Page 3 of Todd
Relief flooded through Sadie as she shifted to find the most comfortable position possible. The last thing she needed was to deflect small talk and personal questions.
Her mind inevitably wandered to the past six months. The familiar ache sliced through her chest, making each breath feel labored. The grief was still raw, still sharp enough to catch her off guard. She could still smell the antiseptic hospital corridors when she breathed too deeply, still hear the rhythmic beeping of machines punctuated by her mother’s increasingly shallow breaths. Those sounds haunted her dreams, jolting her awake in the small hours when the darkness felt too heavy to bear alone.
Before the memories could drag her completely under, she felt the subtle shift as the aircraft’s nose dipped toward the earth. They were beginning their descent, and she forced herself to focus on what lay ahead rather than what she’d left behind. She kept her eyes on the window as the land grew closer. Her pulse kicked up slightly. This wasn’t just another mission, another transfer. She wasn’t reporting for duty. This was something else entirely. This trip to Montana represented more than a job opportunity. It was her chance at rebirth. Something that could reshape the broken pieces of her life into something whole again.
As the wheels touched down and they taxied toward the modest terminal, her seatmate carefully bookmarked her page and tucked the novel back into her bag. She turned to Sadie with a gentle smile. “I’m here to visit my grandchildren,” she said, her voice warm with anticipation. “What brings you to Montana?”
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with the kind of casual curiosity that usually made Sadie’s defenses snap into place. But something about the woman’s genuine interest, combined with the emotional exhaustion of travel and grief, stripped away her usual guardedness. She managed a small smile in return. “Change.”
The single word carried the weight of everything she couldn’t articulate. She was filled with the need to escape, to start over, to find some version of herself that wasn’t defined by loss and duty and the suffocating humidity of Florida. The woman seemed to understand the depths contained in that simple response, offering only a knowing nod as the plane came to its final stop.
The deplaning process moved with efficiency. Sadie walked beside her seatmate up the jet bridge and into the compact terminal that felt refreshingly unpretentious after the sprawling chaos of major airports. Their luggage appeared quickly on the carousel, and Sadie shouldered her large duffel bag while gathering her remaining luggage with practiced efficiency.
The familiar weight steadied her. Something was oddly comforting about carrying everything she owned right now. If she got the job, she’d have everything she needed to start anew. And if she didn’t… well, she would still have all her possessions when she moved on.
As she turned to leave, her gaze met her former seatmate’s once more. Sadie offered a small nod, expecting nothing in return.
But the woman smiled warmly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Before Sadie could respond, the sound of children’s voices calling, “Grandma!” echoed through the terminal. She watched as the woman’s face transformed with pure joy, years seeming to melt away as she rushed into the eager arms of her waiting family.
Sadie’s breath caught, unprepared for how sharp the ache in her chest would be. There would be no rushing into anyone’s arms for her. No familiar faces scanning the crowd with anticipation. No one even knew she’d arrived safely. She swallowed hard against the unexpected surge of loneliness and headed toward the car rental counter with determined steps.
The paperwork was mercifully straightforward, and within minutes, she was loading her bags into the back of a practical midsize SUV. The GPS was already programmed with her destination, and she started the drive to the modest hotel that had looked clean and unpretentious in the online photos.
It wasn’t fancy, but the top, third-floor room they gave her had something that instantly lifted her spirits—a private balcony. Inside, the room looked like every motel she’d stayed in during years of travel with generic furniture, bland carpet, and soft lighting. But she barely noticed as her gaze was already drawn to the sliding glass door.
She opened it, stepping out into cool, dry, fresh air. Two chairs filled most of the room on the balcony, but she leaned against the rail, her gaze outward.
Majestic mountains loomed in the distance, with their peaks still streaked with snow. Pines lined the edges of the land below, and the soft hush of wind carried the faint scent of something wild and unspoiled.
Sadie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It wasn’t recycled cabin air. It wasn’t heavy with Southern humidity. It was a crisp, pure space that seemed to stretch on forever.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, her lips curled into something that resembled a smile. The expression was now so unfamiliar that she was genuinely surprised her facial muscles remembered how to form it. When was the last time she’d smiled without effort, without the conscious decision to appear normal for someone else’s comfort?
She sank into one of the two simple chairs, propping her feet up on the metal railing. Closing her eyes, she let the mountain air wash over her while the sounds of life filtered up from the street below.
What she’d told the woman on the plane was the absolute truth. She had come to Montana seeking change… fundamental, life-altering transformation. She had no guarantee she’d find it, no promises that this leap of faith would lead anywhere but another disappointment. But sitting here, with the vast sky above her and endless possibilities stretching toward the horizon, she felt something she’d almost forgotten existed… hope.
The scent of grilled beef drifted toward her, and her stomach growled with unexpected force. She huffed a quiet laugh. “God, I’ve barely eaten today.” Then again… she hadn’t eaten much for months. She couldn’t remember her last real meal since airplane peanuts didn’t count, and she’d been surviving on coffee and fast food for so long that actual hunger felt almost foreign.
Grief had a way of making basic human needs feel optional, but apparently, her body was finally ready to rejoin the world of the living.
Across the street and slightly to the left, she spotted a bar that looked authentically rough around the edges. The kind of place that didn’t bother with fancy signage or tourist-friendly facades. It matched the unpretentious character of the other buildings in this part of town. Weathered but solid. More functional rather than decorative.
And real was what she needed.
Rising from the chair, she stepped back inside and opened her suitcase. From one of the side pockets, she pulled her slim crossbody purse, checking that her wallet, phone, and hotel key were tucked inside. After a quick stop in the bathroom to finger-comb her travel-mussed hair, she headed back out into the hallway.
As she walked across the street and down the block toward the bar, her steps felt lighter than they had in months. The mountain air filled her lungs with each breath, and for the first time since her mother’s diagnosis, the future felt like something to anticipate rather than endure.
The life she was chasing wasn’t here yet. But it was on the horizon.
3
Stepping inside the building, Sadie felt a wave of relief wash over her. The interior was rustic with hardwood floors that were clean despite the scuffs from years of boots tromping in and out. There wasn’t a hint of the sticky-floored, grimy-bartop atmosphere she’d been half-expecting. Her stomach was empty enough that she would have eaten almost anywhere, but her standards hadn’t completely abandoned her to desperation.
The long wooden bar stretched along the left side of the room, its surface as worn and scuffed as the floor, but clean. On the right, a scattering of tables held a few families and small groups, laughter and conversation buzzing low in the background. More tables filled the back, and the place had a homey feel that put her at ease.
