The nurse is still talking. “Totally normal for it to be that fast. Little ones have hearts like hummingbirds.”
I nod numbly. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Fast.”
Fast enough to drown out every thought in my head.
The nurse finishes, wipes Nora’s skin clean, and leaves us alone with the sound echoing in our bones.
Nora sits up slowly. We don’t say anything else.
But the sound of that heartbeat—it doesn’t leave me.
It follows me all the way out.
33
NORA
Setting a Trap
Work is the only distraction I have these days.
I’m shelving returns in the nonfiction section, my cart half-full, when I pause and just… stand there. One hand on a spine labeledWorld Myths and Legends,the other resting on my barely-there bump. The silence feels thicker than usual.
Or maybe it’s just me.
I blink and go back to shelving. Keep moving. That’s the trick, right? Stay busy. Stay upright.
There’s a cart to finish, emails to answer, overdue notices to process, a local author event to prep. I’ve got things to do. Tasks to hide inside.
Still, my mind drifts.
To Max.
To Melody, curled at the end of his bed, probably shedding all over his pillow. I wonder if she still naps on that stack of sheet music. I wonder if she ever looks for me.
To DeShawn’s relentless playlist curation. Annie’s Slayer-meets-glitter energy. Lucas’s deadpan sarcasm during 4 a.m. diner stops.
To the feeling of being part of something.
Out there, on tour, everything had rhythm—unpredictable, yes, but electric. Here, the rhythm is slow. Predictable. Safe.
And lonely.
I miss them. I misshim.Even though I shouldn’t.
Even though he made it perfectly clear I don’t belong anymore.
I swallow that thought and move to the next shelf. One book at a time. That’s all I can do.
A child giggles in the story corner. Ms. Clara is readingWhere the Wild Things Are,her voice climbing into a growl as she acts out the wild rumpus.
I smile faintly and pretend my throat isn’t tight.
The ache swells, low and constant, like background music I can’t turn off. I don’t even know what I’m grieving—him, us, the version of myself I started to become when I was with him.
Maybe all of it.
I press a palm to my stomach, close my eyes for a beat, and nod to no one in particular.
