In fact, it hits me square in the chest—because for the first time since mid-November—she’s living freely in a moment of her own making.
No apologies.
No asking for permission.
She’s not trying to be useful.
Someone taps on the shoulder, extending a bracelet toward her. Phoebe, of course, lights up and is already offering one of hers. But Chloe freezes for just a second, like she’s not sure what to do. Then she smiles, slides off one of hers, and swaps.
It happens fast and seems so organic to the experience that no one else seems to notice. Phoebe is already singing the next song.
But I don’t miss the way Chloe touches it like it means something. Or the way her fingers curl around mine like she’s keeping both.
I don’t know if she’ll remember this as a turning point.
I will.
forty-nine
CHLOE
I miss home.
This will always be the place I grew up, but Storywood Ridge is the place my life changed.
Twice.
I wasn’t expecting clarity so quickly, but I think I’ve been circling my thoughts for a while now. I’ve just been forced to reckon with them soon than I expected.
“Did you have fun, tonight?” Aiden asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind, then resting his chin on my shoulder.
“I did, actually.” I lay my arms on top of his. “I don’t remember the last time I felt that…free.”
“I enjoyed watching you have fun, and no, not in creepy way,” he murmurs. “It just seemed like you finally gave yourself permission to live in the moment.”
Part of me wants to soak in the aftermath of tonight. I want to lay in bed like in a teenager and scroll through all the photos we took on my cellphone, imperfect ones that sometimes blur from the lack of light but show life in that exact moment.
Not a curated perfect version of it.
I love those photos, but I’m realizing I’ve spent entirely too much time chasing things I can control because it feels safer than risking judgement or disappointment.
We have to talk about this.
“Maybe? I don’t really know how to just…live in the moment.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, frowning.
I rub my forehead, trying to get the words in my head into cohesive thoughts I can explain to him.
“You know my siblings. Out of the three of us, I was the kid who smoothed things over, who emptied the dishwasher and cleaned my room before anyone asked me to. Then my parents would praise me and tell me I was such a good kid,so easy, and I kept chasing that. If I couldn’t be useful like that, I stayed out of the way.”
His mouth sets in a hard line, but he doesn’t say anything.
“And then when Phoebe came along, sitting still and just feeling wasn’t an option. If I ever had the chance, I usually just crashed. But my brain wanted me to keep moving. Keepdoing. I realize it’s probably ironic, but when people would tell me how impressed they were by how much I was doing alone, it shifted my focus from ‘you weren’t enough for him to stay’ to ‘you’re more than enough for her’.” My voice drops. “It gave me purpose.”
“You know the reason he walked away wasn’t ever that you weren’t enough, right?” Aiden asks, his body stiff. I can see how badly he wants to comfort me, but he knows I’ve got to sit in this emotional discomfort and process it.
“I’ve always known that. I think my marriage to Trevor was doomed from the start. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” I chew my lip. “But getting your brain and your heart on the same page is a hard task. I knew what to do to help ‘fix’ that feeling, so I did it.”
