At 2 P.M., I Walked Into My Parents’ Backyard Expecting To Pick Up My 8-

away so she wouldn’t see the expression on my face. Ethan brushed a hand over my back.

“Liberty, you okay?”

I nodded even though I wasn’t.

Sometimes healing looks like moving forward. Sometimes it looks like trying not to drown in memories.

A few days later, I was making breakfast—eggs and toast, simple things—when Amelia walked into the kitchen, sat at continue reading …