The question caught me off-guard. "No, bud. Why?"
"You look mad. You’re staring."
I tried to soften my expression. "Not mad. Just tired."
He nodded, satisfied with that, and turned back to the screen.
At seven, I packed his lunch, a peanut butter sandwich, an apple, and the last of the Goldfish crackers as I tried to ignore the tremor in my hands. I must've checked the sandwich bag three times, searching for… I don’t know, dragon scales? The urge to laugh or scream was strong, but I tamped it down with more coffee.
Bryce appeared in the doorway, clutching his backpack. "Is it okay if Rissa picks me up today? She’s taking Elle and me to the skate park."
"That’s fine," I said too brightly. "Just remember your helmet this time."
He rolled his eyes, then paused, serious. "You sure you’re not mad?"
"Promise, baby." I forced a smile. "I just have a lot on my mind."
He hesitated, like he wanted to ask more, then shrugged and went to dig out his shoes. While he bent over, tying them, I leaned against the counter and tried to breathe.
The sound of a car pulling in the drive gave me the perfect out. "Rissa is here. I’ll see you tonight."
He hugged me, arms tight around my neck, then bounded out the door. I watched him go and waved at Rissa before closing the door. Then I slumped against the wood and let myself shake for a few seconds. I opened the phone again and stared at Zaden’s text.
I don’t know what came over me, but I typed back.
I’ll meet you at the Stock Creek Coffee Shop at 3 today.
The response was immediate.
I’ll be there. Thank you.
I set the phone down, the sense of dread shifting to a numb, floating panic. I had to tell him.
I called Z’s Place, half-hoping for voicemail, but Angel picked up. Her tone was brisk but not unkind.
"Hey, it’s me," I said, scratching at a spot on my sleeve. "I need another day. Family emergency."
She didn’t ask questions. "Just come in when you’re ready. We’ll hold the fort."
I thanked her and hung up, the guilt settling heavier on my shoulders.
For the next hour, I cleaned. I scrubbed the mugs, washed the plates, wiped down every surface in the kitchen, then circled the rest of the house, picking up stray socks and yesterday’s homework. It didn’t help. I couldn’t scrub away the feeling that my life was one wrong step from falling apart.
When the clock inched past two, I showered and put on clean jeans and a blue sweater. I brushed my hair and tied it back, then spent an inordinate amount of time staring at myself in the mirror, searching for evidence that I was still me.
I glanced at the photo of Bryce and me on the sideboard, taken last year at the county fair. He wore a Superman shirt and had a chocolate stain on his chin. I wore the tired, hopeful smile of someone who believed things would get easier.
Maybe they still could.
I checked my watch. 2:35. The coffee shop was a twenty-minute drive.
I grabbed my keys, locked the door, and stepped outside, leaving the house behind me and all the broken promises with it.
The coffee shop was only half full, but I still mapped every person in it before picking a seat. I took the corner with my back to the wall, from which I could track the exits. The table was covered in someone else’s latte rings, which I wiped with a napkin out of habit, then spent the next five minutes methodically shredding the napkin into confetti.
The jitter in my hands was partly nerves, partly the caffeine I’d mainlined before leaving the house. I’d spent the whole drive rehearsing what I’d say to Zaden.
He arrived right on time, and I had to fight a groan at seeing him. He wore jeans and a black tee. Man, he looked good.
