Page 42 of Follow Me
Just a very subtle thing, so slight, and yet so glaringly obvious when she looked at it in retrospect.
Once her coffee brewed, she poured herself a mug, added creamer, took a picture of it, logged it, and then sipped.
Delicious.
She walked down the hall even as her tears still flowed, her feet stopping in front of the nursery door.
This had been her bedroom when she was still living with her uncle. They’d picked it to be the nursery.
Reaching out with her free hand, she touched the door. “Soon,” she said, sniffling.
She continued on to the bedroom to get dressed. Today was a little cool, so she picked the leggings she’d worn last night to dinner, one of Kel’s T-shirts, and one of his chambray button-up long-sleeved shirts on over that, unbuttoned. They hung off her, but they were his, and it made her feel better to wear them.
Hopefully it’d make him feel good to see her in them.
She was ready when he arrived ten minutes early and already had the door open for him. He carried his overnight bag she presumed held his dirty laundry, and she pulled him in for a hug and a kiss before he even set it down in the entry.
“Will you let me do your laundry today?Please?” she asked.
He was still trying to not hug her hard. “Okay,” he quietly said.
“Did you eat yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“Neither have I, but—” She quickly added, “I wanted to wait for you. And I’d like to talk first.” She took his bag and led him down the hall to the nursery door, where she’d left a box of tissues on the floor next to it.
He balked. “Mal—”
“Please,” she said.
“I can’t do this, sweetheart. I’m going to—”
“Cry,” she gently said. “I know. So am I. I need this, and so do you.”
He offered no resistance as she pulled his arms around her from behind and held one pressed around her waist.
The other, she held on to his hand and wrapped their fingers around the doorknob. “I haven’t been in here since before that day,” she said. “It’s been long enough.”
Before he could argue, she firmly closed her grip around his hand and turned the knob.
His sharp suck of air along the nape of her neck broke her heart, but no more than seeing everything exactly as it’d been beforethatday.
Releasing him, she bent over, picked up the box of tissues, and stepped into the room, turning as she backed up. “Follow me. Please?”
He looked…defeated. Hopeless.
As gutted as she felt.
Maybe that had been the problem the whole time. They’d both been trying to hang on and hold things together for each other so badly that they’d missed the whole point—they needed to dothistogether and not put on a brave face for each other.
Theybothneeded to be weak and broken together before they could help each other pick up the pieces for good and begin to rebuild.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped into the room with her.
Mal didn’t turn on the lights. There was enough from the hallway and slipping around the edges of the blinds that she could see the crib they’d laughed as he’d assembled, the stuffed animals they’d bought for her, the three packages of onesies she’d bought and hadn’t even opened yet, still lying where she’d set them on the top of the dresser barely filled with anything.
Nearly empty.
