Page 85 of Until Forever Falls

I tip my head back against the seat and stare up at the headliner, like it might have the answer. What I’d give to stay a little longer. To walk right back into the hotel, and go straight to her room. To finally show her what I’ve been holding inside all these years. An unsettling thrum builds in my chest and I flip the sun visor down, a worn photograph slipping free, landing face up in my lap. The edges are curled, the colors faded, but I don’t need clarity to know what it is.

Her.Framed by stained glass, brush in hand, coaxing butterflies from her soul. She never knew I took the picture—too deep in the trance of creation, breathing color into her trauma. Healing.

I turn my gaze toward the entrance of The Drift, the place that’s been my everything—my home, my work, my safety. But now, with her here, it’s complete in a way I didn’t know it could be. I’ve gone through the motions, tried to let other people in, but no one has ever quite fit like she did.

I place the photo back where it belongs and push the visor up. The truck idles beneath me for a moment before I shift into gear, rolling through town slower than I need to. There’s a lightness in my chest where the secret used to sit—a looseness I didn’t have yesterday.

I roll into my driveway, gravel shifting under my boots as I climb out of the truck. I shut the door, harder than I need to, and head inside.

The house is dark except for the glow of the microwave clock. I toe off my boots by the door, leaving them in a heap before making my way to the kitchen. Water. Food. Something to do with my hands. I yank open the fridge, stare at the half shelves like an answer might be tucked between a beer and last weekend’s produce.

My whole body feels wired, like I’ve got nowhere to put all this…whatever this is. Restlessness. Hope?

I glance at my phone, half expecting a message, half knowing it won’t be there. I should sleep. Instead, I grab a glass, fill it at the sink, and lean against the counter. I take a long sip of water, the cold biting at my throat, but it does nothing to settle me. The house feels too still. Or maybe I am. Either way, standing here is not helping.

I set the glass in the sink and push off the counter, rubbing a hand over my face as I head for the bedroom. My body knows I need to rest, even if my mind isn’t on board. I pull my shirt over my head, toss it toward the chair in the corner, and drop onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight.

Lying down makes it worse. The second my head hits the pillow, my thoughts start spinning again. I flip onto my side. Then onto my back. Exhale hard and shove my arm under the pillow. Sleep isn’t coming easy, but I close my eyes anyway, forcing myself to at least try.

Morning drags its way in, slipping through the gaps in the curtains, indifferent to whether I’m ready for it or not. Sunday means breakfast with my Dad at Ruby’s—a routine we fell into over the last couple of years.

I rub the back of my neck, working out the stiffness from a night that barely counted as sleep. However much I did manage wasn’t enough, but there’s no point in dwelling on it. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth, the cold water cutting through some of the grogginess. I pull on a henley and a pair of jeans, rolling my shoulders to shake off whatever’s left of sleep before shoving my feet into my boots. Fingers comb through my hair, I grab my keys and step outside, letting the cool air do what coffee hasn’t yet—wake me up.

Ruby’s is alive with the kind of morning rush that never changes—orders being shouted, plates sliding onto tables, coffee pots making the rounds. The scent of maple syrup and frying bacon clings to the air. My dad’s tucked into our usual booth, already deep in his first cup of joe, and in front of my seat, a hot plate of untouched pancakes sits, waiting.

I settle in across from him, and neither of us rushes to speak. There’s no need. We’ve spent years rebuilding this, chipping away at the mistakes, until we finally landed here—two men who finally learned how to meet each other halfway.

Scott Holland, the man who once measured my worth in expectations and sacrifices, isn’t the same. I spent years resenting the pressure, the feeling that I was always falling short. But now, I understand it for what it was—his way of protecting me from failure.

“Figured you’d sleep in today.”

I know what he’s really asking—how’d it go with Dylan?

I push the pancakes around on my plate, not quite ready to lay it all out. It’s still too raw. But it’s my dad, and there’s a certain kind of honesty between us now that wasn’t always there. It makes me feel like I can say it.

“I talked to her last night. After the reunion.” The confession settles between us, thick as the syrup on my plate. “She knows. Everything’s out in the open now.

Dad doesn’t press, but he doesn’t look away either. He just sits with it, with me, waiting. He saw me tear myself apart over her once. He watched me rebuild, piece by piece over the years. And now, with her back, I think we’re both trying to figure out if I’ll have to start over again.

“She’s staying.” I say it like I need to hear it aloud to believe it. I lean back, running a hand along the back of my neck. “For Blake. Because she wants to be a part of her life.” I exhale slowly. “I get it. I do. It isn’t about me. But…I can’t screw this up again. Not when I’ve been given another chance.”

“Then don’t.” He sets his cup down, leveling me with a look. “You don’t have to be perfect, son. You’ve learned. You’ve already faced the worst and come out on the other side. Don’t stop fighting now.”

“I know. It just feels like there’s already so much time we can’t get back.”

“Then don’t waste the time you have now. Just let it happen.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just trying to be patient.”

My dad smirks, lifting his coffee. “Well, who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll finally get around to that Paris trip you used to go on about.”

I huff out something close to a laugh, but then Ruby’s there, coffee pot at the ready, as if she’s mastered the art of showing up right when someone needs an escape.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up. Hope I’m not interrupting anything too serious. Should I be topping off the coffee or the advice”

My dad chuckles, leaning back in his seat. I’ve been trying to get him to stop worrying himself in circles, but you know how that goes.”

Ruby arches a brow, refilling his cup before glancing at me. “What’s got you in a twist?” She nudges the coffee pot toward me. “You need this more than anyone.”

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