Page 32 of Coming Home

Somewhere around the third paragraph, the text dissolved. I stopped just reading words and started bleeding into them. My voice dropped lower and softer than I'd planned, and the sentences stopped being ink on a page and became a physical weight in my throat. I had lived every syllable of this material.

I knew exactly what it meant to wake up exhausted before the sun even reached the windows. I knew what it meant to take pills that fixed one broken part of you while ruining three others. I knew what it meant to hurt where no one could see it, to smile for a whole room while my own body quit on me the second I was alone.

I let all of that sorrow, all of that resilience, leak into my voice without naming it. I let it stain the edges of the audio.

When I finished, a heavy silence hung in my headphones before the producer behind the glass finally gave me a slow, reverent thumbs-up. Nadia was grinning through the double-paned window, doing a silent, ecstatic clap that looked like she was trying to catch invisible butterflies. And through the wider studio glass, past the dim corridor, I could see Ralph in the lobby.

He was leaning far forward in his vinyl chair, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly toward the small speaker mounted on the wall. Even from this distance, even through the glare of the glass, the stillness in his frame told me he'd been listening to every single breath I drew.

I pulled off the headphones and spent a long moment pretending my hands weren't trembling.

Nadia cornered me the second I stepped into the hallway, wrapping me in a hug so aggressive it lifted my toes off the floor. "You were incredible, Em. Like, actually heart-wrenching. The producer already wants to book you for next month's series."

"It's just reading copy, Nads."

"It's not just reading and you know it. Now go home with your gorgeous Olympian who looks like he was sculpted by someone with a personal vendetta against ordinary men, and text me everything tonight."

"There is nothing to text."

"There is a Russian novel to text. Go. I have a live show to produce."

Ralph was already on his feet by the time I reached the lobby, his keys in one hand. He tossed them to me in a clean arc, and I caught them on instinct.

"This is becoming a habit," I murmured, staring down at the cold metal in my palm.

"Good habits should be."

I rolled my eyes to hide the small smile tugging at my lips and drove us back to the hills.

The house smelled different the exact second he unlocked the heavy front door.

Food. Real, rich, honest food. Not the stale ghost of last night's takeout or the cold, masculine nothingness of Ralph's normally sterile kitchen. This was garlic, crushed rosemary, and something deeply sweet underneath—a warm, layered aroma that filled the entire first floor, making my stomach tighten with a sharp hunger I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge in months.

The refrigerator, when I pulled it open, had been transformed. Small glass containers were lined up in neat, military rows on every shelf, each one meticulously labeled with a handwritten note taped to the lid in a sharp, elegant script.

Chicken and wild rice. Heat 4 mins, stir halfway.

Another read:

Lentil soup, Mom's recipe. She WILL call and ask if you ate it.

A third:

Roasted root vegetables. Yes, Ralph, sweet potatoes count as vegetables. Do not argue with me.

A bright yellow sticky note on the top shelf simply read:

Eat the soup first. I'm not playing with you.

I read every note, my heart swelling with a strange, sweet ache. Then I closed the door and turned to look at Ralph, who was leaning against the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

"When did your girlfriend come by?" I asked, keeping my voice light, though my chest felt strangely tight.

"Why?" He tilted his head, a slow, lazy smirk spreading across his face. "Are you jealous, Carrow?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Brandt."

"It was Athena," he said, his eyes dropping to my face. "She has a key. She must've raided her own pantry and stocked the place while we were at the station."