Her eyes widened as if seeing me for the first time in months. Maybe she realized for the first time where she actually was.
Then her mouth opened wide, and a scream tore out of her. Shrill and uncontrolled. As if every possible emotion a human could feel was pouring out all at once. Relief. Rage. Grief. Hope. Loss. Sadness. Life. Fear. Love.
Every face turned toward her.
Her scream died with the last bit of breath in her lungs. Dylan and I were right there, catching her as her knees buckled. She collapsed in on herself, sobbing so hard her body shook violently. I tried to lower myself down with her, but the cast wouldn’t bend, so I collapsed awkwardly next to her. Dylan went down with her, arms locked around her, holding her tightly.
It felt incredible.
My daughter was actually crying.
Real sounds. Real emotions. Real tears. She was alive again.
The officers had removed more than the shackles. Whatever had trapped her inside her body had finally broken free.
“Shhhh,” I whispered into her hair, rocking her gently, back and forth. “It’s okay. Mama’s here.”
We weren’t out of the woods yet. There was still more fighting ahead.
But she was free. In my arms again. With her son. Feeling again.
My head lifted and found Amanda. She was still crying by the door. When our eyes met, I mouthed the words:Thank you.
She nodded once, then turned and left. Understandable. Zach’s family would come for her. Hard. And when they did, we would protect her. She was part of our family, even if things were a bit messy. Like families always were.
Then the strangest thing happened. In the far back, between people coming and going, I saw Thomas Harlow. All dressed up in a fancy suit, staring at me with the face of a man who lost the war after winning a few battles. Even from this far away I could see the darkness and the hate in his eyes. Like he was making a promise. That this wasn't over. That no matter how long it took, he would find a way to destroy us. But just as I considered confronting him right there in front of everyone, he was gone. One second there, the next swallowed by the crowd.
My focus returned to Lacey. The cancer was still there. That truth hadn’t changed. But now we could fight it head-on. Together. Every day would matter. Every moment would be a gift.
“Thank you,” I said out loud, to nobody, to everybody.
Then my gaze drifted upward. To the ceiling. To God, maybe.
I was never religious, but I prayed anyway.
“God,” I whispered. “If you’re real … thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Chapter 35
Lacey – twenty-one months later
Our new house sat in the middle of a quiet, dead-end street in Jamaica Plain, Boston, surrounded by historic homes and old trees that gave Boston its charm.
Dylan and I sat next to each other, both of us in wheelchairs. Amanda, Brian, Ethan, Lila, and my mom were right behind us.
A warm summer breeze brushed my face. It carried the smell of flowers and fresh-cut grass. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
And I was still alive.
I turned my head toward Dylan. He sat in the second wheelchair, grinning, cheerful, excited. His hands rested on the large wheels. His fingers were flexing like he was already itching to go. Sunlight caught in his brown hair. His blue eyes were bright and alive.
We’d been racing up and down the street in my wheelchairs for almost an hour. The kids took turns racing, nearly crashing into each other. Lila pouted when she lost. Ethan had laughed so hard he’d peed his pants and had to take a break to get changed.
Brian started the countdown for this race, loud and dramatic, but I barely noticed him. My eyes were on Dylan. How beautiful he looked in the summer sun. The way the sunlight sparkled in his deep-blue eyes. He’d never given up on me, not even during the worst year of our lives. He never left my side. Not in jail. Not during my first chemo or surgery. Not during long nights when the pain felt endless. He fought for me. Always.Looking at him, I knew every breath I had ever taken had been for him. And every breath I had left would be too.
Since the cancer had returned a few months ago, I’d been in constant pain again. But it still didn’t hurt as much as my love for my family did.
Dylan, my superhero.
