CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Notes from the dark:
Love is the longing for what we once knew.
I miss my sister and her laugh and her touch. I miss her smell and warmth. I miss my sister so much, it hurts.
The summer was beginning to fade.
I could feel it in the air. The heat didn’t cling to my skin the way it had weeks ago.
We stopped for gas just outside a small town. Tristan was inside, paying cash, and I stood by the pump, watching the dust swirl across the pavement. The van’s engine ticked quietly as it cooled. A breeze lifted my hair off my shoulders, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting it pass through me.
When I opened them, I saw it.
A butterfly.
It hovered near the pump, its wings orange and black, delicate and bold. I held my breath as it circled once, twice, and then landed gently on the back of my hand.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Its tiny legs tickled my skin, and I stared at it, mesmerized. It was so light I could barely feel it, and yet its presence was undeniable.
Like it had chosen me.
The quiet of the moment settled over me.
I’d spent so long trying to be perfect. Trying to be what Oliver needed. What Rowe needed. What June would’ve wanted. I’d buried my pain so deep, I forgot what it felt like to be seen. To be touched gently. To be chosen.
And now, here I was.
A butterfly on my hand.
Tristan, who looked at me like I was the only thing worth chasing.
I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve this moment. But I knew I didn’t want to forget it.
“Hello,” I breathed out. “What are you doing here?”
The butterfly lingered for a few more seconds, then lifted off and drifted away.
I watched it go, my heart aching in the softest way.
Tristan stepped out of the station, sunglasses perched on his nose, a bottle of water in one hand. He saw me standing there, still staring at the sky.
“What is it?” he asked, walking over.
“A butterfly,” I said, smiling faintly and raising the hand it had flown from. “It landed on me.”
He glanced around. “Where’d it go?”
“Gone now.”
He handed me the water, brushing his fingers against mine. “You look like something happened.”
My heart slowed. “I think it did.”
He didn’t press. He just stood beside me, watching me.
I looked at him, then back at the sky. “Summer’s ending.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s not gone yet.”
I nodded, gripping the water bottle tightly. “I don’t want it to be over.”
I wished it would last forever.
He reached for my hand, the one the butterfly had touched. His thumb brushed over the spot where it had landed.
“Then let’s make the most of what’s left,” he said.
I knew, in that moment, that I would.