Page 69 of First Echo

I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just ran, my feet carrying me toward her before my brain could catch up, before doubt could take hold. I was vaguely aware of Sam calling my name, of Julian's confused expression, of Victoria's narrowed eyes, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except reaching Brooke, seeing her face, confirming that what had happened between us was real.

As I approached, she looked up, her expression shifting from surprise to something softer, something that made my heart stutter in my chest. She straightened, waiting for me, her lips curving into a small, private smile that I knew was just for me.

"Hey," I said, suddenly breathless, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands, with my face, with the overwhelming feeling of rightness that washed over me just from being near her again.

"Hey yourself," she replied, her voice low, intimate, even in the midst of the bustling resort. Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance, for confirmation, for any sign of regret.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her face, to feel her arms around me again, to lose myself in the warmth of her mouth. But we were surrounded by people—by our classmates, by Sam, by all the obstacles that stood between us and whatever this was becoming.

So instead, I smiled, hoping she could read in my eyes what I couldn't say aloud.

"I got your note," I said, pulling it from my pocket as evidence.

Her smile widened, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Did it meet your exacting standards?"

"It exceeded them actually," I replied, matching her teasing tone while trying to convey so much more beneath the words. "Very thoughtful of you."

"I'm nothing if not thoughtful," she said, the quirk of her eyebrow suggesting she was thinking of last night, of the care she'd taken with me, of the gentleness beneath her passion.

The memory made heat rise to my cheeks, made my breath catch in my throat. Last night had changed everything. There was no going back, no pretending it hadn't happened, no returning to who I was before I knew what it felt like to have Brooke's lips on mine, her hands on my skin, her name on my tongue.

But it had also complicated everything. Sam was walking toward us now, confusion clear on his face. Our friends were watching, whispering, no doubt wondering why I'd run to Brooke like she was a lifeline in stormy seas. The carefully constructed world I'd built was crumbling around me, and I didn't know how to navigate the ruins.

All I knew was that I didn't want to let this go—whateverthiswas. I didn't want to lose the way Brooke made me feel, didn't want to go back to being the version of Madeline Hayes who wore masks so perfect she forgot her own face underneath. For the first time in my life, I felt real, felt seen, felt alive in my own skin.

And I would fight for that feeling, no matter what came next.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

BROOKE

I'd been up since dawn, carving through fresh powder, finding solace in the familiar rhythm of snowboarding—push, glide, turn, breathe. The mountain had always been my refuge, the one place where everything made sense, where I felt most like myself. But today, even the perfect conditions couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to our room, to tangled sheets and hushed breaths and the feeling of MadelineGraceHayes trembling beneath my touch.

Last night had changed everything. Or maybe it had just revealed what had been building all along, beneath the layers of antagonism and reluctant attraction. Either way, I couldn't stop replaying it in my head—the way she'd burst through the door, the fierce determination in her eyes, the words that had set everything in motion.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

And I had. God, I had. The memory of her taste, her sounds, her skin against mine was so vivid it made my heart race even now, hours later, as I adjusted my gloves near the lift.

I wasn't sure what would happen next. Maybe she'd wake up and regret everything. Maybe she'd go back to Sam, to her friends, to the life she'd carefully constructed. Maybe last night was just a moment of weakness, of curiosity, nothing more.

But I'd left her the note anyway. A small act of hope disguised as sarcasm.

Dear Madeline, Gone snowboarding. Try not to fall on your face again. Best wishes, Brooke.

I smiled to myself, remembering how I'd deliberated over those words, how I'd nearly crumpled the paper a dozen times before leaving it on her nightstand. It was exactly what I'd sarcastically suggested I'd write that time she complained about me leaving without waking her. A small inside joke, a thread connecting us across time, a silent acknowledgment that I remembered the details.

The memory of her asleep beside me that morning sent a wave of warmth through my chest. She'd looked so peaceful, so different from the carefully composed MadelineGraceHayes everyone else saw. Her golden hair spread across the pillow, her lips slightly parted, her body curled toward mine as if seeking my warmth even in sleep. It had taken every ounce of willpower to slip out of bed without waking her, to leave her there while I sought the clarity of the mountain.

Now, as the morning wore on and the slopes filled with other students enjoying their last day, I found myself scanning the crowds, watching the lift lines, searching for a glimpse of her. Would she seek me out? Would she avoid me? The uncertainty was maddening, yet somehow exhilarating too.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the commotion—the sound of quick footsteps, the murmurs of surprise from people around me. When I looked up, my heart nearly stopped.

Madeline was running toward me.

Not walking, not casually approaching—running, as if she couldn't bear to waste another second apart. Her blonde hair streamed behind her, catching the sunlight like spun gold. Her face was flushed, whether from exertion or emotion I couldn't tell, but there was something wild and beautiful about her in that moment, something free and unrestrained that I'd never seen before.

People were staring—of course they were. Madeline Hayes didn't run toward anyone, least of all Brooke Winters. But she didn't seem to notice or care, her attention fixed solely on me as she approached.

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