Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
And this isn’t just about seeing Miles. I enjoyed the break. Being a full-time nurse and full-time caregiver at home, there is no time for me to simply breathe. My time here in Salemburg has allowed me to release the pressure and stress for these few weeks and reset. I feel energized and ready to get back to my life in Arkansas even if it is taxing emotionally and physically at times.
Journey is asleep against my chest as I sit on the couch, her tiny fist curled into the fabric of my shirt. She’s heavier now than she was a week ago, and gained steadily since her birth. Or maybe I just notice it more, aware that soon I won’t feel this weight every night. It’s been a special time for me to have with her and give Josie time to sleep and heal. Post partum is hard on a body and the hormone changes make emotions high before adding in sleep deprivation from feeding a newborn.
Josie watches us from the doorway, coffee mug cradled in both hands. “You’re really leaving,” she says, like she might still talk me out of it.
“I have to,” I reply softly. “Work. Papa.”
“I know.” She sighs. “I just wish you didn’t. I want to keep you with me and I know Papa needs you more and moving him wouldn’t be fair.”
I press a kiss to Journey’s perfectly round baby head and carefully transfer her back into Josie’s arms. The moment stretches longer than it needs to, my hands lingering like I’m imprinting the feel of her.
“I’ll be back,” I state more as a promise to myself. “Soon.”
Josie smiles, eyes shiny. “You better be.”
Raff loads my bag into my rental while Justice bounces around the driveway, already launching into stories about school and his sister like nothing could ever be wrong again.
“You’re gonna visit?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Absolutely,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t miss watching you teach her how to be trouble for anything.”
He grins. “I’m really good at that.”
Miles doesn’t say much. He stands a few steps back, hands in his pockets, watching like he’s trying to memorize the moment. When our eyes meet, something quiet and steady passes between us—no panic, no promises we can’t keep.
Just knowing.
When it’s time, he pulls me into a hug that lingers a second longer than it should, his mouth brushing my temple.
“Call me when you land,” he murmurs.
“I will.”
“And Danae?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t a goodbye.”
I swallow. “I know.”
The drive to the airport feels longer than it did on the way in. My chest aches with a strange mix of fullness and loss, like I’ve borrowed a life that fit too well and now I have to put it back.
On the plane, I watch North Carolina disappear beneath the clouds and wonder how a place I never meant to love managed to claim such a deep piece of me.
Home doesn’t feel the same when I get back. It’s familiar—too familiar. The same creak in the hallway, the same faint medicinal smell clinging to the air. Papa is waiting in his bed when I walk in, eyes lighting up with recognition that feels like a gift and a curse. I love him. I love caring for him. But the weight of it is heavy.
“You’re back,” he says.
“I am,” I reply, kneeling in front of him. “Did you miss me?”
He smiles. “I knew you’d come back.” That night, after I help him settle and tuck myself into my own bed, my phone buzzes.
Miles: You home?
Me: Just got in.
Miles: Good. I’ve been waiting to hear that.
I stare at the screen longer than necessary, warmth spreading through me. I should have text him more when I landed but the need to get home consumed me as the worries creeped in. I sent a one word text that I landed and immediately went into focus-mode on getting back to life. On a whim I let my fingers type without second guessing what to say.
Me: I miss you already.
There’s a pause, just long enough to make my breath hitch, then his reply comes through.
Miles: Yeah. Me too.
***
Less than a week later, life is back in full swing like I never left. Work comes back at me hard and fast. Emails. Meetings. Patients. The relentless rhythm of responsibility snapping back into place like I never left. I move through it all on autopilot for the first few days, half of my brain still somewhere else.
Dr. Reeves doesn’t miss a beat. “So,” he says one afternoon, leaning against the doorway of my office, smirk firmly in place. “Enjoy your little vacation?”
I keep my eyes on my chart. “It was family-related.”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze slides over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You look relaxed. Must’ve been nice getting away.”
I finally look up. “Is there something you need, Dr. Reeves?”