Page 31 of Remain

As he pulls away from the curb, I glance back at the house. The light inside glows warmer now, the family framed in the doorway as they wave at us, already settling into something new, something theirs.

The last box leaves the truck just as the sky begins to lighten, dawn pressing pale blue into the edges of the world. When we pull back into the community center lot, the truck bed is empty, but my chest feels full in a way I don’t yet know how to hold.

Erik turns off the engine, and the quiet settles around us.

“Thank you,” I say, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them.

He looks at me then, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “For what?”

“For bringing her back to me,” I whisper. “For making sure she never left me.”

His expression shifts, the steadiness falling away as nerves surface in its place. I know that look well. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been holding inside for a long time.”

“So, tell me. You can tell me anything, Erik.”

“It’s not my place to tell it alone.”

Mrs. Kincaid standsnear the folding table next to Mrs. Levin, checking names off her list with a satisfied sort of precision, her shoulders relaxed for the first time since I can remember. When she looks up and sees us, her mouth curves into something that almost resembles a smile.

“Well done,” she congratulates us. “All routes completed.”

Erik nods once. “Everyone accounted for.”

“That’s how she liked it,” Mrs. Kincaid replies automatically.

Then she stops, and the words linger in the air, suddenly heavier than she intended them to be. I feel the change before I see it, the subtle shift in the room, and the way Mrs. Kincaid’s gaze moves to me. “Savannah,” she says, my name softened in her mouth now. “There’s someone here who’s been waiting for you.”

My heart stutters.

I turn slowly, already bracing myself, though I don’t know for what. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since comingback to Pineview, it’s that this town has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

She’s standing near the windows, just inside a pool of pale winter light. Her coat is buttoned neatly, her scarf tucked just so, and her hands are clasped together in front of her, as if she’s giving them something to do so they don’t tremble.

Erik’s mother.

Time has touched her, but it’s been kind in the way it’s kind to women who have survived more than they ever should have. Her hair is more silver than brown now, though she still wears it long, and I find myself glad for that. Fine lines trace the corners of her eyes and her mouth, marks left by laughter and worry and endurance in equal measure. She is, and always has been, one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.

When her gaze meets mine, something in her expression opens immediately, a love that never needed tending to survive, as familiar as it has always been.

“Oh,” I whisper, the sound breaking loose before I can stop it.

She smiles, the same small, knowing smile she used to give me when I stayed too late at their house, when Erik and I sprawled across the living room floor, convinced the world would bend if we just wanted it badly enough.

“Hi, Savannah.”

Hearing my name from her brings an unexpected comfort, as if my mother’s spirit is still close by.

Mrs. Kincaid clears her throat, already backing away. “I’ll give you all a moment.”

Erik’s mother steps closer, her eyes flicking briefly to her son as if checking, measuring, taking stock before returning to me. Then she reaches out and takes my hands, her grip warm and sure in the way it has always been.

“I wanted to see you today,” she says, her voice wobbles. “Today felt important.”

I stiffen. “You.. you came for the deliveries?”

She nods once, chuckling. “I always do, dear. Every year.”

Erik swallows hard. I can feel the tension radiating off him now, something restrained and waiting just beneath the surface.