I gather her clothes quietly, laying them near the sofa so she won’t trip later.
For a second, I get back to the room, just to look at her one more time. Just to feel that peace again.
But I can’t.
I grab my coat and step outside. The air bites sharp, the kind of cold that burns your lungs before it clears your head. Snow’s still coming down.
The street’s empty, streetlights haloed in white. I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking toward where I parked last night, boots crunching against the thin ice.
Each breath leaves a cloud behind me. Each step feels heavier.
For a stupid, fleeting moment, I imagine going back. Making coffee. Pretending this is something ordinary.
Fighting for a future with the only woman that I have ever loved.
But I can’t do that now.
Not yet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jude
I should have stayedin Fox Hollow.
That’s the first thing that hits me as I sit on the tailgate of my truck, watching Maisie eat her ice cream like it’s the only good thing left in the world.
We’re parked outside Frosty Cone, the only place open this late in the season, neon sign flickering against the snow. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after shouting.
Rufus bounds through the parking lot in wide, useless circles, tail wagging hard enough to rattle his whole back end. He dives nose-first into a drift and comes up snorting.
Maisie giggles once, the sound faint and thin, then goes back to staring at her cone.
It’s strawberry swirl, her favorite. I got vanilla, mostly so she wouldn’t feel guilty eating hers.
She’s small for eight, wrapped in my hoodie that nearly swallows her whole, curls sticking out of a pink beanie. There’s a smear of chocolate on her cheek from the cone she abandoned back at the house when everything went to hell.
I rub a hand over my face. “You doing okay, bug?”
She shrugs. Doesn’t look up.
“She’s loud,” she says finally, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I say. “Your mom and Luke get loud sometimes.”
Maisie nods, the motion slow. “He broke the picture.”
I close my eyes. The picture—Amber’s framed sonogram. I saw it lying on the floor when I walked in.
Luke was standing there, his jaw clenched, and Amber was crying while Maisie was pressed against the wall with her hands over her ears.
That was fifteen minutes ago.
Now we’re here, me trying to scrape together calm from the bottom of the barrel while Amber promises she’ll call “once things settle.”
I look at Maisie again. “You did good leaving the room, okay? You were brave.”
She doesn’t answer, just keeps licking the melting ice cream.
