My gaze drops to his roughened knuckles, and I nod, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. None of it changes what happened.
The investigation is ongoing. Colt is still dead. And Evan still carries the evidence of that night on his hands and in his eyes when he doesn’t think I’m watching.
“Do you ever think,” I begin, “that maybe some people are just unlucky for everyone?”
The silence is heavy and immediate, and Evan sets his mug down.
“Don’t start that.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I swallow hard. “Look what happened.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Stacey manipulated you, and an abandoned tower collapsed.”
“And you broke protocol to come get me.”
The words land sharp enough that even Gus looks up, and Evan's jaw works.
“You think I regret going in there?”
“No.” My voice cracks. “No, that’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean, Penny?”
The lack of anger makes this ten times worse, because he’s looking at me like I’m saying something hurtful. And maybe I am.
My throat tightens, and I look away first. “I just… Everywhere I look now, there’s something broken.”
The kitchen goes quiet again, and I keep my eyes busy by looking anywhere but at him. The grief sitting inside this house suddenly feels so visible. In the flowers dying slowly near the window, and the casserole dish Leah hasn’t collected from the fridge. In the way none of us say Colt’s name unless we absolutely have to.
Evan exhales through his nose, then he steps toward me again. Always toward me. His fingers hook gently beneath my chin until I look at him.
“This isn’t on you.”
I want to believe him so badly it hurts. But then my eyes catch on the healing cuts across his knuckles, and something twists violently inside me.
“Penny.”
His thumb brushes softly beneath my eye before I even realize tears have gathered there. Behind us, Elle reappears.
“Am I still going to school?”
The question hits the room so unexpectedly normal, that both of us freeze.
“Yeah, bug.” Evan huffs out the faintest laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re still going to school.”
Elle looks between us for another second as though she wants to ask more questions, but she’s distracted when Gus wanders over and drops a slobbery tennis ball against her foot.
“Gus-Gus,” she gasps. “That’s yuck!”
His tail starts thumping furiously, waiting for her to pick it up, and I take the moment to compose myself.
“Go brush your teeth and then we’ll get going,” I tell her, nudging her backpack toward her.
The kitchen quiets again after she’s gone, and I try to focus on the rest of her lunchbox prep. My hand stills when Evan leans against the counter and reaches for it, his thumb brushing across my knuckles.
