I’d recognize the look in his eyes in the rearview mirror after we rescued Blizzard in the middle of a snowy highway.

I’d see his mask of horror and guilt when he thought he’d hurt me with the cornstarch donut.

I’d pick apart his winks and smirks and the twinkle in his eyes whenever I was around.

I’d feel his careful arms around me at the animal hospital as he filled me up with hope.

I’d recall the way he came to pick me up that fateful night in November at almost two A.M.— no hesitation, no questions asked.

I’d hear his noble words in that basement: “Do what you want to me. Leave her alone.”

I’d go back to my living room on Friday and listen, truly hear him, and I’d do it all so much differently.

A desperate whimper escapes me and I sit up in bed, wiping both eyes with my wrist and facing my mother. “I-I have to go.”

She strokes her fingers through my hair one last time, giving my shoulder a tender squeeze as she pulls away. “I know.”

I lean in for a hug, holding her tight with both arms, burying my teary face into her neck and soaking up her vanilla perfume—a scent that is entirely my mother. “Thank you. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“Oh, Corabelle…” She kisses my cheek before she lets me go. “Just get better. There’s no shame in the struggle, but you can’t stay there forever. We’re all here for you.”

We share a final hug before I race down the staircase, out the door, and hop into my car. It’s a little after one P.M. and there’s a chance he hasn’t left yet.

I want to say goodbye. A real goodbye.

I fly across town, likely breaking at least eleven traffic laws, and park in front of his townhouse, my car door left hanging open as I jump out. I run up the familiar walkway, peering in through the side window as I knock on the door. I squint my eyes through the dusty glass, but everything looks empty. It all looks vacant. Hollow and cleared out.

No.

I’m too late.

I turn around and slide my back down the door until my bottom hits the cement stoop. I think about calling him. Texting him.

But I don’t even know what I would say.

I’m afraid everything would come out sounding like,

I want you.

I need you.

Come back.

And I know now, I know… the one who really needs to come back is me.

I wander through my front yard fifteen minutes later like a zombie, drained and exhausted. I’m so distracted by my emotional distress, I almost miss the envelope taped to my turquoise door with my name scrawled across the front.

Corabelle.

I lose a breath as I reach for the white envelope, plucking it off the door and grazing my forefinger along my name written in black ink. I swallow hard as I tear open the seal, then a gasp squeaks out between my lips.