The photo captured Erin in mid-laughter, the memory so vivid that, for an instant, Larry could hear it echo in the empty room. She represented change—intimidating, yes, but also intoxicating in its potential. The backyard was no less chaotic, the unchecked growth of weeds entwined with abandoned garden tools. “Damn it, Larry,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers curling into a fist at her side. “One step at a time, Larry. As silence enveloped them, Cheyenne stood up decisively, her nakedness unabashed in the light of day. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat a drumroll to the decisive action she was about to take. This was not a look her parents liked, but they knew she was an adult, and bit their tongue rather than face the possibility of her not coming home for holidays or the summer.
