Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For the years you gave me. For the girl you left in my care. For loving a man who didn’t know how to love you the way you deserved.”
A long silence settles.
“I’m learning now,” I add. “Because of Holley. Because you taught me how.”
I take a step back, nod once—a final, quiet promise—and turn toward my bike waiting at the edge of the lot.
As I walk, the tightness in my chest eases. Not gone. Not erased.
Just… lighter.
Holley is sitting on the porch when I pull back into the compound, sunlight catching the tips of her hair. She’s wearing those soft leggings that make my brain short-circuit and one of my shirts tied at the waist.
Her face lights up the second she sees me.
That does something I’m still getting used to.
She walks down the steps, meeting me halfway. “Hey. You were gone a while.”
“Had somewhere I needed to visit,” I say.
She studies my face, reading every line, every shadow. She’s annoyingly good at that.
“You okay?” she asks.
For once, I don’t deflect.
“I think I am,” I say.
Her eyes soften. “Good.”
I take her hand—something I never used to do in daylight—and pull her closer. Her palm fits against mine like it was cut to match.
“I went to Tammy’s grave,” I say quietly.
Holley’s breath catches. “Oh.”
“I told her about you.”
She stares at me, eyes glassy but steady. “What did you say?”
“That I’m living again,” I answer. “That I’m learning how to feel things I thought died with her. That I’m not replacing her, but I’m not staying frozen either.”
Holley swallows hard, a tear threatening. “Tony.”
“And I told her thank you,” I add. “For everything she gave me. And for everything you’re giving me now.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb.
“I’m not good at this,” I admit. “Feelings. Talking. Any of it.”
“Yes, you are,” she whispers. “You just never let yourself try.”
I huff a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Maybe.”
She leans into my chest, arms sliding around my middle. I hold her tight, chin resting on the top of her head.
“You give me peace, Holley,” I murmur into her hair. “A kind I haven’t felt in… I don’t know how long.”
She presses closer. “You give me safety. And choice. And a home I didn’t know I could want.”
I kiss her forehead. Soft. Reverent.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?” she asks.
“For giving me back pieces of myself I thought were gone.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt. “You did that for me first.”
We stay like that—still, warm, wrapped in each other while the world goes quiet.
For the first time in years, maybe decades, I feel something settle inside me.
Not heaviness.
Not grief.
Not dread.
Peace.
Real peace.
The kind that comes from choosing life instead of surviving it. The peace that comes from enduring the ride.
The freedom that comes from always riding out in every storm.
You made it to the end!