Page 62 of Five Summer Wishes

He reached for my hand.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s build from there.”

That night,I stood in the attic—the one we’d spent weeks slowly reclaiming—and pulled out the last of Iris’s envelopes.

It wasn’t fancy. No ribbon. No flourish.

Just her handwriting, faded and familiar.

I opened it slowly.

Last Wish:

stay.

even when it’s messy.

even when it’s hard.

even when you think you can’t.

stay long enough to become someone new.

i’ll be with you every step of the way.

The words didn’t undo me. Theyremademe.

Right there, barefoot and blinking against the dust and the memory, I whispered, “I’m staying.”

The next morning,I woke up before the sun. I pulled on a hoodie, grabbed my notebook and a pen, and walked to the rooftop over the garage—one of the many secret nooks Iris had carved into this house like she knew one day we’d need places to catch our breath.

The sky was still gray. The air cool. The town below hushed and holding.

I sat cross-legged on the blanket Willa had left up here two weeks ago and opened my notebook. Just to write.

No plan. No outline. Just what was true.

I want this life.

I want mornings without rush.

I want conversations that don’t need fixing.

I want softness. And partnership. And belly-deep laughter that doesn’t require a mask.

I want to love someone without having to prove I’m worthy of being chosen.

I want to stay.

And I’m done apologizing for that.

The sun pushed up over the edge of the horizon.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t brace for the day.

I welcomed it.

Nate found me later.

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