I’ve spentthe last few days tying up loose ends before Nan’s memorial. Bea has been here—laughing to ’90s rom-coms, keeping the local Mexican restaurant in business, and sorting through belongings to the soundtrack of our childhood—by my side the whole time.
Lou has dropped by here and there to keep me company, always making sure my wineglass stays full while she helps me pack. I’m going to miss her. In a strange way, her demeanor reminds me of Nan—with her no-nonsense attitude and that carefree spirit that says exactly what it thinks and doesn’t apologize for it.
Somewhere between folding old blankets and wrapping dishes in newspaper, Lou lets it slip that Collins has been moving anything he has at her place back to his house. I assume that means he’ll be heading home soon. Which is probably why I saw Crandall’s motorcycle parked out front last night, its chromecatching the porch light. But it was conveniently gone by the time I woke up this morning.
Collins has texted me a few times to check in, but we haven’t seen much of each other.
Meeting with a realtor led to aFor Salesign planted squarely in the small patch of grass that is the front yard. I stare at it through the living room window now, my head leaning against the curtain rod until it knocks softly into the white porcelain bird wind chimes hanging there. The gentle clink of ceramic fills the quiet space.
Outside, the dogwood tree sways in the autumn breeze. A pair of tiny birds flit between the branches and wooden post of the sign, chirping, like nothing in the world has changed. My chest tightens at the thought of someone else living here. Of strangers walking these floors.
The boxes stacked in every room make the trailer feel hollow, like the place has already started forgetting us. I sold most of the furniture too, leaving behind little more than empty space and echoes of our yesterdays.
Why does it feel like I’m being ripped in two when I think about leaving? The memories Laken holds were once too much for me to bear. Coming back here, though—stronger than the girl who ran away years ago—has changed something inside me.
Now it feels like leaving again would be surrendering to that same weakness. And I’m not weak.
Sometimes the hardest things in life are the very ones that define you. It was easy to run before, to leave all my problems behind and convince myself distance would fix everything.
But maybe it’s time to face the demons I buried here.
And I don’t know if he can…but if Collins can understand, even just a fraction of why I left, I might finally be able to conquer all the things that have haunted me since I was eighteen.
Collins:
Renovations are done at my place. It’s ready for a tour. You up for it after the service?
Johnnie:
Sounds like the perfect distraction after a long day
Collins:
I’ll see you over there
Johnnie:
I’ll be the one in tears
Collins:
I’ll be the one catching them
After a long, hot shower and three different outfit changes, I’m finally heading to my car when the front door of Lou’s trailer flies open. The heavy clunk of brown boots on the wooden steps draws my attention.
I pause.
My eyes trail slowly from those boots to the dark jeans hugging long legs, then up to the off-white sweater stretched across his broad frame. We had agreed on casual attire for today, but there is absolutely nothing casual about the way Collins looks right now. He always looks incredible. But this? This is dangerously sexy.
“You look amazing, Collins.”
He just stares at me. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
The silence makes my stomach flutter, and suddenly I’m painfully aware of the way he’s looking at me. I glance around the yard, grasping for something, anything to say.
“It’s so beautiful today.” Wow. That was lame. But his eyes on me make my nerves jitter.
Collins tilts his head slightly, glancing up toward the sky as if considering the clouds. Then his gaze drops back to me again, sharper this time, like he’s searching somewhere deep beneath the surface.
