Page 5 of The Darkest Parts of Me

He etched himself into every corner, leaving us with a constant reminder he was here but he’s not really here anymore.

But despite all of that, it was time for me to come back, to come to terms with life at Solitude Ridge without my dad in it. Even with him gone, I still love this part of the world. Yes, he's everywhere I look, but this place holds more for me than just memories of him. It holds part of who I used to be, too.

“I shouldn’t have waited this long to come back—it’s way overdue,” I finally reply.

“I know, but . . . everyone heals in their own way.”

I turn to face my mom, grabbing her other hand in mine. “I’m ready. I promise.”

She smiles, but I see the sadness and worry in her eyes as she tucks a strand of my long, dark hair behind my ear, scanning my round face.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

She turns back to the cabin and smiles wider. “Yeah, I think your dad would be happy that we’re here.”

I squeeze her hand tighter as I look toward the cabin. “I think you’re right.”

Hand-in-hand, we walk up the creaky steps to the front door. Mom withdraws her key ring and fishes through it to find the one that hasn’t been used in years. It still glides in easily as she turns the lock, the worn handle twisting, and then she softly pushes the door open. Muggy air meets us with the familiar smell of a dark nuttiness that has always lingered in the walls.

The furniture was removed, leaving it bare save for the appliances in the kitchen. The vaulted ceilings are as tall as I remember and are met with natural, dark wood walls and floors.

A set of stairs at the back of the cabin leads to the loft, which was where I slept if I wasn’t camped out in front of the fireplace. Continuing our perusal of the main floor, we approach the bedroom in one corner and the bathroom in the other. Like the main area, both are bare but clean. I reach for the light switch near the door and flip it on, but nothing happens.

“Ah, I forgot I asked Grant to shut the power off when they packed everything up,” my mom says.

It was too emotionally daunting for either of us to come back here those months following the accident, and I physically couldn’t—as I was bedridden for so long. My mom didn’t dare leave my side, but the cabin couldn’t stay as it was forever. After a year of sitting untouched, our friends in town, who are more like family, packed up the cabin and ensured it was secure and cared for until we returned.

“I’ll go around back to flip the power on,” my mom continues, jutting a thumb over her shoulder. “Mina said some more boxes and furniture are in the storage shed.”

I spin on my heel and head through the front door. “Let’s get the trailer unloaded. We can go through the shed later,” I say flatly.

“Sounds good.”

I prop the front door open so we can easily carry things inside, then remove the tarp laid out over the boxes on the trailer while my mom goes to find the power box. The rustling sound of the tarp echoes off the trees, reminding me how truly quiet it is out here.

It’s weird how I missed the sound of silence.

Stacking a few of the smaller boxes on top of each other for my first load, I begin the route inside, unload, and head back to grab another. My mom was hesitant at first to let me lift that much weight when we loaded everything onto the trailer back home, but I assured her I would be fine. My back and knees have never been the same since the accident, but I was cleared to go back to normal movements and routines by my doctors a long time ago.

We make quick work of unloading the trailer, and when the last box is placed inside, I sit on the floor, wiping sweat from my forehead as my mom leans against a stack of boxes.

“I say we unpack the rest of the boxes later. Want to go into town?” she asks, giving me a knowing look.

I smile wide. “I was hoping you would say that.”

She laughs, reaching out her hands to help me to my feet. We rummage through our bags to find something to change into as our shirts are damp with sweat. I find a pair of denim shorts and a black top, then quickly brush out my hair before twisting it back into a bun on top of my head. My mom changes into a floral blouse and a flowy skirt, leaving her wavy, strawberry-blonde hair loose around her shoulders. We look like complete opposites, which we are in many ways—appearance and personality wise. My mom is bright and upbeat, and I am moody and skeptical.

As we make our way to the car, I can’t contain my giddiness. “I can’t wait to see everyone!” I say louder than I mean to, but seeing our friends again was a big reason for wanting to return at all. If we didn’t have close relationships here, I’m not sure I ever would’ve even considered it.

“Me too, sweetheart,” she says, smiling and turning the engine over. “So, to the bookshop first?”

I give her a bemused look. “Of course! They’re expecting us!” I exclaim.

She laughs again, backing out of the driveway. Both of us are beaming, and I realize I can’t remember the last time either one of us smiled this way—grinning like we’re actually looking forward to something.

If this is the only thing we gain by coming back here, then I say it was worth it.

CHAPTER THREE

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