That evening, the sky blushed pink over the hills. Thomas took them for a walk along the ridge, where the city flickered like a bowl of stars below.
Lucky tugged at the leash, impatient with wonder; Grace stayed close, shoulder brushing his leg, the way she had sheltered her pup in the rain.
“Some storms end,” Thomas said aloud, mostly to himself. “Some storms just teach us how to hold on.”
Grace tipped her head, and for a moment he could see the mountain road again—the mud, the cold—and the small, unshakeable decision that had changed all three of their lives.
