Page 123 of Holding Hope

Oh, how I wished she were simply sleeping. Too tired from a long day in the sun, swinging from tree branches and racing the calves in the fields. Exhausted from tripping over my heels and clinging to Colton’s coattails.

She would wake up any second and leap into my arms, eager to spend time with me while I worked on music I would never sing. She would pester me with a thousand questions about my love life and wonder how long it would take for Delia and Colton to tie the knot.

I would give anything for those moments again. Moments I knew were never coming.

Slowly pulling myself up onto her bed, I kicked off my boots and crawled onto the covers beside her cold frame. Her body was too small, too delicate against mine, but still I pulled her into me and wrapped my arms around her.

Tucking her head beneath my chin, I held her like I had done nearly a million times. My hands brushed back the soft curls from her forehead, my body swaying instinctively, as if rocking her might coax breath back into her lungs.

“It’s okay, baby — Sissy’s got you.” I repeated the words over and over, smoothing her hair. “Sissy’s here. I’m here.”

My heart ached to hear her voice—to tell me to shut up. She hated being babied, hated being smothered.

“I’m not twelve,” she would say, shoving me away only to sneak into my room in the middle of the night.

Blinking away tears, I steadied myself. Turning my head toward the window, I smiled weakly.

“I did it—we did it, Mells,” I whispered. “The horses from the auction house. We set them free.”

I told her about the chase, the ride up the mountain. I told her about the tiny slice of paradise, the place where Heaven seemed to have personally kissed earth.

I told her about Avalon—how she pushed aside her fear of horses just for me. My voice cracked with a soft laugh as I told her about the skin-buffet comment.

“I told her I loved her,” I murmured into Melody’s hair. “With fierce conviction.”

I tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “You would’ve found it entirely too cheesy, but I think you would’ve said it felt like a scene from some movie—something starring Mandy Moore.”

I paused, my throat throbbing with another sob. “Did you know?” I didn’t know what made me ask. There was no answer coming. But the question clawed its way out anyway.

“Did you plan this entire thing?” I shook my head softly, a smile tugging at my lips. Melody had known about the songs I had written and hidden away, the quarter I wore beneath my other jewelry, the things I had always felt but never said.

“I was supposed to look after you, not the other way around. That was my job.” The sob broke through me and I pulled her tighter, her small body folding completely into mine.

I wasn’t sure how long I held her or how long I cried, but by the time my eyes opened, the sun had dipped behind the hills and the last of the reporters had driven away.

Gently, I laid Melody back onto her pillows and smoothed her hair from her face. She looked perfect—just as she had the last time I saw her. I tucked her favorite rabbit stuffie beneath her elbow, the same one I’d brought with me to Mayfair.

My fingers trembled as I smoothed the wrinkles from the duvet. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I couldn’t stay in this room forever; Colton still needed to say goodbye.

“I love you, Melody-Claire.”

I kissed her forehead, squeezing my eyes shut to block the tears.

“Forever and always.”

The hallway felt too bright when I stepped into it, like the world had the audacity to keep spinning. I paused just outside the doorway; my hand braced against the frame as the sounds hit me all at once.

Mama’s sobs and Delia’s soft, broken keening mingled together in gut wrenching notes. Colton’s voice—low, steady, trying to be strong for everyone but cracking at the edges. Ethan murmuring something gentle and Avalon whispering back, her voice trembling but trying to hold steady for him, for all of us.

I stood there, suspended between two worlds—the one where Melody still breathed, and the one where she didn’t.

Mama was folded into Delia’s arms on the couch, both of them shaking. Delia’s face was blotchy and red, her braid unraveling. Mama clung to her like she was the only thing keeping her upright.

Ethan sat on the arm of the chair beside them, one hand on Delia’s back, the other reaching toward Mama whenever she swayed too far.

Avalon stood close, her hand resting lightly on Ethan’s shoulder, her eyes swollen and rimmed with red. She wasn’t crying—not yet—but her grief sat heavy in her posture, in the way she kept glancing toward the hallway like she was waiting for me to appear.

Dad and Colton were at the dining table, papers spread out between them—funeral arrangements, burial permits, logistics no one should have to think about when their world had just ended. Colton’s jaw was clenched so tight it trembled. Dad’s hands shook as he held a pen.