A new story
Genevieve The knock on the door was light—too light to be a threat, too firm to ignore. I didn’t move at first. I sat frozen in the sunroom, the journal still clutched in my lap. Leo had stepped out to take a call, leaving me in the lingering quiet of our moment. The knock came again. I stood, nerves crawling beneath my skin. I already knew who it was. I opened the door slowly. There he was. Sheriff—no, former Sheriff—Tubman Taylor. My father. Looking ten years older than he had the last time I saw him. His face was pale, tired, the edges of his dignity starting to fray. For once, he wasn’t in uniform. Just a plain shirt, slacks, and a defeated look in his eyes. “Geni,” he said, his voice tentative. “Can I talk to you?” I didn’t respond. I stepped aside, letting him in without a wor
- Writer
