Elodie blinked. At first she didn’t speak, didn’t push. She sipped her coffee and waited.
“I thought I was smarter than this,” I whispered. “I thought I was past hoping for something I couldn’t rely on. He’s twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake.”
“You know his age has nothing to do with this.” Elodie’s face softened as her head shook. “You didn’t mess up by loving him back, Selene.”
The words landed like a warm hand to my back—steadying. Not healing, but grounding.
I blinked fast. My eyes still gritty from last night’s tears.
“Do you love him?” she finally asked.
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “But I’m afraid. I just keep thinking about Brian,” I said. “About the time he didn’t show up for that doctor’s appointment when I was pregnant. The nurse asked if my husband would be joining us, and I laughed like it was a joke, and then I sat there alone, listening to her heartbeat.”
Elodie’s jaw tensed.
“I didn’t even cry,” I said quietly. “I just sat there and smiled because I didn’t want the nurse to feel awkward. I’ve spent so long making things easier for everyone else that I forgot I was allowed to need something. It was the first of many,manytimes that Brian was too caught up in something to show up for me.”
“That’s because he’s a dick,” Elodie shot back.
I gritted my teeth and gave her a plain look.
She raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll take a break from Brian bashing foroneday.” Her hand settled on her hip. “But needing someone isn’t weak,” she said. “It’s human. Plus, Austin is not Brian. It’s unfair to compare them.”
“I know that.” I nodded, throat tight. “Honestly, I don’t think this is about Austin missing one thing,” I said. “I think it’s about how fast I felt real panic. Like it proved all my worst fears. That I was alone again. That I’d always be the only one showing up.”
“Maybe you set an impossible standard,” Elodie said in a way that only a sister could. “You don’t need him to be perfect. Just ... present.”
I stared at her, my hackles going up in immediate defense of Austin. “He has been. Every time. Except this one.” I blewout a breath, knowing she was absolutely right. “Shit. Maybe I overreacted.”
Elodie reached across the counter and squeezed my hand. “I’m proud that you’re standing up for yourself. I am. You’ve had to do a lot by yourself, and that’s bound to change a woman. But ... you do tend to be a little rigid.”
My chin wobbled and I nodded.
“You said you love him,” she continued. “So find the courage to tell him that. Talk to him, Selene. Don’t let fear of being wrong steal something good.”
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I didn’t have to look to know who the text was from.
Still, I picked it up.
Austin
I need to say it again. I’m so sorry. Not for missing the performance—but for not seeing how much it meant. I’d like to say it in person when you’re both ready.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
I didn’t respond, not yet, but I didn’t delete it either. Instead, I stared until the screen faded to black and sat there in the quiet, feeling the faintest hum of something I hadn’t felt since before last night—not pain, buthopeful possibility.
THIRTY-FIVE
AUSTIN
The car idledfor a full minute before I finally killed the engine.
Downtown Star Harbor hadn’t changed in the thirty minutes I’d been circling it. Same green awnings over the Crooked Spine, same bike rack still missing a bolt, same tilted campaign sign for the mayor’s reelection propped outside the hardware store. I’d meant to stop in—I needed sandpaper or caulk or something equally unimportant—but instead I parked two spaces past the bakery and just sat there.
The streets were quiet in that lazy Saturday way. Slow and unhurried. A couple of kids zipped past on scooters. Someone had chalked a hopscotch board on the sidewalk near the mailbox, the colors soft and dusty from wear. The air smelled like dead leaves and exhaust, sun-warmed pavement, and the icy drag of winter creeping closer.
