I hadn’t eaten. I couldn’t eat. There was still a half-crushed protein bar in the console, but the thought of chewing made my stomach flip.
Across the street, the bell above the bakery door jingled and a family stepped out—a woman, a man, and a little girl with dark hair and freckles along her nose. She looked about Winnie’s age,maybe younger, with a messy braid and cookie crumbs clinging to her shirt.
She held up a half-eaten sugar cookie in one hand, the other tucked securely in her dad’s. Her voice carried across the street in bursts—telling a story with wild hand gestures and animated eyebrows, completely unaware of the world around her.
The mom smiled, brushing crumbs from the girl’s cheek with her thumb. The dad leaned down to say something only they could hear, and the girl tipped her head back in a full-bellied giggle.
They walked off, just like that. Three people, one unit. Easy. Unbroken.
A burn started behind my eyes, sharp and immediate. I blinked it back.
That should’ve been me.
Not the bakery, not the cookie. Just the together part. Winnie bouncing between us, arms flung around Selene’s waist. Me holding a backpack, Selene carrying a bag of cookies she’d insist was a “business expense.”
I used to picture that without even meaning to. I would go to sleep thinking about it and wake up hoping I hadn’t dreamed it.
And now?
I didn’t even know if Selene would look at me again. If Winnie would forgive me.
I turned toward the passenger seat, suddenly desperate for something—anything—to hold on to. That was when I saw the photo, still tucked partway under the visor where I’d shoved it.
I pulled it down carefully, like it might shatter. A printed snapshot, sun-faded around the edges. My dad in uniform, grinning at someone off camera, looking proud and half cocky the way guys do before the world wears them down.
He looked young. Younger than I am now.
I stared at the photo for a long time, like it might answer the question I couldn’t even say out loud.
How do you come back from fucking up the best thing in your life?
He didn’t answer, of course. Dad just smiled that same frozen smile, stuck in time.
I leaned my head back against the headrest, closed my eyes, and let the silence settle.
A couple passed on the sidewalk—a guy with a stroller, his partner walking beside him with a to-go coffee—and they didn’t even glance at me.
Why would they? I was just a guy sitting alone in a parked car, creepily watching other people live the life I wanted.
I’d had it. I’d had everything worth looking at, and I let it walk away.
I didn’t remember driving home. All I recalled was the ache in my jaw from clenching my teeth and the imprint of that photo still burned into my palm.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sun was sagging behind the trees. Shadows stretched long across the gravel, and the breeze had picked up, rustling the edges of Selene’s wind chimes like they couldn’t decide on a melody. The porch light on my side flicked on automatically, too early, casting a sharp triangle of gold across the siding.
I didn’t go inside right away.
I didn’t want to be back in that empty house with too much quiet and the hum of guilt ricocheting off the walls. I sank down onto the top step, elbows on my knees, and let the weight of the day press down on me like a second skin.
The screen door creaked open behind me.
Brody didn’t say anything as he stepped out, just handed me a coffee—black, still hot, still somehow perfect.
I took it without a word.
He lowered himself onto the step beside me, letting out a sigh that sounded like it came from somewhere deeper than his lungs.
“Isn’t going into someone’s home without permission breaking and entering?” I asked.
