“You vanished,” she said. “Next night. Same place. I waited.”
My stomach dropped.
“You think I stood you up?”
“You ghosted me,” she said flatly. “Which is rude. And stupid.”
I actually laughed once under my breath, shaking my head.
“No,” I said. “God, no.”
I stepped back just enough to see her face.
“My mom collapsed the next day. At work. I got a call at lunch and drove three hours north.”
Her expression shifted. Just a flicker.
Concern.
But guarded.
“I’ve been there all week,” I said. “Ripping out tile. Rebuilding her bathroom. Kitchen. Ramp out front. She can’t work nights anymore. I’ve been covered in drywall dust since Monday.”
She studied me like she was looking for the lie.
Didn’t find one.
“Hold on,” I muttered suddenly. “Shit — I didn’t call her today.”
I held up a finger.
Pulled my BlackBerry off my belt.
Dialed.
Put it on speaker without even thinking.
It rang twice.
“Ethan?” my mom answered, already warm, already worried. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Ma. Just checking in. You eat?”
“Oh honey, your aunt and the girls came over for lunch. I showed them the kitchen. They couldn’t believe it. Linda said, ‘Can we hire him?’” she laughed. “I told them you’re booked solid.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
Sage watched me the whole time.
Something soft creeping into her face.
“They loved the bathroom too,” Mom kept going. “That shower is safer. I don’t feel like I’m gonna slip anymore. You did good, baby.”
My throat tightened.
“Good,” I said quietly.
“Oh — and did you ever find time to play that guitar again?” she asked suddenly.
