Tried to build some kind of relationship with my deadbeat father.
Became a professional hockey player.
On paper, I made it.
But the truth?
I haven’t gone a single day in six years without thinking about Emma Reyes.
Not one.
I’ve replayed every memory, every conversation, every choice, trying to figure out what I did to make her leave like that. I’ve analyzed it, overanalyzed it, and dissected it into pieces. Still doesn’t make sense.
All I know is this: when she left, she didn’t just disappear.
She took my heart with her.
4
EMMA
I’ve heldit together this long. I can make it another two blocks.
Just two more.
I can wait until I’m inside my apartment, behind a locked door, in my room or the bathroom, anywhere Laddie and my sister can’t see me fall apart.
I’m late. Severalhourslate. It’s the morning, and I should have been home to get Laddie up and ready for school. So it’s no surprise when I walk in and find him at the kitchen island, digging into a bowl of cereal while Talia stuffs a lunch box into his dinosaur backpack.
She looks up, and I can see the words she wants to say before she even says them. But before she can, I let loose the tears I’d planned to hold in for just a little bit longer.
Talia steps into my space, shielding me from Laddie’s view. “Girl, what happened? Are you okay?”
I lean into her, and she hugs me while I cry and cry, and when I finally feel empty, I back away, apologizing.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, sniffling, dropping the bag that’s still on my shoulder. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Talia says gently. “But what happened?”
The question catches in my throat.
Suddenly, I feel stupid, raw, and exposed because I don’t want to admit why I’m crying, why I’m late. I almost lied. I almost said I got mugged on the train. Something easy. Something that would make her stop asking.
But I can’t.
“We had a trauma come in early this morning,” I say finally, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. I take a long breath and force the words out. “It was… Liam.”
There’s a long pause while she processes that.
“TheLiam?” she asks quietly. “Your Liam?”
For some reason, hearing her say ‘your Liam’cracks something in me all over again. My eyes sting, and before the tears can fall, I swipe at them and cross the kitchen to Laddie, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“How are you, bud?” I ask, my voice a little too bright. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Mama!” he chirps, spoon clattering against his cereal bowl. “I had a dream last night about a turtle!”
“A turtle?” I echo, grateful for the distraction.
