But these people. The big houses. Retired. Just starting to live. Just starting adulthood. From the outlook, it looked as if they had everything they wanted, but so many never really felt that way. They always wanted more.

I sighed.

I was here. Why?

I was watching these people. Why?

I thought I’d been getting better. I thought I felt normal for the first time in a long time, even when I couldn’t remember the last time, but I was still here.

I was seeing a mom with children, wishing that were me. I was seeing a retired woman and wondering if she had kids. If she did, how many? Were her kids happy? Were they also content?

I still missed her.

I had to scoff at myself because I thought I was okay with it, not having my own mother. I missed her. I loved her, and I thought I had closure at losing her. Perhaps not? Was that why I was here again? Still looking for her, but knowing I couldn’t, so I sought out a replacement? Is that what this was?

If I couldn’t look for my own mother, then I was looking for other mothers?

Or maybe it was their homes?

I didn’t know. I just knew that I came here with a feeling in the middle of my chest, and it grew, and grew, and grew until I found this clearing, and now the feeling was spreading through me.

I was still not normal.

That was depressing.

I sighed, letting the sound carry from me as I reached for my drink. Lifting the bottle, I saluted the families that I was watching and tipped my head back.

Then I waited.

Chapter Twenty-Four

ZELLMAN

When you get a text from Bren with coordinates, you don’t question it. You show up.

I learned that lesson long ago, maybe in seventh grade. Bren was a chick who didn’t waste words. She didn’t need attention. She didn’t do anything that was extra. She was not a normal chick, and I knew, I’ve always known that I’d never meet someone like her. Ever.

So here I was.

Pulling up by her truck, her coordinates farther up, and I was sloshing my way through these woods.