In the car, she climbed into the back seat and buckled herself with careful concentration. When I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, she met my eyes.
“You’re staying, right?” she asked.
It wasn’t framed like a question.
“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” I said.
She nodded once, satisfied, and leaned her head against the window.
Only then, alone in the driver’s seat, hands shaking against the steering wheel, did the pressure in my chest finally crack.
I didn’t sob, like I wanted to.
I just sat there and let a few tears fall, silently.
I knew that I couldn’t let my grief overwhelm me. I had responsibility.
And it didn’t matter that whether I was ready or not, Lily had put her trust in me and I could never disappoint her.
Chapter 6
Claire
I’d barely kicked the slush from my boots on my driveway, when my phone buzzed. Emma Walker’s name lit up my screen, familiar and suddenly heavy in a way that made something in my stomach pinch.
“Claire, dear… can you come by?” Her voice was soft, like she was trying not to be overheard. “We’ve heard from the lawyers.”
???
The Walkers’ house looked exactly the same as the wind chime swayed in the cold breeze, the warm glow spilling from the front window. But the quiet was new. It wrapped around the house like a second skin, heavy and lingering.
I stepped inside, and the familiar smell of lemon polish and wood smoke hit me. I’d grown up half in this house, sleepovers with Ethan, dinners when my parents worked late, Emma fussing over everyone like she had endless bandwidth for mothering. Bill’s steady laugh, the boys thundering upstairs, Jenny’s chatter filling every corner.
The house used to be so loud, now it was silent.
Lily was curled on the couch under the knitted blanket that once belonged to Jenny. She wasn’t crying; that almost made it worse. Her eyes were fixed on the cartoon playing, but her expression was empty, unfocused. Her thumb hovered near her mouth, a habit she’d outgrown years ago.
I gave her a quiet wave, not wanting to disturb the peace and followed Emma’s voice to the kitchen.
Bill was already there, both hands wrapped tight around a mug he wasn’t drinking from. They both had brown hair, warm chestnut now threaded with soft white, like winter slowly frosting them strand by strand.
Nobody spoke at first.
Bill cleared his throat. “We got a call. From the lawyers.” His fingers tightened around the mug. “About…lily’s guardianship.”
I felt the next part coming before Emma said it..
“They said Jenny and Matt chose Ethan,” Emma murmured, watching my face carefully.
The name landed with a dull heaviness in me, like a stone dropped in deep water.
I stared at the tile floor, steadying my breath. “Ethan,” I repeated, keeping my voice as even as I could. “I see.”
“We’re not sure why,” Bill rushed out, as if trying to get ahead of a misunderstanding. “We love our son, of course we do, but he’s… well. He’s Ethan.”
Emma shot him a warning look, but the lack of disagreement said enough.
“He’s not answering his phone, that’s why he wasn’t at the funeral,” she added softly. “We haven’t been able to reach him. And we thought… maybe there’s been some mix-up.”
