Home Fires
~ Greyson ~ By the time we pull into the driveway, the last of the daylight is fading — golden streaks bleeding into soft indigo across the London sky. Alyssa exhales like she’s been holding her breath since the courthouse doors closed behind us. “Home,” she whispers. The word sounds foreign, heavy, and safe all at once. I reach over, resting a hand on her knee. “You did it, Lyss. You were incredible.” She smiles — tired, beautiful, raw around the edges. “I don’t feel incredible. I feel like my ribs are plotting revenge after eight hours in that chair.” I chuckle, pulling into the gates. “You’ll feel better once you’re barefoot and wine’s in your hand.” The front door opens before I even kill the engine. Lillian stands in the doorway, hip propped against the frame, baby Hope on her
- Writer
