Chapter OneCassie Davis was no hero.
And she didn’t have to be. She just needed to slip into her old mask and become the girl she’d once been. Which is why she was here, standing in front of Donohue’s Donuts at 10:02 a.m., like she always had before. Part of her old routine. Her body kept the score, remembered where to go. A place she always remembered as safe.
This had been her hangout with her best friends, and her mom had urged her just to go back to how everything had been four years ago. In her heart of hearts, Cassie wasn’t so sure that was even possible. But she could at least hold it together, right?
She wouldn’t let a single crack show in her mask.
Cassie rested her hand on the corrugated metal of the door handle. Inside, Donohue’s was a microcosm of the past, all ’50s-style pleather booths and green-and-white-striped walls hung with black-and-white photos of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe and Etta James. Trays and trays of frosted and dipped donuts cooled behind glass, the shoebox kitchen whirring with life, chromed heat lamps beaming copper light onto the pass. They still wore paper hats back there. In the corner, a rusted-out jukebox played a twinkling oldie. There, she’d inserted countless nickels with her dad on Sunday mornings, laughing at his impression of sparkling Beach Boy falsettos. There, at that two-person booth, she and Jac traded numbers for the first time. There, they braided friendship bracelets, nearly choked on cinnamon-sugar donuts when they laughed too hard, and imagined a world where their twosome could never be torn asunder by time. When being a kid was simply being a kid, being yourself—no performance involved.
Before, she’d believed in herself, her future, her friends. But now? Now she knew that “being herself” led only to heartbreak. But that was a problem for Later Cassie. This was just a donut shop.
Cassie took a deep breath and walked inside.
Immediately, the scent of yeast-risen dough, the fusty smell of deep fryers, and the saccharine smack of sugar wrapped their arms around her. It was like her very first visit here, so many years ago. Back when life had been joyful, simple; the only thing she had to worry about was school and whose backyard she and her friends were camping out in over the weekend.
There they were.
Jacqueline and Blake and Melody. They still sat in that same booth,
their booth, the one to the left, at the window. It still had that ripped corner fixed with duct tape, a ratty menu card laminated to the table. Maybe it still bore their sneaky Sharpie graffiti, a heart around all their initials.
Cassie glanced around the shop, surveying the summer-break crowd, and immediately took two steps backward.
Now there were people behind her, queuing for fresh donuts. She bumped into one.
“Oops, sorry!” Her performance voice came out too sweet, and the person cut her a glance, like they weren’t sure she was for real. But she
was sorry.
“Welcome to Donohue’s Donuts!” the employee behind the counter said. “What donut-y joy can I serve up for you today?”
“Oh God, sorry, I always take too long looking at the menu! Do you still have glazed?”
He blinked, taking in her green velour tracksuit, her Galadriel tee. A slow smile spread across his features; one eyebrow rose. “Do we still have . . . our number one seller? Yeah.” He rang up the donut, a cool $2.50. Back in New York City, it would have been at
least five bucks. “Anything else?”
Cassie shook her head, casting a glance toward her friends. Ex-friends. Or something.
Not. A single. Crack.
“No. Thank you, though.”
The guy bagged her donut and handed it across the divider. “Cool Galadriel shirt. I think I have one like that, but it’s somewhere in my attic. Grew out of it.”
Cassie took a sharp breath. Another miscalculation. She should have packed something else in her moving boxes. Something cooler. She snatched the donut and stepped away from the bar, cheeks burning.
At their usual booth, she could hear Blake talking over Melody’s snorted laugh. Jacqueline faced away from Cassie, looking at the two of them. They leaned in close, thick as thieves. Conspiratorial and happy without her, they shared a laugh.
What Cassie wouldn’t give to be in on the joke. She edged closer, cutting behind glass-topped booths, drawn toward their magnetism. Toward the burble of Jacqueline’s laugh and the sugar-sanded promise of the past. These were the friends she’d left behind—whose messages she’d never returned. She couldn’t bear to pull them into the cyclone that became her life in New York City—then they would know
exactly who she was. But what did that make them now, then? Friends? Not friends?
“—telling you, that trail looks epic—”
“I don’t think a trail can
look epic on a map, Blake.” Melody smirked as she shook her head, her auburn hair glossy even in the dull Donohue’s lighting. She pressed in closer to him. “And to be totally honest, I don’t think I can tear myself away from SAT prep. My mom paid so much for the course.”
“Sure you can. You keep scoring sixteen hundreds on those mock tests you make me grade. You’ve earned the cost back in spades.” Blake grasped her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Take a break for once. For me?”
