Letting go.
And maybe that's the difference between us. She's brave enough to walk away for my sake.
I'm still sitting here, waiting for her shadow to come back up the drive.
But it doesn't.
Chapter 27
Kassi
The first morning in the cabin smells like pine and promise, while somehow it still hurts to breathe.
I wake before the sun, tangled in the unfamiliar sheets, half expecting to hear the hum of traffic outside the old apartment window or the clank of pipes that never warmed all the way. Instead, there's only the low creak of wood settling and the soft rush of wind through the trees.
It should feel like peace. It doesn't.
The room is too quiet, too wide. The ache in my chest is a hollow that echoes when I breathe. Pressing the heel of my hand against it, I’m trying to hold the pieces together for one more day.
From down the short hallway, I hear Emma singing. Her little voice lifts and cracks on the high notes, sweet and completely off key, but the sound of it fills the cabin until the silence retreats.
She loves it here.
Yesterday, she spent the afternoon running from room to room, barefoot and wild, her laughter bouncing off every wall. She claimed the bedroom with the big window and spent an hour deciding where to put her toy box. She wanted fairy lights on the ceiling and a rug shaped like a star. I promised we'd find both.
Watching her this free, I should be happy. I should feel nothing but relief that she has space now, sunlight, a yard, a life that feels open. But happiness feels just out of reach, a word I can see but can't say.
I roll onto my side and look toward the window. Morning light seeps through the curtains, turning the edges of the world gold. The air smells faintly of rain even though it hasn't rained since last week. It reminds me of Asher. Of the way his shirt smelled like sun and soil when he pulled me close. The way his voice went quiet when he said my name.
Even though I close my eyes, it doesn't help. His face is still there, the way it looked when I said I loved him when I didn't mean to, and he couldn't say it back because the world had already started breaking around us.
The knock on the front door makes me flinch.
Pushing the blanket aside, I smooth my hair and try to look less like a woman who hasn't slept properly in three nights.
When I open the door, Josh and Jenna stand on the porch. Josh has a box in his hands labeledkitchen, which he's pulled from the trailer still loaded with boxes,and Jenna's holding a tray of cinnamon rolls that are still warm.
"Good morning, neighbor," Jenna says with a grin that's all sunshine and no judgment.
She's made the joke a few times because we moved closer to them, not that we are actually neighbors.
Josh tilts his head toward Jenna. "We come bearing carbs and moral support."
For a second, the kindness is too much. I blink hard and force a smile. "You didn't have to do that."
"Of course we did," Jenna says, brushing past me into the kitchen as if she's been here a hundred times. "It's moving day part two, and nobody survives that alone. Where do you want the boxes?"
"Anywhere," I say, my voice thinner than I mean it to be. "I'm still figuring it out."
Josh sets the box on the counter and gives me a look that's half worry, half big-brother protectiveness. "You holding up okay?"
I nod because it's easier than the truth. "We're good. Emma loves it here."
"Of course she does," Jenna says, already opening drawers, taking inventory. "You've got trees and space and the best cinnamon rolls within twenty miles. What's not to love?"
Emma appears then, hair a wild halo, wearing pajamas with little horses on them. She squeals when she sees Jenna. "You came!"
"I promised, didn't I?" Jenna crouches down and opens her arms. Emma runs into them without hesitation. "We brought treats, Josh's terrible taste in music, and came to help with boxes."