Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Home. Home. Home.
This isn’t home. Home isn’t one physical location. Maybe home is what my mom found for herself inside herself, as hard as it is for me to process and fathom and bear the pain of knowing that her home isn’t with me. I now understand the drive to want to drop everything and chase a dream because it feels right. Because it’s a home for your soul. I would never be able to abandon my family, especially if I had children, but I’m not my mom. We aren’t the same people. I can’t change that, so it’s time for me to learn how to be okay with that.
I’m starting to realize I don’t have to be old to be wise or experienced to be understanding. It’s okay to be fathomless. I don’t have to understand everything. I can be okay with just understanding a little and holding onto hope that the rest will be okay too.
Home.
I slowly raise my head and take in my wild, mussed blonde mane, my red-rimmed blue eyes, and my face, which is so much like my mom’s.
“Home,” I whisper to myself, the drive to say it out loud becoming more than I can silence. “You do know where that is. It’s not too late to find it again. It’s okay to ask for forgiveness and accept it, and it’s okay to be a tad bit crazy sometimes.” I inhale sharply. Here are the words I’ve been waiting to hear for so long, but all this time, it turns out I needed to say them to myself and hear them from me. “You’re going to be fine. Stop being afraid. Everything is going to be exactly how it should be.”
It took me seven years of being on my own to realize that making it doesn’t mean being the strong, independent, alone type and that it is sometimes accepting help when you need it the most. It’s bending when you need to, but not breaking, and taking a big huge leap off a big high cliff and trusting all the while that you have a safety net below made up of people who are going to catch you, even if you don’t know them well, because they’re the kind of people you can trust.
CHAPTER 19
Orion
I wanted to go to her, but Granny wouldn’t let me. We’ve stayed in San Diego to be closer to family, but also because Granny has a sixth sense about these things, and she wasn’t willing to pack up and leave yet. I wanted to fly straight to Seattle, but Granny set her hand on my shoulder, offered me a freshly baked toffee and double chocolate white chocolate chip cookie that she and Ginger baked together—since there are two of them, they’ve really urged each other on to up their kitchen game—and told me to sit my buns down because Echo was already on a flight.
I wanted to be here alone to talk to her one on one, but Granny just handed me another cookie, shook her head, and told me that what Echo needs is family, so we’re all going to be here. Even Alden and Azalea will be on video chat. After that, if she wants a more private conversation, there’s always the treehouse.
So, just like the first time Echo met us, we’re all here.
I can barely swallow. It’s been a hard month. I’m excited and also afraid. I’m a huge mess that no amount of chocolate chip cookies is going to fix me. I don’t even think bacon could fix me right now, and if bacon and chocolate can’t set me to rights, that’s a very, very sorry state to be in.
We’re sitting in the living room, assembled just like we were before. We’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours. I’m not sure how much time it’s actually been as I’m trying not to look at a timing device because I’m scared I’ll find that it’s only been five minutes. Or five seconds. Or that I’m stuck in some time loop of endless sitting and waiting.
When the doorbell rings, I shoot out of my chair like my ass is spring-loaded, but Granny waves me down. “Whoa there. You look like an overwound wind-up toy. Cool your jets, and by jets, I mean buns. And sit back down.”
I do as I’m told because Granny is using her commanding and authoritative if you disobey me, it will be hot sauce on the tongue for you voice. Not that she’s ever sauced us or that it would be a real deterrent.
A few minutes later, Echo is there beside Granny. She’s real and in person. She’s here.
My heart booms out a rhythm as my chest swells at seeing her again. She’s wearing something far more casual this time: jeans and an athletic long-sleeved purple shirt. But I’m still just as struck by the combination of her ice-blue eyes and the almost untamed mane of strawberry gold hair. My throat closes up with an impossible-to-swallow-down bump.