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The woman looked up at her, then smiled softly. “Hi,” she said, nodding toward the open meeting door behind her. “The next meeting doesn’t start for another thirty minutes or so, but feel free to wait inside.”

“Oh,” Sam muttered, “uh—actually, I was looking for someone. She works here. Laura. She runs the program.”

The young woman cocked her head slightly, thinking for a moment. “Oh! Yeah. Laura. I remember her.” Then her smiledropped, replaced with an apologetic frown. “Sorry. She hasn’t worked here for a while. She moved away last year.”

“Oh,” Sam muttered, a pang of disappointment running through her chest.

“The program is still running, though,” the woman said. “If you want to come to the next meeting, we’d be happy to have you.”

Sam forced a polite smile. “That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

She turned, trudging back down the hallway and out the double doors.

Her eyes floated over the mostly empty parking lot. And even that looked entirely different than she remembered. The asphalt had worn down even further, creating jagged cracks and potholes. And the paint had faded to the point of barely being able to tell where one spot ended and the next began.

Her drifting gaze landed on the old building of the diner. The windows were boarded-up and the lettering of the logo had been half-removed. There was a sign stuck up near the edge, labelled with some construction company. And she knew by the look of it that probably meant the building would be demolished at some point. It might even be the last time she saw it standing.

One of the places that housed the few truly happy memories of her childhood, ready to be torn down. Ripped away, like it had never existed at all.

She stared at it for a long moment.

Then she pulled out her phone, mapping to the one place she never expected to go back to.

***

Sam sat on the grass, staring at the headstone in front of her.

Richard Garcia. Loving husband and father.

Her eyes traced each letter of the words.

The first time she’d seen it at his funeral, she’d barely been able to read them without feeling an overwhelming sense of anger. And she realized then how long that anger had lasted. It didn’t truly dissipate until years later, when she’d seen it for the second time. And instead of anger, she felt a deep sadness.

Not for herself—but for his daughter.

For what she must have gone through.

And now, as she sat there, reading over the words once again, she felt an even deeper sadness for what she must be going through now as she grew older. As she grew to an age where she would finally begin to understand what really happened.

A faint vibration jolted her from her thoughts, and she instinctively reached for her pocket.

Her phone buzzed again as she pulled it out, the glow of the screen illuminating Jess’ name. She watched it for just a second, before swiping the screen and raising the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” she said, her voice coming out much more strained than she’d expected.

“Hey,” Jess answered, “My dad said I could use his truck today to drive to Scarlett’s for the rehearsal dinner. Do you want me to come by the hotel early? Then we could go to Scarlett’s together.”

Sam cleared her throat, trying to regain her normal tone. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“Great,” Jess said as the phone crackled with her movement. “I can pick you up in like ten minutes.”

“Oh,” Sam muttered, clearing her throat again. “I’m—not there right now. But I could order an Uber and probably be back in like an hour or so.”

“Where are you?” Jess asked, the phone crackling again. “I can pick you up wherever.”

Sam swallowed, glancing back up at the headstone, her eyes tracing over the words once more.Each jagged letter stared back like they held a permanent imprint of her previous anger.

“Sam?” Jess asked, her voice now more focused as the sounds in the background diminished.