Yuki’s pov
By my third month in Tossa, even the bakery uncle remembers my sugar-free croissants.
Jason and his sister are my only ties here—ten-year-old Jayne perches on the fence to listen to my flute, her dimples pooling sunlight like my brother's once did.
When Jason hands me coffee, I'm tuning Jayne's strings.
He mentions a shop for rent, and I spot blue paint on his cuff—from this morning, when I splattered his face while painting.
His clownish grin reminds me of a boy who once smeared cream on my nose.
"Okay."
Coffee warms my palm, contrasting Alex Hilton's forever-icy touch.
Jason leases the space, and we paint the walls in paper hats, his laughter chasing Jayne as he tries to daub her cheeks.
When blue paint dots my canvas shoes, I'm giggling away from his "revenge"—but th
