Page 127 of Meet Me in the Valley
“Yes?”
“Don’t give Dad any ideas that you’d come back, okay?” I pause just long enough to let it land. “Let him go. For good.”
She blinks at me, and maybe it hurts. But maybe she understands.
I nod once, then walk out into the quiet Texas air—not fixed, not finished, but finallyfree.
My bike waits on the curb with a wide open road ahead of me.
As I slip on my helmet and fire up the engine, I glance up. Tia’s sky is back, waiting for me to chase it.
And I can’t help but grin, wondering how many miles I’d have to ride before California feels close enough for me to breathe again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
TIA
Growing up with a sibling means scheming is practically written into your birthright. Nora and I figured out early on that we could get our parents to say yes to almost anything—as long as we asked together.
Two cute faces were always more persuasive than one.
I still remember the time we wanted new bikes so badly, we built an entire presentation on a poster board complete with report cards, safety arguments, and a compelling pitch about the “cool points” we’d earn with our friends.
We were eight and ten, fully convinced that a little glitter and some magic marker could prove our dedication.
A week later, two brand-new bikes with giant pink bows appeared in the driveway. That was the day we realized we were unstoppable together.
But the night Nora left, that tether between us snapped. I’ve been drifting ever since.
That same night, I found myself on Torren’s dock. The night before we left for Texas. The night I met Logan for real.
Now she’s back. Nora’s here in Oakwood Valley, with Cali in tow. And I’m over the moon. That thread between us is tugging again, slowly stitching itself back together.
But we’re not those girls anymore. And this isn’t the same family.
Mom’s diagnosis hangs over everything, tinting even the brightest days in dull hues. And Nora’s return, as hopeful as it feels, doesn’t erase the time lost.
Still, as I stand on the front steps with Nora’s hand in one of mine and Cali’s in the other, something shifts.
It’s time.
Time to stop clinging to what we were and step into what we are now.
We may be a little broken when we walk through that door, but Mama needs to see her daughter.
The one she calls out to on her worst days. The one she imagines still sitting at our dinner table, eating our favorite meals like nothing’s changed.
And Cali. Sweet, bright Cali.
Mom and Dad are going to fall in love with her the second they see her—just like I did.
I take a shaky breath and squeeze both their hands. “Okay. Ready?”
I know Mom and Dad are having tea out back. I also know it’s one of her better days. And yeah, maybe this visit could throw her off; maybe seeing Nora and meeting Cali will be too much.
The doctors have told me over and over again: routine is everything. Keep things consistent. Don’t surprise her.
And I’ve followed every word. Carefully. Lovingly. Respectfully.
