Page 123 of Faultlines

“Come on in.”

The office feels smaller today. The couch sits beneath a window, surrounded by overflowing plants and crowded bookshelves. A small fountain gurgles in the corner.

Normally, the room feels like a soft cocoon. Today, it feels like a trap.

Mom takes one end of the couch, her back ramrod straight. Dad takes the other, sinking into the cushions. The empty cushion between them might as well be an ocean, vast and uncrossable. I select the armchair next to Dr. Matthews, the worn fabric now inviting, as I refuse to sit between them.

Dr. Matthews settles into her chair and opens a notebook. A clock ticks somewhere behind me, and I focus on the soft fiber of my sleeves.

“I’m glad all three of you came.”

I stare at a hairline crack in the ceiling, willing it to widen, to offer some distraction.

“Why do you think I brought all three of you in here together today?”

Mom answers first. “Because… this year has been hard on all of us.” The answer sounds polished, like she’s giving a presentation at work instead of sitting in family therapy.

Dad keeps his eyes on me when he speaks, “Because I hurt the people I love.”

Dr. Matthews nods. Then she looks at me as I continue picking at a loose thread on my sleeve, the small action a desperate anchor.

“They’re worried about me after my outburst in the school auditorium.”

I still refuse to look at Dad. I don’t think I’ve met his eyes since that night at the theater.

“I feel like I need to pick sides,” I mutter, twisting my sleeve until the fabric bites into my fingers. “Like Dad is the villain. But that’s not—” I stop, my throat tightening.

I look at Dr. Matthews because I can’t look at either of them.

“Mom was always at work. And Dad...” My voice catches. “Dad became distracted.” I work past the knot in my throat. “Now I know why.”

“You’re right. I missed all of it. I left you standing there alone, and if I could go back, I would. Ellie, I love you so much. You are the most important person in my life.” Mom’s voice breaks on the last sentence, and something in me begins to soften.

Dad doesn’t speak. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. When I turn to look at him, his hands are clasped so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

When he finally looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed.

“I love you, Ellie, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” His voice comes out rough and gravelly.

I look away.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

REALIGNMENT

Ethan

Steam curls from my coffee mug as I stand at the kitchen window. Two months ago, I expected the end of our marriage to be loud—screaming matches, lawyers, endless arguments.

Instead, it’s this. Room after room filled with silence.

I carry my coffee into the family room and lower myself onto the couch.

Across from me, Ellie’s school picture still sits on the mantel, that gap-toothed smile she hated, but I loved. Claire’s favorite throw blanket remains draped over the armchair where she used to sit in the evenings, one corner tucked under the cushion the way she always left it. Sometimes I think about folding it up, putting it in the closet, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

When Claire first moved out, I offered her the house. Hell, I practically begged her to take it. I told her Ellie should stay here, and that I’d find an apartment and figure things out. But she refused.

I got the house.