Page 145 of Break Me

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. "I spent a long time trying to give your mother more days."

The words catch somewhere deep inside me.

"I know."

His eyes find mine again. "If I'd had one more..." He shakes his head gently. "I would've spent it holding her hand instead of waiting outside another treatment room."

Silence settles between us.

"You make the time count," he says. His thumb brushes beneath my eyes, just as it did when I was little. "You hear me?"

A tear slips free.

"I hear you."

He nods once.

Outside, the wind chime stirs in the evening breeze, its soft notes drifting through the open window.

This time, neither of us reaches for more time.

We hold on to what we already have.

Only then do I let myself mourn all the time we were never going to get.

Samuel

Autumn has taken the mountains overnight. The trees behind the house burn with color now, deep reds and gold spilling down the slopes like the forest caught fire while we were sleeping. A thin layer of frost still clings to the grass along the stone path, glittering faintly in the early morning light.

I sit on the bike at the edge of the driveway, the engine idling beneath me while the wind moves through the leaves.

Behind me, the screen door opens. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Raven. Her footsteps cross the porch, light and familiar. A second later, she swings onto the seat behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. Her cheek presses against my back.

“Take me somewhere beautiful,” she says.

I glance over my shoulder. “You got somewhere in mind?”

She shakes her head, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. “Surprise me.”

I smile a little to myself. That’s my Raven. No plan. No map. Just the open road ahead.

“Alright,” I say, rolling the throttle. “Hold on.”

The bike pulls onto the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the pavement takes over. Raven’s arms tighten around me as we turn toward the highway.

The mountains open up around us as we climb higher. The road curves through stretches of forest where the trees arch overhead, their leaves blazing in every shade of autumn. Wind pulls at my jacket, and I feel Raven shift behind me, settling closer.

She laughs once when we lean into a long curve.

I feel it more than I hear it. The sound stays with me the rest of the ride. I don’t know why. Maybe because some part of me understands something my brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

Moments like this don’t come twice.

Bushkill Falls is already busy when we pull into the parking lot. Families move along the walkways, people in bright jackets and scarves, cameras hanging from their necks as they follow the trails through the woods.

Raven swings off the bike and pulls her helmet off, shaking her hair loose.

Her eyes sweep across the trees.