Elowen.
I drive slow, like I’m afraid to arrive at any decision too quickly. Some song hums low on the radio, lyrics about heartbreak and timing, but I don’t sing along. I just let the road carry me.
When I pull into the driveway of my old house, the one with its sagging roof and blistering paint, I just sit for a minute. It’s like the whole place exhales with me.
I still don’t know what to do with it.
Sell it?
Fix it up?
Move in?
Burn it down and start over?
It used to feel like a home full of dreams. Now, it’s just a question mark I keep driving past, hoping one day the answer will slap me across the face.
But not today.
Today, the only thing I’m sure of is the pastry bag in the passenger seat, still warm, still untouched. So I put the truck back in gear and head down the old road I could drive in my sleep.
The road curves through the pines, same ruts, same shadows. Every bend feels like I’m driving through the spaces she left behind. Half-faded ghosts of conversations and the echo of her laugh when she said my name.
The Donovan house rises up like a memory that hasn’t finished hurting yet. I park, boots crunching dry dirt as I climb the steps.
Inside, it’s quiet. Stale. Like time forgot to keep moving.
I set the pastry bag on the counter, wondering if it’s a peace offering. Maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.
A throat clears behind me.
I freeze.
Turn slowly.
And there she is.
Elowen. In the living room. Hair messy. Eyes red-rimmed. Like maybe she hasn’t slept either.
I blink once. Twice. Wonder if I'm dreaming.
"Hey," she says softly.
My breath catches.
I say the only thing I can manage.
"Hey."
But my heart?
It’s screaming.
Because she came back.
And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
