I simply nod my head. I squint my eyes and see an even narrower path veering off the current path we’re on. I’m willing to bet that path leads to the cabins.
I remember this park as if it were yesterday. Gulping, I opt to distract myself and run my hand over my face again, feeling a hint of excitement at how wet my cheeks are. I close my eyes and biteback a soft grin, then notice him staring at me. I stop in my tracks.
“You’re staring,” I accuse. He smirks before taking a step into my bubble and tucking a lock of damp hair behind my ear. He’s getting quite good at that.
“How could I not?” he murmurs, his hazel eyes drifting over me before locking onto mine.
Warmth spreads across my cheeks. Little does he know, I can hardly stop staring at him myself. Not that I can share that.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” He grins, taking my hand in his and moving forward. “I know you like the rain and all, but as a sunshine lover myself, I’d prefer to settle somewhere dry for the night.”
I incline my head toward the alternate path. “There. Let’s take that path.”
“Lead the way.”
I walk in front of him down the new path entirely engulfed in trees. After only a moment, we make it to a clearing with two lake houses.
Interesting—it appears the cabins were renovated. They’re so much larger than I remember. Chills spread across my arms as my mind threatens to unravel moments I’d prefer not to relive. I tighten my free hand into a fist.
Now is simply not the time. I need to concentrate.
Getting Kai back to the Middle Realm is my top priority.
That initiative needs to be at the forefront of my mind.
Not my memories.
He squeezes my hand reassuringly, catching me off guard. I must be squeezing his hand hard, given how tight my fist is. How embarrassing.
I curse myself and then cross my fingers that at least one of these cabins is unoccupied. If not, we’re teleporting back to the city immediately.
We quietly approach the one nearest to us and see lights on inside. I peer into the large front window and see four people sitting around a wooden table, playing card games. Two adults and two children. A family.
The youngest—who can’t be older than five—is cracking up, banging his hand against the table’s carved surface. He keeps glancing at his older sister and shaking his head. She’s covering her mouth and laughing, too, while their parents wear confused expressions. The joke is clearly about them.
There’s a softness in the father’s gaze that strikes me. Although he isn’t in on the joke, he’s grinning from ear to ear, watching his children with a tenderness I haven’t seen in a long, long time.
I wipe my eye before a single tear can escape and turn around abruptly, stalking past this home to the next one. Kai can hardly keep up, but I don’t care. As I inch closer to the next one, I clench my jaw.
Please be empty. Please be empty. Please be empty.
This lake house is slightly smaller than the other, but it’s closer to the water. When I was little, lake days were my favorite days. We’d spend all day on the water, chasing dragonflies and frogs and eating sandwiches and cookies. Playing hide-and-seek in the forest surrounding us.
My family and I thrived during those little getaways. It’s when I felt closest to them. The lake brought us together year after year, making our family bond so strong it felt tangible. Given our stubborn natures, it was one of the only things we all connected on.
All the lights in this one are off, and I don’t see a car in the gravel driveway, meaning it’s presumably unoccupied. Reaching the top of the wooden stairs and stepping onto the wraparound porch, I brace myself and turn to hold him before teleporting inside the home.
I take in my surroundings as he begins exploring. He heads upstairs almost immediately and gasps, exclaiming about how nice the loft is. A small kitchen and dining area are to my right, featuring a rectangular wooden table and benches on either side. To my left lies the living room, including two brown sofas, a television, and a coffee table. Straight ahead is a staircase that used to lead to bedrooms. I glance up and see that it’s changed. As he mentioned, it’s a loft now. How modern.
Although the home looks different, the energy is familiar, even after all these years.
In fact, a lot of the wooden beams here look like the original wood. If I walk outside and peer closer at the wooden floorboards, I’ll find the name ‘Graves’ carved in one of the planks.
I lost my first tooth in the living room.
My brother took his first steps right next to the dining table.
My sister learned how to ride a bike here.
