Page 39 of The Embers That Remain

I held her gaze. Starting over didn’t erase what happened; it just meant that the past didn’t get to decide everything that came next.

“Then I guess I’ll stop running from it,” I said. “And figure out what comes next.”

Landry’s expression softened. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she said. “Just . . . don’t run anymore. That’s enough for now.”

She laughed, and we both knew she was talking about more than the physical running I’d done today.

I eyed her. “Huh?” I said. “That sounded suspiciously like a healthy coping mechanism.”

She smiled, just a little smugly.

“I know,” she said. “It’s a gift. I like to bring brutal emotional stability wherever I go.”

I huffed out a laugh.

“Hi, I’m Landry. Wanna be besties?” She had a cheeky grin that made me laugh again. The sound surprised me.

“Deal,” I said as I shook her hand. “Want to walk a couple of laps?”

“If you said run, I was going to accuse you of attempted murder!” She laughed and fell into step with me.

After a couple of quiet minutes, I said what wouldn’t leave my mind.

“I didn’t expect to see Sawyer or Lane today.”

“How do you know Sawyer?” she asked.

“She . . .” I trailed off, searching for the easiest way to explain what had happened when it had always felt so much bigger. “She was a foster child when I lived here. I stepped in to help her when her foster brother was hurting her.”

Compassion flickered across her face. “You must have made a difference to her.”

“If she’s ever willing to talk, I’d love to know how she’s doing now.” I had thought about that day many times, and the one thing I never regretted was stepping in to help her, regardless of the events that followed.

“I’m sure she will be. Just give her some time to process. Sawyer is one of the kindest people I know,” Landry said.

I nodded because we all needed time to process.

“I thought I was over it,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “I thought I dealt with it. Packed it up and moved on.”

“You built a life, right?” she said. “That counts for something.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.” A life that had fallen apart anyway.

“But seeing him . . .” I shook my head. “It feels like being dropped right back into it. Like no time has passed at all, except it has, and everything has changed.”

Landry studied me for a long moment. “Maybe he feels the same way? Talk to him.”

I huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I’m not sure how he could, but maybe we can smooth things over enough to at least be able to handle living in the same town.”

“I think that would be a good place to start,” she said as she redid her ponytail, which had slipped loose while she was running.

“I don’t even know what I’d say.” Where could I even start?

“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” she said. “You just have to be willing to talk and listen.”

I swallowed hard because the idea of standing in front of him again—of hearing his voice, of letting him explain—terrified me.

Because what if he had a reason? What if it all made sense? What if it changed everything? Or worse—what if it didn’t?