Slumping into the chair several spaces down from her, I ignore the considerable spread that’s still sitting out—likely in case I’ve decided to switch back from my new form of liquid diet and eat something for the first time in days.
But I can’t.
Even the thought of food turns my nonexistent stomach.
“Rough night?” Anika ventures, her voice soft.
I give a humorless chuckle. “Just standard,” I say. “It’s the mornings after that suck.”
She falls silent again, her fingers playing with the handle of her mug.
She doesn’t know what to say to me next. But that’s alright. No one does anymore.
What do you say to a person who doesn’t want to be here anymore? Who almost had everything they’ve ever wanted—and they screwed it up so badly that in a single breath, it all disappeared?
I’m about to take another sip from my mug when the doorbell rings.
Anika frowns, glancing toward the breakfast room door nearest the entryway. “Expecting anyone?”
“No,” I rasp, my voice rough like gravel.
I push my chair back and head for the door, more out of habit than curiosity. I’ve learned the hard way that not answering can be worse.
With a deep frown, I pull it open—and freeze.
Jackson stands at the threshold dressed in his little sneakers and a Superman T-shirt that’s a size too big.
His hair is sticking up in a dozen directions, confirming my suspicion that Stephanie didn’t knowingly let him out of the house. “Hey,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and a brilliant smile splits his face.
My brain short-circuits. “Jackson?”
He nods, smiling like he hasn’t just cracked my whole world open again.
I drop to a knee without thinking, my hands on his shoulders before I’ve even decided to touch him. “What are you—where’s your mom? How did you even get here?”
“She’s… she’s at home,” he says carefully, like he’s not sure if he’s in trouble. “But I wanted to see you, so I took the train myself.” A hint of pride eeks into his tone.
Something in my chest twists so hard it’s almost painful. My vision blurs—not from the hangover or from lack of sleep. “And what, you walked the rest of the way?”
Jackson nods.
The nearest station is over a mile away, and the fact that he’s here at all must mean he memorized the way Stephanie took him home the other night—and he managed to retrace the steps all by himself.
This kid is too smart for his own good. And God, but I’ve missed him.
I can’t stop myself from pulling him into my arms, holding him so tight I’m afraid I’ll crush him.
But he’s warm and solid and real, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe as he wraps his tiny arms around my neck and hugs me back.
38
STEPHANIE
I sit cross-legged on my bed, staring at the closed door to Jackson’s room.
The air between us is thick and silent, the kind of silence that hums in your ears because it’s so unnatural.
The last words I said to him still hang in my chest like lead.Go to your room. I don’t want to hear another word out of you right now.
