I nodded, unable to form the words.
“Good. Because I know you can, too. And honestly?” She sighed, a weary hand rubbing her face. “Just these past few weeks with Shane have made me realize the burden Mama really did carry. Sometimes, I think it’s a miracle we’re alive.”
She glanced around one more time, then kissed my cheek and gave me one last hug. “Take your time here. You have lots of things to say goodbye to. Just remember that Ellie, Mav, Shane, and I are always home for you.”
With that, she disappeared. I sank to the floor, Mama’s paperwork still in my hand, and stared at the burned bookshelves. There was something oddly cathartic about the destruction. As I hiccuped and contemplated all those pages burning away, my thoughts turned decidedly less pessimistic.
When my thoughts turned to Mama, the darkness of her memory had ebbed slightly. In the midst of the wreckage, and with thoughts of JJ dancing in the back of my mind, I whispered, “Thank you, Mama. Thank you for giving me everything.”
Outside, the lonely wind whistled in response.
An hour of quiet contemplation later, I finally stood back up. My legs felt stiff and wobbly in the cold. Outside, the howl of the storm made my bones shudder. This was a blizzard, worse than the one weeks ago. My eyes burned from all the emotion, and my cheeks stung with tears.
The attic looked different, although nothing had changed. I couldn’t wait to get away. This wasn’t my home anymore.
Nothing waited for me here.
Despite my stiff limbs, I hurried down the spiral stairs and into Leslie’s truck. Snow fluttered everywhere, thick in the sky. It raced down my neck with an indecent tickle that set my teeth chattering. Cold air blasted into the interior of the cab as I cranked the heat all the way up. My thoughts were clear and crisp as a fresh day.
I was not Mama, nor would I ever be.
So I’d do what she never did: the hard thing.
Seconds later, I crept out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Wind tossed the snow with careless violence. It slammed into the truck. Ice shaped the roads into harsh white ribbons that disappeared in the storm. For two seconds, my tires skidded down Main Street. A flash of fear—and the swift memory of my car slamming to the rocks, of myself seconds away from death—caught me by surprise.
I gripped the steering wheel, grinding it in my hands as the truck came out of the skid.
JJ was worth it.
“Sweet baby pineapple,” I whispered and braced myself. No one else could save me from this thing I’d been avoiding. Storm or not, I was going to Adventura to let JJ know exactly how I felt.
Love gave me wings.
My knuckles squeezed the steering wheel so hard they blanched white. An all-too-familiar mantra repeated in my head: I won’t slide off the canyon road. I won’t plunge into the icy river below. I won’t die tonight. I won’t slide off the canyon road . . .
Thankfully, the canyon remained open, though other cars were few and far between. The snowplows had been out, but the falling storm had quickly replaced the snow. Packed ice escorted me past the steep mountain walls. The thought of JJ’s touch on my face carried me through the storm.
Finally, what felt like an eternity later, I let out a squeak of surprise. The turnoff to Adventura loomed to the right. Though tempted, I didn’t let my gaze drop to the frothing river below. It had claimed plenty of cars by now.
With a careful foot, I pumped the brakes to test the road, then slowed. My heart skipped a beat when the tires skidded, sliding to the left on their own. With a smooth motion, I counter-turned and lifted off the brakes. The movement slowed.
“I’ve got this,” I whispered.
Memories of impending doom slipped through my mind as I eased into the turn. A snowy, dark bridge awaited. The truck ambled onto it without a problem. A long breath later, I’d crossed the whole thing, finding packed ground on the far side.
Shiny coconuts, but that was scary.
This road hadn’t been plowed yet, and six inches had fallen in the last few hours. The truck barreled through it as I kept my attention on Adventura. The snowy conditions robbed my mind of the space to think, so I had no idea what I would say to JJ. There was so much to explain.
Instead, I focused on getting there.
The road wound deeper into the canyon crevice until a familiar building appeared in the snowfall. The truck crunched to a stop as I parked not far from the Zombie Mobile, which was buried under inches of snow.
For five minutes, I sat there and stared at Adventura. A mixture of relief and trepidation filled me. For courage, I thought of my favorite books. The power the women showed at the end. The bravery in the face of uncertainty.
I could do this. This was real. Terrifying. Utterly unknown. My makeup was gone, eyes reddened, face blotchy, hair a mess. I smelled like lasagna and probably looked like I’d been in a car wreck. There was positively, absolutely, not a thing romantic about this day or the way I looked.
But I’d never felt more certain. More giddy. More terrified.
I could do this.
“I got this,” I murmured. “I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.”
Then I shoved the door open.
There was no sound as I waded through the fresh snow and up to the office door that I knew so well. My hand paused. Home waited inside. Warmth. Familiarity. Safety.
JJ.
Or maybe none of those things. This could flop, go utterly awry. He could tell me that he was never interested, that I had dreamed the whole thing up. That could happen.
And it would still be worth it.
I knocked.
Footfalls came to the door as my heart pounded, matching their rhythm. Then, all at once, it opened and JJ stared at me. He
