A shaky laugh escaped me, surprising even me. It sounded awful, but it was real. My mom squeezed my shoulder, and my dad’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to look relieved that I’d made any sound other than crying.
Then my phone buzzed on the table, screen lighting up with a name that made my stomach drop and my heart lift at the same time. Noah. I didn’t pick it up. I couldn’t. Not yet. Just seeing his name made my eyes burn again, made me picture his face when I left—how he let me go because he loved Miles more than his own comfort too.
I turned the phone face down with a hand that wasn’t steady and whispered, mostly to myself, “Okay. We’re making a plan. We’re doing this right.” The words didn’t erase the ache, didn’tmake me miss him any less, but they gave the pain somewhere to go that wasn’t my ribs. My dad nodded like he understood exactly what it meant to love someone and still have to fight for the right to keep them. And maybe he did.
And maybe I understood him a little better now. For the first time since I’d walked out of Noah’s apartment, I let myself hope.
34
NOAH
Iwoke up to silence. I reached out instinctively, my hand searching the empty space beside me.
Cold sheets.
No Em. No warmth. No faint citrus smell from her shampoo clinging to the pillow. My heart stuttered once, hard enough that I sucked in a sharp breath and sat up too fast, dizziness rushing in behind it.
The door to the bedroom was open.
I stared at it for a second longer than necessary, hoping—stupidly—that she’d walk back in with coffee, hair messy, glasses sliding down her nose. That she’d say something smart or soft or ridiculous and this knot in my chest would loosen.
She didn’t.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a dull thud, and stood there listening. The apartment was too quiet. No Sassy nails clicking against the tile. No low hum of movement from the kitchen. No murmured talking to herself like she never realized anyone could hear.
That was when I knew her leaving hadn’t been a dream. Mybody ached, like I’d been hit by a whole damn truck. My chestthrobbed.She should be here, with us, and she wasn’t.
I moved down the hall slowly, like speed might make it worse. The living room came into view piece by piece—the couch, the coffee table, the chair by the window—and my stomach dropped when I saw the empty spot by the door where Sassy’s leash always hung.
Her water bowl was gone.
So was Em’s jacket.
I stood there, hands at my sides, heart pounding hard enough that it felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I dragged a hand over my face, pressing my fingers into my eyes like that might push everything back where it belonged.
She really fucking left.
Miles stood at the end of the hallway in his pajamas, hair sticking up in three different directions, rubbing sleep out of one eye. He blinked at me, then looked past me into the living room.
“Uncle Noah?” he said quietly. “Where’s Aunt Em?”
The question hit me square in the ribs. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. God, his poor face crumpled with worry. No five-year-old should be that worried.
“She—” My voice cracked on the first attempt, and I had to swallow hard before I could continue. “She had to go help with something this morning, buddy.”
Miles frowned immediately, his small face folding into confusion. “With Sassy?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding too fast.
He walked into the room slowly, eyes scanning like he expected her to pop out from behind the couch or the kitchen counter. When she didn’t, his shoulders slumped.
“She didn’t say bye,” he said. His words weren’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact, said in that small, careful voicekids use when something didn’t make sense, but they didn’t know how to ask why.
I crouched down in front of him, ignoring the way my knees protested. I placed my hands on his arms. “I know. Sometimes grown-ups have to make quick decisions, and they aren’t fun.”
“Did I do something?” he asked, eyes flicking up to mine.
Something inside me broke clean in half.
