Page 57 of Coming Home

"Every single syllable is gospel truth," Athena countered smoothly, taking a slow, elegant sip of her coffee.

"I've never felt more profoundly educated in my life," I added, wiping a tear from my cheek. I looked back up at him, my gaze trailing over the broad line of his shoulders, then back to the glasses clutched in his hand. "Why do you wear those glasses so early in the morning?"

Ralph stiffened, shoving the spectacles into his pocket with a defensive, grunted mutter that sounded like an angry bear. "They're for eye strain. The computer screens at the foundation are bright."

"Ralph—"

"Athena, I believe she was talking to me." Athena shot me a look, then held Ralph's gaze for a second. Was I imagining the sudden tension in the air?

"They make you look like a very brilliant, very dangerous literature professor who is about to give me a failing grade," I teased, trying to shatter the stillness.

He grabbed a water bottle and slammed the refrigerator door.

Athena ended up staying for two hours. She filled the house with vibrant, chaotic noise and a familial warmth these walls had been starving for.

"People treat me like a door to him," she murmured, her blue eyes—so strikingly identical to her brother's—softening as she looked into her empty mug. "At dinner parties, they don't ask about my life or my degree. It's always 'How is Ralph's shoulder?' or 'Is Ralph single?' I'm a human search engine with a family connection."

"I understand that exact brand of isolation," I said softly. Athena looked up, her eyes going still on mine, like she was weighing whether I really meant it. "Yeah," she said, a small, genuine smile breaking through her defenses. "I think you really do."

After she finally left, promising to return with a PowerPoint presentation of Ralph's most humiliating teenage swim meets, the kitchen plunged into a heavy, resonant quiet. I sat on the barstool, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled up my phone.

One new notification. The name on the screen made my lungs seize.

Theo.

I forced myself to breathe, unlocking the screen.

Theo

Em. I'm so sorry. For every single thing I shouted at the pool deck. For the way I handled it. If you're ready to talk... I'm here. Whenever that is. No pressure. I won't fail you again, Emma. I promise.

I read the words until they blurred into a watery, illegible smear. I pressed the glass screen hard against my chest, swallowing down the thick lump in my throat.

I typed back with a shaking thumb:

Emma

I'm ready.

His reply flashed back within a second:

Theo

Saturday. Dad's birthday. Please come home.

I stared at the blue bubble for a long time. Then I typed:

Emma

I'll be there.

Ralph found me twenty minutes later, still frozen in the exact same spot, staring blankly at the kitchen tile. He'd put the black glasses back on, standing in the archway with his arms crossed over his chest, looking so ruggedly handsome it felt like a physical offense.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?" he asked, his voice low.

"My dad's birthday is Saturday. Theo wants me there." I lifted my eyes to his. "Will you come with me, Ralph? Please?"

He walked over, his massive frame eclipsing the kitchen light, and leaned down until his face was inches from mine. "Try and stop me, Emma. I'm your shadow."