“You are not an intrusion, Dylan. You never were.”
He stepped forward, crossing the short distance between us, and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders, holding me close. This time, there was no hesitation, no lingering shadow of suspicion, and no lingering fear of what tomorrow might bring.
As he walked out the door into the cool, rain-washed evening air, promising to return bright and early for breakfast, I closed the heavy oak door and turned the deadbolt. But for the first time in twenty years, locking that front door didn’t feel like shutting out the rest of the world.
It felt like welcoming life back inside.
