Page 80 of Dream Chaser
Silence spreads like a fog, and even though I was not prepared for girls’ night to start at eight in the morning, London,Ava, and Harper are moms, and if they have two hours, I’m gonna give them two hours.
So, I stand up, stretch my arms overhead, and try to pretend like my brain isn’t a mash of overheard threats, unspoken history, and whatever the hell that thing in my chest is—emotional indigestion maybe.
Then I spot it.
The takeout bag from the brewery, still sitting where I shoved it hastily into the trash.
Shit.
Before anyone else notices, I blurt, “I’m gonna head downstairs and grab some firewood.”
Lo blinks. “You’re starting a fire?”
“Well, I’m going to take out the trash, too.”
Riley tilts her head. “You just sat down.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m standing. Look at that, basic kinetic energy.” I scoop up the trash bag, praying no one has x-ray vision and can see the evidence of a late-night Skinner snack attack—two burgers with magic sauce and an extra-large pickle, whose name I haven’t quite nailed down.
“You good?” Lexi asks as I near the door.
“Yup. Great. Living the dream.” I slam the door behind me before they can ask anything else and head downstairs like a woman on a mission.
A mission to hide my feelings.
And a takeout bag that smells like “boy.”
After finding the bundles of starter logs Dad told me were in one of the old recycle bins, I shoot them a text.
Me:
Had planned on coming up, but Ava, London, Harper, Riley, Syd, Mags, and Lexi stopped in. I’ll try to swing up later.
Dad & Mom:
Lexi leaves to head back in two days. Enjoy.
Me:
Love you guys.
I shove my phone in my pocket, heft up the Jake Ross starter bundle that, yes, includes a sachet for easy starter, and head back up.
“All right, ladies. We’ve got two hours before the moms turn back into pumpkins or, more accurately, PTA officers and snack dealers. Let’s make it count.”
Ava raises her Knights travel mug like it’s tequila. “Girls’ night, day edition.”
And just like that, the spell breaks.
Lexi’s spread out a vintage quilt over the living room floor because, apparently, it’s not a real girls’ gathering unless you’re sitting on something she calls “intentional texture.” Mags brings over an actual cooler filled with homemade breakfast burritos, labeled in Sharpie like some kind of fairy brunch godmother—veggie, bacon + egg, spicy mystery. London’s contribution? A full thermos of hazelnut coffee and those tiny, flavored creamers she hoards like a dragon. Harper and Ava, not to be outdone, showed up with a grocery bag packed with cut fruit, bagels, and—because they are who they are—individually labeled containers of homemade housewarming snacks.
“No champagne?” Ava deadpans as she sets down her stash.
“You’re literally picking up your kids in an hour,” I point out.
“I said what I said,” she mutters, but grabs a burrito instead.
Syd pulls a stack of old magazines from a tote bag like she’s about to cast a spell. “Okay, so listen. If we’re gonna eat burritos on the floor like goddesses, we areabsolutelymaking a mood board for your new place.” She then rifles through the cooler like it’s Black Friday. “If there’s not a spicy one left, I swear I will tackle one of you.”
