Lyra There are certain sentences no woman expects to say in her lifetime. Bigfoot carried me to an alien. The mountain is actually a spaceship. My boyfriend is five hundred years old. And now, apparently… “Torin, you cannot glare at every man who hugs me.” “I did not glare.” I stop walking. Torin stops beside me. Around us, Manhattan keeps moving, utterly unconcerned with my relationship problems. Horns blare. Someone shouts from the opposite sidewalk. Music thumps from a passing car. A bicycle shoots between two taxis in a maneuver that should result in immediate death but somehow doesn’t. Torin notices none of it. He’s staring at me with the…

Willa The first thing Baby finds is a boot. She digs with all the determination of a dog convinced she’s discovered buried treasure while Amos stands beside me with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, watching dirt fly in every direction. “Baby.” She ignores him. “Baby.” The digging speeds up. I laugh, lifting my camera. “She’s making excellent content.” “She’s making a mess.” “Same thing.” He grunts. The boot finally comes free, attached to absolutely nothing. Just a cracked leather work boot that probably hasn’t seen a foot since Teddy Roosevelt was president. Baby proudly drops it at Amos’s feet. He stares down at it. “…Congratulations.” Her tail thumps…

Boone The pickup rolls through Hollister, passing tourists crowding the streets to see a real Wild West town. My eyes veer momentarily to Stonie’s. My hand tightens around Delaney’s. She stares up at me with those big, expectant dark eyes of hers, and I know she’s remembering it too. The dancing, the stargazing, the falling in love. “What are you thinking about?” she asks with that wicked smile of hers. “You and me at Stonie’s the first time.” She nods once, fingers squeezing back. “That was a life-changing night for you.” “For us,” I drawl. “More so for you,” she says, tipping the brim of my hat. I chuckle, vibrations…

Virgil ONE CHRISTMAS LATER The first thing I hear is barking. Tiny barking. Annoyed barking. The sort of barking that sounds entirely too big for the body producing it. I pause halfway up the porch steps, balancing a crate against my hip. “You make a poor surprise, you know,” I grunt. “You’re still supposed to be a secret.” Inside the cabin, Christmas music drifts through the screen door. Clara’s favorite station. The one that starts playing carols immediately after Thanksgiving and doesn’t quit until New Year’s. I know because I’ve listened to every excruciating minute, snowbound for several weeks now.   Has it made me less of a grump? Not…

Raven “You’re cheating.” I don’t even look up from the tomatoes I’m sorting. “Good morning to you, too, Blaze.” “You’ve got peppers hidden back there.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His boots crunch across the gravel path between the garden beds. I continue sorting tomatoes. Very professionally. Very innocently. A shadow falls across my worktable, and I finally glance up, tugging the brim of my straw cowboy hat lower to keep the sun out of my eyes. Blaze stands there in a faded gray T-shirt and jeans, arms folded across his chest, green eyes narrow and shadowed beneath his Stetson. Definitely suspicious. “Show me.” “No.” His jaw drops.…

Mara SIX WEEKS LATER My fingers curl into his cut, body pressed tight against his back. We move across the sand and sage ocean like one thing. Where the pavement ribbon veers off in another dirt road, Maddox slows the bike, following an ancient trail, cut from another time and place. I wear my own helmet now, even has my name on it. A gift from Maddox, an entry into the club. It means more than I probably realize, though I’m trying. At the bottom of a rocky outcropping, he leaves the bike and our helmets, grabbing our belongings and holding my hand as we pick our way up a…

Sloane THREE MONTHS LATER The road should terrify me. Three months ago, it would have. The San Juan Mountains rise around us like ancient things, beautiful and unforgiving beneath the August sun. The narrow mountain road twists ahead, hugging steep drop-offs that still make my stomach lurch if I look for too long. Some things never change. Like gravity. Rhys drives one-handed beside me as if he knows every stone by name. He probably does. “You’re quiet,” he says. I glance over. Sunglasses hide his eyes, but I know the shape of his mouth now. The rough line of it. The way tension lives there until I smooth it away.…

Aiden ONE MONTH LATER Layla’s mouth quirks, and her eyes dart to me. That’s how I know trouble is brewing. She’s talking in low tones to Sage, Stella, and Dream. Planning tonight’s community class. Probably more yoga or stretching. The kind of thing not even green juice can make less awkward. Though the cottage escapades after are… well, totally worth it. Cypress walks past shirtless in shorts he’s worn since high school. Likes to brag about it. Freshman year, if I had to guess. Pretty sure he didn’t have a potbelly back then. Too tight. Too short. Sheer psychological trauma. But I’m the only one wincing. December. I can finally…

Waldon The first thing Marcus does when he sees me is look at my hands. Not my face or Ember. My hands. Almost like he’s checking for fists or signs of a coming throwdown. “Relax,” Ember mutters under her breath, slipping her hand into mine as if it’s nothing. Like we’ve always done this and her brother isn’t currently deciding whether or not to kill me in the parking lot of the Rusty Spur Grill. “I am relaxed,” Marcus says flatly. Yeah, right. Not even a little. “Hey, man,” I say, keeping my tone even. Easy. No attitude or bullshit. This isn’t the station. This isn’t a bar. This is…