The next morning the lake was covered in thin mist that glowed silver in the early light. The air was cool and quiet. Lily stood on the porch with her hands around a mug of coffee, watching ripples move across the water. Behind her, Ethan packed their things in small, careful movements. He had not said much since waking up, but she could feel the weight in him, the slow pull of what was waiting up the road.

Chance stretched and yawned. His tail thumped weakly against the floorboards. Lily bent down to scratch his neck. “You ready to meet the family, buddy?” she whispered. He blinked up at her as if he understood.

When Ethan stepped outside, she handed him the second mug. “Drink,” she said.

He smiled faintly. “You’re bossy in the mornings.”

“Somebody has to keep you alive.”

He looked out over the lake. “I used to come here with my dad. He said the water made him feel quiet inside.”

“Maybe that’s what you need before today,” she said.

He nodded but didn’t answer. After a long pause he said, “They live about two hours from here. Small town. Quiet. My mom grows tomatoes. My dad still fixes anything that breaks whether it needs fixing or not.”

Lily sipped her coffee. “Sounds safe.”

He looked down at his cup. “It hasn’t felt that way in a long time.”

They left just after nine. The road wound through hills and past fields already turning green with spring. Lily drove for the first hour while Ethan watched the world pass by outside the window. He didn’t speak much, just stared at the horizon like he was trying to make sense of it.

At one point she reached over and turned the radio on. Old country songs played low. He smiled a little at one of them. “My mom used to play this when she cooked.”

“Then that’s a good sign,” Lily said.

He nodded, though his hands stayed tight in his lap.

They stopped at a roadside stand selling fruit and flowers. Lily bought strawberries and a small jar of honey. She handed them to Ethan. “Gifts. People like gifts.”

“You’re really thinking ahead.”

“I’m a nurse,” she said. “We’re trained for emergencies.”

He laughed, the sound small but real. “This definitely qualifies.”

When they got back in the car, she glanced at him. “Want to practice how we’re introducing me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like rehearsal?”

“Exactly.”

He thought for a second. “Mom, Dad, this is Lily. She’s—” He stopped. “She’s what?”

Lily smiled. “That’s your line. You decide.”

He looked at her, then back at the road. “She’s someone I trust.”

“That’ll do,” she said softly.

They drove another hour through narrow back roads lined with tall pines. The land began to look familiar to Ethan. He recognized old signs, a red barn he used to pass on his way to school. His chest tightened.

When they reached the town limits, a small green sign announced the name: Riverbend. It looked almost exactly as he remembered it—two grocery stores, one diner, a post office that hadn’t been painted in years. A handful of people stood outside the gas station, chatting like they always had.

Lily looked around. “This place feels untouched.”

“Time moves slower here,” he said.

“Or not at all,” she said.

They turned down a narrow road lined with maples. The leaves hadn’t come in yet, just thin branches against the sky. At the end of the road sat a white house with a front porch and a swing that swayed slightly in the wind.

Ethan pulled over and turned off the engine. Neither of them moved for a moment.

“You okay?” Lily asked.

He nodded, though his jaw was tight. “Just give me a second.”

“Take two,” she said.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “They don’t know we’re coming today. I called a few days ago, but my mom thought I’d changed my mind again.”

“Then she’s about to be pleasantly surprised.”

He laughed quietly. “Pleasantly might be optimistic.”

She touched his arm. “You’re not the same man who left. Let her see that.”

He looked at her, and some of the tension in his shoulders softened. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” she said. “But it’s worth it.”

Chance whined softly from the back seat, as if reminding them to move. Lily smiled. “Even he’s ready.”

Ethan drew in a slow breath, opened the door, and stepped out. Gravel crunched under his shoes. The air smelled of grass and wood smoke. Lily followed, holding the small jar of honey in one hand and the basket of strawberries in the other.

From inside the house came the sound of a screen door opening. A woman appeared on the porch, wiping her hands on a towel. Her hair was gray now, shorter than Ethan remembered, but her face was the same—sharp around the edges, gentle in the eyes.

For a moment she didn’t move. Then she whispered something too quiet to hear. Ethan took a step forward. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

She covered her mouth with one hand. “Ethan.”

He nodded, standing there like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to move closer. Then she came down the steps and pulled him into her arms. The hug was awkward at first, then fierce. Lily looked away, pretending to study the porch swing, giving them the space they needed.

When they finally pulled apart, his mother wiped her eyes. “You should’ve called,” she said.

“I didn’t want to give you a chance to talk me out of it,” he said with a small smile.

She laughed through her tears. “You always were stubborn.” Then she looked at Lily. “And who’s this?”

Lily stepped forward, offering the basket. “I’m Lily. I brought these from a roadside stand. Thought you might like them.”

His mother took the basket and smiled. “That’s sweet. Come in, both of you. Your father’s in the back working on that old tractor again.”

Inside, the house smelled like lemon polish and bread. Family pictures lined the hallway. Lily saw a few with Ethan as a teenager, his brother next to him—same eyes, same smile, only louder in the photograph.

They followed his mother through the kitchen to the back yard. An older man stood beside a rusted green tractor, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked up when he heard footsteps.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. His voice was calm but his eyes softened the way Ethan’s did when he was trying not to show too much.

“Hi, Dad,” Ethan said.

His father nodded. “You look older.”

“You too,” Ethan said.

The man’s lips twitched. “That’s how time works, son.”

Lily hid a smile behind her hand.

Ethan’s mother touched her husband’s arm. “This is Lily,” she said. “She’s a nurse. She came with Ethan.”

His father nodded once, studying her. “Nurse, huh? You must have patience.”

“Only on weekends,” Lily said.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right in.”

They sat outside at the picnic table. His mother brought out coffee and pie. Conversation came in small pieces at first—safe things, weather, the drive, how long they’d been on the road. Lily kept the talk moving, asking gentle questions, making his mother laugh. Ethan mostly listened, watching the way his parents looked at each other, the quiet between them that wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

When the sun began to set, his mother placed a hand over Ethan’s. “You stayed away too long,” she said softly.

“I know,” he said.

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t do it again.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I won’t.”

Lily stood, giving them space. She walked toward the porch with Chance trotting behind her. The dog stopped to sniff the grass, tail wagging.

From where she stood, she could see the lake through the trees in the distance, catching the last light of the day. The air felt clean and full of quiet promise. Behind her, she heard Ethan’s mother laugh again, softer this time, lighter.

Lily smiled to herself. They had made it. Not the end of the road, maybe, but the edge of something new.

Inside the house, the screen door creaked, and Ethan called her name.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Come meet the rest of the story,” he said.

She turned, brushed the dust from her jeans, and walked back toward the porch. The sky above Riverbend burned orange, fading slowly into blue.