“Happy New Year,” he rasps.
“Happy New Year.”
The lights come back, soft but bright enough that I blink against them. People start moving in the opposite direction, back toward downtown, and he steps back smoothly, disappearing with them in a way that looks practiced.
As he leaves, I notice a detail I commit to memory: there’s a ring of keys clipped to his belt, the metal worn smooth, and a small wooden tag swinging from it.
An inn tag.
I realize with a start that his coat is still over my shoulders.
“Hey—” I yell after him, but the word is swallowed by the noise.
He’s already gone, easing into the crowd like someone who understands how to move unseen.
I stand there for a moment before I realize I’m smiling.
I don’t know his name.
But I finally know what it costs to choose—and I chose anyway. For once, I didn’t let fear win.
bonus epilogue #2
HOLLY
My fingers rubthe beads on the friendship bracelet in a quiet rhythm.
Heart = Home.
I don’t know what that means, but it’s a truth that could only come from a child. They have a way of breaking past all the extra stuff and saying what adults are often afraid to talk about.
I never open my fan mail anymore, but somehow this pile found its way to me. The child-like scrawl and glitter on the envelope felt safe enough to investigate.
Now that I’m staring at the contents, I’m not sure what to do with the feelings battling inside my chest.
Dear Holly,
I’m writing this with my new friend, Lucy. We met today at a fun farm and made a bunch of bracelets. We thought you might want one.
We are actually going to see a concert with your songs tonight. But it won’t be the same because it’s not you.
Are you ok? Did you run away?
My mom told me once that sometimes people don’t know where they belong, so they get scared. We moved, and it was kind of scary, but my mom also says home is where the heart is.
I don’t know what that means. She says it’s a feeling. But it made me feel better.
Maybe you need that feeling, too.
This is really long, sorry.
We miss you!
Phoebe and Lucy
P.S. That was too hard to put on a friendship bracelet.
“I wish it were that easy,” I whisper to the letter.
