Then she looked at me. “Can I go finish my castle?”
I kissed her temple. “Of course.”
She turned and padded back upstairs, rabbit tucked beneath her chin.
The silence she left behind was heavier than any shouting.
My mother wiped her face with trembling fingers.
“I didn’t think,” she said.
“No,” I replied. “You didn’t.”
Dad seemed uncomfortable now, not remorseful exactly, but shaken by the fact that Lily had spoken for herself. He cleared his throat.
“Emily, maybe we can discuss a plan.”
“We can,” I said. “But not today.”
Miranda looked up quickly.
“What about the school? They need—”
“Not today,” I repeated.
Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing.
Mom looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“Will you let us apologize properly?”
“To Lily, yes. When she is ready. Not when you are.”
My father frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means her comfort matters more than your guilt.”
David stepped closer, his presence steady beside me.
My mother nodded slowly. Dad didn’t. Miranda looked away.
Then, just as they turned to leave, Miranda’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and whatever she saw drained the color from her face.
Dad noticed.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said too quickly.
I watched her fingers tighten around the phone.
“Miranda,” Mom said.
“It’s nothing.”
But her voice had gone thin.
For years, I had heard Miranda cry, panic, plead, and accuse. I knew all her performances.
This was not one of them.
This was fear.
My father reached for the phone. “Let me see.”
She pulled it back.
“No.”
That single word changed the air.
Dad stared at her as if she had spoken a language he didn’t understand.
“Miranda.”
She swallowed.
“I have to go.”
“Go where?” Mom asked.
Miranda stepped backward off the porch, nearly slipping on the wet step.
“Home. I need to check on something.”
“Is it Kyle?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked to mine.
And there it was.
A flash of panic so raw she couldn’t hide it.
Then she turned, rushed to her car, and drove away without waiting for our parents.
Mom stood frozen.
Dad watched Miranda’s taillights disappear around the corner, his jaw clenched.
“What was that about?” David asked quietly.
No one answered.
But my mother had gone pale.
Dad turned toward her.
“Elaine?”
She gripped her purse strap so tightly her knuckles whitened.
“Not here,” she whispered.
My stomach tightened.
Not here.
