Chapter 47

CHAPTER 47

MARIGOLD

T he house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floors beneath my feet. My footsteps echoed in the hall, reminding me just how big this place felt without Mom bustling around or Dad humming some old tune in the background. It was my third day in Green River, and even though the familiarity of home surrounded me, the emptiness was almost suffocating.

I had been home alone plenty of times before, but today it felt really empty. Not even the usual clutter bothered me. When Mom was alive, she always kept the house clean but there was the typical clutter that came from three people living in a home.

I stopped to straighten one of the pictures hanging in the hall. It had a layer of dust on it. The picture was my third-grade school photo. I cringed at the red hair, big teeth, and the mass of freckles that had popped up on my face that summer.

I walked into the kitchen and looked around. Dad was at work. He'd picked up a part-time job at the hardware store to keep himself busy after retiring. He joked the job kept him out of trouble when I asked why he was working again, but I could see in his eyes that he just needed something to fill the long hours that now stretched ahead of him every day. Apparently, he could only do so much fishing.

I could see why he needed a job to get out of the house. I had been here three days, and I was getting cabin fever.

I wandered into the living room and stared at the gallery of photos my mother had carefully curated over the years. Each frame held a piece of our history, capturing moments of joy, love, and togetherness. My own face smiled back at me from nearly every picture—missing front teeth, tangled hair, and wide, carefree grins that spoke of a childhood full of love and security.

There were photos of Mom and Dad, too. They were cuddled up on the old rocking chair in the living room, their eyes shining with a love that had always felt unshakable to me. In one, Mom was heavily pregnant, her hand resting protectively over her swollen belly while Dad looked on, pride and anticipation written all over his face. There were pictures of family gatherings, holidays, and the kind of moments that only seemed important in hindsight.

If I could go back to those days, I would pay more attention to every word my mom said. I would willingly give her the hugs she always asked for but I was too stubborn to give.

I paused in front of a photo of Mom and Dad from when they were young—probably not much older than I was now. Dad had that wild look in his eye, the one he always got when he was about to do something reckless but fun, and Mom was laughing, her head thrown back in pure, unfiltered joy. They looked so alive, so ready to take on the world together. I wondered how often Dad stood here, staring at these memories, missing what used to be. Missing her.

He had found his soulmate and lost her. He always said there was no one else for him. It made me happy and sad. Sad that he would be alone and happy he loved my mom so much he would never replace her.

A lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, but it stubbornly remained. How had I ever left him behind? It wasn't like I'd abandoned him completely—I came back as often as I could, especially for Christmas, which was a tradition I never missed. But standing here now, looking at the life we used to have, I couldn't shake the guilt that crept up on me. It wasn't enough. None of it was enough. And this wasn't the life Dad had imagined for himself, either. Not after losing Mom.

I thought back to all the times I'd heard him and Mom talk about growing old together. They used to joke about how old age would finally slow her down to his pace, and he'd whip her around town on his scooter, just like the old motorcycle he rode when they first met. That was love right there. The kind of love that held steady through the years, that weathered every storm, that was built on something real, something solid.

And what did I have? This sham of a relationship with Zayn? I couldn't believe I'd let myself get in so deep. I grew up knowing what true love was, seeing it every day in my parents, and as soon as a good-looking rich guy showed up, I flushed all that down the toilet.

I sold my soul for five-hundred grand.

What was I thinking? What would future partners think of me once they found out about this charade with a Bancroft? Nothing good, that was for sure.

I sighed, moving away from the gallery wall and sinking down onto the old couch in the living room. It was time to be done with Zayn Bancroft. This whole thing had been a mistake from the start. I knew that now.

I'd spoken to Bellamy Klein. He told me that if I paid the money back, I could get out of the contract. It was tempting—no, it was more than tempting. It was the only way forward. I hadn't spent much of the money anyway, so I could pay it back in full and be done with this mess. Done with Zayn.

I would pretend I never met him.

"Easier said than done."

Maybe I was meant to be here all along, in Green River, with Dad. New York had been a blip, a shot at seeing if I could be something more, but it had failed. And maybe that was okay. Maybe I was never supposed to leave in the first place.

I flew too close to the sun and my wax wings melted.

The sound of my phone ringing jolted me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen and saw it was Elaine. I hesitated for a moment. I wasn't up for talking, especially to the happy bride. It was a reminder of what I would never have.

But she was my best friend, and she was probably checking up on me like a good friend did.

"Hey, Elaine."

"Marigold, how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," I replied, though I wasn't sure if that was entirely true. "Just doing a lot of thinking."

"Well, I'm glad you're taking the time to sort things out," she said. "I wanted to let you know that Zayn called earlier."

I tensed. "Oh? What did that butthole want?"

"He's worried about you. I didn't lie about where you were, but I kept it vague." She sighed. "I wasn't totally sure how you wanted me to handle it, but he seemed legitimately scared."

I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples. Of course, he was worried. Zayn wasn't a bad guy—not really. But this situation, this arrangement, it wasn't right. Not for him, and not for me.

"I understand," I said finally. "I'm just done, Elaine. I think it's time to end this."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "If that's what you want, then I support you, Marigold. You deserve to be happy. Whatever that looks like for you, I have your back."

"Thanks, Elaine," I murmured, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. It was nice to have someone in my corner.

After we hung up, I sat there for a long time, just thinking. Thinking about Green River, about New York, about Zayn, about Dad. The future felt uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was making the right choice. It wasn't going to be easy, but I knew it would be worth it in the end.

The sound of the front door opening startled me out of my reverie. I looked up to see Dad walking in, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small bag in the other.

"Hey, sweet pea," he greeted me with a warm smile. "I brought you something."

I stood up, a smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness in my heart. "Flowers? For me?"

"Of course, for you," he said, handing them over. "And your favorite ice cream too. Figured you could use a little pick-me-up."

"Dad," I said, my voice cracking a little as I took the flowers from him. It was a simple bouquet of daisies, the kind Mom used to love. "Thank you."

He set the ice cream down on the table and pulled me into a hug. "You've been quiet these past few days. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

I gave him a quick hug. "I'm okay, Dad. Just been doing a lot of thinking."

"Thinking's good," he said. "But don't get lost in your own head, okay? You've got people here who care about you."

I nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I know. And I've been doing a lot of thinking about that, too."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"I'm ready to come home," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I think it's time I move back here. For good."

Dad's face lit up, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he broke into a wide grin. "Really? You mean it?"

"I mean it," I said, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. "I think this is where I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, sweet pea," he said, pulling me into another hug. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You know I'll never say no to more time with you."

I hugged him back, feeling a little lighter than I had in days. "I've missed you, Dad. I've missed this."

"Well, you've always got a place here," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You can do whatever you want with your old room. Heck, with the whole house if you want. Make it your own."

I smiled, knowing I hadn't yet told him the full truth of my plans. But for now, I let his happiness be enough. I could tell him later that I wanted to get my own place nearby, that I needed a space that was just mine. For now, his joy was a bright light in what had been a dark week for me. I didn't want to do anything to dim it.

We spent the rest of the evening together, eating ice cream and talking about the future. Dad shared his plans to fix up the old shed out back. I found myself getting excited about the idea of being here to help him, to be a part of this place again.

By the time I went to bed that night, I felt a sense of clarity that had been missing for a long time. Maybe New York had been a dream, a way to see if I could be something more. But in the end, it had shown me that what I really needed was right here in Green River with the people who loved me.