The weeks that follow move slowly. Some days, the house repairs are all I can think about; other days, I sit with Aunt Betty in silence while the news keeps replaying Mayor Dunhill's downfall. While the FBI finalizes his conviction, the town reels in visible ways. Two major figures—Mayor Dunhill and Sheriff Dawson—are removed in a single sweep, and dozens of their minions follow. Corrupt officials are fired, investigations are opened, and the local government scrambles to rebuild itself without the men who had quietly controlled it for years.
Through it all, life settles into a new rhythm. Zeke and his dad's construction crew spend long days repairing our home, with Andy and Agent Williams helping whenever they can. I stay behind with Aunt Betty and my uncles, waiting, hoping, and letting the house be rebuilt without having to see every broken piece of it.
By the end of the month, the home that once held so much pain stands ready for us again. The thought of walking back through that door makes my stomach twist, but it also makes something inside me reach for it, even as the town continues to reel from Dunhill's conviction and the collapse of the corrupt network he and Sheriff Dawson built.
Around noon, Agent Williams arrives at his and Betty's house, calling out as he steps through the front door. "Betty, I'm home," he calls.
"In the living room, honey," she calls back. Aunt Betty, Uncle Donovan, Uncle Samuel, and I are already gathered there, waiting with the TV murmuring softly in the background.
A few minutes later, Zeke's truck rumbles into the driveway. He stops at the front door, brushing sawdust from his jeans, a tired but proud smile on his face. He follows our voices into the living room and drops onto the couch beside me, with Andy trailing close behind.
"It's done," Zeke tells us, his voice soft with relief. "Dad signed off on everything. The house is ready."
Agent Williams looks around the room. "All right," he says, gentler than his usual FBI voice. "You ready to go see it?" Everyone nods. He claps his hands once and adds, "Then let's go."
"Well, siblings," Uncle Donovan says, clapping his hands dramatically, "time to visit the old childhood trauma palace." Aunt Betty swats his arm as she and Uncle Samuel laugh shakily through their nerves. This will be the first time they have seen the house since that night.
Zeke smiles at me softly. "You ready, baby girl?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say, nodding. "It's time." We all get up and head to the driveway.
Agent Williams opens the door to his SUV. "Betty, Samuel, and Donovan, ride with me." Betty and Samuel quickly hop in the car.
"Shotgun," Uncle Donovan says, saluting us. "Unless Samuel wants it. Actually, no, forget I said that. I'm calling it, and I'm also claiming the aux cord." Uncle Samuel laughs from the backseat, shaking his head, clearly happy to surrender both to his older brother.
Andy and I follow Zeke to his truck, and I slide into the middle seat between them. Once Zeke settles behind the wheel, he glances over at me. "You should go in first," he says. "It's your home." I nod, smiling. He smiles back, starts the truck, and says, "Let's take you home."
Agent Williams's SUV pulls out first, and Zeke follows close behind. Nobody talks on the way; the silence feels easier than words.
When we arrive, the house looks whole, as if the night a month ago never happened. It isn't new or different, just restored. The porch boards gleam with fresh stain. The siding is smooth and clean. The windows shine, the bullet holes are gone, and the front door is not only fixed but reinforced.
It looks better than the day we bought it. Zeke and his father have gone above and beyond to repair it. Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them, and my chest aches with the kind of relief that almost hurts. I still feel the pull toward the house. It isn't as sharp as before, but it is still there, steady as a hand resting between my shoulder blades.
Zeke parks behind Agent Williams's SUV. I stare at the house through the windshield, my breath catching.
"Wow," Andy says from behind me, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your mom would've loved seeing it like this." I know this house holds memories of her for him too, memories he loves and protects as fiercely as we do.
Zeke brushes his thumb over my hand. "Come on," he says quietly. "I'm right here."
We step out of his truck. Agent Williams, Aunt Betty, and my uncles are already waiting at the bottom of the porch steps. Aunt Betty's eyes shine with unshed tears. Uncle Samuel takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. Even Uncle Donovan is quiet.
Agent Williams turns to me and nods toward the door. "This is yours," he says gently. "You should be the first one through."
I pass everyone and climb the porch steps, my hands slightly unsteady as I unlock the door. When I step inside, the living room smells faintly of fresh wood and old dust, familiar enough to make my throat tighten. As we move from room to room, I notice each repaired wall and polished board, each one covering a wound I still remember seeing raw.
Andy stays behind me, his eyes soft, while Zeke keeps close enough that I can feel him there.
When Aunt Betty and Uncle Samuel step inside, their reaction is immediate.
"This..." Uncle Samuel whispers, looking around like he is afraid to blink. "It's exactly the same. Just like when we were kids."
Aunt Betty touches the back of the couch, her fingers trembling. Agent Williams stays in the doorway, giving his wife space.
Uncle Donovan wanders around, sniffing dramatically. "Well," he says, "good news. It no longer smells like deeply repressed family trauma. Mostly fresh stain." Aunt Betty laughs at him through her tears.
