was allowed to just be. That getting close to someone didn't have to be bad.

That she was enough without basing it off someone's presence or absence in her life.

That she was enough without the validation from a person or a trophy.

That she was enough.

—

Hayden didn't consider herself a sappy person.

She didn't take anyone's word for anything, because hadn't learned the art of truly trusting anyone yet.

But when Logan had promised to be there in the morning, taking pictures, embarrassing her with some big sister speech before she left for her first day of senior year and then didn't show up?

It stung a little.

And maybe it was nothing, maybe she just got caught up with work, but Hayden couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Hayden knocked on the door, shifting her weight slightly as she waited.

The door finally cracked open, and Logan stood there, blinking like she had just woken up.

"Hey," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

Her hair was a little damp, like she had just stepped out of the shower, and there was a faint lingering warmth in the apartment behind her, despite the cool air outside.

Hayden didn't think twice about it.

"You good?" she asked, stepping inside when Logan moved aside.

"Yeah, just—busy day." Logan waved a hand vaguely.

The place looked mostly normal. A couple of dishes in the sink, a half-empty glass on the coffee table, her hoodie thrown over the back of a chair.

Hayden sat down, adjusting her bag on her lap. "You didn't answer my texts."

"Phone died," Logan said easily, plopping down next to her.

Hayden nodded, accepting it.

"So," Logan nudged her knee. "First day of senior year. Big deal."

Hayden shrugged. "Not really."

"No dramatic moments? Life-changing epiphanies?"

"Nope."

Logan huffed a laugh, but it was soft, a little distracted.

Her knee bounced once, just for a second, before she stilled it.

Hayden glanced at her, about to say something, but Logan beat her to it. Like she already knew she was going to try and press for more information.

"Work's been a lot lately," she murmured, stretching her arms behind her head. "Haven't been sleeping much."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But I'm fine." Logan shot her a lopsided grin, nudging her again. "You don't have to worry about me, kid."

Hayden leaned back against the couch, letting her bag slide to the floor beside her.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Logan again.

Logan scoffed, shaking her head. "Since when did you start worrying so much?"

"Since you started breaking promises." Hayden's voice was even, but there was an edge to it. Not angry, just... concerned.

Logan exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Look, I didn't mean to flake, okay? I just... overslept. Work's been kicking my ass, and I crashed harder than I thought I would."

Hayden studied her for a second, searching her face.

Logan looked fine.

So she let it go.

For now.

"Fine," she finally muttered, letting it drop.

Logan smirked slightly, nudging her shoulder. "So? How was it? Senior year. Big deal."

Hayden rolled her eyes. "It was school, Logan. Same as always."

"No big fights? No karate rivalries? No dramatic hallway showdowns?" Logan teased, arching a brow.

"Surprisingly, no." Hayden smirked faintly. "Not yet, anyway."

Logan chuckled, shaking her head. "Guess there's still time."

Hayden huffed a small laugh, but the moment settled into something quieter after that.

Logan stretched her arms over her head, sighing. "It's weird, huh?"

"What is?"

"That you're almost done. That in a few months, you're gonna graduate, and then... that's it."

Hayden blinked at that, because she hadn't really thought about it like that.

Graduation always felt like some far-off thing, something other people did.

Not her.

But Logan was right.

"Yeah," she muttered. "It is weird."

Logan smiled, but it was smaller now, almost like something about it stung.

"Guess I should start figuring out what I'm gonna do next, huh?" Hayden added lightly, trying to make a joke out of it.

Logan didn't respond right away.

Then, finally—

"You will."

Hayden turned to look at her.

Logan wasn't smirking anymore, wasn't teasing. Just looking at her with something softer, something almost sad.

Like she wanted to believe it for both of them.

And for a second, Hayden felt that weird gut feeling again, something she couldn't quite place.

But before she could think too much about it, Logan stretched again, forcing the lightness back into her voice.

"Anyway, you eating? I've got, like, half a frozen pizza I could throw in the oven."

Hayden chuckled slightly. "Yeah, okay."

Logan grinned, pushing herself off the couch. "Come on. You can tell me all about the new guy Sam's got heart eyes for while I burn our dinner."

Hayden rolled her eyes but followed her into the kitchen anyway.

And just like that, whatever weird feeling had crept in before slipped away again.

The conversation carried. Hayden told Logan about Darius, and the Golf N Stuff incident. Told her about the Sekai Taikai and how it's a big deal in karate.

There was one thing, though. On the tip of her tongue.

Something that had been bothering her more than she'd like to admit.

