Mira
P.S. Meet me at the hammock someday and we’ll catch up.
Maren read the last line twice.
Then a third time.
Her hands shook as she folded the letter carefully and put it back in its envelope and slipped back into her seat. Colin kept hold of her hand.
“She wanted me to find Juni’s family,” Maren whispered.
“And you did, baby.”
“She wanted me to live.”
“Yeah.”
“She wanted me to fall in love if someone good found me.”
Colin’s thumb stilled against the back of her hand. Maren looked at him. His eyes were dark. Tired. Too full.
“You’re good,” she said.
His jaw flexed.
“Baby—”
“Youare.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “You brought me home.”
“Not yet.”
“Yes.” She lifted their joined hands and pressed her mouth to his knuckles. “You did.”
His eyes closed for a second.
When they opened, the look in them stole what was left of her breath.
“I’m going to keep doing it,” he said.
Maren rested her head on his shoulder, Mira’s letter held carefully in her lap. Outside the window, the dark stretched wide beneath them. But they were flying toward Colorado.
Toward Juni.
Toward home.
THIRTY-FOUR
Juni hitMaren at a dead run.
One second, Maren was stepping through the front door of Arden and Kyle’s ranch house, exhausted, wrung out. The next second, forty pounds of preschooler launched across the great room like a missile.
“Mama!”
Maren’s bag hit the floor as she went to her knees.
Juni crashed into her so hard Maren nearly tipped backward.
“I’m here,” Maren said, wrapping both arms around her. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”
