Page 12 of Home Is Where You Are

“Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all,” Proverbs 31:29.

I hadn’t felt like I’d done anything noble at all in these past four years or surpassed anything.

I sat the journal back in its place and let out a weary sigh.

The door creaked open behind me, but I didn’t turn to face the person brave enough to enter.

I wanted to be alone. For just a moment, I wanted to wallow before I had to put that brave face on and act like being here didn’t bring me so much pain.

“It’s good to see you in here again,” the voice confessed behind me.

It didn’t feel that great to be in this room again.

It felt soul crushing.

“I know how hard this is for you,” Holden whispered as he walked closer to where I stood.

His hand on my shoulder, he turned me around in one swift move. I missed how close we used to be.

He pulled me toward him, wrapping me in the comfort of his arms. It was then that I fully broke. Letting all the emotion come forth yet again.

I cried for everything we’d lost.

For everything I’d put us through by leaving.

But most of all, I cried for me.

Shedding tears that should have long been shed felt cathartic. Like a piece of me—albeit a small piece—was healing.

“You need to let it all out, Ainsleigh. For once, just let it all come. You don’t have to hide from me. I know being here hurts. I know the memories are consuming you. But let them. For once in the past four years, face them head-on so you can heal.”

How did he know I hadn’t?

How did he know I was still so consumed with grief, that I was still so lost in it?

“It’s not healthy for you to keep it all in. Scream. Kick. Cry. Do something that helps you, instead of hindering you from moving on,” he whispered against my hair.

“What do you do that helps?” I choked out, wanting to know so I could hopefully find some way of my own. That was the only way I’d get over being home.

“You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”

Now he had me intrigued.

Tilting my head, I looked up at him and waited to hear his answer.

He reached up and brushed the remnants of tears off my cheeks.

“I won’t laugh,” I promised, knowing damn well depending on his response I wouldn’t be able to hold the laughter inside if it was something crazy.

“I meditate. I do yoga. I pray daily. And I ride.”

He did what?

I couldn’t picture someone as buff and gruff as Holden meditating yet alone doing yoga.

Looking at him, I’d have never guessed he’d do something of that nature. Riding. Yes, that I knew he did. But yoga and meditating?

I smirked because the thought of seeing him in some crazy, bendable pose would be priceless.