Page 119 of After We Fall

I grab a bottle of water for myself and offer Meredith the cup of noncaffeinated hot tea I prepared before her arrival. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“I want everything to eat,” she says, patting her stomach. “But I already had breakfast. Thanks, though.”

On the way out the door, I pick two folders up from the kitchen counter. Meredith grabs the blankets I set out, and we make our way to the chairs. The heavy metal scrapes against the concrete as we situate them. The second-floor balcony provides ample shade for those who want to lounge on the porch, but this morning, the sun naps behind billowy gray clouds.

Meredith flips the space heater on and drapes her blanket over her legs with one hand, careful not to spill her tea. “Honestly, it’s kind of annoying how great you look. When Harlan and I broke up, I didn’t shower for days.”

“I’m a doer. I went shopping.”

“I can see that. And thank you for not asking me to go with you.”

I try to hold back a smile.

“I would have gone with you if you had asked, you know. That’s how you know I love you.”

I tuck my blanket tightly around the edges of my legs, leaning forward to cover the draft between my leggings and my shoes.

Once settled, we both stare across to the vast boardinghouse that sits behind the main house on the ranch. The construction crews blew out a wall and poured concrete. A buzz saw grinds on the other side of the house, prepping two-by-fours for the wooden skeleton of additional square footage Meredith is adding to the existing structure. The smell of fresh sawdust mixed with a hint of the neighboring cow pasture floats across the porch on a chilly winter breeze.

She draws her cup up to her mouth, the steam swirling off the top of the tea. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“I figured as much.” She takes a sip and swallows. “May I ask you just one question?”

“Yes.”

“Did you lean in?”

“With everything I had.”

She nods once. “Then maybe there’s nothing to talk about.”

Nothing except the twisting pain in my stomach that reminds me of the gaping hole that no amount of tasks could fill in the last two days.

I think there’s always going to be a twelve-year-old girl in me who aches to be chosen. And I think there’s always going to be a trailer-park boy in Luke who doesn’t know where he belongs. The triggers will dissipate, but those wounds will always whisper to us.

Both Luke and I have tried for years to prove our worth. But somewhere along the way, we got lost.

The truth is, we’re enough.

I’m enough.

Which is why, heading into this meeting with Meredith, I have peace. If this doesn’t go the way I want it to, I’ll be okay. I will find something different. I’ll take a risk for something different. Whatever the case, the urgency I felt for proving myself is no more. I am Penelope. I have strengths. I have limits. No matter where I land, I am enough.

But that doesn’t mean that the stakes for the conversation I’m about to initiate aren’t high.

“There is something I wanted to discuss with you.” I angle my chair so I can face her.

She nods, moves her chair to mirror mine, and resettles the blanket over her body. “What’s on your mind?”

I inhale, gathering my courage. Exhale, releasing the outcome of the conversation. “I want to work at Twelve Bluebells.”

Her brow furrows. “But you’re already involved with the ranch. What do you mean?”

“I want to resign my position with Harlan’s company and officially be your program director.”

She mouths, Oh.