I moved quietly through the penthouse, setting the coffees down on the counter and slipping the bag of gifts underneath the tree, clearly suffering under the weight of the ornamental pressure. The lights were still on, blinking softly.
“Tal?” I called out, gently, in case she had fallen back to sleep in her room.
Nothing.
Her bedroom door was cracked open, but not wanting to disturb her, I stood there a second, listening for the tap of Nancy’s feet, the rustle of a blanket, her voice calling back. But all I got in return was silence and the faint hum of the fridge kicking on.
Still half-hopeful, I took a minute to tidy up the penthouse and the small messes on the counter left over from whatever they’d gotten into the night before. I needed purpose, I needed to keep my hands busy so I didn’t spiral. So I didn’t read too hard into the fact that I’d all but broken in the house, and Nancy didn’t greet me in her usual manner of unhinged self-defense poodle.
I opened the cabinet to pull out her tin of food, thinking that maybe the sound of kibble would raise the dog from slumber, and I’d know, for sure, Tally was behind the door sleeping peacefully, waiting for me to join her.
Jordan sauntered out of his room looking like a man who had just returned from war. His hair was a mess, and he had deep, dark circles under his eyes. He wouldn’t look at me andcrossed the room to try to coax the lazy tree back into an upright position.
“Where is she?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice. It cracked straight down the middle.
Doyle walked out next, a heavy sigh escaping his body when he saw me standing, dumbfounded, in the middle of the living room. The place felt crowded with the memory of her, but empty in every way that mattered. The hook where her coat had hung was bare, the pink leash by the door was gone, and the faintest trace of her perfume lingered in the air, already starting to fade.
“She’s gone,” he said.
I blinked. “What do you mean, gone?”
Jordan straightened, pressing his palms flat on his thighs before dusting invisible lint from his sweater. “She and Dig left this morning. Packed their things and slipped out before either of us woke up.”
“No note. No call,” Doyle added, his voice tight. “She’s not answering her phone. Just gone.”
My stomach dropped. That familiar twist deep in my chest clawed its way up my throat.
“I thought maybe she’d just gone out,” Jordan said, more to himself than to me. “For a coffee run, or a walk by the river. Maybe down to see you. Something. But her stuff’s gone. The room’s empty.”
“She took everything?” My voice pitched. It was too loud. I didn’t care. “Did something happen?”
Doyle finally turned, cheeks flushed, jaw tight with whatever he was trying not to say.
“I told her I needed some time to figure things out,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean pack up and disappear.”
He couldn’t meet my eyes; his hand went to the back of his neck, fingers worrying at the skin while he stared at the floor, like the answer might be hiding somewhere in the grout.
I leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch my breath. “You told her you needed to figure things out? Jesus, Doyle.”
He didn’t flinch, only kept rubbing the back of his neck, shoulders hunched under the weight of it.
“What was I supposed to do?” he snapped, louder this time. “Jordan’s mom is so sick, and I need to be focusing on my business and my husband. And my sister shows up, throws our life off-balance, and I’m just supposed to pretend I can handle it all?” He motioned around the room as the remnants of her presence were quietly erased, the beige walls reclaiming themselves. “Look at this place, Charlie. It’s been chaos since she got here. I’m not saying it’s her fault, but…” His voice cracked a little. “I’ve been hanging on by a thread.”
“No,” I said, stepping toward him. “You’re supposed to show up for your sister. You’re supposed to open the door and say, ‘I’m glad you’re here, make yourself at home,’ no matter what. That’s what family does.”
“She was never going to stay,” he said, softer now. “You and I both know that. And I didn’t tell her to go, but I didn’t exactly make it easy for her to stay, either.”
The words landed heavy between us, impossible to move past.
“So where is she, then?” I started pacing, hands running through my hair. “Where would she go?”
Jordan and Doyle shared a look, and Jordan let out a sigh so loud his entire body seemed to sink with it. “There’s a chance Doyle suggested Dig drop her off back in Newnan. With their mother.”
I stared at him. “You told her to go back to your mother. The one who ripped her to shreds every chance she got. That’s what you thought was best?”
Doyle’s jaw worked, guilt bleeding through in the twitch of his mouth.
“She needed direction. She needed—”
