I reach for the door.
That’s when the shouting starts.
It comes from my living room, and it stops me mid-step. Amber’s voice is sharp and frayed, pitched high with panic and fury, and Jude’s is strained underneath it, trying and failing to keep control of the situation.
Norah looks up, startled, eyes flicking toward the house.
I open the door anyway.
“Hey,” I start, stepping onto the porch. “You okay?”
She turns fully then, relief flashing across her face before confusion takes over. “I heard yelling. What’s going on?”
My mouth opens, then closes again. There’s no clean way to explain this. No gentle way to ease her into it.
“Let’s talk inside,” I say. “At Jude’s.”
Her brows knit together. “Ryker, you’re scaring me.”
I gesture her toward the door, lowering my voice. “Amber’s here. Something bad happened.”
That stops her cold.
“Amber?” she repeats. “Why is Jude’s sister here?”
“She lost the baby,” I say quietly. “And she isn’t doing okay.”
Norah’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh shit.”
“She’s talking about taking Maisie and leaving town,” I add, because she deserves to know the truth even if it makes everything heavier.
Norah exhales slowly, shock written all over her face. “Fuck! Fuck!”
“I know.” I take her hand. “Everything’s so fucked right now.”
“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to impose on such a private thing.”
“No.” I squeeze her hand. “Stay. I want you here. Although I have to admit, I’m a little curious. Why are you here? It’s so early in the morning. I didn’t think you would be up this early.”
“I was on my way to meet Miss Thea,” she says automatically, like her brain is still trying to catch up. “I needed to pick something up. I wanted to stop by and talk to you about Dorian, but that feels… irrelevant now.”
The sound of Dorian’s name makes something twist unpleasantly in my stomach. It’s not jealousy exactly. It’s tension. Old history rubbing against new feelings, with nowhere to go.
“Yeah,” I say. “Did something happen? I mean, I can kind of smell him on you, so is that what you want to talk about?”
“Maybe we should do this some other time.”
Before I can say anything else, the door behind me creaks open.
Small footsteps pad across the room.
I turn just in time to see Maisie step outside, wearing her glasses, hair sleep-rumpled, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest. Frida’s ears droop over her arm, one button eye loose again from years of love.
Rufus, who was sleeping next to her bed, follows her out.
Maisie blinks at the light, then looks up.
“Good morning, sweet girl.” Norah smiles at her.
