Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two
Ruby
Coming home feels surreal. The last time I was here, the kitchen floor was covered in pills and pieces of sheetrock. Lindsey’s screaming was still echoing in my ears.
Now, it looks like none of it ever happened. The kitchen is spotless. Not just cleaned. Restored.
The jagged pieces of sheetrock are gone. The cabinet beside the refrigerator has been repaired. Even the floor shines as if someone scrubbed it twice to make sure every trace of that night disappeared.
Fresh flowers sit in a mason jar on the counter. Yellow daisies. Probably Bella. And when I open the refrigerator, it’s full. Milk. Eggs. Fruit. Vegetables. Containers with neat labels written in black marker. Lasagna in Bella’s handwriting. Chicken soup in Emily’s. Pot roast in Dad’s.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Brookhaven to the rescue.’
The pale sunlight streams through the windows, catching against the new kitchen cabinets. The ones Xavier installed.
My fingers brush lightly across the smooth countertop as I move deeper into the kitchen. “I can’t believe he finished all this.”
The words echo through the empty house. Empty. The realization settles slowly. Not quiet. Empty.
I pause. Listening. For boots crossing the floor. Tools clinking against the counter. Coffee brewing. Nothing. Only the hum of the refrigerator and the distant creak of the house settling around me.
The repaired section of ceiling catches my eye first. Then the living room. I stop in the doorway. The room is clean. Too clean.
The blanket that had been tossed across the end of the sofa while Xavier stayed here is now folded neatly. I move to the bedroom. The charger he left plugged beside the bed is gone. The flannel shirts that used to hang beside my clothes…. Gone.
I cross to the dresser and pull open one of the drawers. Empty. The sight hits harder than it should.
Tears sting my eyes. Because I asked for space, and he listened. No argument. Just… gone.
A lump rises unexpectedly into my throat. I close the drawer. The whole house feels strange now. Repaired. Cared for. And lonelier than ever.
I walk back toward the kitchen, one hand drifting down to my stomach. The movement happens instinctively now. Protective. Grounding.
The doctor said the baby was okay. Emily said she wasn’t worried. But fear sits beneath my ribs anyway. What if something changes later? What if…. No. I force the thought away before it can spiral.
Samson squeals outside near the fence. The sound jerks me back into the present. The locks are new. Heavier. Extra hardware installed near the frame. Security lights mounted above the porch.
Xavier did that. Not because I asked him to. Because he wanted me safe; emotion catches in my throat again because none of this feels simple anymore. Not him. Not us. Not the baby.
I wrap both arms around myself and look out across the backyard. Everything is fixed. The house. The doors. The locks.
Everything except the part inside me that isn’t sure if people stay because they care about me or because they feel obligated out of some strange sense of duty.