Chapter 33
The door shut behind us with a click that settled heavy in my chest. Junie’s hand slipped out of mine the second we stepped off Violet’s porch, and she took off up the gravel road toward Ty’s house without looking back.
Her rain boots kicked up dust that hung thick in the last slant of sunlight, and then the clouds swallowed the sun whole.
Piggie chased behind her, hooves moving faster than I’d thought possible for such a little pig.
I followed slower, dragging my feet. An hour ago, the valley had looked drunk on summer, all bright colors and hazy sunlight. Full of life, of possibility, of a future.
Now, it was like the weather mirrored my emotions. Storm clouds piled black against the peaks, moving fast and out of control. The temperature dropped ten degrees in the space of a heartbeat, and the wind carried the sharp smell of rain.
Ty walked at my side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders curved inward. Neither of us spoke, not sure what to say. Sandra’s voice still echoed in my skull, light and bureaucratic and kind: you’re free to relocate to Chicago.
Free.
Like I could just walk away from it all.
From the pain of losing my sister. From the house she loved so much.
From the life she’d built here. From the new friends who’d shown up for me even though I had nothing to give.
From the father Junie had chosen for herself.
From the man who saw me better than anyone ever had.
No matter how much it hurt to see Violet everywhere around me, I couldn’t do that to any of them. I just had to survive this bone-deep pain, too.
Junie reached Ty’s porch first, climbed the steps two at a time, and disappeared inside without a word.
She left the front door open, and I hesitated for a second, already feeling the depression pull me under once more.
Inside, a bedroom door slammed shut, and I looked down to Rowdy standing at my feet.
Ty paused at the bottom step, looked up at the sky, then at me. “I’ll get the animals in,” he said, voice flat. “Storm’s coming fast.”
I nodded, throat too tight for words. Too tired to do anything but let them hate me.
He headed for the barn. I stood there for another useless second, wind whipping my hair across my face, then forced my feet up the steps and into the house.
Rowdy stood at my side, the only one who wasn’t mad at me.
I kicked off my shoes, then padded down the hallway toward Junie’s room. I raised my hand to knock on the closed door, then let it fall.
What was I supposed to say?
I’m trying so hard, and it still isn’t enough.
I want to fix everything, but I don’t know how to fix myself.
Every choice I make feels like the wrong one, and I’m terrified I’ll be the reason we all fall apart.
I couldn’t say any of it. Not without making things worse.
I went back to Ty’s room instead, sank onto the bed, and pulled my knees to my chest. Rowdy climbed up beside me and laid his head across my feet.
I scratched behind his ears without thinking, staring at the tray where Junie’s half-finished friendship bracelet still lay, purple and pink threads tangled like everything else.
She’d dumped the beads out earlier, sorting them by letter, but I couldn’t look away from the numbers.
One. Violet’s death.
Two. Junie’s sorrow.
Three. Ty’s pain.
Three bad things, then one good thing, right?
But everywhere I looked lay chaos and sadness.
Maybe the good thing wasn’t coming this time.
Maybe I didn’t deserve it.
Thunder rumbled, followed by a crack of lightning, drawing my attention to the open window. The curtains snapped in the wind, carrying the smell of the summer storm. I got up to shut it, leaning into the frame when the sound of something fluttering drew my eye to the dresser.
The corner of a folded letter peeled away from the tape on Violet’s urn, hesitating for a beat before the wind caught it.
It drifted off the dresser, carried across the room in an uneven arc, brushing the air just long enough for me to realize what it was before the latch clicked shut and the storm was locked outside again.
The letter wavered, then settled on the floor at my feet.
Rowdy’s head came up, ears pricked. I stayed still, heart thudding so loudly I could hardly hear the storm outside.
When I bent to pick it up, I already knew what I’d see.
That same little daisy stared back at me.
The last thread of my strength snapped. I sank down onto the floor and opened the letter with shaking fingers, suddenly desperate to hear what she had to say.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this without sounding like one of those “live laugh love” signs, but they might be on to something.
This is it. Our last goodbye. But before I go, I owe you an explanation.
Three years ago, you were brand new in Chicago, scared shitless even though you didn’t want me to know. But at five in the morning, I got a text from you asking if I believed in soulmates.
I do, but not the way you meant it.
You, my sweet sister, have always been my soulmate. My better half. My shining star.
I was sick to my stomach the entire time you drove from Linwood to Chicago, desperate to tell you to come back, and terrified you would if I asked. But then you texted me about this mystery man, and I knew I’d made the right choice. Knew I’d set you free to go find your own path.
Everything that came after was a whirlwind of sadness for all of us, and damn, I wish we weren’t so familiar with that feeling. Junie was sad you were gone. I missed you more than I could ever tell you. And you were heartbroken that Huddy had walked away.
So, imagine my surprise when our reward for surviving all that stood in my driveway.
Each day, Ty showed up and proved he was exactly who you told me he was after that first night together. Just as caring and protective and good. And each day, I tried to figure out how to tell you he was right here waiting for you to find him.
I even had a whole rom-com meet-cute planned for the first time you’d visit, where I’d send you up to his house to borrow a cup of sugar. You’d gasp. He’d gasp. Fireworks would go off behind you, and we’d all live happily ever after as neighbors in this little perfect town.
But then I got sick, and Ty showed me his true colors.
As much as I love the idea of you and Ty riding off into the sunset together, I didn’t nominate him in my Will because of you.
I did it for Junie.
Daisy, you are everything my too-serious little girl needs.
