{"id":251232,"date":"2026-07-13T01:07:08","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:07:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/3-books-kristin-dwyer\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T01:07:08","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T22:07:08","slug":"3-books-kristin-dwyer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/3-books-kristin-dwyer\/","title":{"rendered":"3 Books – Kristin Dwyer"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cI\u2019m better at art than you.\u201d Max smirks and releases the dart. He hits the number and points at me. Leaning toward me, he whispers, \u201cNo, you\u2019re not.\u201d I take the shot, not because I\u2019m supposed to but because I need it with the way Max is looking at me. It doesn\u2019t feel like how he talks to Ayra, or even Linden. Something hangs in the air between us, and I can\u2019t really decide what it is. Like there\u2019s something that only we share.<\/p>\n

Our art. I take two more shots before I quit the game and walk over to a couch that\u2019s set up in a corner. When no one is in this room, it\u2019s enormous, but there are so many bodies in here that I can\u2019t even see the other side of it. Benji comes and sits down next to me. \u201cDid you lose?\u201d I ask him. \u201cTaking a break. Now that you\u2019re gone, Max has decided I should drink more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s that going?\u201d He shakes his head. \u201cI wish you were still there for Max to flirt with.\u201d I laugh, a hollow thing in my chest. \u201cYou mean bully. He\u2019s not flirting.\u201d Benji stops and studies me in a way that makes me feel like he sees more than I\u2019m actually saying. \u201cWould that be a bad thing?\u201d I open my mouth to say yes. Obviously, Max flirting with me would be \u2026<\/p>\n

Would it? The one thing that would absolutely keep Carter and me from repeating our mistakes would be \u2026 Max and I \u2026 1kitap1.com\/en When I wake up, my head pounds, and I remember the poor decisions I made last night. I flirted with Max. I watched Linden flirt with Carter. And worse, I told everyone else I wasn\u2019t going to the lake house. Did I do something last night that changed time again? Were the ripples too big? My eyes are barely open when I call my mother.<\/p>\n

She answers on the first ring. Grandee answers on the fifth. Linden is still here. I know because she walks out of the bathroom wrapping a scarf around her neck.<\/p>\n

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Thank you for buying this St. Martin\u2019s Publishing Group ebook. To receive special offers, bonus content, and info on new releases and other great reads, sign up for our newsletters. Or visit us online at us.macmillan.com\/newslettersignup For email updates on the author, click here. 1kitap1.com\/en The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way.<\/p>\n

Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author\u2019s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillan.com\/piracy. 1kitap1.com\/en For my mom, who has always made me feel like I could do anything. Even turn back time. Up with the eyebrows. 1kitap1.com\/en CHAPTER 1 Grandee always told me time was a fickle thing\u2014a story assembled like a simple fairy tale to make people feel better about their world.<\/p>\n

To help them understand the unimaginable. My cousin Linden and I would make a mistake or suffer a disappointment, and Grandee would tell us there were a hundred ways to change it. Nothing was permanent, not even the clock. Every birthday or new year, when time was being marked and measured, she would say, \u201cYou\u2019re not older or younger. You just are.\u201d I hated those sayings. Silly platitudes spoken over cups of tea that grew colder with each second or fires with their embers dying.<\/p>\n

Things that clearly marked time passing. Grandee would sit in her chair, next to the large windows overlooking the green trees she\u2019d planted to shade the house in the summer, and she\u2019d knit or crochet. I had seen her working on her blanket for as long as I could remember, each of her stitches placed with care as her weathered hands pulled against soft yarn, gently folding it into loops and knots.<\/p>\n

She was odd. It was what the neighbors whispered about her when they thought she couldn\u2019t hear them. They said it with affection. But when you\u2019re young, everything different feels embarrassing. And there was already so much considered peculiar about us. Two girls, cousins, being raised by their grandmother, who kept pet sheep and spoke in riddles.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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