Page 182 of When a Soul Cries

But he noticed.

He noticed everything.

One morning, I had been wiping down an already-clean kitchen counter when he walked in dressed for work.

He stopped beside the island and watched me for a few seconds.

“You know somebody comes in and cleans, right?”

I kept wiping.

“Okay.”

“So why you cleaning the clean counter?”

“Because I used it.”

“You put a cup on it.”

“And?”

His lips twitched.

“You don’t gotta earn your stay here, Sol.”

My hand stopped moving.

He said it casually, already reaching for his keys, but the words followed me long after he walked out.

*You don’t gotta earn your stay here.*

Maybe that was the problem.

I didn’t know how not to.

Rome hadn’t asked me for anything since Halo and I came through his door.

No money.

No chores.

No explanation about when I planned to leave.

Nothing.

He went to work, came home, checked on us without hovering, and somehow made space for two extra people in his life like it wasn’t disrupting anything.

And somewhere during those seven days, I had started learning his routine without meaning to.

I knew what time he usually left in the morning. I knew he drank coffee before he ate anything. I knew he loosened his tie the second he walked through the door after work and usually rolled his sleeves up before he made it all the way into the kitchen.

Worse, I had started recognizing the sound of his SUV pulling into the driveway.

The first time I caught myself looking toward the window when I heard it, I told myself I was only paying attention because Halo reacted.

By the fourth time, I couldn't keep blaming my daughter.

I liked when he came home.