Lily clung to him again, refusing to move when I gently suggested she find her desk.
“She’s been like this all morning,” Ethan confessed under his breath, rubbing his forehead. “I tried talking. I tried letting her choose her outfit. I tried bribing her. I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
His voice caught.
“She wouldn’t even let me buckle her seatbelt without crying. And then when we got here, she refused to get out of the car. I carried her half the way.” He exhaled shakily. “I’m not good at this, Claire.”
Despite everything, my heart softened.
“Ethan,” I said quietly, “no one knows how to do this. You’re doing your best. That’s all anyone can ask.”
He swallowed hard, maybe at the kindness, maybe at the fact that I, of all people was offering it.
Lily finally loosened her grip and allowed me to lead her inside. Ethan stayed at the doorway, watching.
I crouched beside Lily’s desk and helped her unpack her things.
“You can keep your bunny with you today,” I whispered. “Just for today.”
Lily nodded again, clutching it like a lifeline.
When I looked up, Ethan’s eyes were on me now, full of gratitude, grief, and something unspoken that I refused to let myself interpret.
“Long goodbyes make it harder,” I said gently. “You should go.”
He hesitated, not because he wanted to stay, I could tell, but because leaving felt like another form of failure.
Still, he nodded.
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll be back at pickup.”
He turned, and I watched the heavy, uncertain slope of his shoulders. I heard the parents in the hallway fall quiet for a moment, then erupt into whispers as soon as he passed.
I forced a steady breath.
Boundaries,I reminded myself.
For Lily and for myself.
But as I looked at the small girl sitting silently at her desk, hugging her bunny with trembling fingers, I knew the truth.
I would step past every boundary I had if Lily needed me.
It was the adults, especially one adult, who had to stay on the other side.
Chapter 24
Ethan
I should have been only thinking about Lily. About school, lunches to pack, and how I was supposed to be the steady ground beneath her feet.
Instead, I was being the worst kind of person.
I couldn’t get the image of Claire out of my head, the way she looked standing in that classroom doorway, sunlight catching in the honey-blonde strands that fell around her face like they belonged there.
The way all those parents stared at her.
Judged her.
