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“Anyway, ya might as well drop your stuff off and head back into town. How’d ya get here, anyway?” she asked with a smile.

“Uber.” I clicked my tongue as her brows raised. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“That showed up when the realtor did.”

“Figured,” I muttered and lifted the ball cap from my head. Tightening my fingers around the brim, I offered a small smile once more. “More’s changed than I thought, hasn’t it?”

She scoffed and turned around. “Everything except the people.”

“That’ll change, too, if we don’t stop it,” I replied, placing the hat backwards on my head as her feet clapped down the sidewalk.

“Always the optimist, aren’t ya?”

I didn’t respond as she faded back down to the gravel road and headed off to her house in the thicket.

No, I’d long become something much else.

Something even I failed to recognize. But at least I’d managed to drag my ass back here. Maybe time could heal the wounds I’d created. Maybe my desire to run away was coming to an end. But walking down these painful paths of memories wasn’t exactly the challenge I desired to face.

All I could think about was seeing the one place that held nothing but beautiful experiences from a life I’d left behind. The one thing that had fueled my feet this far lay around a bend. In the opposite direction Mrs. Dupre had gone. It rested far back in the thick of cypress trees and Spanish moss.

I wondered how much it had changed, or if it remained just the same as every rundown home lining this desolate back road. Gripping the handle of my duffel, I wandered off the porch. There was no need to leave random signs that I’d returned. My family deserved to hear I was back from me, not from a bag with my name on it.

Wandering down the road, I allowed the world around me to saturate my skin. The moisture laden in the air felt dewy upon my body, as hot and thick as the summer heat back in the desert overseas—where I’d left a piece of my soul. Except that was a dry heat, something different than the world around me.

As the branches of the cypress and oak trees stretched higher and higher, the sun faded behind deep, vibrant greens. And there it was—the almost hidden path I’d last set foot upon fifteen years ago. It was so easily disguised with moss and wild vegetation that it was often missed, but I knew this path by heart.

Turning off the road, I disappeared into the thicket, listening for sounds that I wasn’t alone. But other than the white noise of the Bayuk,there was not another soul around me. The tall blades of grass brushed against the ankles of my black joggers as I rounded another corner and slid my fingers across the damp bark of a cypress.

I paused and raised my brows. The once crudely built shack that had served as a hideout now resembled something more mature and stable. It was a simple cabin in the woods, and the mismatched boards camouflaged by the moss crawling up the sides looked sturdy.

The green metal roof was tall enough that I wouldn’t have to duck to enter now, and the two windows beside the front door were made with panes of actual glass. I crept forward, meandering around some cattails and up the three steps onto the small porch. To either side, the beginning buds of spider lilies slithered their way up the railing. Once bloomed, they’d be that beautiful, spiced cherry-red color that was her hair.

I grabbed the knob and twisted it. The hinges groaned as the door swung inward. Natural light from the windows bathed the front room in gentle rays of gold. Letting the door swing shut behind me, I dropped my duffel and rucksack on the floor to my right and scanned my surroundings.

It was the gentle kiss once shared on the worn striped couch to my left that sent shivers down my spine. Laughter bloomed in my ears as paint splattered all down the front of her shirt while we sat in the two chairs at the cracked round oak table to my right. The faintest whisper of her warm breath danced against my neck as she slipped into a deep slumber in my arms in front of an old television that still only played VHS tapes. The rug where we’d fallen onto from the couch whilst giving everything of ourselves to each other for the first time was no longer the vibrant blue it once had been.

I closed my eyes. It still smelled faintly of cinnamon despite the brand-new walls and larger floor plan. Apparently, she hadn’t had the heart to get rid of the memories, since, while the outside was new, everything inside had stayed the same.

Or she simply hadn’t been able to afford anything new other than reinforcing the one place that I hoped must have become her peaceful getaway in a world she had never been able to escape.

I knew.

There was no reason to get my hopes up.

Even if, for fifteen years, I’d closed my eyes and it was her fingers against my skin that kept me moving forward. Even if, amidst war and violence, I’d drift away to where she smiled once again at me. Where her blazing green eyes, as vibrant as the leaves in this forest, danced with the fire that lit up by my lips against hers. Even if, when longing for home, it had been her voice I’d heard.

I knew.

As long as she was happy now.

Even if, for fifteen more years, I’d dream of no one but her.

While knowing I couldn’t have her because I’d destroyed her.

I knew.

It had all been for the best.