Tara's POV

I woke up to the smell of Mom’s coffee drifting under the door. It was strong and smelled a little burnt, the way she always made it because she forgets to turn the heat down. For a second, I forgot where I was until the lavender walls hit me. The old bookshelf was still crammed with my high-school paperbacks. The faded band posters I never took down. My childhood room. My bed. My blanket pulled up to my chin like I was ten again.

I lingered there for a minute, running my hands over my belly, feeling the baby shift slowly, like it was stretching after a long...