Page 101 of Faultlines

“I’m still not hungry.”

She slides a warm, flaky cinnamon roll in front of me anyway. “That’s unfortunate, because I’m not leaving until you’ve taken at least three bites.”

I sigh and tear off a small piece.

“How are you holding up?” she asks.

My gaze drifts to the tractor crawling across the pasture in the distance. “You know how Ethan always says you have to pull permits before demolishing something?”

She nods.

“Turns out affairs don’t require permits.”

A surprised snort escapes her before she catches herself.

“Seems like an oversight.” One shoulder lifts in a half-hearted gesture as I stare back out the window.

The morning drags on until lunchtime, when I escape to the main house in search of a change of scenery. Lucy is busy answering emails, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard, while I spend the next hour staring at the same page of a book without taking in a single word.

Every few minutes, my thoughts return to the conversation waiting for me with Ellie.

A little while later, the front door downstairs slams shut, rattling the pictures on the wall in the foyer.

Lucy and I exchange a look. “That sounds promising,” she says, a wry twist to her lips.

Footsteps pound up the wooden stairs, shaking the floorboards. Ellie storms inside, her riding boots dusty and her cheeks flushed.

“Mom.” The single word carries more anger than greeting.

I set down my book. “Hi, sweetheart.”

She drops her backpack and riding helmet onto the floor. “Are we staying here again tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s just for a little while.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” I admit quietly. “It isn’t.”

“Then tell me what’s happening!”

I glance toward Lucy, whose movements suddenly become very purposeful. “I just remembered I need to check on the horses.”

Traitor.

“Mom.”

I rub my forehead. “Things are complicated right now.”

“That’s not an answer either.”

“Your dad and I had a serious disagreement. I just need some time.”

“Time for what? Nobody will tell me anything!” Her voice rises, breaking on the last word. “Grandpa, Lucy, Jensen—everyone’s acting weird.” She swallows. “Can’t we just go home?”