Nora gets up from the couch and walks up to Abigail, placing an arm around her and rubbing her belly.
“Hey suga. You okay?
“Ya mom, I'll be fine. You know me. Tough as a nail.”
“Mmm hmm. Stubborn as one, too.”
A light chuckle rumbles from the speakers of the phone.
“Don’t you worry about your girls. I’ll keep them safe until you come home.”
“Thanks, Mamma.”
Abigail begins to cry, but she chokes back a sob. “Sorry,” She says, wipping at her nose. “It’s just when you said. Girls. I-I.”
Nick, Josh, Sophia, and I all share a glance. “I never realized you have two girls who love you so much now. Come back home to us girls, baby.”
“You are my home.”
“Hey, don’t forget about me, Bodie,” Bodie chirps. And we all laugh out loud simultaneously.
Abigail turns the phone to face Bodie, who is probably eating his third chocolate chip cookie.
“You all are my world, Bodie Bear.”
Bodie’s grin widens as he takes in his dad, and my heart squeezes, causing me to suffocate with the fact that I’ll never have what Abigail has. A real family. A real husband. A real love. This thing with Nick was formed on a fake foundation, and our attraction for one another will eventually die. It’s surface-based. There’s no roots deep enough, planting us together, and it kills me to know it’s only a matter of time before it all ends.
32
NICK
The alarm blared at 2:00 a.m., splitting the silence like a blade. I groaned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, the heavy kind of tired that seeps into your bones. The couch creaked beneath me as I sat up, head swiveling, heart already uneasy.
No sign of Melanie.
I stood, every muscle stiff, and padded upstairs to the loft. The room was dark and still, except for Loco curled in a tight ball at the foot of the bed, rising and falling with slow, even breaths. Alone. A flicker of dread curled low in my gut.
Did she leave?No note. No sound. Just absence.
I trudged back down the stairs, instinct pulling me toward the front window. Her motorcycle and truck were still there, idle, untouched. Relief trickled in, but it didn’t soothe the sharp edge of anxiety gnawing at me. I turned to check the back.
And there she was.
Melanie sat motionless on the patio, legs tucked beneath her chin like she was trying to hold herself together, staring into the kind of black night that swallows everything. She looked so small, folded into herself, like if the wind blew a little harder, it might carry her away.
I moved without thinking—straight out the door and onto the patio. The boards groaned under my weight as I flipped on the light, its warm glow cutting the cold.
“Hey,” I said softly, standing beside her.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just kept staring ahead, like she hadn’t heard me—or couldn’t bear to respond.
Resigned, I pulled out the chair next to hers and sat. The silence between us was thick, humming with tension and unsaid things. The night whispered with rustling trees and chirping crickets, but all I could hear was my own pulse pounding in my ears. I watched her from the corner of my eye. Stillness clung to her like armor. She was locked inside her own mind, and I didn’t know how to reach her without breaking something fragile. But I waited. Let the quiet hold us until it cracked open.
Finally, her voice slipped through the dark like a knife:
“When I lost my virginity to my stepdad, my mom thought I had just gotten my period.”
My head turned slowly, breath caught in my chest.
