The morning light filters through the lake house windows, soft and golden, like it's trying to wash away the night. I wake up first, tangled in the sheets beside Cyrus, his arm draped over me possessively even in sleep. Cleo's still out on her side of the bed, but her breathing's steadier now, the pallor fading from her cheeks. My heart twists—a mix of triumph and ache—as I slip out carefully, pulling on my sundress from...