I turn toward the staircase, then look back at Aunt Betty and Uncle Samuel. "If you're ready," I say softly, "your rooms are still there. I left them the way they were."
Aunt Betty and Uncle Samuel climb the stairs slowly, bracing themselves to face the past. The rest of us follow in silence. At the top, they turn left and stop at the first door. Aunt Betty reaches for the handle, hesitates, and opens it. Her room looks exactly as it did the last time she was here. The yellow wallpaper and butterfly stickers have faded, but her dresser still holds the clothes from the twelve-year-old girl she used to be—a painful reminder of the family and years she lost. Overwhelmed, she covers her mouth and breaks down. Agent Williams steps to her, pulls her into his chest, and holds her while she cries. Watching them makes my own throat tighten. I'm glad I didn't touch the rooms.
Uncle Samuel turns away from her room and opens the door beside it—his old room. He goes still when he sees that it hasn't changed either. His posters still hang on the walls, his oak desk sits against the wall, and the worn baseball glove he cherished rests on the shelf where he left it. He lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, tears slipping down his face. Uncle Donovan steps in and places a hand on his shoulder.
I watch from the hallway for a few minutes before slipping back downstairs to give them privacy. At the bottom step, I pause, one hand on the banister, listening to the old wood creak under my fingers. The veil pulses inside me, not warning me this time, just warm and steady, like the house has finally stopped holding its breath.
Andy steps beside me. "They're finally home," he says quietly. I nod, tears gathering again. The house seems quieter now, but not empty—more like it is listening to us instead of mourning us. Zeke comes up beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
Not long after, Aunt Betty and Uncle Samuel come back downstairs with Uncle Donovan and Agent Williams in tow. Aunt Betty walks up to me and hugs me tightly. "Thank you," she whispers. "For bringing us back. For letting us have this."
I hug her back and shake my head. "You don't have to thank me. You're family. This house belongs to all of us."
Uncle Samuel walks up and hugs both me and Aunt Betty. Then Uncle Donovan throws his arms around all three of us.
"Group hug," he says excitedly. "It's mandatory!" He waves the other three men over. Agent Williams smiles softly and joins in. Andy follows, and Zeke steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
With everyone inside, the house sounds different. Footsteps cross the floor again. Someone sniffles, someone laughs under their breath, and the rooms no longer feel like they are waiting for ghosts. I can't explain it exactly, but the heaviness is gone. The house feels lived in again.
We move to the living room once Agent Williams says we have a few things to discuss. I sit on the couch with Zeke beside me, his arm draped comfortably along the back. Andy takes the chair nearest to me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Aunt Betty and Uncle Samuel sit together on the love seat, still absorbing the reality of being home. Uncle Donovan sprawls across the rug like he owns the place. Agent Williams stands by the doorway, hands in his pockets, waiting for the room to settle.
For the first time, no one is rushing, afraid, or waiting for the next blow. My shoulders finally loosen, and when I breathe in, it does not catch halfway up my chest.
Agent Williams clears his throat, slipping back into FBI mode. "I hate to ruin the moment," he says, "but there are a few things we need to talk through." We all straighten a little, and the room grows quiet around him. "Dunhill's conviction is finalized, and Dawson is in federal custody. The town is going through a major restructuring. Dunhill had influence in places he never should have touched. Dawson did too. With both of them gone, the local government is... scrambling, to put it mildly."
Uncle Donovan raises his hand without getting up. "Scrambling is generous. I saw the mayor's secretary bagging her own groceries yesterday. I don't think that woman has touched a paper bag since the Clinton administration." We all chuckle, and even Agent Williams cracks a smile.
"He's not entirely wrong," Agent Williams says, still smiling faintly. "But the important part is that the corruption is being cleared out. New officials are already being appointed. The deputies involved in Dawson's schemes have been removed, and some of them are facing charges."
Andy nods slowly. "Good," he says, his voice low. "This town's been hurting for a long time. It deserves better than them."
Zeke's hand slides into mine. Since the night he almost lost me to the veil, he seems to need some kind of contact—my hand, my back, anything that reminds him I'm still here. I think part of him is still afraid I might disappear.
Agent Williams turns his attention fully to me. "And you," he says, his voice softening. "Your home is secure. The FBI has officially closed the case on your family's disappearance. You're safe now."
I exhale slowly, and my fingers tighten around Zeke's before I realize I'm doing it.
Aunt Betty wipes beneath her eyes. "So… what do we do now?"
Agent Williams looks at each of us before answering. "Now," he says, "we take it one day at a time. We fix what we can, rest when we need to, and refuse to let them be the last word on this family."
Uncle Donovan sits up and crosses his legs. "Beautiful speech," he says, nodding solemnly. "Very inspiring. Now, in the spirit of healing, I suggest dinner. Preferably something prepared by literally anyone except me."