Chapter 37 Lunch

***Hazel***

I arrive early.

Not because I’m eager. Not because I slept well.

Because routine is the only thing that still makes sense.

Jocelyn stumbles in beside me, keys jangling, hair half-tamed, sunglasses still perched on her head even though we’re indoors.

“I hate mornings,” she mutters. “But I love that latte machine. I did the math—this thing is already saving me money.”

“You did not do the