“Knock, knock.”
I scoot myself up in the bed the best I can without knocking the casting on my leg. The door opens, and Mom stands there with a big smile on her face.
“Hi.” I raise a brow at her, wondering why she’s hiding behind the door.
“I have a visitor for you.” She pushes the door open wider, and a smile breaks out across my face.
“Charlie!” I call.
Excitement buzzes through my veins at the sight of her. She looks so happy and vibrant, a completely different little girl from the last time I saw her.
She runs for me, golden curls bouncing with every step, and climbs onto the bed, wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight hug. I breathe her in, warmth and sunshine settling in my chest, my heart dancing with happiness.
“Watch her leg, sweetie,” Mom says.
“Sorry,” Charlie blurts, pulling back enough to peer at me, her eyes wide. “I’m so excited to see you.”
“You’re okay, and I’m so happy to see you, too.” I beam at her.
“Nurse Claire said you get to go home today. She also said you were really sad last week when I got to have my party.”
The words pinch. I wasn’t just sad, I was devastated. We had planned her party for weeks; it was my way of making it up to her after months of not being around. When the doctor told me I couldn’t go because my headaches had worsened and they wanted to keep me under strict monitoring, I completely lost it.
“I do get to go home today. I’m very excited.” I brush a curl back from her face. “And I’m sorry I had to miss your party. Did you have fun?”
“I had so much fun.” She spins around, holding her hands out toward Mom, who places something into them. Charlie turns back to me, smiling. “This is for you. I made it with my sister. It’s a get-well card and thank-you card all in one.”
My throat tightens as I take in the folded paper, smilingdown at the cooked letters and bright colors. “Why is it a thank-you card?”
“Because you helped with my party. Momma said you organized the whole thing, and I had so much fun that I wanted to thank you.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s very sweet of you. I’m really glad you had fun.” I look back at her. “Maybe we could make up for it one day and get ice cream together.”
Her face lights up. “I love ice cream!”
I laugh softly. “So, what was the first thing you did when you got home?”
“I jumped on my big girl bed,” she says proudly. “Then I went to the park with everyone. It was the bestest.”
“The bestest,” I repeat, my eyes widening dramatically for her. “Wow.”
“Okay, Charlie,” Mom says. “Your dad is waiting for you.”
“Hey, one last hug?” I stretch out my arms.
She doesn’t hesitate, launching herself into me. I squeeze her carefully. “Thank you for visiting me,” I say into her hair.
She pulls back, hops down from the bed, and bounces over to Mom.
Thank you,I mouth to Mom as she ushers Charlie out of the room.
I needed to leave this place on a good note. I needed the hugs, the laughter, something warm to carry with me when I walk out these doors.
Hours later, I’m stretched out on Hunter’s couch, my leg propped on a tower of pillows courtesy of Connor. The cushions smell like clean laundry and faint coffee, the kind of comfort you don’t notice until you’ve missed it.
Wildflowers are scattered throughout the house—jars on windowsills, mismatched vases on the kitchen and coffee table—filling the space with bright, earthy colors.
Everyone was here to welcome me home.
