One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

seemed to feel like he had a new role, to mentor her, which often required him to check in with her if he was concerned. And Tara knew that was exactly what he was doing. Warren knew that Tara was from New York, and that given her past, there were very few reasons why she would be heading back there. It quickly occurred to her why Warren had texted her at all. It wasn’t to check on her about the storm. It was because he heard of her plans.

“Is that work?” John suddenly asked as his eyes moved from the road to her.

Tara looked up. They were close; she could see the exit sign to her terminal, where John would be dropping her off.

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s just Warren.”

She looked back down at her phone.

Yes, I’m just going for the day, she finally wrote.

Warren was quick to reply. Everything OK?

Tara’s fingers hung heavy over her phone as John veered off the exit and then slowed down as he neared the drop-off.

Yes, everything’s fine.

She sent off the message and then slipped her phone into her purse as the car came to a stop. She turned to John, whose dark brown eyes were heavy with concern. It made her realize just how quiet he had been throughout this drive, and that he was probably torturing himself with worry.

“I can still come with you,” he said.

Tara shook her head. “This is something I need to do by myself.”

John opened his mouth, about to protest, but then he closed it as his reason caught up to his emotions. He wanted to respect her decision.

“Well, if you change your mind when you’re there, just call. I’ll hop on the next flight.”

Tara smiled. It felt good to have someone so supportive and devoted to her, and that she felt the same about. It was something she had always craved as a child. And now it felt almost ironic—how she would’ve done anything to find this type of love and leave her life behind, and yet here she was, leaving John behind as she faced what she always wanted to escape.

“Thank you,” she replied. She would never ask him to do that, but it was still nice to hear that he would.

He leaned over, placing his hand gently on the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss.

Their lips parted ways, but he still held her there, their foreheads touching, his hand still caressing the back of her neck.

“You’ll be okay,” he added. “You’re the strongest person I know, Tara. You can do this.”

His hand slid off her as they settled back into their seats, and she nodded. She could feel a newfound strength swim through her at his words, but then her father’s face surfaced in her mind and butterflies burst into her belly.

She took a deep breath as she pushed the image out of her mind and said her goodbyes to John. She then gathered her things and stepped out of the car.

Chapter Three

Wendy Stern closed her eyes briefly, letting the salty wind brush against her face. It was refreshing—just what she needed. She could taste the fragments of the ocean that it had swept into the air. But she also knew the wind was moist from the storm—that it carried the last bits of rain.

She took a deep breath and looked ahead of her, hearing the laughter of Stella, her six-year-old daughter. She was a bit farther up the beach, digging in the sand. Each time her hands touched the sandy earth, their Golden Retriever would join in, kicking the sand up into Stella’s face and sending her into joyful hysterics.

A smile seeped onto Wendy’s face. “Remember, don’t get too close to the water,” she reminded her daughter.

Stella nodded, only half listening, too consumed by laughter. But Wendy knew that Stella already understood. She had told her numerous times before they even left the house, warning her that the currents were still strong from the storm.

Wendy knew she would listen, because Stella loved the beach, even on a day like today. She wouldn’t risk her chances of being there by defying her mother’s orders. Stella had begged her to go, and she had agreed. But it wasn’t just her daughter that convinced her; she also saw it as an opportunity to survey the damage.

We’re lucky, she said to herself as she scanned the homes lining the beach. She could see the damage to some of the siding and roofs, where it looked as if branches or some other physical objects had whacked the homes. Her eyes fell upon a man in the distance in front of one of the perfectly lined houses. His salt-and-pepper hair danced at each flick of the wind. He was bent over, wearing knee-high rain boots as he collected the fallen debris around his home. As Wendy walked past, he caught her presence from the corner of his eye and looked up briefly. He stared at her a moment until they locked eyes and he briefly shook his head. It was clear what he was saying—what a nightmare—and even from afar, Wendy could see the defeat, the exhaustion in his face. She felt sorry for him, and she nodded back at him as if to say I know, I’m sorry.

Wendy, Stella, and Stella’s father were lucky that their home was inland. It was their main home. They weren’t fortunate enough to own two. Today was the first time Wendy had actually felt grateful that they didn’t have a beachfront summer home. For so long it had been her dream to own one—to be able to watch the sunset from her protruding porch, to wake up to the sound of waves crashing on the beach, but not today. Today, she was grateful.

She scanned the beach for Stella, and for a moment a panic swirled within her when she couldn’t spot her instantly, but then she saw her curly head bobbing at each playful step.