“My dad doesn’t have it in for you. He isn’t the type to have it in for anyone,” I said quietly.

My dad, bless his heart, was a gentle giant who was capable of so much, could take anything apart, fix it, and put it back together, but life hadn’t been kind to him. Had never given him a break. And yet he didn’t hold an ounce of bitterness.

“Then let’s go tell them our good news.” His tone had lightened, and I peered at him, looking for some hint of sarcasm, but I didn’t see any.

With another glance toward the damaged buildings, I sucked in a deep breath, opened my car door, and hopped out, my ring catching momentarily on my jacket.

As we walked to the wooden steps, Holden took my hand in his. Part of me couldn’t believe I was taking him inside with me for the first time. Another part of me was thankful to have him at my side.

“Watch yourself,” he said when we were two steps up, and he held his hand in front of me to stop me. The right half of the third step was bowed on the end, cracked, and looked like it could collapse with five pounds of pressure on it.

I tentatively stepped in front of Holden, to the left side of the step, and tested it slowly with my weight. When it held, Holden followed me up.

“I could fix that for them,” he said quietly as we reached the door.

“My dad can do it,” I assured him, then I knocked on the door.

As I heard footsteps approaching inside, I forgot about my dismay about the outward appearance of my childhood home. Anticipation of seeing my parents, of seeing their reaction to me finally visiting them here, bubbled up in my chest and had a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

The inner door with the diamond-shaped window eased open, and my mom stood there, whipping her hands up to cover her mouth in shock, happy shock, I was pretty sure, even though she was silent for a few seconds. Then she squealed and said, “Chloe, you’re here. Brian, Chloe’s here!”

My mom opened the screenless screen door, which Holden caught, and I rushed into her outstretched arms. The rose scent of her hand lotion engulfed me and took me back to my childhood like nothing else could. That scent alone conveyed caring arms, a light, fairy-like laugh, and a mother’s compassion.

My dad appeared over her shoulder, his eyes lit with welcome. “There’s our girl.”

Tears sprang into the corners of my eyes, and I squeezed them shut, refusing to let a single one spill out. I’d just seen my parents three weeks ago. What was wrong with me?