Page 76 of Until Forever Falls

I’ve been wandering aimlessly for hours. Tonight everything I’ve built the last ten years has completely unraveled, abandoning me in the middle of a life I barely recognize. And now, finding out I have a sister I didn’t know about? It means my short visit to Rockport just turned into something more permanent.

I stop in front of the old house, and time hasn’t touched it. It’s still as run down and forgotten as the day I left. Weeds crawl through the cracks in the sidewalk, dandelions scattered like an afterthought. It’s eerie how every detail remains unchanged, yet the very soul of it feels alien to me.

I know why I’m here, or more accurately, who brought me here.Blake.

Motionless, I stare ahead. My hands fidget, fingers twisting together as if the movement might steady the uncertainty curling inside me. Part of me wants to bolt—vanish into the night, leaving everything and everyone behind. This wasn’t the plan; I wasn’t supposed to care. I was perfectly fine locking the door on this place and everyone in it. Or at least, I thought I was.

A new thought digs in—Blake deserves more than a half-present stranger orbiting her life. She deserves a sister who shows up, even if I’m still learning how.

The yard is still, the only sound is the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Every window in the house is dark, making me wonder if anyone’s even awake. It’s late. Too late for a reasonable visit. I should probably just come back in the morning. But my feet stay rooted in place, defying every instinct to turn and go. I can’t walk away. Not yet. Not without trying.

“Um, do you need something?”

I spin around, heart lurching, and there she is—a girl no older than ten, standing on the sidewalk with a tiny dog at her feet. Her dark hair skims her shoulders, and her eyes—so vividly blue they steal the breath from my lungs—resemble a ghost of my own staring back at me. It’s disorienting, like I’ve stumbled into a mirror where my younger self is staring back at me.

“I’m sorry,” she stammers, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just walking my dog Zoey.”

Her dog, some scruffy little thing with too much energy, tugs at the leash, and she tugs back absentmindedly.

“No, you didn’t scare me.” My pulse kicks up as I step forward, hands twitching like they don’t know where they belong. The last thing I want is to spook her. “I didn’t know anyone was out here. I was about to knock.”

She glances down at her sneakers, scuffing one against the pavement before meeting my gaze again. There’s caution in her eyes, but also a reluctant curiosity. “If you’re here for my mom, she’s not home.”

“Oh.” The word feels insignificant, weighted with too much expectation for something so small. I don’t even know what I was hoping for, showing up like this. Of course she assumes I’m here for our mother. What kid wouldn’t when a stranger shows up unannounced on their doorstep? A lump rises in my throat, my chest constricting until I have to force myself to breathe. Because that’s all I am to her right now—a stranger on the sidewalk.

“And your name is?” I want to hear it, need to hear it—but the second it leaves my mouth, I regret it. She’s going to think I’m some freak lurking outside her house, not someone grasping for proof that she’s real.

Her lips press together, and I can tell she’s debating whether she should answer. Then, finally, she says, “Blake.”

Hearing it from her directly shatters whatever distance I’d tried to keep. Chloe’s words felt like a rumor, something too big to grasp. But this? This makes it undeniable. I keep staring at this little girl like I’m willing her to recognize me, to say my name like it means something. Like I maybe mean something. But she doesn’t.

“Do you know how to reach your mom?” My voice scrapes out rough and uneven. I’m not sure I even have the right to ask.

She’s considering, her fingers curling around the leash of her tiny dog, eyes scanning me for something—danger, familiarity, a reason to bolt? I’m unsure. “Um, yeah. But she’ll probably be back soon.”

Soon. I nod, but the thought of standing here, waiting for my mother to just…appear, is too much right now.

I dig into my bag, pulling out a scrap of paper and a pen. The numbers come out in quick, harsh lines, my hand unsteady like my body’s fighting against what I’m doing.

“Here.” I hold it out. “Can you…have her call me when she gets home?”

Blake takes the note like it’s made of glass, handling it with the kind of care reserved for fragile things. I nearly convince myself that she understands that this is more than just a scrap of paper. Maybe she knows exactly who I am and is too nervous to admit it.

I look back at the house, and it feels like I’m seeing it through two sets of eyes. The seventeen year old who used to live here and the uncomfortable stranger standing on the sidewalk now.

“It was nice meeting you.” My words barely scratch the surface of what this moment is—of what it could change.

Blake’s voice is soft as she agrees, and I force myself to turn away, my legs wobbling like the earth beneath me is about to crack.

My steps don’t falter as I push everything down, but the moment she’s no longer in view, the floodgates open, and all of it comes crashing down. A sister. A whole person I should’ve known, should’ve loved. How the hell do you make sense of something like that?

By the time I make it to town, I’m muttering a string of curses about Aaron ditching me without his rental car back at the high school. I can’t fault him for it. Why wouldn’t he? If there’s one thing I’ve mastered, it’s being the one left behind.

The streets are nearly deserted as I move through the old downtown neighborhood, the quiet broken only by the occasional passing car. I follow the same worn path I used to take years ago, past leaning fenced and rusted mailboxes that haven’t changed. The first day I walked this route, I was trying to distance myself from that house. Now, I’m tracing the same steps, wishing I could just turn back. For her.

By the time I see Ruby’s diner in the distance, my head is pounding, and my body feels like it’s running on fumes. The neon sign flickers slightly, and for a moment, I consider walking past it. But my feet betray me, drawn toward the familiar red glow as if they know something I haven’t figured out yet.

I stumble through the front door, my eyes darting for an empty table—anywhere to take a moment to breathe—but Ruby sees me first. She’s behind the counter, mid-conversation with a customer, but the moment her gaze locks onto mine, her focus snaps to me instantly.

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