“Well, this old man is going to miss you,” he says with a soft smile.
“I’m going to miss you too,” I admit, swallowing down the small lump forming in my throat. I push the food around my plate and glance around the kitchen I grew up in. Everything I love so much is on this farm in Deer Creek. My throat tightens slightly as I fight the sudden rush of emotions.
I clear my throat and swallow. “As much as I hated why I came home, I’m really happy I did. I’m glad I got to be here with Murphy. I think I needed to be with both of you,” I tell Brent and my mom.
“I’m so glad we got to spend these weeks with you too,” Mom says, pushing her plate away. “But I’m not going to lie to you. Your life isn’t here anymore. We’ll always be here for you, but Saige, you aren’t meant to be here.”
I swallow hard and see Mom’s giant smile through my blurry tear-filled eyes.
Smiling at me, she speaks quietly. “Use your wings—soar. Regardless of what happens when you go back, Saige. Embrace your life. You’re living a dream that many would die for . . . literally.” Her voice cracks and her face softens.
I nod and swipe at the tears that leak out of the corner of my eyes.
Brent heaves heavily and looks between both of us. “Why do you women always have to get so damn emotional? I’m trying to enjoy my eggs, and I feel like I’m watching an episode of Dr. Phil.”
Mom and I burst out in laughter. “It’s our job to make you uncomfortable,” she says, swatting Brent’s arm.
“Come on, Piglet. Let’s get you packed up and on the road.” He stands up and clears his plate from the table, leaving Mom and me.
My mom reaches her hand across the table and grabs mine, her eyes imploring me. “I mean it, Saige. Go. Live.”
“I’ll try,” I whisper. And I will try.
Her lips press together into a tight smile. “Try hard.”
“I will.” I nod once in a promise to her.
Brent and I spend the next ninety minutes joking with each other and trying to keep the mood light as we inch closer to the airport. I hate goodbyes and he knows this.
When he finally lets me out at the curb, we trade insults and I slam the passenger door to his pick-up truck. He meets me at the back gate to help me get my suitcases out.
“Want me to help you get these inside?” he asks as he sets the two huge suitcases on the curb next to me.
“Nah, I can get them from here.” I twist each of my hands through the pull-up handles on the bags, gripping them tightly.
We look at each other awkwardly before Brent finally speaks. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, Saige, but I’m so proud of you.” Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I exhale loudly. “Go get him,” he says before stepping forward and pulling me into his arms.
“I’m going to try,” I say into his shoulder as I hug him in return.
“Text me later. Let me know you got home okay. I worry about you, Piglet.” There’s a hint of sadness behind those dark brown eyes.
“I will. Take care of Mom for me.”
“Always.” He slips around the back of the truck and pulls away as I watch the taillights disappear around the curve.
I inhale sharply, breathing in the crisp fall air. The chill almost burns my lungs, but I savor the moment. As usual, the airport is a damn near ghost town. After checking my bags, I slide through security, and then wait at the gate for the call to board. One quick stop in Minneapolis for a plane change and I should be back in Chicago in about two hours. My hands begin to sweat as I think about my future and what it might look like.
The breathtaking Chicago skyline comes into view just as the late fall sun begins to set. The backdrop of Lake Michigan fills my soul and reminds me of the contentment I’ve always found here. We land and that’s when the nervousness begins to settle in.
My stomach is in knots as every scenario imaginable runs through my mind. Where will I find him? What if he’s not in town? What if he won’t talk to me?
I shake off the negative thoughts and gather my bags, calling an Uber to pick me up. I haven’t even let Evelyn know I’m back in town yet.
The black Mercedes picks me up, and the driver manages to get my two huge bags into the trunk of his small car. When we arrive at my condo, my sympathetic driver helps me get my bags inside. Evelyn isn’t home and I don’t even take time to freshen up. It’s five o’clock and, while most employees of Jackson-Hamilton are well on their way out the door, I know Holt isn’t.
I damn near jog the three blocks to the train station with how fast I walk, and I find myself growing more impatient with each passing minute that I wait for the train. By the time I make it to the office tower, the sun has set and the sky is dark. The large lobby that is usually is bustling with people is now stark and dimly lit. Larry is behind the large security desk and offers me a quick wave.
“Ms. Phillips!” the old man says excitedly. “Haven’t seen you lately.”
“Had to take care of some family business, Larry,” I say, rushing past him.