“Seventy-nine,” Lila repeated, filing away the correction. “I need to update my otter notebook.”
“I didn’t know the otter notebook had space facts,” Rachel said.
“It does now,” Lila said. “We borrowed a space book last time me and Miss Hollis were at the library and it was awesome.”
Rachel caught June’s eye, amused. “Sounds like you and Miss Hollis are having a lot of fun.”
“We are,” Lila said with a quick smile.
She worked on her puzzle for a few more minutes, then announced she was going to her room to draw Jupiter with all seventy-nine moons. She disappeared up the stairs, leaving June and Rachel alone.
“She’s thriving,” Rachel said quietly. “I haven’t seen her this animated in… honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her like this.”
“She’s a special kid. She just needed—” June paused, searching for the right words. “Permission to be a kid, I think.”
“Melissa made a good choice, picking you.” Rachel wrapped her hands around her mug. “You know, when Lila was born, Melissa was scared. She told me she didn’t know how to be soft with someone. That she’d spent so long being strong, she’d forgotten any other way.”
June felt something shift in her chest. “That sounds like her.”
“It is. But she’s trying. I can see it, when she talks about what’s happening here this summer.” Rachel’s gaze was warm but perceptive. “You’re good for them. Both of them.”
June felt heat creep up her neck. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Mm-hmm.” Rachel’s expression suggested she saw more than June was saying, but she didn’t push. Instead, she pulled out her phone. “Swap numbers? In case there’s ever a medical thing with Lila, or if you can’t reach Melissa and need a backup.”
“Sure.” June recited the digits, grateful for the practical shift.
“There.” Rachel stood, draining the last of her coffee. “Tell Melissa I stopped by. And that she still owes me dinner.”
“I will.”
After Rachel left, June stood in the quiet kitchen, thinking about what she’d said.She’d spent so long being strong, she’d forgotten any other way.
It explained so much. And somehow, made June want to understand even more.
After Lila went to bed, June found herself restless, unable to settle. She tried reading, but the words wouldn’t stick. She tried watching something on her phone, but nothing held her attention. She ended up in the kitchen, the way she always did when she needed to think.
Baking was different from cooking. Cooking was improvisation, intuition, adjusting as you went. Baking was precision—measurements and temperatures and timing. There was comfort in that tonight. June pulled out flour and sugar and butter, deciding to make brownies because Lila loved them and Melissa had a secret sweet tooth.
She was just sliding the pan into the oven when she heard the front door open.
It was after ten. Much later than Melissa usually came home.
June wiped her hands on a dish towel and listened to the familiar sounds—keys dropped on the entry table, heels clicking against hardwood, the pause that meant Melissa was checking the mail or looking at her phone. Then footsteps, softer, no heels, moving toward the kitchen.
Melissa appeared in the doorway.
She looked exhausted. Not just tired—exhausted in a bone-deep way that June had never seen before. Her blazer was wrinkled, her hair escaping its twist, and there was something hollow in her eyes that made June’s chest ache. Her feet were bare against the floor.
“Hey,” June said softly. “Long day?”
Melissa laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Sit down. I’ll make you something.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Sit down, Melissa.”
