“How’s she doing today?”
“Did she eat?”
“Did she sleep?”
He’d always end the Natalie line of questioning with, “What about you?”
It wasn’t overstepping. Just unmistakably caring.
Cari texted. Mateo and Leland both checked in, brief and respectful.
Her friends, who had become like family, gave them space as life slowly reasserted itself.
One night, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the narrow galley kitchen—Gaby stirring spaghetti sauce while Natalie chopped vegetables for a salad. The rhythm of it was familiar. Comforting.
Then Natalie broke the silence. “I can’t stay here.”
Gaby paused mid-stir. Not panicked yet, just alert.
“Where here?” she asked gently. “In my apartment?”
Natalie shook her head. “In South Florida. It reminds me too much of the island. The heat. The heavy air. The way the light shines off the water.” She swallowed. “I want to be somewhere completely different.”
Gaby turned the heat down to a simmer, set the lid on the pot, and leaned her hip against the counter, giving her sister her full attention. “So… the desert? Sedona? Moab, maybe?”
“Still too hot,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’m thinking mountains. Evergreens. Seasons. Snow.”
Gaby’s breath caught just a little. “You talked to Aunt May.”
“She invited me to stay with her as long as I need.”
“Of course she did.”
Natalie smiled faintly. “She was there to pick up the pieces for all of us when Dad walked out. And when Mom died…” Her voice softened. “She’s always been there during the hard times. Not that you weren’t,” she added quickly. “But you were still a kid yourself, Gaby. With your whole life ahead of you. Even now.” She took a breath. “I think it would be good for me.”
“I do too, honey,” Gaby murmured, as she reached out, curled her arms around her, and pulled her in for a tight hug—paring knife and all. Her voice cracked with emotion, admitting, “Even though I’ll miss you like hell.”
Natalie’s response was muffled against her shoulder. “They have an airport in Denver. No one says you can’t visit.”
Gaby released her, forcing a smile. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to ski.”
“We’ll plan something. But maybe stay here until you resolve your issues with the smoking-hot badass who calls you once a day with the excuse of checking up on me and has the sweetest habit of calling you ‘love.’”
Gaby sighed softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “His accent’s hot too, isn’t it?”
“I knew it!” Natalie exclaimed. Then she laughed, bright and sudden, the sound cutting through the heaviness like sunlight through cloud cover. Gaby’s chest eased, the knot she’d been carrying since bringing her sister home finally loosening.
Not relief, exactly, but the sense that—maybe not today, maybe not soon—things would eventually be okay.
They made the reservations for a one-way trip to Colorado that night.
***
The next few days passed in a strange, fragile peace.
They went for short walks. Cooked together. Sat on the balcony in the evenings, watching the city lights flicker on. And Gaby helped her pack.
The night before Natalie’s flight, Rhys called as usual. He ran through the usual questions but added a new one. “Can I drive you to the airport? Carry your bags? Stand by with Kleenex?”
