CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The forest floor feels cool under my feet as I rush towards the clearing where Alex, the boy with the captivating blue eyes and laughter that echoes like a promise, is finally emerging from his recovery. My heart hammers against my ribcage, threatening to break free at the sight of him standing there, his strength visibly flowing back into his muscles like a river reclaiming its course after a drought.
"Alex," I breathe out, hardly believing it's not a trick of the light—that he's truly standing there, whole and unbroken. The last few weeks have been a blur of worry and whispered prayers beneath the silver glow of the moon.
"Hey, Isla," he says, his voice a soothing balm that calms the storm inside me. His smile carries a hint of the old mischief, but there's a new
