Chapter 24
Coming back to the house, the scene of the crime, metaphorical and otherwise, is… weird. Awkward. Tense. Kind of like being in a haunted mansion, except instead of ghosts it’s bad memories and the faint scent of Mike’s stupid cologne that I still can’t get rid of.
Keira fawns over Roxy and Ruby like she’s making up for lost time, crouched on the living room floor while Ruby licks her face and Roxy gives her one of those sceptical, half-approving glances like she’s considering letting her stay.
I finally named the puppy with no one’s help. Roxy and her baby Ruby.
Then comes the moment when the air shifts. The moment when Keira’s done playing with dogs and she starts looking around like she’s a guest at someone else’s wake.
“I, um… where do I sleep?” she asks, scratching the side of her neck.
I walk past her, grab the remote off the couch, then gesture casually upstairs like this isn’t killing me. “Take the master. I’m in the guest room.”
She freezes. “No. No, I’ll take the… ”
I turn and look her straight in the eye. No drama, no pity. Just: Don’t make this a thing. Keira gets it.
She swallows. “Okay. And… fuck.”
I nod. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”
She starts up the stairs slowly. Halfway up, I call after her. “Hey, tomorrow we’ll look at some apartments in the city, alright?”
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder.
“It’ll be closer to your college. And my work.”
A smile breaks across her face, one of the real ones, the kind that makes her look like the kid she is, “Okay.” With that, she’s gone. Up the stairs, into the room where the worst happened. But somehow, I know she’ll sleep fine tonight.
Knock knock.
I open the door, and there’s Caden, grinning, broad shouldered, and moving toward me before I can get a single syllable out.
He wraps me up and lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing, and I let out a startled laugh.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, clinging to him.
“Got back from Detroit this morning,” he says, voice rough and warm against my neck. “Wanted to see you. ”
And then we’re kissing, deep, hungry, stupid like we’ve been doing it for years instead of days. I don’t care. He puts me down slow, and I realize I’m smiling. Like, real smiling.
“Hello,” he says with a cocky little edge.
Keira’s standing in the hallway, frozen, like she’s caught us filming a soap opera. “I just… I just wanted some water.”
“Oh,” I say, breathless. “Right. Um. Keira, this is… my friend, Caden. Caden, this is Keira. My sister.”
He leans forward like he’s about to offer her a business card or propose, and says, “Oh. Hello.” Like a game show host. Subtle as a jackhammer.
Keira’s cheeks flush. She tucks her hair behind her ears and mumbles, “So… you know me?”
That hits me right in the chest. The way she says it, like she’s afraid of who she is in someone else’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Caden says, softer now. “I’ve heard about you.”
I hand her a water bottle and she takes it quickly, muttering thanks before scuttling away like she wants to disappear into the floorboards.
The silence that follows is heavy.
“She’s…” I start .
“I know,” Caden says, pulling me back in by the waist. “Can I just say, you’re a damn good big sister.”
I don’t say anything. Just bury my face in his chest and let myself breathe.
The day unfolds in that sweet, molasses slow way that makes time feel optional, just me, Caden, and a very weird kind of almost domesticity.
He lounges on the couch in sweatpants and a T-shirt that clings in all the right places, legs stretched out, one hand lazily petting Ruby, who has decided his lap is her throne now.
Roxy rests with her head on his feet, she’s fully accepted him into our weird little pack.
Meanwhile, Keira’s holed up in the master bedroom, her bedroom now, silent as a ghost with boundaries. I knocked once. She didn’t answer. And honestly, I don’t blame her. After everything, if she wants to hide under a blanket burrito and pretend the world doesn’t exist for tonight, I’ll let her.
Tomorrow, I’ll check in. Talk about next steps, therapists, school, maybe even what kind of throw pillows she wants in the apartment. But not today. Today she gets to be invisible.
Caden and I? We’re very visible. But also, very PG 13.
No touching below the equator. No suggestive whispering.
No ravaging glances that say “strip now” when I lean across him to grab the remote.
Which, by the way, he did not help with.
He just sat there with that smug “I’m behaving” look on his face while my entire frontal body hovered an inch from his .
The restraint is… frustrating. And also, kind of sweet. And I’m not used to sweet.
We talk. Like, actually talk. And I learn all kinds of ridiculous things about him. How he’s weirdly obsessed with true crime documentaries but can’t stand popcorn. Says it’s a “useless snack.” I try not to judge, but like, who hurt you?
He’s the youngest of three, and his brothers used to lock him in laundry hampers when he annoyed them, which might explain why he’s got this perfectly calibrated empathy thing going on.
His parents are somehow still in love after thirty-seven years, retired, and currently RVing across the Pacific Northwest. It’s cute.
At one point, I blurt it out. The fear. The thing I keep swallowing down every time he looks at me like I’m something worth choosing.
“I’m scared,” I say, eyes on the ceiling, heart in my throat. “That this is too fast. That we’re a cliché. That I’m going to be the next office rumour.”
His hand slides over mine. Just that. No pulling me in. No rushing. Just… warmth.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever felt this way about,” he says, calm and clear and so certain it almost hurts. “And if you’re uncomfortable, really uncomfortable, we can slow down. But only if it’s you. Not the bullshit voices in your head of people who don’t know you. ”
Oof. That hits like a gut punch wrapped in affection.
Because he’s right. I’m not scared of us.
I’m scared of the narrative. That whole messy “she left her husband and was with someone else two weeks later” thing.
I can already hear the whispers. “Slut.” “She must’ve cheated. ” “Wow, that didn’t take long.”
And maybe I shouldn’t care. But I do. I still do.
So, we make a decision. Together. Keep it quiet. No social media. No office gossip. At least not until the divorce is final. But we’ll tell HR. Because technically it’s a preexisting relationship, and we’re both too competent to let this turn into a scandal. Hopefully.
Later, I catch him scrolling on his phone while Ruby snores against his chest and I’m curled into the crook of his arm.
“What are you doing?” I mumble.
He flashes me a guilty look. “Googling dog birthday cake recipes.”
And just like that, I fall a little harder. “Let’s go to bed.”
“What about Keira?” he asks.
“We’ll be quiet.” I promise that with a deep kiss, tracing his lips with my tongue, biting his lip.
He practically jumps up and puts Ruby in the crate while I check in on Keira first. The door’s cracked, and inside, she’s lying in bed, laptop paused on a frame of some animated show, a single earbud still in like she couldn’t quite commit to being present.
She looks like she’s paused too, frozen between worlds.
I hand her the pizza box I brought up.
“Don’t stay up too late,” I say gently. “We’ve got apartment tours tomorrow.”
She nods without looking up, but it’s the kind of nod that means she heard me. Progress.
“Keira,” once I have her complete attention, I say, “I forgave you, now it’s time for you to forgive yourself.”
She looks ready to cry. “How?”
And honestly, I have no answer. Apartment hunting might have to wait, seeing a therapist can’t .