My heart cracked.
“I was just so sad,” she continued. “When I heard you say you didn’t want me… I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
Ethan froze.
“I’m sorry,” Lily whispered. “I’m sorry for saying all those mean things. I’ll be good. I promise. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t hate me anymore, Uncle Ethan.”
The words felt like knives.
I could see them hit him the same way they hit me.
Ethan pulled back just enough to look at her face, his own wrecked with emotion.
“Oh, Lily,” he said hoarsely. “I was being stupid. I should never have said that. I could never hate you. Never.” He shook hishead. “Nothing you do will ever make me hate you. I could never be away from you.”
She pressed her face back into his chest, crying harder.
I turned away. I couldn’t watch anymore.
My chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Guilt flooded me, suffocating and relentless. Guilt for yelling at him. Guilt for saying what I said. Guilt for being right.
But mostly guilt for the fact that a little girl had heard those words at all.
I pulled my phone out with shaking hands and called the house.
“Claire?” Bill answered immediately.
“We found her,” I said. “She’s safe.”
For a second there was silence, like the words hadn’t landed yet. Then everything broke loose at once. Relief rushed through the phone in overlapping voices. Someone let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. Emma cried openly, not bothering to hide it. Bill’s voice cracked as he kept saying her name, over and over, like saying it made it real.
My knees went weak. I had to lean against the car to stay upright.
I stayed on the line long enough to answer the questions that mattered, where we were, whether Lily was hurt, when we’d be back, then I ended the call before my voice could give out.
When I turned back, Ethan was still on the ground, Lily pressed to him, his forehead resting against the top of her head. One of his hands curved protectively over the back of her neck, fingers splayed like he was anchoring her there.
I watched him for a moment longer than I probably should have.
This wasn’t relief alone. This was fear still working its way out of his body.
By the time we got into the car, Lily was barely awake. Ethan lifted her carefully. He settled into the backseat and pulled her against his chest again, adjusting until she fit perfectly, her cheek resting over his heartbeat.
She fell asleep almost immediately.
Ethan didn’t relax.
His arms stayed locked around her, his chin resting lightly on her hair.
I started the car and pulled away from the park.
No one spoke.
The quiet settled in thick layers. The engine hum, the tires on the road, Lily’s soft breathing in the backseat. It wasn’t peaceful.
Guilt sat heavy in my chest.
I replayed the scene in the house over and over. The look on Ethan’s face when I’d unloaded years of anger on him. The words I’d chosen because they would hurt. Because I’d wanted them to hurt.
