Gavin
I’d planned the whole damn day.
Just us—no distractions, no Eclipse Moon, no pack rebuilding. Just Taryn and me, like it used to be. I’d packed a basket, picked the old hiking trail behind her house, the one with the overlook she always said made her feel like she could breathe. I'd even stashed a bottle of that wine she loved from her dad’s cellar.
I was ready to remind her.
Remind her that this—us—was still the future. Still real.
She came downstairs in her leggings and tank top, hair twisted up like she was in a hurry, eyes lit with that determined spark I used to love. Used to—still do.
“Hey,” I said, walking up and cupping her cheek. “I have something planned for us. Just the two of us. You’ll love it.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “That sounds perfect, Gav.
