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“You’re a good girl,” I murmur, scratching behind her ears. “The best girl.”

After filling her water bowl and checking her food, I grab her leash from the hook by the door. Sunshine perks up immediately, her ears flicking forward.

“Feel like a walk?”

She sits patiently as I clip the leash to her collar, her tail wagging in anticipation.

The night air is cool against my face as we step onto the beach, the sand soft and shifting beneath my boots. Sunshine trots beside me, her leash slack, her nose twitching at the breeze. The ocean is calm tonight, the waves lapping gently against theshore, and for a moment, I let myself pretend that everything is okay. That I’m not broken. That I don’t spend half my life wondering why I made it home when others didn’t.

“Be the best of yourself,” I mutter, glancing down at Sunshine. “Can you believe he said that?”

She tilts her head like she’s listening, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”

But the thing is, maybe Garrett’s right. Maybe I do need to do something—anything—to shake myself out of this funk. Uncle Lucas has been pushing me to take a class or join a group or, God help me, try yoga like Doc Eddington suggested.

Maybe it’s time I actually listened to the people who know what they’re talking about.

“Whaddaya think, girl?” I ask, scratching behind Sunshine’s ears. “Should I give it a shot?”

Her only response is a happy bark, her tail wagging as she looks up at me.

I exhale, long and slow, as we turn back toward the house. It’s not much, but it’s something. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

SEVENTEEN

Charlie

“All righty! I’m off to work!” I swipe my water bottle off the counter and stuff it into my bag.

“You know you didn’t have to take this job,” Garrett grumbles into his coffee, his voice heavy with early-morning exhaustion. “You don’t owe us anything. Benefits of having a wealthy older brother.”

I press a kiss into the top of his head, ruffling his hair the way I did when I was a kid. “You know I love you for that, Bear. I really do. But I’m a fully realized adult, and I need to support myself. Besides, you know me, if I don’t have something to do, I’ll drive myself crazy. Probably take you and Angela along with me. Terrier energy.” I wiggle my fingers for emphasis.

Garrett groans. “Do you have to keep calling me that?”

“Bear? Of course I do. You hated it when I was five, you hate it now, and that only makes it more satisfying.” I grin, grabbing my keys.

Angela stumbles into the kitchen with Elise on her hip and two cats twining around her legs. Her red hair is a mess, and thebags under her eyes suggest Elise has once again waged war on bedtime. I squish the little one’s cheeks and give Angela a quick hug.

“You know you didn’t have to take this job,” she mumbles, looking up in question when Garrett huffs a good-natured laugh.

“That seems to be the consensus,” I reply.

“We could have found a class for you to teach at The Hut. Our guests love our yoga program.”

“It’s a sweet offer, but you two have given me enough already. My life blew up because of my decisions. It’s on me to put it back together. Now, wish me luck!” I call, and the exhausted couple murmurs something vaguely resembling words.

It’s a glorious Saturday morning. The sky is a brilliant blue, the air crisp and invigorating, with just enough warmth to promise a gorgeous day. On my way to the yoga studio, the sun filters through the palm trees, casting playful shadows across the road. I roll down the windows, letting the breeze whip my hair into chaos. My playlist shuffles through my favorites, and every traffic light turns green. One of those days. The kind that feels charmed before it even begins.

The studio sits nestled between a flower shop and a boutique café, with a coffee shop a few doors down, its facade simple and inviting. A bright teal door beckons beneath a sign readingBloom Yoga Studio. Climbing vines frame the windows, where potted ferns and orchids add vibrant splashes of green. Inside, the scent of lavender and cedarwood envelops me, mingling with the faint hint of freshly brewed coffee drifting in from next door.

The studio itself is small but lovely, all polished wood floors and walls painted a soothing sage green. Tall windows flood the space with natural light, and the back wall is lined with cubbies for shoes and belongings. A rack of mats stands in one corner, next to a basket of rolled towels. It feels more like a sanctuary than a workspace.

I breathe in deeply, letting the peaceful energy of the room settle my nerves. This is a new job, a fresh start, and even though it’s small, it feels meaningful.

I light a stick of sandalwood incense and place it in a holder near the front of the room, letting the gentle curls of smoke waft through the air. The first students trickle in—a mix of young and old, some carrying their own mats, others borrowing from the studio. I greet them with warm smiles, helping them get situated.

A tall woman with tight blonde braids sets up in the back row, clearly a newbie. Two older men follow—one broad and booming, like he belongs on a football field, and the other smaller, quieter, with a careful gait that hints at an old injury. The first man plops his mat directly in front of mine and grins.

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