Page 38 of No Turning Back
“I’m so sorry, Kate.”
She lets out a small, humourless laugh. “And it affects him too. I see how much it kills him, how much he wishes he could just take it back. But he can’t. And now we’re back to avoiding each other and stewing in silence. I picked a fine day to work from home.”
I think about it for a second. “Have you guys considered going back to therapy?”
She shakes her head. “We can’t just run to therapy every time things get hard.”
“Then talk to him,” I say. “The way you would in therapy. Tell him how you feel. Maybe he needs to hear that you’re not blaming him, just… learning to live with it.”
She nods, taking a seat beside me. “You’re right.” Then she slips an arm around me, leaning her head on my shoulder. “What am I gonna do without you?”
I lean my head against hers. “I’m not leaving forever. We’ll still call and text.”
She makes a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “That’s not good enough.”
To shake off the heaviness, I say, “School’s almost out. How about I pick up the boys and take them out for lunch? Give you and Aiden time to talk.”
She stays leaning against me. “They hate it when we pick them up from school.”
“Huh?” I pull back to look at her.
She tilts her head at me. “What?”
I give her a sheepish smile. “They love it when I pick them up.”
Her eyes go wide. “Seriously?”
I shrug. “Cool auntie privilege. I’m not the parent.”
“Mmhmm,” she says, unconvinced.
I hop off the bed. “You and Aiden talk. We’ll be back.” I’m already halfway to the door before she can answer.
From the couch, Aiden calls, “Where’s the fire?” without looking up from his phone.
“Talk to each other!” I yell, bolting out of the house like a kid who just heard the ice cream truck.
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
“Pick up the pace, ladies,” I call as I walk outside, only to find Aiden and Sam collapsed on the bottom step like they’ve just completed an Ironman.
Aiden looks up at me, face red, chest heaving. “We just carried your truckload of books upstairs. Give us a minute.”
I step around them, balancing a small box on my hip. “Iofferedto help. You two wanted to show off.”
Neither bothers answering. Sam tips his head back against the railing, eyes shut, looking like he might actually fall asleep right there.
Rolling my eyes, I head inside. The box is labelledPillows, yes, an entire box just for pillows. No shame. I carry it into my new bedroom, the one that still smells faintly of fresh paint and pine cleaner.
“You were right,” Kate says without looking away from the window. She’s practically pressed against it, nose an inch from the glass. “I’d totally move here just for this view. I mean, if they had cafés and stuff.”
I toss the box onto the bed and flop down beside it, bouncing a little on the mattress. “They have a diner in town. A few miles away.”
Kate turns her head slowly, eyes wide, like I’ve told her I live in a cave. “Jesus. It’s like biblical times out here.”
I laugh, propping myself up on my elbows, then gesture at the rolling hills outside the window. “It’s beautiful, huh?”
