"She's really gone?" he asked in disbelief, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded, understanding his skepticism.
"Yeah, Dad. She's never bothering us, or Doyle and his family ever again,” I said.
"That's a relief to hear," my dad said, sinking back into his pillow. "So what's next, for you and Doyle, I mean?"
I flushed for no apparent reason.
"Well, I figured we'd stay here for the next few days, you know, keep a close eye on you,” I answered.
He snorted softly. "I have Stan and the others for that. I'll be alright, Michael. Doyle and you... should head back,” he said.
It was as if my dad already knew I wasn't returning to Oak Meadow at all and had chosen to stay with Doyle in Sky Stead.
I didn't even need to bring the awkward topic up.
"We'll stay a few more days, keep you company," I said, and that brought a smile to the old man's face.
The nurse returned to update me on Doyle's condition.
"Your friend is doing fine. We've patched him up, and he should be able to leave soon," she said with a reassuring smile.
"Thanks," I replied, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.
Doyle finally joined us, covered in bandages. He sat beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"How's he doing?" he asked, nodding towards my dad, who had fallen asleep.
"Better, thanks to you," I said, giving Doyle a grateful smile.
"Good to hear," Doyle said, his eyes warm and reassuring.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of genuine peace settle over me.
After three days, my dad was discharged from the hospital.
Doyle and I helped drive him back home, the weight of recent events lifting slightly with each mile we traveled away from the hospital.
Once we got him settled in the living room, I made sure he had everything he needed before turning to Doyle.
“Let’s head to my room?" I asked with a small smile.
"Lead the way," Doyle replied, his hand finding mine as we headed down the familiar hallway.
We entered my room, a flood of memories washing over me.
When I first entered this room after Doyle rescued me, I remembered thinking I felt like a stranger in my own home.
Now, looking at my old posters on the walls, the bookshelf crammed with old novels and trinkets from my childhood only filled me with nostalgia.
Doyle closed the door behind us, and the world outside seemed to fade away.
We sat on the bed, the springs creaking softly under our weight.
Doyle wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I rested my head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.
"Remember when we first met?" Doyle murmured, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my arm.
