Page 100 of Faultlines

“What happens now?”

I look across the auditorium, and think of the life and future I took for granted.

“It’s over, Brooke. I’m sorry. I need to get my family back. That has to be my priority,” I say, and I walk out of the auditorium without looking back.

From the outside, the house looks as it always has. The flowerbeds Claire planted are still neatly maintained. Ellie’s bright red bicycle still leans against the side of the garage, a splash of defiant color.

Quiet greets me as I open the front door. I make my way upstairs. Halfway down the hallway, something catches my attention. The linen closet door is ajar. Claire has always had a habit of leaving cabinet doors and closets open. The sight is so ordinary that it almost makes me smile.

I glance inside and realize something is different. The shelves still hold neatly folded blankets and towels.

I continue toward our bedroom, my steps unnaturally loud on the old wood. Claire’s side of the closet is half empty. The blouses she wears most often to work have disappeared. The sturdy leather boots she always pulls out when we go to the ranch are no longer lined up beneath the hanging clothes. Even the overnight bag she takes on trips is missing from the top shelf.

I told myself she just needed a few days at the ranch to cool off before she’d answer my calls. I’d imagined us sifting through the wreckage together. But staring at the empty hangers on her side of the closet, that foolish hope crumbles.

I sink sluggishly onto the edge of the bed. Her reading lamp still sits on the nightstand with a book tucked beside it. The chair in the corner has a soft cashmere sweater draped over it.

After several minutes, I force myself to stand and walk across the hall. I enter Ellie’s room and the ache intensifies. Her favorite sweatshirt, a bright pink hoodie, is gone from the hook behind the door. Several framed photographs have vanished from the bookshelf, leaving clean rectangular spaces on the dusty wood. Even her beloved Queen of Hearts costume is gone.

My phone vibrates and for one foolish second, hope surges through me. Convincing myself it’s Claire.

Reid: How did it go tonight?

It’s done.

Reid: How’d she take it?

With acceptance.

Three dots appear on the screen, disappear, then reappear.

Reid: Good.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

ISOSTATIC REBOUND

Claire

A horse snorts somewhere beneath my window. I blink awake and stare at the unfamiliar water-stained ceiling, waiting for my surroundings to make sense. Only then do I remember I’m at Lucy’s.

My phone sits dark on the nightstand. I reach for it and there are no new messages. The sent email catches my eye instead.

Subject: Personal Leave

Sometime after midnight, I’d emailed my supervisor requesting a leave of absence and copied Marisol.

I lower the phone onto the nightstand and close my eyes. Right now, I’m barely holding myself together. The thought of helping anyone else feels impossible.

For the first time in a long time, I have nowhere to be.

A little after eight, Lucy lets herself in, bringing with her the smell of coffee and bacon.

She sets a plate on the table. “You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that all weekend.”