Chapter 1
MADELEINE
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
I say love can go to hell. Love—and all the bullshit people keep saying about it.
Relationships are a waste of time. Boys are an even bigger one. I’m seventeen years old, I’ve had two boyfriends, and I already feel like I’ve seen enough.
“Maddy?”
I slowly open my tear-blurred eyes, lifting my head from the car window. Through the watery haze clouding my vision, I make out my mom’s face.
“Want some chips?”
I try to answer, but my voice cracks before I can get a single word out. Instead, I just shake my head and rest my forehead against the cool glass again.
“Oh, sweetheart…” my mom whispers.
She doesn’t say anything else.
She never really knows what to say when a problem can’t be solved with something practical. So she places her hand on my knee for a couple of seconds before quietly pulling it away to change the radio station.
My dad doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“Six months,” he says, like he’s reading tomorrow’s weather forecast. “You’ll see. In six months, you won’t even think about him anymore.”
That’s how he always is.
He measures problems in units of time, as if all you have to do is wait for the timer to go off.
“And besides,” he continues a little too quickly, as though he’s afraid of the silence that’s settled over the car, “these vacation will do you good. Laura can’t wait to see you. She’s already asked me three times what time we’d get here.”
My brother doesn’t even look up from his phone.
“Honestly? Good riddance. That guy was a jerk.”
It’s not meant to be cruel.
That’s just his way of saying he cares—by solving the whole situation in a single sentence before going back to his game.
My older sister doesn’t say a word. She simply rests her head against my shoulder for a brief moment, letting me know she’s here without needing to say it out loud.
I don’t answer any of them.
What’s the point?
None of them can hear the noise inside my chest.
That dull ache left behind by something that shattered without warning.
I slip my earbuds back in and close my eyes.
The opening notes of I Love You by Billie Eilish instantly fill the silence.
Usually, her voice calms me.
Today, it does the exact opposite.
Every lyric tears the wound open again. Every note stirs up another memory I’ve been trying so hard to bury. The tears return before I can stop them, rolling silently down my cheeks before disappearing into the collar of my hoodie.
The drive feels endless.
Then the engine shuts off.
A car door slams.
I slowly open my eyes and wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Once. Then again, as if I could erase more than just the tears. I pull out my earbuds.
The silence that follows feels almost too big.
The car is parked in front of a large house surrounded by an elegant wrought-iron fence. The scent of freshly cut grass lingers in the warm summer air, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the roses lining the stone pathway. It’s the same smell my grandparents’ garden used to have.
The memory catches me off guard.
I quickly shove it back where it belongs—with everything else I’ve been trying not to think about.
In the middle of the lawn, a towering magnolia spreads its broad branches, large enough to cast a cool shadow over nearly half the yard.
“Whoa…” my sister breathes beside me. “This is the place?”
I don’t answer.
I just nod.
It’s easier than trying to form an entire sentence.
Before any of us can even reach the gate, the front door swings open.
A red-haired girl rushes down the porch steps, practically running toward us.
I don’t even need to see her face to know it’s Laura.
She still runs the same way she did as a kid, arms flailing everywhere, like she never quite figured out what to do with them—even now, at fifteen.
“Uncle Finn!”
She throws herself into my dad’s arms before he even has time to close the car door.
Then she turns to us.
The second she sees me, her smile grows even wider.
It’s the exact same smile she wore when we were eight years old—the one in that old photo that’s probably still tucked away somewhere, both of us covered in dirt after spending an entire afternoon trying to build a treehouse that collapsed before sunset.
“Maddy! You’ve changed so much!”
I force a smile.
It hurts.
Just… not as much as I expected.
Behind her, my aunt and uncle step out onto the porch, their arms already open, as though they’d been watching for our car all afternoon.
