Graham’s mother ended up taking a position at Northwestern…something she said was already in the works. I have my doubts, but I’m thankful that Emma doesn’t have to face a reminder of her nightmares on a daily basis. Her heart was holding her hostage, but no more.

I’m not prepared, but the door opens anyway, and Carl and Cole stand side-by-side, both greeting us and ushering us in from the cold. They each take turns hugging Emma, and I step to the side, not wanting to be in the way.

“Well…we’re here. We’re…we’re all here,” Carl says, his voice sounding as nervous as I feel. He glances down, then back up to me. “Andrew…can I take your coat, son?”

“That’d be great,” I say, probably a little too anxious. Emma ribs me with her elbow, and I roll my eyes at her. “It’s so hot,” I whisper, and her mouth quirks up on one side with a smile.

I set the package down on the side table and pull my arms from my sleeves slowly, my movements still not as sure and strong as they need to be. My entire front was opened up in surgery, and the healing is slow. Seems the only thing that heals slower than muscle is a broken heart; over the last few months, I’ve healed both.

I hand my coat to Carl, and he folds it over his arm, patting it and breathing in through his nose. “I’m…I’m really glad you’re here, Andrew,” he says, his eyes down at my jacket in his arms.

“Me, too, sir,” I say, glancing to Emma then back to her father. He takes a slow step toward me, then raises his head to look into my eyes, his own delivering a heavy and honest message—an apology.

With one arm outstretched, Carl pulls me close, his heavy hand patting my back as he hugs me as if I’m his own. “I never thanked you, Andrew. What you did…” he starts, his voice clearly overrun with emotion. He’s referring to my time at Lake Crest, to the trade I made with his daughter there on that highway—the lie I told to save her from the dark, and I know he’s about to say more about it, but he doesn’t need to. His simple thanks…that’s enough.

“You don’t have to,” I say, hugging him in return, smiling at Emma over his shoulder before pulling away. “Really. I would do it all again.”

He steps back, clearing his throat and running his hand under his eye. “Yes, I know you would,” he says, pausing and lifting his gaze to mine. “I know you would, which is why I have peace.”

Emma and Cole are walking down the hall, but I hear his words to me. He moves on quickly, hanging my coat before escorting me down the hallway to their simple dining room. I let him talk about things he needs to do to the house, and I eventually make him open my gift early, loving the smile on his ragged and tired face when he sees the small chandelier. I offer to stay late tonight, to help hang it and rewire a few things, and Emma sits back and watches as I form a bond with her father, as he trusts me with his most cherished possession, and I promise without words to never take her for granted.

On a day made for family and selflessness, I somehow become my brother—wanting to give all I have so others can feel joy. But it’s not really selfless at all, because my heart is so full from it.

Full.

And beating.

And so very far away from alone.

THE END