The World at Our Feet

POV: Sadie

"Huh? You what now?" I stare at him.

"I want you to come with me. You, me, and the whole world at our feet." He offers a hopeful smile.

I blink down at the glossy boarding passes scattered across my lap, struggling to process his words. "But why? This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip. You need to make the most of every second. The last thing you want dragging you down across the globe is a grieving widow."

"I want you with me, sweet pea. I want to experience every moment with you. I want to make Garrett a part of this trip, and I want to do it all with you by my side. Please say you will come."

"I don't know, Ben."

He shifts closer on the mattress. "Sadie, I don't want to sound mean, but what do you have to stay here for now? You are on your own. You have to start your life again anyway, so why not take some time away from here before you do that?"

My mind races through the grim reality of my existence in this town. My physical home is a blackened shell, destroyed by flames. My husband is dead. The townspeople look at me with raw hatred. They despise me because of a devastating truth I promised Ben I would never reveal. I have absolutely nothing tethering me to Florida anymore.

"You are right. I have to start my life over no matter what I do. Whether I stay here now or come back in a year, the reality doesn't change."

Ben counters, his eyes bright with conviction. "That is where you are wrong. We will go away and explore the world in Garrett's name. Then, I am moving to Texas to be with my family on their ranch, and you are coming with me."

I stare at him. Texas? His dad inherited a farm six years ago and moved the family for a fresh start. It sounds peaceful, but packing up and moving there is a lot to swallow. "I am what now?"

"Did you honestly think I would leave you to come back here? To live on your own surrounded by people who actively hate you?"

"It is okay. You can say it."

"They only hate you because they don't know the truth." He raises an eyebrow.

"And they won't ever know, okay? You promised you wouldn't tell them!"

"And I won't. But you are not living here among them anymore. Get packing, because we leave tomorrow at ten. If there is anything you want to keep but don't want to travel with, box it up. We will ship it to the ranch."

I look around the motel room. He makes perfect sense. There is nothing left for me in Florida. Just ashes and venomous whispers. I can stay here in this self-made hell, or I can firmly agree to this trip and live out a dream that was a part of Garrett's life.

"Let's do this. Let's go on the trip!"

His smile stretches wide. He tackles me into a tight hug on the bed.

The rest of the night blurs into a highly emotional, sleepless marathon. My mind is a relentless whirlwind, bouncing between sadness and grief over the past, and a nervous flutter of excitement about the journey. Since I can't sleep, I manage to keep Ben awake too. By five in the morning, the room is filled with our echoing voices. We spend hours alternately laughing and crying over our shared memories of Garrett. It feels good to share those moments with him.

As the sun peeks through the cheap curtains, Ben rubs his tired face. "Why don't we get dressed and head to the house? I know you don't want to go there, but I think you should before we leave. You need to say goodbye to the place one absolute last time."

I want to refuse. But a heavy knot in my chest tells me he is right. We are heading to Texas after this trip. This will be my final chance to stand on that property.

The drive to the house is quiet. I grip the passenger door handle. Pulling up to the property must be hard for him too. I lost my home and my husband; he lost his home and his best friend.

We pull up to the curb and take deep breaths before stepping out of the car. I stare at the completely smoke-blackened skeleton of my past. The ground-floor windows are smashed and boarded up with plywood. The shattered glass of our master bedroom gapes like an open wound. The only thing intact is a bright red front door the insurance company slapped on its hinges. I hate it.

"You're not welcome here, murderer!"

I turn my head. My neighbor, Kendra, stands on her pristine doorstep. She aggressively glares at me, viciously spitting out the accusation.

"Oh, pipe down, sweet cheeks!" Ben immediately snaps back, stepping between me and her line of sight.

I strictly remain entirely quiet. I look down at my sneakers, unable to force a single word out. The secret letter tucked inside my pocket physically feels like it is burning straight through my skin. I shake the sensation aside and focus back on my home.

Ben wraps a warm arm around my shoulders, gently nudging me forward. My feet move of their own accord up the cracked concrete path. "Come on, sweet pea."

He pushes the obnoxious red door open. I fight back the thick sobs threatening to leave my body. I have driven past this spot so many times, but I never made it past the front door.

The interior is a wasteland. The living room is a heap of blackened debris and melted plastic.

"Sadie... Sadie!"

I blink. "Sorry, Ben."

"It is okay, sweetie. I know this is hard, but you will regret it if you don't take a look around and box up anything you want to keep."

