Page 25

Jude

T he road home felt like a thousand miles long, even though the drive only took a couple of days.

Every curve, every worn-down sign, every mile marker whispered pieces of a life I hadn’t touched in years. I tightened my hands on the steering wheel, the old pain sitting so heavy in my chest, it hurt to breathe.

I had to do this.

Not just for me — for them.

The town hadn’t changed much. Same faded diner sign blinking “Open” in the window. The same brick fire station where parades started and ended. Same tired old oaks lining the streets, their heavy branches casting long, familiar shadows.

I parked a few houses down from where I lived, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the world.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, staring at the house I lived in— the home where I had been a wife, mother, and woman who believed she had forever.

It looked smaller now.

Emptier.

A heavy breath shook out of me as I grabbed the keys from my bag and stepped out into the crisp air.

As I walked to the front door, my boots crunched over the gravel driveway. My hand trembled when I slid the key into the lock, half-expecting it not to work for me — to push me away, like I'd done to everyone else.

But the door swung open on the first try.

And there it was.

Frozen in time.

The scent of old wood and a faint musky scent hung in the air, memories punching me so hard I staggered.

Her shoes.

Still lined up by the door.

His jacket.

Still hanging on the back of the chair.

Laughter. Life.

All of it buried under a thick layer of dust and silence.

I pressed my hand to the doorframe, needing the support.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the empty house.

“I’m so damn sorry.”

Room by room, I moved through the wreckage of my old life, touching, remembering, aching.

The photo on the mantel of the three of us at the lake.

The crayon drawings were still stuck to the fridge.

Remembering the smell of her shampoo, I thought I smelled it faintly upstairs, where I couldn’t bring myself to go. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

It's been a week, and I've spent hours packing things into boxes. Not everything — just the pieces I couldn’t leave behind, the ones that mattered too much to surrender to time and dust.

Her favorite stuffed bear.

His old watch.

Our wedding album.

The sun was starting to sink low when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel.

I stiffened, panic shooting through me — until I glanced out the window and saw them.

My parents.

Their faces were tight with confusion, grief, and something worse — hope.

Hope that maybe I was finally coming home.

I stepped outside, hugging myself against the wind.

For a long moment, none of us spoke.

Then my mother broke, rushing to me with tears pouring down her cheeks.

I let her wrap me in her arms, let her sob against my shoulder, even as guilt sliced me raw.

My father hung back, eyes glassy.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out again. “I’m so sorry I stayed away. I thought I was protecting you.”

Their confusion deepened.

I looked at them — really looked — and knew they deserved to hear it all.

The truth.

The danger.

The reason why I had to disappear after my family was stolen from me.

The reason I could never stay.

“I wasn’t just grieving,” I said, voice trembling.

“I was being hunted.”

Shock rippled across their faces.

My mother pulled back just enough to search my eyes, her fingers trembling against my arms.

“Hunted?” she whispered. “Jude, what are you talking about?”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the wave of nausea that always came when I thought about it — about them — the monsters who tore my world apart.

“I couldn't stay after...” My voice cracked. I took a shaky breath. “After Tyler and Callie were killed, it wasn’t random. It wasn’t just a car blowing up.

Their faces paled.

“They were killed because Tyler and I knew what was going on. Senator Marcus Vance thought he had killed both of us.

“No,” my Dad said fiercely, shaking his head. “No, Jude. Don’t say that, it was not your fault.”

“It's the truth,” I said, my voice steady even as my soul fractured all over again. “I had gotten close to something... something bad. I didn't even know it at the time. But Tyler did. He tried to warn me. They died because of me. And Callie...

I couldn’t finish. I didn't have the strength.

Tears blurred my vision. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, fighting for air.

When I opened them again, my father stood right before me. His jaw was clenched so tight that a muscle ticked in his cheek. His hands—hands that had taught me how to ride a bike and how to bait a fishing hook—reached out and gripped my shoulders.

“You listen to me,” he said roughly.

“You are not to blame. You hear me, Jude? You did what you had to do.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t believe it.

Even though I wasn’t sure I ever could.

My Dad stepped forward. His voice was low and full of anger. “Who were they? Are they still out there?”

I hesitated. The answer was complicated.

Some were dead. Some were still shadows I couldn’t reach. And some... some might never stop looking.

“They're not your problem,” I said quietly. “They’re mine. They always were.”

“You should have come to us,” my mother whispered, tears running down her cheeks.

“I know,” I said, my heart breaking all over again. “I just couldn't risk it. Not after losing Tyler. Not after losing Callie. I couldn’t lose anyone else.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the empty street.

We all stood there for a moment, wrapped in grief, anger, and love so fierce it hurt.

“I’m going to sell the house,” I said after a long silence.

They turned to me, surprise flickering in their eyes.

“I can’t keep it. It’s not a home anymore.”

I paused, voice thick with tears.

“I need to say goodbye. I need to find a way to live again. Tyler and Callie would want that. They wouldn’t want me stuck here... trapped by what happened.”

My mother nodded through her tears.

My father squeezed my shoulders.

I finally let the tears fall freely, not hiding them this time.

Maybe for the first time in years, I didn’t feel completely alone.

And when I looked up at the darkening sky, I silently promised Tyler and Callie that I would keep living.

It was time to close the chapter.

And maybe, it was time to start writing a new one.

The house was almost empty now.

Just a few boxes stacked by the door.

Just a few last ghosts clinging to the walls.

I stood in the center of the living room, holding the framed photo in my hands — the one of Tyler swinging Callie around in the backyard, both laughing so hard you could almost hear it when you looked at the picture.

I pressed the frame to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. I have cried so much since I came here. I couldn’t cry anymore.

“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered, my voice breaking. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”

A tear slid down my cheek.

“I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”

The house creaked in the wind as if breathing one last time.

I carefully set the frame in the box marked “Keep” and looked around the room one more time.

“I’m going to be okay,” I said aloud, forcing the words into the air, into the bones of this house that had held so much love and loss.

“I promise.”

I turned toward the door but stopped when my gaze caught on the kitchen table, the one where Tyler used to drink his coffee and where Lacey used to color with crayons, scattered everywhere.

I walked into the kitchen and took her drawings from the fridge.

I would frame them and hang them in my next kitchen.

I smiled through the ache, brushing my fingers lightly over the worn wood.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“For every single moment.” With a final breath, I closed the door behind me.

I locked it and tucked the key into my pocket, not because I needed it anymore but because it was a piece of my old life I wasn’t ready to let go of completely.

As I walked to my truck, the first stars began to blink into the sky.

And somewhere deep inside me, past the wreckage, past the pain, a tiny spark of something new flickered to life.

Hope.

I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel.

A text lit up on my phone, waiting for me.

From Cyclone.

You don’t have to do this alone.

I’m here whenever you’re ready.

I stared at the screen, a tear slipping free.

Then I smiled a genuine, shaky, broken smile and started the engine.

It was time to go.

Wherever Cyclone was...is where I would be. That kind of thinking was starting to feel like home, too.