Claire Whitmore hadn’t expected a thank you—let alone applause. But as she stood on the gravel drive of her childhood home, watching her brothers sip whiskey and laugh on the porch, a familiar tightness crept into her chest. The ache wasn’t new. Just louder now.
The funeral had ended hours ago. Guests had trickled out. Only family remained—what was left of it. The barn stood alone in the distance, weathered and leaning slightly, like it had been holding its breath for this day. Claire hadn’t been inside in over a decade.