I knew saying goodbye would hurt. But I wasn’t expecting this ache in my chest. Or the echo of “You ever going to let anyone in, Saylor?” in my head. I turn and continue walking toward to the Scholenberg house, pushing through the pain the same way I always have. Not caring that it’s begun to drizzle. Appreciating it, actually. It hides the fact that there was already salty water dripping down my cheeks.
