I don’t answer.
The drive back to the house is long and claustrophobic, like the walls of my life are closing in. My phone buzzes on and off the whole way, but I refuse to look.
It’s strange. I used to think of that house as home.
But now?
Now it feels like a place I’m just visiting, a place that stopped being home the minute I walked away and chased something bigger.
And as soon as Dad is better—if he gets better—I’ll go back to where I belong.
Where I don’t have to carry the weight of everyone else’s brokenness.
Surprisingly, Brooks’ truck isn’t in the driveway when I pull up. A wave of something—relief or disappointment, I can’t quite tell—passes through me.
We’ve been avoiding each other since his sudden breakup with Mitsy two nights ago. That moment still sits weird in my chest, and I’m not sure I’m ready to unpack it. Brooks is... well, Brooks. Complicated. Charming. Cocky. The same kid who once got me stuck on a zipline when we were younger, laughing until he could barely breathe while I dangled and screamed for help.
But that was nearly two decades ago. Does any of it even matter now?
I shake the thoughts away. I shouldn’t be thinking about Brooks. I need to focus on the meeting with Belle, get my head on straight, book that flight back to LA, and figure out what’s left of my career.
I park under a tree for shade, grab my things, and slam the car door shut, the sharp sound slicing through the humid afternoon air.
But before I can take another step, the screen door bangs open so hard it slaps the siding, and Jasper’s pale, frantic face appears in the doorway.
"Elowen! Hurry!"
Panic races through my chest, sharp and immediate.
I grip my purse tighter and run across the dusty driveway, my sandals kicking up little clouds of dirt.
"What is it?" I call breathlessly as I reach the porch.
Jasper’s voice booms from the hallway. "Down here!"
I barely toss my purse onto the table as I follow the sound, my heart thudding against my ribs.
Jasper is standing outside Mom and Dad’s bedroom door, pounding on it hard enough to rattle the frame.
"What’s going on?" I gasp, trying to catch my breath as I step beside him.
"She—" Jasper runs a shaky hand through his blond hair, looking completely unglued. "She’s locked herself in. She never goes in there, Ellie.Never."
I blink at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"She won’t come out. She won’t even answer me."
A chill runs down my spine as I press my ear to the door, my palms clammy against the wood.
Inside, I can hear her—soft rustling, drawers opening, something falling to the floor—but no words. No acknowledgment.
"Mom?" I knock gently, trying to keep my voice calm even though my pulse is anything but. "Mom, are you okay? Can you answer me?"
Nothing.
Jasper paces like a caged animal, his fists clenching and unclenching.
"She’s been in there for two hours," he says. "Won’t say a word. And she doesn’t go in there. You know that."
