Page 81 of Dream Chaser
I groan. “You guys?—”
Lexi cuts me off, already uncapping a glitter pen. “Nope. You live here now. That means we get to project all our cozy-core, earthy chic, moody-bookstore-meets-tough-farm-babe fantasies onto your walls.”
Riley leans back on one arm and fans herself. “I want a candle named that. Smoking Farm Babe.”
Lo perches on a pillow that magically appeared from who knows where and flips through a catalog someone brought for mood board inspiration. “Are we making vision boards or talking shit?”
“Why not both?” Lexi quips, holding up a glue stick like a weapon.
Ava spreads a blank poster board on the floor like a general preparing for battle. “Everyone, rip out anything that screamsIzzy Ross,but make it legendary.”
Mags shoves half a burrito in her mouth and says through a chew, “I swear if one of you puts a ‘Live Laugh Love’ in here, I will start swinging. But also, this is a safe space. Say what you want, with Sharpies and a glitter pen.”
Within seconds, the floor’s covered in magazine clippings, scribbled phrases, coffee rings, and burrito wrappers. Wile sniffs a ripped page with a rustic wood stove and plunks his paw right on it.
“Well, the editor has spoken.” Harper laughs. “Add that to the ‘must-have’ list.”
London’s cutting out a picture of a reading nook made of reclaimed wood and velvet. “You need something like this in the corner. Throw blankets that look like they were knit by woodland fairies.”
Ava’s on it, snipping out a clean, minimal fireplace set beneath a brick wall and writing “Justice HQ” beneath it with a smirk.
“I think I found your color palette,” Lo says, holding up a page with warm neutrals, burnt orange, and slate blue. “It’s giving ‘late October hike followed by whiskey and secrets.’”
“Holy crap, yes,” Syd says, adding a torn-out quote in swoopy calligraphy: “Let the space tell your story.”
“Where’s the part where she occasionally has hot, possibly shirtless guests?” Mags winks and pastes a black-and-white photo of some rugged lumberjack-looking dude holding a puppy.
“You’re all insane,” I say, but I don’t stop them.
Lexi draws a mini dumbwaiter in the corner of the board with a speech bubble: “Customized Accessibility Solution, bitch.”
We all laugh for what might seem like too long, but it’s exactly what we need.
We blast a playlist of throwback girl anthems—no Taylor, because Lexi insists we’re “not in a crying-on-the-floor kind of mood today.” There’s laughter, fake-deep advice, actual deep advice, and a whole debate over whether high-waisted jeans are a blessing or a prison.
Wile trots around like he’s the king of the floor picnic, eventually curling up beside Riley, who pets him absentmindedly while explaining baby names she’s banned “her Hart” from suggesting again.
When it’s done, we all sit back and stare at the masterpiece. The board is a little chaotic, somewhat messy, but strangely perfect. It’s me, my life, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
London hands it to me. “Your space is amazing, Izzy. Let it be everything you want.”
I blink, a little overwhelmed by the whole thing, and that’s when Lexi leans her head on my shoulder and whispers, “Don’t worry; we’ll still judge your love for thrifting, but we’ll do it a little more quietly.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
In the blink of an eye, the moms are gone, and Lexi and Mags are going their own way; Mags to school—she skipped two classes—and Lexi to spend time with her parents, Brody and Emma, Maddox—her brother—and her nieces and nephews.
We all plan to meet at seven, share a meal, and watch some TV … which means I need to get one.
My quiet reflective moment is that—just a moment—when my phone chimes
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
I look at the screen.
Thigh Whisperer.
I sigh. I shouldn’t open it, but of course I do.
