Page 289 of Let Me In

So I open the door instead.

Stand in the frame.

One hand braced against the wood, knuckles white. The other pressed just above my heart.

The air is warmer than I expected. Soft with pine and the faint, lingering smell of tea.

The dogs shift behind me, sensing something more than just sound.

The truck pulls into view.

Gravel crunching beneath its tires, slow and sure.

He parks. Cuts the engine.

And then—

There he is.

Stepping down from the cab, tall and quiet and whole.

No blood. No limp. Just that stillness that lives in the center of him.

Our eyes lock across the distance.

Something inside me breaks open. And the world stops moving.

The trees hush. The breeze stills. Even the dogs fall quiet behind me.

All I see is him.

His eyes are tired—shadowed with something that didn’t exist when he left—but they soften the instant they land on me. Like he’s seeing the one thing that makes the rest of it bearable.

His shoulders ease.

His mouth almost twitches—like he’s caught between a smile and a prayer.

He lifts his arms.

Opens them wide.

No command. No words.

Just offering.

An invitation.

A home.

My feet move before I know it.

Down the step. Across the porch. Bare soles hitting gravel.

And then I’m running.

Hard and fast and breathless, until I crash into him, all arms and heartbeat and relief.

He catches me like he knew I would come.

---