The thought makes my throat tight.
I carefully set Sox down on the window, and she immediately settles into her favorite spot on the sill, stretching out in the afternoon sunshine.
I should back away. Catch up on homework. Text Marie. Call Z back.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am.
Because Caleb’s in the driveway.
Shirtless.
Bent over the Mustang’s engine with Silas.
His tools are laid out on the ground in neat little rows. Perfectly symmetrical. Everything in its place.
Sox makes that chattering sound cats do when they see prey—all hunting instinct and focused desire.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know exactly how you feel.”
Caleb bends over the Mustang’s engine to reach some part deep inside, and I should look away. Should remember we’re family and this is wrong on approximately seventeen different levels.
Family.
The word catches in mythroat.
Okay, so maybe I’m not exactly havingfamilialthoughts about him.
But Helen?—
I pull back from the window as I remember yesterday.
I was standing in front of the open fridge, staring into it like the fluorescent light might reveal the secrets of the universe. I wasn’t hungry. Just restless. Unsettled. Looking for something I couldn’t name.
Then Helen appeared in her leggings and soft hoodie, radiating that mom-energy that should feel manufactured but somehow isn’t.
“Hungry, honey?”
I jumped like I’d been caught stealing. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to?—”
“You didn’t.” She moved past me, calm and unrattled. “I just have mom-ears that pick up every little sound. Single motherhood’ll do that to you.”
She made tea without asking if I wanted some. Just... made it.
“You settling in okay?” she asked, handing me a mug.
And there it was, suddenly steaming in front of me, like we were in a commercial. I stared at her, feeling like the feral fucking rat I am—claws out, ready to attack.
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
But she looked at me. Really looked. Like she could see the truth under the automatic response.
“It’s got to be hard,” she said, soft and matter-of-fact. “Leaving everything you know. Starting over somewhere totallydifferent.”
Something about her voice—the understanding in it without a trace of pity—hit too close.
My throat went tight. This wasn’t manipulation. It wasn’t a setup. She just... cared. For no reason I could figure out.
“I’m fine.”