I call him.
He answers on the second ring. "Adela."
Not cold. Not warm. Just present.
"I need you," I say. "524B. Elm Hall."
A brief pause.
"I'll be there."
I hang up and drive toward the only home I have left.
Chapter 13: Beckett
Theoleansbackonthe couch, smirking at his phone. "She called him to her room," he says to Silas. "That's not grief."
I keep my eyes on the game. Canucks versus Oilers, third period, tied 2-2.
"What did you say to her to make her come crawling back?" Silas asks.
"Nothing."
Silas gestures at the TV with his beer. "You going?"
"Not yet."
Theo exhales vape smoke toward the ceiling. "Don't keep her waiting too long. Desperation has a shelf life."
I watch the puck ricochet off the boards. The Canucks' center intercepts and takes a shot. Blocked.
Twenty minutes pass. Silas stops asking. Theo stops commenting. I stand, pick up my keys.
"524B," Theo says without looking up. "Fifth floor. Apartment 24. Room B."
"I know."
I feel his attention on my back as I walk out.
The lobby of Elm Hall is quiet. The elevator ride up feels longer than it should. I check my phone — no follow-up texts. She hasn't changed her mind.
I knock twice on the correct door.
She opens it quickly, like she’s been waiting. Her eyes are red-rimmed and shoulders drawn in. She looks like someone wrung her out and set her down.
"I didn't think you'd come," she says.
"I said I would."
She steps back and lets me in. She points down the short hallway. "That's my room."
I follow her in and stop just inside the doorway.
The room is almost entirely bare. Bed. Desk. One suitcase. No photos, no posters, nothing personal on the walls. She's been here long enough to unpack and hasn't.
She closes the door and wraps her arms around herself, standing in the middle of the room like she's not sure what to do with the space.
"I don't really know why I called you," she says. "I just needed someone who wouldn't—" She stops. "I don't know."
