Jonah’s POV

From behind the glass, I watch her go back to Damien. He slips an arm around her waist, draws her in, murmurs something low. She breaks into a smile. Lyra barrels up to them, chattering a mile a minute, fascinated by the ring.

I slide into my car and pull off, abandoning the heat of that moment—the laughter, the belonging, the version of life that might have been mine.

The storm finds me between the third stoplight and the church lot. It ...