You make life brighter just by walking into a room. You make boring things fun and hard things bearable. You show kids that joy isn’t frivolous—it’s survival. You’re spontaneous and brave and full of magic, even when you feel broken.
Junie needs someone who can pull her back into her childhood, and that someone is you.
And Ty… Daisy, Ty is everything my grieving girls deserve.
He is steady. He is gentle. He is dependable in a way most people only pretend to be. He loves with his actions, not his words, and that’s the kind of love that lasts.
I love the idea of the three of you, happy and loved. But it’s not my life to live anymore. And it’s not my decision to make.
You have always had better instincts than you give yourself credit for. You feel things deeply. You know when something is real. We’ve just had a lifetime to prove it’s never quite that simple.
But trust your gut.
About him.
About Junie.
About the future.
I don’t need you to step into my shoes and live the life I left behind. I just need you to choose love instead of fear.
Maybe you aren’t ready for acceptance yet, but I am.
I accept my life ended sooner than I wanted.
I accept I didn’t get all the years I dreamed of with my daughter.
But I also accept that she is safe with you. That you are exactly who she needs.
Like the dandelions in the field outside, we’ve always been the girls who grow back even after the fire. Stronger. Brighter. Stubborn as hell.
The Winslow girls always rise.
To the moon,
V
I stared down at Violet’s letter, her words humming through my chest like one last hug. The storm pressed hard against the windows, rain lashing sideways, thunder crawling across the mountains like a warning.
Before I could breathe, the bedroom door flew open.
“Is she in here?” Ty yelled.
I jolted, clutching the letter to my chest. “Who?”
“Junie,” he said, breath sharp, eyes wild. His shirt was soaked, rain dripping down his hair, his jaw tight in a way I’d never seen. “She’s not in her room.”
My stomach plummeted. “What do you mean she’s not in her room? She went in there when we got back. I thought she—”
“She’s not there now.” His voice broke on the last word. “The window—Daisy, the window’s still open and she—she’s not—”
I jumped to my feet, Violet’s letter falling to the floor.
“Okay.” I grabbed his forearms with shaking hands. “Okay, breathe. We’ll find her.”
But Ty was beyond listening. He tore through the hallway, yanking open doors, calling her name with a panic so raw it rattled the walls. “Junie! Juniper. June bug—Junie!”
He was unraveling. And for the first time since I’d stepped foot on this mountain, I wasn’t.
I followed him into the living room. “Ty, listen to me.”
But he didn’t. He was already halfway down the hall toward the mudroom.
“Did you check the barns?” I asked, louder this time. “She likes the cats. Ty, did you check?”
“Yes!” he yelled back, voice ragged. “I was just there—she wasn’t—Jesus, where is she?”
He threw open the pantry door. The linen closet. The bathroom.
“Junie!” His voice was hoarse. Desperate.
Rowdy barked, pacing circles around us.
“Okay,” I whispered, forcing myself to think like Junie would.
Ty darted into the backyard, disappearing into sheets of rain, screaming her name into the trees.
I moved toward the front door instead.
Rowdy followed me to the porch, the rain hitting my face like a slap. Thunder boomed overhead. I scanned the gravel road, the dark curve of the river, the silhouette of the barn—
And then I saw it.
A pale glow.
A single light burned in the window of Violet’s house down the drive.
The house I had turned dark earlier.
The room Junie hadn’t dared set foot in all summer.
The walls that held everything she’d lost.
My breath hitched, and I ran.
Feet slipping on wet gravel, rain needling my skin, wind whipping my hair into my eyes. Rowdy bounded beside me, barking, as the light grew brighter, closer, realer.
I slammed through Violet’s front door, breathless.
The living room was empty, quiet except for the storm battering the windows. But a soft line of yellow light glowed under the door to the bedroom Violet and Junie used to share.
My heart squeezed.
I pushed it open.
Junie lay on the bed with her eyes closed, clutching a picture of her mom against her chest. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, her glasses crooked. Piggie was curled at her side, snout tucked against her arm.
She looked so small.
So young.
So tired of being brave.
I climbed onto the bed beside her, and the mattress dipped just enough to stir her awake.
Her eyes blinked open, glassy and swollen. “Dizzy?”
“I’m here, cutie.” My voice broke. “I’m right here.”
“I miss her,” she whispered, lip trembling. “I don’t want to move. What if I can’t feel her anymore?”
I pulled her into my arms, pressing my cheek to her damp hair. “Oh, sweet girl,” I breathed. “You’ll always feel her. She’s always with us. In your heart. In your memories. In everything she loved.” I kissed the top of her head. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Junie nodded against me, a small, shuddering sound escaping her.
“And listen to me…” My voice steadied, somehow. “We’re not moving. We’re not leaving. We’re staying right here.”
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
I looked up just as Ty stepped into the doorway, hair plastered to his forehead, rain dripping onto the floor. His chest rose and fell as if he’d run the whole valley. Fear and relief warred across his face.
“So, we’re not going to Chicago?” she asked, arms looped around me in a vice grip.
“No,” I whispered, then turned to look at Ty, making sure he heard me too.
The truth didn’t hit me all at once. It clicked into place like a puzzle piece I’d been holding upside down.
Ty’s love wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming. It didn’t burn hot and bright like the lightning outside.
But he was my lighthouse in the storm, the beacon calling me home.
He didn’t flare or vanish, drifting in and out depending on the weather. He just stayed, no matter how much I threw at him, ready to pull me back in, time and time again.
And I was in love with him. I didn’t ever want to let him go.
I brushed Junie’s hair off her forehead, kissing her one more time. “Why would we need to leave when we’re already home?”