Chapter 53
SADIE
TRY SOMETHING YOU’VE NEVER DONE.
Speed on a back road.
Order dessert first.
Quit something you’re “good” at.
Go somewhere without a plan.
Wear something just because I like it.
Climb the water tower.
Watch an R-rated movie.
Get a tattoo.
Kiss a stranger.
Paint the walls in my house.
The list sits complete on my counter.
The words are now memories, and a wobbly smile pulls across my cheeks.
What do I do now?
My phone buzzes against the laminate and I pick it up.
Emma
Mom said you’re back in Dusty Hollow!
I snap a photo of my living room. Clean. Everything in place. Nothing personal. Even the new green paint doesn’t feel like me. Not anymore.
I send it as evidence.
Sophie
Emma
Soph, seriously? All road trips must come to an end.
Sophie
Which is sad.
Sadie
I think I hate this house.
I type the words honestly.
When I moved back to Dusty Hollow to help my family, living under the same roof as my parents and sisters worked . . . for about a year.
Then the tension stretched tighter and tighter—like a rubber band ready to snap.
Buying my own house felt like freedom at the time.
But it’s just another choice I made that kept me rooted in a place I didn’t want to be forever.
Sophie
Then sell it. Get a van. Travel.
Emma
Seriously, Soph? That’s your dream.
Sophie
Exactly. What is yours, Sadie?
I close my eyes, and the memory of books floods my mind—the place Milo took me. I felt like I was holding hands with people I’d never known, feeling their pain and joy—separated by so much but understood in words.
I’ve always seen the world through the eyes of others.
Sadie
Actually, I think I do want to travel.
Sophie
Sophie
So travel. And don’t just talk about it, put action to it. You know what Dad always said?
Sadie
***
Sophie
If you’re going to jump, don’t stand on the edge all day thinking about it.
Emma
Dad did say that. Usually while Mom was yelling at him from the porch.
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. I can almost hear the scene—Dad halfway up a ladder putting up Christmas lights. He wanted to “go big” like Clark Griswold. Mom was warning him that he’d break his neck, my sisters and me watching because it was great entertainment.
He didn’t fall off the ladder. He slipped a few times but managed to light up our house so brightly we couldn’t fall asleep until the timer finally switched them off.
Sophie
So…are you going to stand on the edge? Or are you going to jump?
I stare at the question.
Standing on the edge.
That’s what most of my life has felt like—safe decisions, careful steps, doing what makes sense. The right thing. The responsible thing.
But the list on my counter isn’t careful.
It’s messy. Bold. A little reckless.
Checking off that list was the first time in a long time I felt like I was actually living.
Sadie
I’m jumping.
Emma
Into what exactly?
Sadie
I don’t know yet.
Sophie
PERFECT! That means it’s a real jump.
I glance back down at the list. My finger traces the words slowly, remembering each moment—the wind at the water tower, the first time I looked in the mirror and saw myself in red lipstick, Milo’s hand in mine while ink seeped into my skin like parchment.
Milo.
My chest tightens a little at the thought of him.
I wonder if he’s talking to Joe right now, if Joe is disappointed that I practically sent Milo away after he just got him back. My throat tightens slightly but instead of swallowing down the guilt, I part my lips and breathe. My lungs loosen.
Sadie
First step . . . I need to sell my house.
Emma
Grant’s mom is a realtor.
I quirk a brow. I wonder how much she knows about me and Grant.
Sadie
Great. I’ll message her.
Emma
So you’re really doing this?
Sadie
Both feet in.
Sophie
Emma
And Milo?
Sadie
He’s rooting for me.
And I know what he meant by those words as the warmth of them spreads through me all over again, remembering the kiss he pressed to my skin.
Milo Carter doesn’t just want me. He wants the life I’m brave enough to live.
Sophie
I’m rooting for you, too.
Emma
Same.
I lean back against the counter, the phone still in my hand, and smile. My eyes drift back to the list.
The list was never the point.
The list was just the beginning.
Outside, the late-afternoon sun pours through the window, warm and unapologetic. I step closer, letting it linger on my skin, reminding me that I don’t have to decide everything today. I just have to take the next step.
I find Darlene Williams’s number and send her a text.
Sadie
Hey, Darlene. It’s Sadie Summers. I’d like to sell my house and was wondering if you’d help me?