Each signature feels like cutting a cord I didn’t even realize was still wrapped around my ribs.
When I’m done, the officer collects the paperwork and explains the next steps. Timelines. Enforcement. What to do if either order is violated.
I nod. I listen.
But mostly, I’m floating.
Outside, the winter air hits my face like a wake-up call. Cold. Clean. Sharp enough to make me feel real again.
I stand on the steps of the station and realize my shoulders aren’t up around my ears anymore.
I’m breathing all the way into my lungs.
Mom turns to me, eyes shiny. “You did so good.”
My chest caves in at that.
“I was so scared,” I admit.
“I know,” she says. “And you did it anyway.”
That lands deeper than she probably realizes.
We walk to the car slowly. I glance back at the building once, half expecting regret to hit me like a wave.
It doesn’t.
What I feel instead is relief.
Not joy. Not peace. Not yet.
But something steady.
Like I’ve placed my feet on the ground and decided which direction I’m walking in.
When we pull onto the road back toward Buckhorn, I text Dallas.It’s done.
The reply comes almost immediately.I’m proud of you.
My eyes burn.
I let myself feel it. Grief for what I lost, anger for what I endured, and a quiet, growing pride for what I chose.
This isn’t the end of healing.
But it feels like the end of running.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Dallas
February 6th
“Absolutely not,”Lila declares, slapping her hand down on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the markers. “You cannot play a snow spell and steal my turn. That’s cheating.”
Faith gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Excuse you. It’s not cheating if it’s strategic.”
“It is if you’re making up rules,” Lila fires back, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
