Page 100 of The Embers That Remain

“It doesn’t happen all the time,” she continued. Lacy immediately shook her head.

“See? This is why I don’t talk about it.” She laughed bitterly. “You made that face.”

“What face?”

“The face that says you’re worried about me.”

I looked away because she wasn’t wrong. Between everything else happening in my life, somehow there was still room to worry about Lacy.

“I am worried about you.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The monitor behind us beeped softly. A phone rang somewhere down the hall. Someone laughed near the nurses’ station. Normal hospital sounds. A normal day carrying a conversation that felt anything but normal.

Lacy stared down at the coffee between her hands. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” The honesty in her voice broke something inside me.

“You don’t have to figure everything out today.”

Her eyes lifted. “They make it sound easy.”

“Who?”

“People.”

I knew exactly who she meant, the people who said just leave. As if leaving was simple like fear, finances, history, and hope didn’t twist together until walking away felt impossible. As if loving someone who hurt you wasn’t confusing or that starting over wasn’t absolutely terrifying. As if the unknown wasn’t sometimes more frightening than the demons you’d learned to live with.

“I know,” I said softly.

Her throat worked. “But it isn’t easy.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

“No, it’s not.”

Tears gathered in her eyes before she blinked them away. “No, it really isn’t.”

My hand covered hers, squeezing gently. “You deserve better, Lacy.”

The words hung between us as she worked to gather herself.

“You deserve to feel safe.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“You deserve to go home without wondering what version of him is waiting there.”

A shaky breath left her. “Cali . . .”

“You do.”

She closed her eyes briefly. When they opened again, they looked suspiciously bright. For a second, I expected the walls to go back up. Expected her to change the subject, laugh it off, or disappear behind the mask she wore so well.

Instead, she nodded once. “I’ll think about it.”

Relief and worry tangled together in my chest. “I’ll take that.”

A small smile appeared. The overhead speaker crackled to life, and both of us looked up—the lull was officially over. Lacy stood and picked up her laptop as I grabbed mine. Before she hurried away, she paused.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”