Page 79 of Let Me In

Good girl.

God.

I don’t know what it is about those two words when they come from him.

But they wrap around me like the warmest hands. Slow, sure, and certain.

Not earned through obedience or performance or perfection—but still real. Still steady. Like he can hold me accountable and still hold me after. Like I don’t have to be perfect to be cared for. Just honest. Just trying.

It doesn’t feel childish, or condescending.

It feels like being seen. Like being trusted with softness, and still held with something steady.

Like he knows I’m scared, and still thinks I’m good.

The phone is still in my hand.

I press it gently to my chest for a moment as I step through the gate and into the field.

The dogs break free at once—Luca galloping straight ahead, Cleo darting toward a cluster of dandelions like she’s on a mission.

The field opens up like a breath of freedom.

It’s all soft golds and spring green now, swaying under a sky so wide it feels like a sigh. The ocean curves just beyond it—quiet today, but endless. Waves brushing the rocky edge of the coastline like they’re trying not to wake anything.

And me?

I just stand there for a second.

Letting the sun touch my face.

Letting his voice echo in my bones.

Letting myself believe it.

Good girl.

And then I say, softly, into the phone, “I’m here now.”

There’s a beat of silence on the line.

Not because he’s gone.

But because he’s there.

I can feel it in the way his voice comes next—low, sure, just for me.

“Okay, baby. Remember our rules.”

I nod, even though he can’t see.

“Stay in the open,” I say. “Don’t go near the trees. Keep my phone on me. No wandering.”

“That’s right,” he murmurs, and then says it again, like he knows it undoes me completely. “Good girl.”

It sinks into me again. Warmer this time.

Deeper.

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