Page 24 of Until Forever Falls

“Can I get you a drink, or a snack, ma’am?” the flight attendant asks with a tilt of her head.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there any chance you could make a margarita up here?”

She arches an eyebrow, amused. “On the plane? Not impossible, but we’ll have to improvise.”

“Improvise away, and keep ‘em coming. I’m all for a challenge right now.”

She gives a quick, understanding glance, then heads off to prepare my drink. When the plane descends into Portland six hours later, I’m five margaritas in, and a serene numbness wraps around me like a blanket.

“You look a little queasy, miss,” the cabbie remarks as I step out of the terminal.

“I’m fine,” I counter, bracing myself against the cab. The tequila might be behind the dizziness, but the thought of Rockport, and all that comes with it, is what’s really making my stomach flip.

He eyes me closely, pausing a moment. “You sure? You’re not about to hurl on my seats, are you?”

“I’m sure. Let’s just get in the car. Please.”

The driver hefts my bag into the trunk with a grunt, then closes it with a soft thud. “So, where are we headed?”

I press my forehead to the cool glass of the window, the faint remnants of the plane’s buzz swirling in my head. “A hotel in Rockport. The Drift.”

He glances at me in the rearview, his nostrils flaring slightly, lips pinched in disapproval. “The coast? I don’t know, that’s pretty far, miss.”

I pull a wad of cash from my pocket and count out enough to cover the inconvenience, handling it over with a small nod. His eyes flick to the money, and his expression softens. He doesn’t argue. “Alright, The Drift. Sure thing,” he mutters, lifting a brow with a hint of a grin. “Give me a shout if you need me to pull over.”

The drive drags on for over an hour, but time refuses to move, stretching unbearably slow. With each turn of the wheel, the town I fled from pulls me back, and my resolve crumbles as we draw near.

The moment the sign marking the edge of town comes into view, a cold rush of panic floods through me. My hands tremble as I clutch the seat, heart hammering a million miles an hour against my chest. I blink rapidly, as if I can undo the decision to come back, but the landscape outside is undeniable.

We come to a stop, and I can’t tear my eyes away from The Drift. It’s been given new life, sure, but the structure—those towering arched windows, those massive double doors with their worn brass handles—it’s unmistakable. I’m looking at the church.

I think of this place as the first true escape I ever found. Back when everything felt uncertain, it was here, with a paintbrush in hand, that I finally began to breathe again. Brooks brought me here because he understood—this church, now a hotel, was where I could confront the emotion I didn’t have words for. The stillness of the place, the way the light filtered through the stained glass—it was my sanctuary.

“You good, miss?” The driver’s voice interrupts my staring, his tone a little cautious. “Still feeling off?”

I force my gaze away from the building, my stomach turning in uneasy waves. “Just carsick, nothing serious,” I reply, but my voice wavers, betraying the lie.

“Take your time,” he offers, gesturing toward the entrance. But I don’t want time—I want to turn back. The doors seem to beckon, and yet all I want to do is run.

The buzz of the alcohol might be clouding my mind, but the lobby takes my breath away. Every inch of the space is carefully curated. I pause to admire the intricate details, my eyes landing on a mural on the far wall. It’s a large-scale portrait of a young girl, her face obscured by a tangle of black hair, but the butterflies woven into her curls are unmistakable. And the way she’s sitting on the beach, toes in the water, is an image I remember all too well.

I painted it years ago. A sharp pang shoots through me, my body tensing involuntarily.

“Dylan? Dylan Rivers!”

The voice, so familiar, takes me by surprise. I turn and find Ruby Miller, the owner of the local diner and my former boss, rushing toward me. Her eyes are bright, and the curve of her lips mirror a memory I’ve held onto for years.

“Oh! It’s really you!” Her arms envelop me, and for a moment, it feels like the last ten years melt away .

“Let me look at you, sunshine.” She holds me at arm’s length, her eyes scanning my face. “Gosh, this is just the best surprise! I had no idea you were coming to town. Oh, we must catch up, dear.”

“I’d really love that,” I reply, my voice cracking slightly. Ruby was one of the very few people who didn’t flinch when I walked into her life, baggage and all. She took a chance on me my senior year, offering me a job. Her faith in me was something I didn’t recognize as a gift until the moment I walked away.

The diner belongs to another lifetime now, and the thought of returning knots my insides. I’m sure Ruby’s hasn’t changed, but I have—and I’m not ready to face the version of myself I left there.

Ruby’s eyes soften as she appraises me. “You look fantastic, honey,” she says, her voice full of an affection I hadn’t realized I’d missed. “Have you run into Brooks yet? He’s bound to be around here somewhere. I’m going to give him an earful for keeping you a secret from me.”

“Wait—what?” I whisper, caught off guard. “He’s here? Why would he here?”

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