Page 37 of Since the Day We Left

He guided her into a chair and kneeled beside her. His palm pressed lightly between her shoulder blades, feeling each rapid rise and fall of her breath. “You’re okay. Breathe with me. In through your nose ...” he whispered. “Out through your mouth.”

Slowly, her breaths steadied. Her gaze lifted, meeting his—embarrassment flickering beneath gratitude. “I—” Her voice trembled, and she shook her head. “I thought I’d be alone ...”

Miles traced soothing circles around her back. “Give it a little more time.”

A faint smile touched her lips—it wasn’t much, but it was something.

The door suddenly burst open, the bell clanging above it. Miles glanced up.

More footsteps. More voices.

The bell rang again. Then again.

Even more faces. Some familiar.

What’s happening?

A woman with auburn hair rushed to Wendi’s side. “Sorry we’re late!”

People streamed in behind her.

Auburn-hair squeezed Wendi’s hand. “Lisa was locking up when I called. Kara was feeding the animals. But when I said it was for you and the Shell—you know how they are. Katie posted on her bookshop’s Facebook, and, well—” She gestured at the packed room.

Miles stepped back, observing Wendi’s shoulders loosen, and the strain around her eyes fade. In its place—something softer, something that looked a lot like hope.

The woman with auburn hair turned to him and stuck out her hand. “Emma.” Her smile was genuine. “Thanks for being here for her.”

“Miles.” He shook her hand.

Old Pete limped in with Mrs. Winters on his heels. Ada set up a makeshift bar in the corner. Phil flashed Miles a thumbs-up from his food truck window.

“Never a doubt,” Old Pete said to Wendi, thunking a gallon of tea onto the table. “This town can’t lose The Painted Shell.”

Arthur walked up and greeted his neighbor, Mrs. Winters. “Cindy? Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Thought you’d be home with a book and that old cat of yours.”

Mrs. Winters huffed. “Oh, please. When I heard what was happening, I figured someone had to make sure you weren’t getting into trouble.”

“Trouble?” Arthur smirked. “You always said I should put my work out there more.”

“And look at you now,” she said, nudging his arm. “Had me worried the other night, you know. But you look like yourself again.”

Arthur gave a small nod. “Feels good to be part of something again.”

No blank stares. No half-finished sentences.

Miles sighed.Dad seems okay.

Wendi stepped up to the podium, dabbing at her eyes. “Thank you all for being here,” she said. “The Painted Shell isn’t just a store or some gallery; it’s home. And standing here tonight, I’m reminded of exactly why.”

“Save the Shell!” someone shouted.

The chant rippled through the building.

Miles leaned against the wall, arms folded. This wasn’t his town. But seeing them rally around Wendi like this, feeling the shift in the room—it unraveled something inside him.

He watched her soak it all in—her shoulders lighter, her smile brighter. He wanted this for her—more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

Arthur, standing near the front, let out a hearty cheer.

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