Being himself was supposed to be enough. After years of proving he could change, of building a life focused on what truly mattered, he was supposed to believe that Susan valued him exactly as he was.
Michelle’s bracelet reminded him that good intentions weren’t always enough. That love required more than feelings. It demanded consistent action, daily choices to prioritize the people who trusted you.
Paul looked at the package again.
Michelle had told him not to waste his second chance. She’d given him permission to move forward without carrying her anger alongside his guilt. This bracelet represented the promise he’d made to himself the night she died—that he wouldn’t repeat the mistakes that had cost him everything.
He would be present and would listen. He’d believe Susan when she said something was wrong, even if it seemed minor. And he’d never again convince someone that their instincts were less reliable than his assumptions.
Paul took a deep breath and gathered his jacket from the hook behind the door. He took one last look at the shipping box, then switched off the desk lamp and left his office.
Outside, December air bit at his face as he locked the door. Stars scattered across the black sky above Sapphire Bay, bright and untroubled. On the highway, Lynda and Susan were driving home, while Matt’s monitors beeped their steady reassurance.
Tomorrow morning, Paul would send Michelle’s bracelet to someone who deserved it. Someone who could honor her memory without the complicated shadows that would always lie between Paul and the woman he’d once loved.
He climbed into his truck and started the engine. The heat took a moment to kick in, but he didn’t mind the cold. It felt cleansing somehow, like the sharp clarity that came after making a difficult decision.
Paul pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home, leaving the package behind but taking Michelle’s lessons with him into whatever came next.
Chapter 34
Susan balanced the insulated carrier against her hip as she pushed through the hospital’s main entrance. Beside her, Kathleen held two bags of homemade sandwiches while Isabel carried a box with a thermos of soup and fresh bread.
“ICU is on the third floor,” Isabel said, pressing the elevator button with her elbow.
The doors opened, and they stepped inside. Susan watched the numbers climb, her chest tight with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite name. It was December twenty-fourth. Lynda should have been standing in the barn today, wearing her wedding dress and promising to love Matt forever.
Instead, she’d spent the last four days camped in a hospital room, willing Matt to wake up.
The elevator dinged, and they walked toward the waiting room.
“I’ll ask the nurse to let Lynda know we’re here,” Susan said, setting down the carrier. She approached the nurse’s station and spoke to a woman wearing navy scrubs.
“Excuse me, we’re here to see Lynda Morth. She’ll be with Matt Reynolds. Could you let her know her friends have arrived with lunch?”
The nurse glanced up and smiled. “Of course. I’ll tell her right away.”
Susan returned to the waiting room, where Kathleen and Isabel had claimed seats near the window. They didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, Lynda appeared in the doorway, her hair pulled into a messy knot at the base of her neck. She looked thinner than she had four days ago, but her eyes were brighter than Susan had seen them since the accident.
“Hey,” Lynda said, her face brightening when she saw them. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
“Of course we did.” Susan stood and pulled her friend into a hug. “We brought lunch. Real food, not whatever they’re serving in the cafeteria.”
“I made roasted chicken sandwiches,” Kathleen added, gathering the bags. “And Isabel made her minestrone.”
Lynda sighed. “You don’t know how good that sounds.”
Susan pulled a small table closer and took a pink tablecloth out of the cooler she’d brought with her. “I thought we needed a little color to brighten up the room.”
Isabel unpacked the food and smiled. “It looks pretty. How’s Matt doing?”
Lynda settled into a seat. “The neurologist just left. Dr. Davies is thrilled with his improvement. This morning, Matt squeezed my hand when I asked him to. On purpose, not just a reflex.”
“That’s wonderful,” Susan said, relief flooding through her as she handed Lynda a plate.
Kathleen began ladling soup into bowls. “Has he opened his eyes?”
“Twice yesterday. Just for a few seconds, but he followed Dr. Davies when he walked across the room.” Lynda accepted the bowl Kathleen handed to her. “Matt’s brother went home this morning, but he’ll be back in a couple of days. I promised I’d text updates every few hours.”
