Page 127 of The Long Way Home
“So this is goodbye?” she asks, voice trembling.
“This is a boundary,” I say. “I’m asking you not to call me again. Not until I say I’m ready. And I need you to respect that. Goodbye, Mom.”
I end the call and hold the phone for a moment, letting the weight of it settle. The lake stretches before me, and for the first time in my adult life, I know this to be true: I am worthy of unconditional love. I am capable of giving it. And I know exactly where mine lives.
In the kitchen, I grab the coffee filters and an oversized bag of beans. I start grinding the beans. The rhythmic whir fills the silence.
Footsteps creak on the stairs.
Margo appears first, wrapped in a soft gray cardigan, her sleepy smile reserved for mornings like this. I have seen this version of her at the lake house hundreds of times. Anderson follows, one hand lazily resting on her waist, like he would rather be back in bed with her than anywhere else.
“Smells like you’re trying to win some points,” Margo says, sliding onto a stool at the island.
“More like trying to keep all of you from turning into monsters before caffeine,” I say, pouring the first cup and handing it to her.
Anderson claps me on the back. “Appreciated, man. You’re doing the Lord’s work.”
I pass him a mug too, and we stand in easy silence, the three of us sipping and watching the lake through the big glass doors. The water is still, like it hasn’t decided what kind of day it wants to be yet.
Then I see Rachel coming down the stairs.
I brace myself, half-expecting that stiff awkwardness she has been wearing since we were together. But instead, she smiles, and my world stops. Her smile hasn’t always had such a dramatic effect, but lately, there is no other way to describe what it does to me.
“Morning,” she says, hair still wet from a shower, her tank top tucked loosely into her joggers.
“Morning,” I echo, watching her cross the kitchen and pour herself a cup. I’m trying to keep it casual. I said what I needed to last night, and she needs space to think. I know Rachel. She wants to look at this from every angle. She needs to realize she is still that girl, the one she is convinced she has lost.
She glances over at me once, quickly. “Thanks for making the coffee, Rhett.”
“No problem.”
One by one, the rest of the group trickles in. Slone stretches and flops onto the couch. Connor looks like he has already been on a run. Lexi trails behind him, wrapped in a blanket, and Wes follows.
“So,” Margo nudges Anderson with her knee, “what’s the plan for today?”
“I vote for something on the water,” Slone says, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s too nice to waste.”
“We could rent a boat,” I offer. “There’s a marina about fifteen minutes from here. They’ve got pontoons and deck boats.”
Rachel looks up. “Ooo, that sounds fun.”
“Lake day it is,” Anderson says, clapping his hands once. “I’ll make a reservation.”
Lexi groans but smiles. “Fine, but I’m not doing any of that tubing nonsense. Last time I nearly lost a contact.”
“God forbid,” Wes teases.
Anderson takes charge as he always does, already on the phone with the marina, rattling off how many of us there are and asking if coolers are allowed.
Connor wanders over to the fridge. “Do we have stuff for sandwiches? Or are we planning on being out there with nothing but vibes and sunscreen?”
“We’ve got bread, turkey, and at least three different types of chips,” Margo says, rifling through a cabinet. “Oh, and fruit. I cut some up last night.”
Slone looks over. “Look at you, Mom of the group.”
“I’m just making sure everyone has enough carb options to soak up the inevitable alcohol intake,” Margo replies dryly, then sips her coffee.
“Lexi, did you bring the speaker?” Rachel asks. I glance at her again, noticing the way she stays close to Margo.