I agree, letting him pull me along by the hand. The physical act of meticulously sifting through the literal ashes of my past is grueling. Against all odds, I uncover a few things that can be saved. I find some pieces of jewelry Garrett bought me. Underneath a collapsed bookshelf, we salvage a handful of photo albums. Unfortunately, I only find exactly one single surviving wedding photograph. One is all I need.

Ben's cell phone rings, making us both jump. "Sorry, Say. It is Travis. I should take this."

I nod. He steps into the other room while I continue collecting anything important. There isn't much left, but thankfully, the fire couldn't burn my memories.

Before I leave, I force myself to head toward the staircase. The wooden treads are scorched but stable. I make my way up, each step protesting loudly, and push open the door to the ruined remains of our master bedroom.

Even though I knew the room would be ruined, the sight still punches the breath out of my lungs. Everything is either deeply charred or reduced to grey ash.

My eyes lock onto the center of the room. The blackened frame of what was once our marital bed sits among the debris.

A strange, bubbling sensation rises in my chest. Before I can stop myself, a wild, hysterical bout of real, belly-clenching laughter forcefully escapes my lips. The harsh sound echoes off the ruined walls. I can't stop.

The bedroom door creaks wider. Ben steps inside with a confused smile, trying to gauge my erratic reaction. He crosses the room and places his hands firmly on my shaking shoulders.

The physical contact breaks the dam. Just as rapidly as the laughter started, it violently morphs into gut-wrenching, throat-burning sobs. My knees buckle, and I completely crumble to the floor.

Ben immediately catches me. He cradles my shaking body securely against his chest as he lowers us directly onto the dirty, ash-covered floorboards. He holds me tight while I finally release all the suffocating grief I have been desperately holding back.

We sit on the filthy floor for thirty minutes. We cry, laugh, and talk. I have shed tears since Garrett's death, but I was always trying to keep strong. I see now that keeping the pain locked away was only holding me back. Releasing it here feels like a massive psychological weight has been lifted. I am physically exhausted, but my mind is finally clear.

"Are you ready?" Ben asks softly.

"I am ready."

We rise to our feet, brushing the thick layer of soot from our clothes. We head downstairs, and I take one last look around the house. I let go of the phantom warmth this place used to hold. We step outside into the glaring sunlight, knowing this is goodbye.

Our exit is immediately blocked.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I freeze. Garrett's sister, Bridget, stands in the middle of the walkway. Her fists are clenched, and her face is twisted in a furious snarl.

I say, "I just came to pick some stuff up, Bridget. I am leaving now, don't worry."

She violently yells, her voice thick with pure venom. "You should be deeply ashamed of yourself for coming back here after what you have done, Sadie! My brother immensely loved this house, and it is because of you that he died here!"

Her words strike like a physical blow. She gets louder, but I don't move. The secret letter in my pocket burns hot against my skin again. The truth is right there, begging to be unleashed.

"Okay, that is enough, Bridget! Leave her alone!" Ben snaps.

He walks over, grabs my hand, and immediately attempts to physically pull me toward the safety of the car to protect me from the verbal assault. Bridget continues to hurl insults at my back, but I don't really hear a word of it. Ben opens the passenger door, sits me inside, and jogs around the hood.

He slides behind the wheel and reaches for the ignition.

"Stop," I say.

I will not let this bitter woman dictate my final moments in this town. I push the car door open, firmly stop Ben's protests, and step back out. I confidently walk right up to Bridget, stopping mere inches from her face. She blinks, taken aback.

I look her directly in the eyes. "Despite whatever you may falsely believe, Bridget, I loved your brother more than anything else in the entire world, and I will always miss him. I came here to get some stuff because I am leaving, and I am not coming back."

I reach into my bag, pull out my heavy set of house keys, and aggressively press them directly into her hand.

I command, my voice unwavering and firm. "Can you give these to Evie, please? You were right about one thing. Garrett loved this house, we both did, and he wouldn't want it to be left to rot. So I am giving it to Evie, and I will have my solicitor formally draw up the necessary legal papers to completely sign the property over to her."

Bridget's jaw drops. The venom drains from her expression, replaced by completely stunned, speechless silence.

I don't wait for a response. I deliberately turn my back on my sister-in-law without offering a single further word.

I walk back to the car with steady, confident strides. I slide into the passenger seat and pull the door shut with a solid thud.

"Drive," I tell Ben.

He puts the car in gear and pulls away. I don't look back. We drive straight back toward the motel to pack up our belongings and say a final goodbye to this specific life forever. A quiet sense of ultimate empowerment settles over my tired bones.

This is for you, Garrett.