I stood near the big front window, cradling a mug of coffee that had long since gone cold. Kingston had given me space since I came out of the bedroom. He stayed quiet, busying himself with keeping the fire going, lighting a lantern so we didn’t overpower the generator, and checking the food supply. It was like he knew I wasn’t ready for more words. Not yet.
And I wasn’t. Because the letter still sat in my pocket, and I didn’t know what to do with the way it had wrecked me.
“You should eat something,” he said, his voice coming from the kitchen.
I didn’t turn. “I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t had anything but that sandwich earlier.”
“I’m too busy emotionally combusting to eat.”
He didn’t answer, but I sensed him crossing the room, slow and careful, like he knew any sudden move might set me off. Hedidn’t get too close but stood nearby, close enough that I could smell the cedar and smoke clinging to his skin.
“You look cold,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “I’m fine.”
“You’re always fine,” he murmured, not accusing, not pitying. Just stating a truth only he’d ever been allowed to see.
The sweatshirt I still wore hung heavy, comforting and dangerous all at once. “Do you ever regret it?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.
He didn’t pretend not to know what I meant. “Every day.”
My throat tightened.
“But I still think I made the right choice,” he added.
That snapped something in me. “Right for who?”
He flinched.
“You left me,” I said, voice low and cutting. “And maybe I could’ve healed from that. But then you stayed gone. You got out, what, two years ago?”
“I didn’t know how to come back so I didn’t. The only reason I came back now is because of Kacen. He’s going to start working with me, and I wanted to be close by to get him started.”
“So you’ll come back for your brother, but you never even thought of reaching out to me?” The air between us turned thick. I looked away before I did something stupid like cry again. Or punch him.
“I didn’t want to make things worse for you. Ruby gave me updates from time to time. Said you were voted Teacher of the Year three times in a row at the elementary school. I didn’t want to rock the boat.”
I let out a laugh. “You didn’t ‘rock the boat,’ you capsized it.”
“I’m sorry.” He studied a spot on the floor a few feet away. “Do you still walk?”
I turned, my brows furrowed. “What?”
“In the mornings. Before school. You used to walk past my house.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Sometimes. Not as much.”
“You used to swing your arms when you walked fast,” he said. “Like you were marching into battle.”
“I still do that.”
His mouth tipped up at the corner. “Yeah. I figured.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. But it slipped out, short and small and real, erasing a little bit of the tension.
“We could clear the porch,” he offered. “Might as well make use of the daylight. Unless you’d rather?—”
