~ Evie ~
I push open the front door and the smell hits me first - Claire’s chicken stew, the one with extra garlic that Dad always complains about but eats three bowls of anyway. It’s home. Real home.
“Evie!” Claire’s voice comes from the kitchen before I even kick my shoes off. She rounds the corner wiping her hands on a dish towel, eyes already shiny. “Oh my god, look at you.” She pulls me into a hug that smells like rosemary and laundry detergent. “Mrs. Poole. I still can’t believe it.”
Dad appears right behind her, arms wide. “There’s my girl.” His hug is tighter than usual, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear back into that fancy life. “We saw the pictures online. You looked like a movie star.”
I laugh, but it comes out smaller than I mean it to. “Guys, come on. It’s still me. Same E
