Page 76 of The Silence Between

“Can I call you a ride somewhere?” Ethan offered, maintaining the fiction that this was normal interaction rather than intervention. “I'm happy to wait with you until it arrives.”

The redirection worked better than my direct confrontation had, Miguel's anger finding no purchase against Ethan's calm demeanor. Within ten minutes, Ethan had somehow maneuvered Miguel into accepting a cab, even paying the fare in advance with casual generosity that defused potential pride issues.

As the taxi pulled away, Ethan turned to me, the carefully constructed casualness fading into genuine concern.

“Are you okay? Is everyone inside alright?”

“They're fine. Diego's in my truck. Mari and Sophie are upstairs.” I ran a hand through my hair, adrenaline still coursing through my system. “How did you...?”

“I followed after the meeting. Had a feeling Townsend's interest might not be coincidental with your dad showing up at school.” He glanced toward my truck where Diego watched us. “I should go. You've got family to take care of.”

The simple acknowledgment of priorities without resentment or demand created complicated gratitude I wasn't equipped to process in that moment.

“Thank you,” I managed, the words wholly inadequate for intervention that likely prevented documentation of family dysfunction that could have devastated our custody review.

He nodded once, understanding in his eyes. “Anytime. I mean that, Leo.”

I watched him walk away, then turned toward my truck to collect Diego, stomach still tight with awareness of how close we'd come to disaster. The custody review, the home inspection, Miguel's escalating behavior, Diego's school troubles, community college decision, bookstore transition, all pressing simultaneously against resources already stretched beyond breaking.

And yet, for the first time in years, someone had stepped in beside me rather than adding to the burden or merely observing the struggle. The unfamiliar feeling of supported rather than isolated responsibility followed me up the stairs to our apartment, where three faces turned to me with varying degrees of concern and relief.

Later on that night, I sat on our narrow balcony at 2:30 AM, sleep impossible despite bone-deep exhaustion. Inside, my siblings finally slept after hours of processing the day's events, reassurances about safety, and strategic planning for tomorrow's home inspection.

The semicolon tattoo caught moonlight as I traced its outline absently, the symbol carrying heavier significance tonight than it had in years. There had been moments during the confrontation with Miguel when continuation had seemed less certain than I'd allowed anyone to see, when the accumulated weight of mounting pressures had nearly buckled my carefully maintained composure.

My phone screen illuminated with unexpected notification from Ethan

Ethan

Just checking if everyone's okay after earlier. Available if you need anything, no response necessary if not.

Leo

Rough night. Everyone's finally asleep. Home inspection tomorrow has me on edge after everything else. Feeling like the plates I've been spinning for ten years are all wobbling at once.

Ethan

I can imagine. Want company or prefer space? Could come by if helpful, or leave you in peace if not. Your call, no pressure either way.

Leo

Company might help. Balcony conversation if you're willing. Kids are asleep.

Ethan

On my way. 15 minutes.

16

MOONLIGHT CONFESSIONS

ETHAN

Iparked beneath a flickering streetlight that seemed to be having a seizure every three seconds, scanning the worn apartment building with its rusted fire escapes zigzagging up the façade like a drunken game of connect-the-dots. On the third floor, a solitary figure sat motionless in the shadows. My heart did that weird little skip thing it always did when I spotted Leo, even after ten years apart. Some part of my brain would apparently always have a “Leo detector” installed.

The metal stairs groaned under my weight with all the subtlety of a foghorn, announcing my arrival to the entire neighborhood and probably several neighboring towns. Each step felt both metaphorical and painfully literal, especially when I stubbed my toe on step fourteen. When I finally reached his landing, Leo didn't stand or speak, just shifted slightly to make room on the narrow platform that generously could be called a balcony.

“Thanks for coming,” he said finally, his voice low to avoid carrying through the apartment walls behind us, which looked about as soundproof as wet tissue paper. “I wasn't sure you would.”

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