225 Chapter 225

"How's my favorite teenager?"

My vision was clouded through my tears, and I knew I hadn't taken a breath in far too long. There he was, standing there, dressed in exactly the same outfit I'd pictured him in a million times in his absence. Jeans, white T-shirt, black leather jacket, mop of hair askew, big goofy grin on his stupid, wonderful face. Not a mark on his forehead anywhere that I could tell.

I flew at him, and he caught me just as I began to sob. The smell of leather and his aftershave filled my lungs, and suddenly I could breathe again, even through the tears. He was home. I was home.