Page 166 of Fire and Icing

“You should be so happy.”

“I am.”

Syd steps closer and we hug.

“That’s all that matters today,” she says softly.

We’re oddly stronger after having gone through her keeping the secret about Evan from me. I see why she did it. But more than that, we’ve worked at rebuilding trust. When a friendship is as solid as ours, you can’t let one mistake and error in judgment ruin all that’s precious between you.

She lets out a little squeal as we’re making our way down my stairs.

“What is so exciting?” I ask.

“Nothing. Everything! Gah! I just love Dustin. He’s literally the best for you.”

“He is,” I agree.

When we walk out my back door into the yard, I look around at all my friends, Dustin’s family, the crew from the fire station. Dustin sees me and starts striding across the lawn toward me. My eyes are on him. But then there’s a movement by my garden shed. I glance away from Dustin and my hand flies up to cover my gaping mouth.

“Mom? Dad?”

Tears fill my eyes.

My parents are walking across my back yard. They’re here. For my birthday.

Of course, they’ve called every year. They call on holidays. I call them occasionally. Not as often as I should. Since Dustin and I have been dating, I call them more often. He encouraged me to do that and has been pushing me to plan a trip to Europe where, in his words, we can tour all the great bakeries of France and Belgium together. We will. One day.

But I didn’t have to go to Europe. Because they came here. I know what this cost them. Not in money, but in time and devotion to their business. They are running a bed and breakfast. That’s a seven-day-a-week job. And they’re the innkeepers. Like the bakery, a job in that kind of hospitality requires the owner to be present most days.

Yet, here they are.

My mom breaks into a run, heading straight for me. I run to her and we fall into one another’s arms.

“Mom. You’re here.”

“Sweetheart. Oh, Emberleigh.” She runs her hand down my hair like she used to do when I was little. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” I admit. “Every day.”

“We should have come home sooner.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.”

Dad walks up, patiently waiting his turn. Mom releases me and I wrap my arms around my dad, inhaling because he smells the way I remember. Just like home.

The thing about grief is that it’s slippery. And yet it can firm up and become like a pile of stones in your heart. And without knowing it, somewhere deep inside, you start to build a wall to keep anything or anyone else from hurting you the way you hurt before.

When my parents left, grief slid in. And even though I processed some of it, I stockpiled a whole bunch more. A new belief took hold. “People leave.” Those two simple words started to reorganize how I lived.

Dating Drew wasn’t bad. If it was, I would have left him. His family didn’t like me, but he was good to me. We had fun together. Looking back, I know now that I wanted everything with him just so I could fill the void my parents left. I gave Drew a full-access pass into my heart. When Drew left, everything crumbled. My grief multiplied and I added more stones to my wall. A new motto took over my life: No one will hurt me like this again.

But sweet Dustin came loping in like a stray puppy, wagging his adorable tail and licking my face—not literally, thankfully. He wiggled his way behind my carefully constructed wall with all his smiles and persistence and the way he openly supported me and showed up in every way imaginable. He helped me disassemble the wall, one stone at a time.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I tell my parents.

Then I look at Dustin. He’s made his way over to me.

“You flew my parents here?”

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