The sky over Alder Ridge had turned slate gray by the time Sophie left the diner. She pulled her coat tighter around her and kept her head down as she walked to her car. The cold bit at her cheeks, but it wasn't the weather that made her shiver.
It was Jake.
It was the way his voice had sounded when he said her name. The way he still looked at her—not with anger, not even regret—but with something quieter. Like a story that hadn't ended properly.
Back at the house, the silence was louder than before. She moved through the rooms aimlessly, opening cupboards, drawers, closets. Every item was a ghost. Her mother had kept everything—old birthday cards, high school yearbooks, even the tiny porcelain box Sophie had made in third grade with crooked initials scratched into the lid.
She found herself in the attic just before sunset. The air was cold and dry, filled with dust and the soft creak of floorboards under her boots. She hadn't been up there in years.
The light from the small attic window filtered in weakly, casting pale shadows across a stack of boxes. She opened the top one, expecting old holiday decorations or forgotten junk.
Instead, she found herself staring at a bundle of letters. Yellowed envelopes, neatly tied with a faded blue ribbon.
She sat on the floor and opened the first one.
> Sophie,
You probably won't read this. Maybe I won't send it. Maybe I just needed to write it down somewhere. But if you do read it someday... I hope you know I loved you enough to let you go. Even when it tore me apart.
It was Jake's handwriting.
There were at least ten letters. Unsent. Unopened. All addressed to her.
She read each one, and with every page, her chest tightened. He'd written them after she left—some angry, some desperate, some simply... lost. He had never sent them, maybe because he thought she'd moved on, or maybe because he knew she wouldn't write back.
By the time she finished the last one, her eyes were damp, her hands shaking. The attic felt colder now, as if the past itself had turned to frost.
She stayed there until the light outside was gone.
---
The funeral was scheduled for Friday. That gave her three more days in Alder Ridge. Three more days to pack up a life, to say goodbye all over again—to her mother, to herself, to whatever pieces of her still lingered in this town.
On Wednesday, she found herself standing outside the garage on Main Street.
She didn't know why she'd come.
The building hadn't changed. Same chipped red paint, same hand-painted sign: Ellison Auto Repair. She stepped inside and was immediately hit with the familiar scent of motor oil and metal and warmth.
Jake looked up from under the hood of an old truck.
His eyes met hers. "Hey."
"Hey," she said, her voice barely louder than the hum of the space heater in the corner.
He wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. "Everything okay?"
She hesitated, then pulled the bundle of letters from her bag. "I found these. In the attic."
Jake stared at them. "I never meant for you to see those."
"I know," she said quietly. "But I'm glad I did."
He ran a hand through his hair. "They were just... words I couldn't say."
"They were beautiful," she said. "And sad."
"Yeah," he whispered. "They were."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. There was too much history in the silence. Too many things they hadn't said ten years ago, and too many that still hovered between them now.
"You asked me to stay once," Sophie said finally. "And I couldn't. I still think about that. All the time."
Jake looked away. "I didn't want you to stay if it meant giving up what you wanted."
"But it felt like I gave up you instead."
His eyes met hers again, and this time, there was a crack in his calm. "You didn't. I just... I didn't know how to ask you to come back."
Sophie took a slow breath. "I'm not here to rewrite the past. I just—needed you to know that I never stopped caring. Even when I left. Even when I stayed gone."
Jake nodded, then glanced at the letters in her hand. "I was angry for a long time. Not at you—just at how everything felt like it ended before we had a chance."
She gave a small, sad smile. "Maybe it didn't end. Maybe it just paused."
Outside, a breeze stirred the wind chimes by the garage door. It sounded like something delicate trying not to break.
Jake stepped closer, close enough that Sophie could smell the faint traces of engine oil on his clothes, the warmth of him like a memory she hadn't dared to touch until now.
"You staying long?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Just through the funeral."
He nodded, then hesitated. "Would you maybe... want to grab a drink after? Talk more. Or just sit somewhere we used to sit."
She smiled softly. "I'd like that."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't a fix. But it was something. A start. A step toward the place where the past and the present could finally meet.
As she walked out of the garage, the wind brushed her hair across her face, and for the first time since coming back, Sophie didn't feel like she was just visiting the ruins of her life.
She felt—quietly, cautiously—like maybe part of her had never left.