I grinned at the screen as I typed out a goodbye and headed for my closet. As I surveyed my options, I grimaced. There wasn’t much. My jeans were staying on. My fingers ghosted over my stack of sweaters and settled on a maroon cowlneck. As I tugged it from the shelf, my shoulder twinged, my hand losing its grip on the material. I muttered a curse as I rushed to grab it with my good hand before it hit the floor.

I set the top on my bed and massaged my angry muscles. I’d played for too long, anxious to lose myself in the music and forget about the fact that Michael was being released into the world today. I opened and closed my fist, trying to alleviate the nerve pain running from my shoulder to my fingertips.

It was the thing that no therapist ever understood. As hard as I worked to move on from that night, to forget, I never could. Because my body reminded me every day.

Instead, I had to shove the memories out of my mind. Forcibly remove them as soon as they tried to grab hold. Music was usually the vehicle for that escape, even when I had to create it in my mind. As I removed my fleece and donned the sweater, I moved through the scales of a piece I didn’t even remember the name of. It didn’t matter. The only important thing was that it filled my mind and kept dark memories at bay. By the time I’d swiped on some mascara and lip gloss, I felt more like myself. Not lost in the mire and the muck.

I grabbed the freshly baked bread, a notebook, and a pen, and was out the door with five minutes to spare. I shivered as I stepped into the evening air, but the dip in temperature helped to soothe further. To remind me that I was alive.

I paused for a moment as I reached the front door of the main house. I hadn’t been inside much in the past week. A quick pop in to drop off mail or eggs from the chickens. But it was weird to knock at a house I usually simply walked into. I raised my hand anyway and gave three quick raps.

“Come on in,” Brody called.

I took a deep breath as I moved inside, headed towards the kitchen. “It smells good in here.”

Brody shot me a grin that had my steps stuttering. “That’s all thanks to you. I’m just reheating.”

I gave a small shrug as I crossed to the island counter, setting down the bread. “Reheating counts.”

“Glad you think so because other than ordering out, that’s about all I’ve got.”

“Better than burning water. What can I do to help?”

Brody surveyed the kitchen around him. “Want to grab bowls and spoons? I’ll get drinks. Do you want wine, soda, beer?”