Page 11 of Faultlines

Ethan looks around the kitchen. “So why wasn’t Jensen at the appointment?”

“He intended to be,” she tells us.

“Uh-huh,” Sloane states.

“He did,” Lucy defends.

Sloane gives everyone a look. “Men always have excuses.”

“He’s a trauma nurse with a hectic schedule,” Lucy says firmly.

“Not good enough,” Sloane tells her, and I have a feeling they’ve had this argument before.

“Haven’t you had this appointment scheduled for a couple of months?” Ethan asks.

“The appointment got moved up because of a cancellation. The clinic called two days beforehand,” Lucy explains.

“And?” I ask.

“And Jensen’s best friend from nursing school just moved to Juniper Ridge. Yesterday was her first day at the hospital, and he wanted to be there to support her.”

Ethan sets his coffee down, his expression unreadable. “Her?”

“Yes,” Lucy answers. “He felt bad that she was starting a new job in a new town all alone.”

Sloane lets out a sharp laugh. “Right.”

Ellie gives a small, practiced nod. It’s the same one she uses when we talk about my work schedule or when a teacher explains a concept she’s already mastered—a quick dip of her chin that’s more about ending the conversation than understanding it.

“He spent the entire morning texting me for updates,” Lucy says, coming to his defense again.

Sloane huffs.

“What? He was worried,” Lucy says.

“So basically, it was like he was there,” Ethan says.

“Exactly.” Lucy smiles like that settles the matter. “He hated missing it.”

“Because he loves you.” I say, trying to give her some reassurance.

She offers a small, grateful smile.

A few minutes later, the back door opens, and Jensen walks in, still in his scrubs. He’s grinning as he walks over and kisses Lucy on the cheek.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Sloane says to him, and then turns and directs her attention to me. “Okay, you’re too somber. What’s going on? You have your ‘the world is ending, and it’s my fault’ face on.”

I sigh, and Ellie gives me a look—the one teenagers reserve for maximum guilt. “Apparently,” I say, using air quotes, “I’m the worst mother in Sonoma County.”

“Mom, I did not say that,” Ellie says, drawing out each syllable.

Lucy looks over at me. “What did you do now?”

“I missed her school awards program Thursday night,” I reply.

Sloane winces. “Ouch.”

“It was a work emergency, stitches and all.”