Her fingers tightened on the crutches. She held her breath and planted her leg on the stiff, scuff-marked vinyl, willing another step forward.
Once in a blue moon, people could surprise you, and once in a while, people might even take your breath away.
Despite her fears, Jake had become more than just a steady presence—he was the foundation she hadn’t realized she needed. Even beyond her lifelong girlfriends. Through the long, painful days of recovery, he had been there, never wavering, never making a show of his devotion but proving it in a hundred quiet ways.
He anticipated what she needed before she could ask, offering comfort without crowding her, strength without demanding anything in return. He had slipped into her life so seamlessly that she hadn’t noticed just how much she relied on him—until now.
The idea of waking up without knowing he’d be there, of facing the world without his calm, unwavering presence, sent a pang of unease through her. She had spent so long believing she was meant to go it alone, but Jake had changed that. She couldn’t imagine going back to a life without him in it.
The realization sent a shiver down her spine, equal parts sobering and comforting. For the first time, she could picture herself…getting married.
The notion hit her like an unexpected gust of wind, knocking her off balance—not physically, but in a way that rattled her more.
Marriage had never been on her radar. Too much risk. Too much potential for loss.
And yet, when she thought of Jake—his patience, his quiet humor, the way he saw her, really saw her—the idea didn’t feel suffocating. It felt… solid. Steady.
Like Jake himself.
Her foot landed firmly on the last mark on the floor. Jenna’s hand pressed lightly on her back in encouragement. “You did it.”
Capri exhaled sharply, her grip easing. She had done it. She was going home.
And for the first time, she knew exactly who she wanted waiting for her when she got there.
Capri folded the last of her clothes into the suitcase, then turned to the wall, carefully pulling down the collection of get-well cards taped beside the window. She ran her fingers over a few of them—notes of encouragement, inside jokes, words from friends who had checked in even when she tried to keep them at arm’s length. One by one, she tucked them into the suitcase, pausing only to glance at the clock.
She was early. Jake wouldn’t be here for another hour.
With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed, rolling a small stress ball between her palms. Just as she was about to stand and double-check that she hadn’t forgotten anything, a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” she called, expecting Jenna or one of the nurses.
The door eased open, and to her surprise, Camille stepped hesitantly into the room. The girl’s brown eyes flickered with uncertainty as she hovered just inside the doorway, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.
“Hey, Camille,” Capri said, straightening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Camille gave a small, nervous smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just…wanted to drop off something.”
She hesitated, then stepped forward, extending a small, wrapped box. Capri took it, the weight of it solid in her hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Camille shrugged. “I wanted to.”
Capri peeled away the paper, lifting the lid to find a small compass nestled in a bed of tissue paper. The brass casing gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the needle inside pointing steadily north.
Capri turned it over in her palm, a lump forming in her throat. A compass. A way forward. A reminder that no matter how lost she felt, she could always find her way.
“This is…” she cleared her throat, running her thumb over the smooth metal. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Camille.”
Camille gave another small shrug, but her expression was shadowed, as if she were carrying something heavier than words. Capri didn’t notice it at first, but when Camille shifted, the baggy fabric of her sweater pulled tight across her stomach.
Camille immediately saw Capri looking and folded her arms over her belly, her face turning a deep shade of red. “It’s not—I mean, I know it’s obvious,” she stammered, eyes darting to the floor. “I wasn’t sure if Mom told you.”
Capri’s voice was gentle as she nodded. “Why are you hiding it?”
Camille’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Because I—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “I know I’ve let a lot of people down.”
Shame.
