Page 126 of Rise

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said, his voice soft. “You can just say the word and I will tell them to go.”

She nodded once, though not because she was uncertain— because it still mattered to hear the words said aloud.

“I know,” she replied.

They rounded the corner of the house together, Beck walking just half a step behind her— not leading, not following, just near. The gravel crunched beneath their feet and the old hydrangea bush rustled faintly in the breeze. Hazel tugged her gardening hat from her head, setting it down on the corner of the porch.

The driveway was already full.

A sleek silver SUV sat parked with the engine off, sun glinting off the windshield. The rear passenger door opened first. Her half-sister, Colette, stepped out, tall and bright and flushed from the ride, her blonde hair twisted into a loose bun that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. She wore a spring green jacket with gold buttons and ballet flats Hazel wouldn’t have dared touch to the muddy gravel. A phone was in her hand—always,Hazel thought,if she’s anything like Juno—but she slipped it into her back pocket as she turned toward the house.

Then her younger brother, Levi, climbed out, his movements slower, like perhaps he had fallen asleep on the drive up from Hartford. His shoulders were hunched like he’d grown too tall, too fast and hadn’t quite figured out how to carry himself yet. He wore a navy hoodie with the sleeves pulled down over his hands and jeans that looked a little too long, bunching at the ankle. His hair flopped into his eyes and he didn’t look up.

Hazel’s father stepped out of the driver’s seat, followed by his wife, Dana, from the passenger side. Hazel’s stepmother wore a pale pink cardigan and sunglasses that she pushed onto the top of her head. She was elegant in the way that made Hazel feel like a crumpled napkin in comparison, but her expression was neutral. Not cold. Just… waiting.

No one spoke.

Hazel stood there, the weight of a thousand unsaid things pressing into the space between them. The wind stirred her hair and she reached up, trying to push the dark strands back, away from her face. Shefelt Beck at her side, close enough to feel his presence, his warmth, and the way his thumb brushed softly against her wrist.

And she stepped forward.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she called out.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear, and it didn’t shake. She took that as a win.

Colette was the first to smile— big and genuine, like she’d been waiting for that one cue to let all her light back out. “It’ssopretty here,“ she said, her eyes bouncing from the porch to the garden. “I love the yellow on the door. And your flowers— those are tulips, right? I always kill mine.”

Hazel found herself smiling, just a little. “They’re forgiving,” she said, offering her sister a shrug. “For the most part. You just need to know the tricks.”

Levi looked up then, just for a second, and their eyes met. Hazel saw it, that flicker of something familiar. Not recognition, exactly, but maybe kinship— or something close to it, at least. He didn’t speak, but he offered Hazel a small, sideways smile in greeting.

Her father stepped forward next. His hands were empty. No flowers, no gift, just him. A man with grayer hair than she remembered, a little softer at the edges. The lines around his eyes deeper than they’d been the last time she saw him in person.

“It smells like bread even out here,” he remarked, his eyes softening as they landed on Hazel. “You baking?”

Hazel glanced over her shoulder toward the house. “I left a loaf to rise earlier,” she said. “Should be ready soon.”

Her father nodded, taking a few steps towards the front porch. “Your grandmother always made the best bread,” he admitted, his hand reaching for the railing. “I still remember this one she used to make… with the walnuts and cinnamon, I think.”

Hazel’s smile widened. “I’ve got that one in the oven,” she said.

He met her eyes and held them, something gentle overtaking his expression. Like he was seeing her, perhaps for the first time. “I can’t wait to try it.”

Hazel inhaled a long, steadying breath of air. The breeze carried with it that same, distinct scent of Maine— of ocean, and earth, and pine needles that had long since fallen from the branches of their trees.

And for the first time in years, she didn’t brace herself against any of it. She just let it all in.

She turned and caught Beck’s eye. He nodded once, subtle and certain, and she felt it move through her like a steadiness she didn’t know how to name. His hand found hers again, no pressure behind his touch, just a quiet, calming presence.

He was her lighthouse, the figure that loomed overhead and kept an eye on the world around them, ensuring nothing that could cause harm would draw too near.

“Well, you’d better come in, then,” Hazel said, turning towards the front of the house.

It wasn’t perfect.

But then again, nothing ever was.

The tulips were blooming, the bread was rising, and the wind was warm.

And it was enough.