Page 8 of Before We Break

“You won’t. Cross my heart.” As the last three words leave her lips, she makes an X across her chest with her finger, drawing my attention to her generous figure. A figure I have no business noticing.

I don’t have a type—man, woman, tall, short, blonde, brunette—none of it matters. There's just something about a soft body that really does it for me. This soft woman definitely does not do it for me, though, and it has nothing to do with her body.

Lexi appears behind her with a waffle shoved between her teeth, swinging a backpack onto her shoulder. As she gets to the door, she takes a bite and mumbles, “Gotta go. Love you.”

Clio pulls her in for a one-armed hug and air kisses her cheek. “Aunt Callie will meet you at the library after school.”

“Ok. Bye, Mom.”

I step to the side as she rushes past me.

“Hi, Noah. Bye, Noah.”

“See ya, kid.”

Lexi is basically a blonder version of her mom but a lot less annoying. She reminds me of my sister when she was that age—easy-going and friendly. She’s like a wind-up toy but with endless energy.

“Are you sure you don’t want any breakfast? I made waffles.” Clio drags out the word waffles in a sing-song voice that grates on my nerves.

They smell incredible, but I’m not here for that.

“One month,” I rasp, striding back to my apartment and slamming the door shut behind me. With any luck, she’ll be loading her shit into a moving van in thirty days or less, and I’ll be the one holding the bucket of popcorn.

Auggie materializes out of his bedroom like the ghost of a Victorian child, rubbing at his eyes.

“Holy shit. Say something next time, Auggie.”

After three weeks, I’m still not used to him living with me. I was only in his life for two years before Jonah cut off contact, and it hasn’t been easy encouraging Auggie to open up to me, but we’re getting there. My sister has been a huge help.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask.

Auggie frowns at me, but he doesn’t respond.

Great. He’s not wearing his cochlear implants today.

“Where are your ears?” I ask, making a vague gesture. I only know a few signs—eat, all done, more, please, and thank you. It was enough to get me by when Auggie was two, but he’s grown a lot since then, and his ASL has far surpassed mine. I’m looking into lessons, but my schedule is chaotic.

Once Auggie starts preschool, I’ll have more time to learn.

“Be right back.” He dashes off to his bedroom and returns with what he affectionately calls his ears.

It’s basically the external processor that attaches to the implants magnetically, allowing him to perceive sounds and voices. They connect to my phone via Bluetooth, so I can adjust the settings. He received them through a non-profit organization when he was eighteen months old, and now they’re decorated with a set of blue stickers Emma gave him.

He yawns, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m hungry.”

“Cereal or waffles?” The latter won’t be homemade like Clio’s, but I never claimed to be a chef.

“Chicken nuggets,” he replies with a look of determination.

“You can’t have nugs for breakfast, my dude,” I instruct in a gentle tone, knowing he’s not going to like that answer. “Pick something else.”

“Nuh uh. One time, I saw a video, and they had chicken and waffles for breakfast.”

I cross my arms and lean back against the kitchen counter. “That’s different, Auggie.”

He goes silent, and I assume he’s considering the options. Apparently, I underestimated him.

“Can I have nuggets and waffles, then?”