“Well . . . I guess it beats the prep book I have on my desk.”
“In fucking spades, Mel.”
“Might I remind you it is literally the second week of August? No one wants to hike all sweaty.” Jacqueline took a chomp of cinnamon-sugar donut—her forever order.
“C’mon, Jac, it’s
so cool.” Blake jabbed the map with a finger. “There’s a waterfall halfway up to a double peak. We could make a week of it! Stop at the falls for a few days, summit the peaks, then—”
“Cool or not, I have concerns,” Jacqueline said, matter-of-fact. “But people
have gone missing there. Including a hiker our age! What if we got lost?”
Blake plucked the remains of an apple cruller off his plate. “Have you
ever gotten lost with me?”
“No,” Jacqueline admitted, making a face.
“Well, then. I think we should try it.”
Cassie looked down at the crinkled bag in her hand. Inside, her donut was going cold, smushed. She should leave. She didn’t want them to see her like this, gawking at their conversation like some greedy kid sweeping up the last of the crumbs of friendship.
Memories flashed behind her eyes: bruised knees spattered with soil, hands twisted together, giggling in their tent as they shared Girl Scout Cookies from Melody’s sister’s stash. Chasing fireflies in the town park, their collection radiating a tepid glow in mason jars. The four of them sleeping in Jacqueline’s backyard, pretending they were camping in the wilderness and telling scary stories late into the night. Melody told the scariest ones; when Cassie inevitably got freaked out, Melody would crack jokes to make her laugh. After, Blake would tromp through the grass with a telescope, looking for UFOs. His grin radiated in the dark.
They’re real, I know they are!Or one golden August afternoon—Jacqueline untangling the knots in Cassie’s hair from swimming in the lake, only for Cassie to fall half asleep with her head in Jacqueline’s lap. Later that same day—a kiss. One that still made Cassie’s stomach flutter to think about. And always, too, the sting of the leaving, the missed calls, Jacqueline’s face when Cassie jumped in the packed car.
She had to stop thinking like this. It wasn’t like she could rewind time. And Jacqueline had probably forgotten all about it. What had they been, thirteen? Basically little kids—all of them. Everything was different now.
Cassie turned to leave.
And an excited screech rang out.
“Is that Cassie freaking Davis I see?” Melody stood on the bench seat, her eyes round and shining. “Oh my God, it is!”
Cassie’s heart slammed into her ribs so hard, she thought it might explode. Her fingertips went all tingly, and she dipped a hand into her pocket. Her carabiner, safe and sound.
Open,
closed. Open, closed. She turned around inch by inch, pasting a thin smile on her lips. She had never been a stealthy one.
“Well, would you look at that.” Blake tipped an imaginary cap at her.
Melody elbowed Blake. “What are you, fifty?” She climbed over him and reached for Cassie. “It’s been so long!”
Cassie nearly dropped her donut as Melody enrobed her in a crushing, rose-scented hug. “Hey, Melody,” she squeaked, unable to breathe.
“Let her go, Mel, you’re gonna kill her.” Jacqueline climbed out of the booth.
Oh my God.This close, she looked—amazing. The gangly girl Cassie had once known, all elbows and knees and frizz, was all rolling curves and soft cheeks. Pink lips. Sporting a half shave under her curly hair, a dark blue blazer nipping in at her waist, black jeans, and Vans.
“Jacqueline,” Cassie breathed. “I—”
“It’s Jac, now, but I’ll forgive you,” she said, her face a muddle of emotions Cassie couldn’t parse. “Wow. I didn’t realize you were back.” She took Cassie’s hand and tentatively pulled her into a bear hug, too.
Cassie dropped her nose into Jac’s hair, scented by lavender and something smoky. Patchouli? Cedar?
Tears pricked Cassie’s eyes, and she swiped them away.
Keep it together. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
Jac pulled away, her eyes narrowing. “Hm.”
“Our own disappearing girl has returned!” Blake popped the rest of his donut into his mouth, dusted his hands, and stood. Around his wrist, four friendship bracelets dangled, five years old, the bright colors faded. He gave Cassie one of those boy hugs, like he wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore.
“Yeah, um . . .” Cassie stood away from her old friends, very aware that they were all on one side, and she was alone on the other. She tried to rest casually against another table but slipped and knocked over a plastic water glass.
Cassie turned, scrambling, and grabbed it just as it rattled toward the edge.
Jesus Christ.
Copyright © 2025 by Taylor Grothe. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
