Page 48 of Cyclone

It was time to close the chapter.

And maybe, it was time to start writing a new one.

The house was almostempty now.

Just a few boxes stacked by the door.

Just a few last ghosts clinging to the walls.

I stood in the center of the living room, holding the framed photo in my hands — the one of Tyler swinging Callie around in the backyard, both laughing so hard you could almost hear it when you looked at the picture.

I pressed the frame to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. I have cried so much since I came here. I couldn’t cry anymore.

“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered, my voice breaking. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”

A tear slid down my cheek.

“I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”

The house creaked in the wind as if breathing one last time.

I carefully set the frame in the box marked “Keep” and looked around the room one more time.

“I’m going to be okay,” I said aloud, forcing the words into the air, into the bones of this house that had held so much love and loss.

“I promise.”

I turned toward the door but stopped when my gaze caught on the kitchen table, the one where Tyler used to drink his coffee and where Lacey used to color with crayons, scattered everywhere. I walked into the kitchen and took her drawings from the fridge. I would frame them and hang them in my next kitchen.

I smiled through the ache, brushing my fingers lightly over the worn wood.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“For every single moment.” With a final breath, I closed the door behind me.

I locked it and tucked the key into my pocket, not because I needed it anymore but because it was a piece of my old life I wasn’t ready to let go of completely.

As I walked to my truck, the first stars began to blink into the sky.

And somewhere deep inside me, past the wreckage, past the pain, a tiny spark of something new flickered to life.

Hope.

I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel.

A text lit up on my phone, waiting for me.

From Cyclone.

You don’t have to do this alone.

I’m here whenever you’re ready.

I stared at the screen, a tear slipping free.

Then I smiled a genuine, shaky, broken smile and started the engine.

It was time to go.

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