Still, under the weight of it, something stubborn flickered.If this were the road in front of me, then I’d walk it.
Just not today.
The weight of it all pressed down, heavier than I could carry right now.I pushed away from the table, my legs moving on autopilot as I made my way upstairs.
By the time I reached my room, the exhaustion I’d been outrunning for months hit me all at once.My bones ached with it, my head heavy, my chest hollow.I didn’t even bother changing, just crawled under the blankets and let them swallow me whole.
I closed my eyes and forced my mind away from the memories I couldn't write, trial and lawyers and whispers.Instead, I focused on the field, the meadow, the place I’d found today that felt like mine.I pictured the way the sun had hit the tree line, soft and golden, and imagined how it would look in the fall when the leaves burned bright, in winter when snow turned it into something hushed and clean.
I let myself breathe into that vision until my body loosened, until the ache eased.
And then, as sleep pulled me under, I heard it, his laugh, low and warm, curling around me like a promise.I felt his presence, imagined his arms cocooning me, solid and steady, keeping me safe.
Brody wasn’t here.But in that moment, in the fragile space between waking and dreaming, it didn’t matter.I let myself believe he was.
And finally, I slept
Chapter 39
It had been a week since I’d found my meadow.
A week since my family's lawyer sat in my parents’ kitchen, coffee in hand, and told me the Crown was moving forward.Trial.Charges.Testimony.A future where I might have to stand in front of strangers and peel open every wound, while facing Andrew.
My parents had been walking on eggshells ever since.My dad with that deep crease between his brows, my mom hovering too close, and Clara pretending she wasn’t watching me from the corner of every room.
And then there was Victoria.
Apparently, she’d heard about the trial moving forward while buying groceries, and the story had spread faster than the snow plow rumour mill.She’d screamed in the aisle, cursed my name, and hurled a basket full of produce at the floor.By the next morning, the whispers weren’t aboutmeso much as abouther, but somehow that didn’t make it easier.
Andrew hadn’t been seen at all.Not at the pharmacy, not at the gym, not even at his son's school for pick-ups or drop-offs.He seemed to have disappeared or was in hiding.And yet, I still felt him everywhere.
So, I baked.
The kitchen was warm with cinnamon and yeast.Jackson perched on a chair beside me like my cute little sous chef.He had chocolate smudged across his cheek and marker stains on his fingers from his earlier art project.The counter was chaos, flour dusting every surface, cookies cooling near the window, bread rising under a towel.
“Okay, Auntie Cass,” Jackson said seriously, pressing a fork into the pie crust with his little hand.“If we open a bakery, we have to have free samples.That’s how you get the customers hooked.”
I smiled, brushing flour from his hair.“Clearly, you’ve been hanging around your dad too much.”
He grinned, missing tooth and all, and leaned closer.“We’ll call it Auntie Cass’s Bakery.And my job will be… tasting.”
“You’d be excellent at that.Is that how you help your mommy at the cafe?”I slid the loaf pan into the oven and turned to watch him lick chocolate from his finger while nodding, his blonde mess of hair flopping over his forehead.The joy radiating off him was such a balm that it made something in me heal.
Mom set another dish on the counter, Clara trailing after her with a dish towel.She shook her head at the flour explosion, but there was a soft smile tugging at her mouth.
“You’ll clean this up, right?”Clara said, arching a brow at me.
“Yes, yes...I know the drill.”
Jackson shot his fist in the air, triumphant.“Yes!That means I get an Auntie Cass bubble bath after!”
Mom laughed, shaking her head, and for a flicker of a moment, it felt like we were a family untouched by whispers.
Judy met me at the door with a hug that smelled of cinnamon and fabric softener, Dean with a grin that was pure warmth.Their home buzzed with comfort, roast chicken, and something simmering on the stove; you could feel the love that had been steeped deep within this home.
“Come in, sweetheart,” Judy said, taking the pie and bread.“You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I wanted to,” I admitted.“It felt… right.”
