Page 27 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

I sat on the bench outside the post office, half in the sun, half in my own personal identity crisis.

The interview had gone well—suspiciously well. Kathy hadn’t just been kind, she’d been encouraging, which was dangerous territory. Encouragement leads to ideas, and ideas lead to decisions, and decisions...well, those tend to rewrite your whole life.

I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over my contacts. There was only one person I wanted to talk to—one voice that could talk me down from the edge of overthinking myself into a pretzel.

“Cassie-girl,” Dad answered on the second ring, like he’d been waiting for me to call.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, letting the familiar sound wash over me. “You got a minute?”

“For you? Always. Just pulled a batch of cookies out of the oven.”

“Let me guess—raisin when you meant to do chocolate chip?”

“Guilty. Your mother’s recipe snuck its way into the flour bin again.”

That made me smile. It always did. The way he talked about her was like she was still planting herself into his day-to-day. Like she hadn’t left, not really.

“I had a meeting this morning,” I said. “Kind of...an interview.”

“Oh yeah?”

“At Everwood High.”

There was a pause on the line. More like a quiet inhale.

“I thought Miller’s Pass was the plan,” he said gently.

“It was. Still is. Kind of. Might be. But this came out of nowhere. And it felt...weirdly right? I walked in there expecting to feel out of place and walked out thinking maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Cassie,” he said finally, “I know how much you loved your mom. And how much you’ve carried her dreams like they were stitched into your backpack.”

My eyes stung suddenly. He always knew how to hit the truth without hurting.

“But honey,” he continued, “sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit that you want something different. That your dream might not be her dream—and that’s not a betrayal. That’s just...growing into yourself. She’d be proud of you, no matter where you end up.”

A sparrow hopped across the pavement near my shoe, pecking at crumbs someone had left behind. I watched it for a moment, my heart doing somersaults I hadn’t authorized.

“I think I want to stay here, Dad,” I said. “I don’t know for how long. Or what exactly I’m doing. But this morning, I made a choice. Not Mom’s. Not anyone’s. Mine.”

He was quiet again, but this time I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then I’m proud of you, kiddo. So proud.”

And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.

It was still scary.

Still uncertain.

But for the first time in a long time, the road ahead didn’t look like something I had to survive.

It looked like something I could choose.

After I hung up with Dad, I just...sat there.

The town moved gently around me—a little schnauzer trotted past in his miniature hoodie, the church bell chimed one polite note too late, and the scent of bread from the bakery drifted over like it was personally invested in my emotional well-being.