(Sabrina’s POV)
The drive to my house takes fifteen minutes. Jake chatters the entire way about how he's going to arrange his room, which corner is best for his dinosaur train, where his art supplies should go.
When we pull into the driveway, I feel something settle in my chest.
This is my house. Mine and Jake's. No Dustin. No memories of betrayal. Just fresh paint and new furniture and the possibility of building something better.
Sophia and I spend the next three hours hauling boxes and arguing about where things should go.
Jake "helps" by unpacking his toys and immediately spreading them across every available surface.
By nine PM, we're exhausted and surrounded by empty pizza boxes and half-unpacked containers.
But the house looks like home.
My photos with Jake line the hallway.
