Taryn shrugged, shoved the box over to Kincaid for her to move and then opened another. She lifted her gaze from the box and gave Kincaid a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “A crap ton of CDs.”

“Bedroom—”

“Not so fast, sister. Do you even own a CD player anymore?”

“It took so long to collect those,” Kincaid complained.

Taryn gave her a no-mercy look, all pursed lips and attitude.

Kincaid stuck out her tongue. “Fine, Ms. Bossypants. Donation pile.”

“Good choice.” Taryn shifted the box to the side and clapped her hands together. “Making progress.” She walked over to another box, which was unlabeled, and leaned over to rifle through it. “Uh…high school stuff?”

Kincaid frowned. “Like what kind of high school stuff? I thought I already put what I had away in the guest closet.”

Taryn crouched down. “Hmm, let’s see. Notebooks. Graduation cap. Yearbooks.”

“Yearbooks?” Kincaid walked over. “Now I know I put those away.”

She’d put them deep into the back of a closet, in fact, not wanting to stumble upon high school reminders by accident.

Taryn pulled one from the box and handed it to her. “Senior yearbook.”

Kincaid stared down at the beat-up cover, not remembering hers being in such rough shape. “Weird.” She opened it to look at the messages inside, but the liner pages only had a few signatures. Her brow wrinkled. Hers had been filled to the edges with well wishes and have a great summer declarations. Silly notes scribbled before everything had gone so wrong. “This isn’t mine.”

Taryn put her fist to her hip. “What?”

“It’s not mine.” She turned a page and let out a breath when she saw her own handwriting filling a page and staring back at her. A note from her. To Ash. “Shit. This is Ash’s stuff.”

Taryn cocked her head. “Why would you have his?”

Kincaid tucked a lock of hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear, her eyes scanning over the note she’d written him. “I must’ve grabbed this box from his place thinking it was mine when I moved my stuff out. Damn.”

Taryn groaned. “Which means you need to give it back. Do you want me to take care of it? I know you’re not exactly in the mood to talk to him.”

Kincaid flipped through the pages absently. “No, it’s all right. He’s staying with the Lowells. I can bring it by when he’s not there.”

She reached out to hand the book back to Taryn, but sheets of folded notebook paper fell out and fluttered to the floor. Kincaid bent to pick them up. She didn’t plan to look at them, but when she saw her name, she couldn’t help it. She gathered them up and walked over to the couch.

“What are those?” Taryn asked.

“Not sure.” She unfolded one of the pages and her breath caught.

Dear Kincaid,

You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. When you’re in a room, it’s like there’s no one else there because you’re all I can focus on. I wish I could tell you all the things I think and feel about you to your face, but I’m not sure I’m the guy you’d want to hear them from. Even so, I want you to know that there’s someone in the world who realizes how special you are. Not because you’re pretty. Not because you’re funny. Not because you’re smart. Though you are all those things. But because you are full of a light that outshines everyone else I’ve ever met. You, Kincaid Breslin, are singular. You are everything.