I wasn’t mad at Austin because he didn’t show up. I was mad because I’d counted on him to, and I was madder still that some part of me still wanted to count on him.
The wall beside me stayed quiet. No footsteps. Just silence.
But I swore I could still feel him there, just on the other side.
Like maybe he was sitting with his back to the wall, too, wishing the distance between us was easier to cross. I stayed curled on the floor until the tears slowed, then stopped. My face was hot, sticky, and raw.
I didn’t move. I didn’t want to go to bed. I didn’t want to be strong again tomorrow.
But I knew I would. Because Winnie would need breakfast. Because the world would keep spinning.
Still, tonight ... I let myself sit there, alone in the dark, holding the shape of something I almost had but was too scared to hold.
The morning came slowly,like the world knew I couldn’t take the sharp edges of the day.
Sunlight filtered through the kitchen curtains in lazy beams, striping the floor in pale gold. The scent of coffee filled the air, rich and grounding. I stood at the counter in an old sweatshirt and pajama pants, hands wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, letting the warmth soak into my palms.
Winnie sat at the kitchen table in a pink hoodie, legs swinging beneath the bench as she nibbled at a piece of toast slathered in strawberry jam. She hummed to herself between bites, completely unfazed by last night. Her hair stuck out in a dozen directions, eyes soft from sleep.
“You feeling okay, bug?” I asked, voice still raw at the edges.
“Yep.” She shrugged and licked jam off her thumb. “I’m good.”
She didn’t even mention the performance. There was no lingering sadness. No weight in her chest. Just toast and a morning hum and the blissful magic of childhood resilience.
I blinked and looked down at my coffee. The floor felt too solid under my feet.
A knock came at the front door, and before I could move, it creaked open.
Elodie’s voice filled the space, low and cheerful. “You decent?”
“Unfortunately,” I muttered, though the knot in my chest loosened.
She stepped inside with Levi behind her, already unzipping his coat. “We’re stealing your kid for a bit,” she announced. “The goats are restless, and Levi made blueberry muffins.”
Levi held up a Tupperware with a proud grin. “We even remembered to let them cool this time.”
“Levi!” Winnie scrambled off the bench. “Can I go, Mama?Please.”
I hesitated for half a breath—then nodded. “Of course, baby. Just put on your boots.”
Levi helped her get ready in the mudroom, leaving Elodie to watch me from across the room.
Her gaze lingered too long.
“You look like you’ve been hit by a train,” she said, eyeing me gently and stepping toward the counter.
“Thanks,” I murmured, sipping my coffee. “I was going forfunctional wreck.”
She reached for the second mug I’d left beside the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “Did you talk to him?”
I didn’t answer right away, staring out the window where frost clung to the glass in thin threads.
“He came by late last night,” I said finally.
“And?” Elodie’s brows were in her hairline.
“He told me he loves me.” I swallowed. “I told him I needed a little space.”
