The sun was warm against his skin, but he shivered anyway. Jace lay on the grass near the riverbank, eyes closed, listening to the world breathe. The water lapped gently at the shore, the wind stirred the trees, and somewhere in the distance, birds called to one another. It was peaceful. Deceptively so. The world had no right to feel this calm when his life had been torn apart.
The car crash had taken his mother and little sister three months ago. Since then, home had become suffocating. His father barely spoke. His older brother had disappeared into himself, eyes hollow and distant. They moved through the house like ghosts, unable—or unwilling—to see each other. Jace let out a breath, opened his eyes, and watched the golden light dance over the river’s surface. He didn’t go home until nightfall.
The porch light was on when he reached the front door. He pulled his key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. It didn’t turn. Frowning, he tried again. The key didn’t fit. Confused, he knocked. The door opened, and his father stood there. His expression was one Jace hadn’t seen in a long time—not grief, not exhaustion, but something far worse. Disinterest.
“Can I help you?” his father asked.
Jace blinked. “Dad…? What’s going on? My key isn’t working.”
His father’s brows drew together. “Who are you?”
Jace let out a nervous laugh. “Okay. Funny. Seriously, what’s going on?”
“Do I know you?”
The air turned sharp, cutting into Jace’s lungs. “Dad, stop messing around.”
Another voice came from within the house. “Who is it?”
Jace turned toward the sound, and his stomach plummeted. His mother stood beside his father, wiping her hands on a dish towel. His mother—who was supposed to be dead. Jace staggered back, eyes darting between them, breath coming too fast. “Mom?” His voice cracked. “Mom, it’s me! It’s Jace!”
Her face twisted in confusion, and before he could process it, another figure stepped into the doorway. Jace’s heart stuttered. It was him. The boy in the doorway had his face. His features. His expression of confusion, only more subdued. The boy had taken his place. Jace felt his mind snap under the weight of emotions flooding him—joy that his mother was alive, terror that his life had been erased, anger that this version of himself had taken everything from him.
He turned and ran.
Jace fled through the dark streets, past stores and glowing windows, until he skidded to a stop outside a shop. In the glass, his reflection stared back at him—same brown hair, same blue eyes, same scar on his chin from when he fell off his bike as a kid. He was still himself. So why didn’t they see him? Who was the boy in his place?
With nowhere else to go, he returned to the riverbank, curling into himself until exhaustion took him. Morning came with biting cold. He found a small café, scraped together enough for breakfast, and grabbed a newspaper from the counter. He unfolded it absently, eyes scanning the front page. Then his breath caught. The date. It was today. The day of the accident. A glance at the clock. One hour and twelve minutes until it happened. Jace shot up, heart slamming against his ribs. He threw money on the table and ran.
“Please, you have to listen to me!” Jace was frantic, his hands shaking as he stood on the front steps of his house. “You can’t go! If you get in that car, you’ll die!”
His father’s face darkened. “You need to leave.”
“Mom, please!” He turned to her desperately, but she only recoiled, fear creeping into her eyes.
“Who is this?” his older brother asked from the doorway.
Jace spun toward him. “Please! You have to believe me!”
His father stepped forward, voice low and warning. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”
Jace swallowed hard. “Dad, please—”
But his father pulled out his phone. Jace tried to push past him, but strong arms yanked him back. The last thing he saw before being forced into the police car was his family stepping inside the vehicle. The same vehicle that would crash.
Hours later, Jace sat in a jail cell. The walls were cold. The air smelled of rust. Then footsteps. He lifted his head as his father appeared at the cell door. Jace sucked in a breath. His father’s face was pale, streaked with tears. His shirt was stained with blood, his pants damp with it. And on his arm, a fresh burn. The same scar he’d always had. Their eyes met. And for the first time, his father saw him. Jace’s throat tightened. No words were spoken. None were needed. Because they both understood. They had lost them once. And now, they had lost them again.
