Ella Reese River Lynn -

“I’m an engineer,” Lynn replied. “I know how things work.”

Ella blinked. “You threw the first one.” ella reese river lynn

They would clear the tree tomorrow. They would call a repairman for the door. But right now, the four of them were exactly where they were supposed to be: tangled together in the wreckage and the light, holding on. “I’m an engineer,” Lynn replied

Reese was already on her feet, pulling on a rain jacket. “I’ll climb over it. Go for help.” They would call a repairman for the door

River glanced at Lynn, who was asleep with her hand resting on River’s knee. “You won’t. That’s the thing about a real storm. It breaks the weak branches. But the roots? The roots hold.”

Reese arrived second, tires squealing on the gravel. She was a wildfire in human form—a freelance photographer who had just returned from covering a protest in a country Ella couldn’t pronounce. Her hair was shorter, shaved on one side, and she had a new scar on her knuckle. She hugged Ella hard, and for a second, Ella forgot how to breathe.