I’ll give it back the next time I see her.
My knees buckled.
I slid down the closet door and hit the floor, the scarf clutched to my chest like it could hold me together. The sound that came out of me was ugly, raw and broken. I cried the way I hadn’t since the funeral, sobbing so hard my ribs ached, my breath stuttering like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
She was gone.
My biggest cheerleader. The one who believed in me even when I didn’t. The one who never softened her truths but always wrapped them in love. She was gone forever, and the finality of it crashed into me all over again, sharp and merciless.
There would be no next time.
I wept like a little girl who had lost her anchor, pressing my face into the scarf until it smelled faintly of dust and memory and her.
By the time I made it to work, my eyes were swollen and my head throbbed. I smiled through it. Taught through it. But by the time the final bell rang, I was hollowed out.
I drove straight to the Walker house.
Lily answered the door before I could knock, barefoot and grinning, her hair in a crooked braid that made my chest ache.
I hugged her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and crayons. For one disorienting second, it felt like hugging Jenny when we were kids, too tight and fierce, like the world might steal her away if I loosened my grip.
“Hey, bug,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “Did you finish your math?”
She groaned dramatically. “Yes. But I hated it.”
“Shocker.”
She laughed, and there it was, Jenny’s laugh. The one that came from deep in the chest, unrestrained and fearless.
The breath left me in a rush.
I turned my face slightly, pressing my lips together until the wave passed. Lily didn’t notice. She was already tugging my hand, dragging me toward the kitchen.
Ethan was there, sleeves rolled up, hair damp like he’d just washed his hands. He looked up when he saw me, something soft and unreadable flickering across his face.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
Our voices landed in the same quiet register, like we were both instinctively careful not to disrupt the quiet that had settled over the house.
Bill and Emma still weren’t back. They had left for Emma’s sister’s place days ago, claiming they needed a change of scenery. I suspected the truth was heavier. Parents weren’t supposed to bury their children. I thought the loss of Matt had finally caught up with them once the shock wore off.
We didn’t talk about it. We all pretended not to notice the extra quiet.
Chapter 56
Claire
Dinner was a cooperative effort, Lily on stool duty, stirring with exaggerated seriousness, Ethan chopping vegetables, me handling the stove. The kitchen filled with warmth and sound. Oil sizzling. Lily humming to herself. The low cadence of Ethan’s voice as he explained why onions made people cry.
“It’s because they’re sad to be eaten,” Lily declared.
“Exactly,” Ethan said.
I smiled despite myself.
At one point, I reached for the salt at the same time Ethan reached for the pan. Our hands brushed.
