Easter~
The house was still thick with the scent of warm tea and faint traces of finished breakfast when Jacob leaned down beside me on the couch. My heart was still trembling from the cries I'd poured out earlier—tears of happiness, tears of aching relief. I felt like a glass left too long under the sun, ready to crack with one more memory.
Jacob's voice was a low rumble, patient, careful, like he didn't want to scare me. "Easter," he said, brushing a stray tear off my cheek with his thumb, "I think you should call her back."
I blinked up at him, dazed. "Now?"
He smiled—soft, tired. "Yes. Invite her somewhere... safe. Somewhere you'll be comfortable. A bookstore maybe. Quiet. Public."
A strange laugh escaped me, half-nervous, half-incredulous. "You sound like you're preparing me for battle."
"In a way, I am." His warm brown eyes searched mine, and something fierce and protective passed through them. "Hope is beautiful, Easter. But hope can also hurt if you're not careful."
