Page 38 of Remain

Three dots appear immediately. Not only does New York City never sleep, but apparently neither does Lena.

That sounds ominous. Are we talking “small-town emotional reckoning” Christmas or “slept with your high school sweetheart” Christmas?

I close my eyes, and everything rushes in at once. Erik’s hand at my back, the way his fingertips lingered and traced my skin. The photographs trembling between my fingers. My mother’s life unfolding in ways I never knew how to ask about, stretching wider than I ever imagined. And the way he saidI knowwhen I told him I was leaving, like he understood without needing anything more.

Worse. And better. I don’t know yet.

The pause this time is longer. When she replies, her tone has shifted.

Do you want me to tell you to come home? Or to stay?

That’s the problem. Everyone thinks it’s one or the other.

I set my phone down and pad quietly into the hallway, careful not to wake anyone. Aunt Carol’s house is warm even at this hour, heat humming softly through the vents. Family photos line the walls, everything from birthdays, weddings, faces I recognize and some I don’t. My mother appears inmore frames than I expect, smiling in moments I wasn’t there for.

I pause in the kitchen.

The mug I grew up seeing in my mom’s hand sits drying on the rack, clean now, carefully placed there last night by Aunt Carol like an act of remembrance. It makes me smile knowing she has her ownKEEPbox too.

I rest my fingers against the counter and draw in a slow breath, grounding myself in the cool solidity beneath my skin. Grief has a way of finding me when I am not looking for it, slipping in softly, already knowing where to settle, how to make itself felt known. This time, it’s not as sharp. It’s just there, present.

I pick up my phone again to reply to Lena.

Can you just… be there when I land?

Her reply comes instantly.

Always. But Sav, you don’t sound like someone who’s done yet.

I swallow hard, because she’s right.

I’m not done with the boxes I didn’t open.

With the photos I haven’t asked about.

With the man who didn’t ask me to stay but somehow made leaving feel heavier than it ever has.

My phone buzzes again.

A different name.

Morning. Just checking to see if you’re up and alert. You never liked mornings or warm coats…

Erik.

I lean back against the counter, the cool surface grounding my fluttering heartbeat.

I am. Thank you for your concern. Just finishing up and then I’m heading out.

There is a pause long enough that I can picture him standing in his kitchen, barefoot and half awake, wearing nothing but boxers and a worn robe he never bothers to tie, the fabric hanging open, his body still warm from bed, skin smelling faintly of sleep and musk, like if I were there I could reach out and feel the heat of him without even touching.

Drive safe.

Two words. Nothing else.

It shouldn’t pull a seam from me but it does.

I press my lips together, forcing a breath, then type before I can overthink it.