Something she couldn't admit. To Dr. Morgan. To Robby. To Miguel. To her mom.

But, sitting here, in silence, her big sister across from her, someone who's been the closest thing to a mother figure, and a protective figure in her life, it made her spill.

Because Hayden's mind wasn't here.

It was in the dojo. Back in that empty space. Back in the nightmares she couldn't seem to wake up from fast enough.

"I haven't been sleeping."

She hadn't meant to say it.

Hadn't meant to let it slip.

But when Logan looked at her—really looked at her, like she could see through all the bullshit—Hayden knew she couldn't take it back.

"Like... at all?" Logan asked, watching her closely.

Hayden exhaled, shaking her head. "Barely."

She thought about stopping there. Thought about brushing it off, making some excuse.

Because that's what she always did.

It was easier that way, not letting anyone see the vulnerability. They couldn't weaponize it against her that way. Couldn't use her weaknesses against her.

But she heard Dr. Morgan's voice in her head, that same damn advice she always ignored.

"You have to let people in, Hayden. You can't do everything alone."

And Logan was right here. She was her big sister.

The person who was supposed to be there for her. The person Hayden had spent years learning how to live without, even when all she ever wanted was for Logan to be there again.

So she made herself continue.

"The nightmares. They won't stop."

Logan didn't cut in. Didn't tell her it was normal or it would go away eventually.

She just listened.

So Hayden kept going.

"It's always the same," she murmured, watching her own fingers tense against the can in front of her. "I'm back at the dojo. But it's empty. Just me. And the stone."

The memory was so sharp, so clear, it made her fingers ache just thinking about it.

"Silver's there, but I can't see him. I can only hear him."

She could still hear him now, if she let herself.

"He keeps telling me to break it. Over and over. And no matter how hard I hit it, the stone never cracks. It just keeps going."

She swallowed, the words sitting heavy in her chest.

"And then I wake up."

The moment the words left her mouth, she almost regretted them. Because what if Logan didn't get it? What if she brushed it off, the way so many people had before?

But Logan remained quiet. Not in a she didn't know what to say way, but in a she actually understood way.

And then—

"Yeah," Logan murmured, softly, knowingly. "I know that one."

Hayden's eyes snapped up to her.

"Not exactly like that," Logan admitted, more serious now, "but I've had my share of sleep deprivation."

And that was what made something inside Hayden finally shift. Because Logan wasn't trying to fix it. She wasn't pretending she had the perfect advice or telling her to just get over it.

She understood.

Not in a therapist way. Not in a I heard what happened to you way. But in a this is what surviving looks like way.

And Hayden wasn't used to that. She wasn't used to not being the only one carrying it.

"Have you told anyone else?" Logan asked after a moment.

Hayden hesitated. Then, slowly, she shook her head. Because what was the point? People always acted like they cared, but they never really listened.

Hayden sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Dr. Morgan— she knows a little bit." She scoffed lightly. "But I don't really see a point in telling anyone. So they can look at me like I'm weak or pathetic?"

"No." Logan's voice was firmer now, but still gentle. "So someone else can help you carry it."

Hayden froze, something tight forming in her chest.

Because she wasn't used to this.

She wasn't used to not doing everything alone—to not being the strong one, the guarded one, the one who never asked for help.

Because letting people in meant they could leave. Letting people in meant they could hurt you.

But looking at Logan—her big sister, the person who was supposed to be there—all she could think about was how badly she wanted to believe that was true.

That maybe she didn't have to do this alone.

"How do you do it?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Logan let out a slow breath. "Some days, I don't."

Hayden frowned slightly.

Logan just sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"But on the days I do?" she continued. "I remind myself I don't have to do it alone."

Her thumb brushed over the fabric of Hayden's hoodie, a small, grounding gesture—steady, warm, safe.

"And neither do you."

Hayden swallowed, staring at her hands.

She wanted to believe that.

She needed to believe that.

So, finally, she nodded.

And maybe it wasn't an instant fix.

Maybe she didn't know how to just let people in overnight.

But this—starting with Logan, letting her be here, letting herself lean on her even a little bit—

This was enough.

She'd missed her big sister.

So she let herself delve into her warmth, even if it was just for the night.

authors note.
i'm trying to get chapters out as fast as i can but also i don't want to rush it? like i want the chapters to be organic and like genuine? i don't wanna rush hayden's growth or the little details i wanna add just to get chapters out as fast as i can like that doesn't make sense to me
so i will try to write as fast as possible while still keeping the integrity of the book :)
also, thoughts guys?