Page 43

Mia giggles, grinning as she looks around the table. “I think I can keep up.”

Kieran catches my eye then, a gentle reassurance in his gaze as he passes me a plate. “You alright?” he asks, leaning closer for a moment.

“I think so,” I whisper, letting out a slow breath as I meet his eyes, feeling steadier with each passing moment.

We all settle at the table, plates piled high, coffee cups steaming.

And for the first time in longer than I can remember, it feels like home.

Not just because of the house—but because of them .

The warmth, the laughter, the peaceful rhythm of being wanted without having to earn it.

Not the sort of home you perform for. The kind built by the people who see you, and let you stay anyway.

Much later in the afternoon, Kieran and I sit outside on the porch swing, wrapped in a blanket he draped over my shoulders without a word. Mia’s laughter drifts through the open window, Brian’s voice weaving between it as they battle over chess.

Kieran passes me a glass of wine and keeps a beer for himself, fingers brushing mine as he leans back. That easy silence falls between us again. The kind that isn’t awkward, just… patient.

“She seems happy,” Kieran says, voice quiet beside me. “Dad’s in his element. He used to do the same thing with me—but I was a sore loser.”

“It’s sweet,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around the stem of my wineglass.

Kieran turns toward me. “So, how are you holding up?”

I inhale, letting the air settle in my lungs before I exhale. “I don’t even know,” I admit, staring down at my wine. “Part of me feels like I should be falling apart. But out here… I feel like I can breathe. Which just makes me feel guilty.”

Kieran says nothing at first, but his hand edges closer on the blanket between us—close, but not touching. “You don’t have to carry it all, Ellie,” he says. “Not here. Not with me.”

The words hit harder than I expect. I blink against the sting at the corners of my eyes. He says it like it’s obvious. Like I’m not a burden. Like it’s allowed—to lean on someone and not apologise for the weight.

“I didn’t think I’d find this much peace here,” I murmur, my fingers tightening around the glass. “Not after everything. But I do. And that scares me.”

Kieran nods like he understands, his gaze fixed on something far off. “Being scared doesn’t mean you’re doing the wrong thing.”

Through the window, Mia beams as she shouts, “checkmate!” and Brian groans, throwing his hands in the air. I laugh before I can help it, and Kieran turns to glance at me, a small flicker of something warm in his eyes.

“She’s going to destroy him.”

“She already has,” he murmurs. “And he’s loving every second.”

I glance at him. For a long moment, we just sit there, breathing the same air, wrapped in the same silence.

“I’m not expecting you to lay it all out,” he says. “You don’t owe me anything. But when you called me the other night…” He pauses, jaw tightening. “I’ve never felt so useless in my life. Hearing you like that, knowing I couldn’t just… hold you—it killed me.”

I look away, throat tightening.

“I want to be here for you, Ellie,” he continues, quiet and steady. “Whatever that looks like. I’m not going anywhere. I need you to know that.”

I close my eyes for a second, the weight of his words landing square in my chest. His certainty. His care. And me, not knowing how to hold either without flinching.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself I didn’t have a choice,” I whisper.

“That I just had to endure it. For Mia. For the version of life that looked right from the outside.” My voice trembles.

“But being here… seeing her laugh, seeing me laugh—it’s like I’m remembering parts of myself I thought were gone. ”

Kieran doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just listens.

“But this isn’t forever,” I pause. “We’re guests. I can’t just—stay here like it doesn’t cost anyone anything.”

I pause, swallowing hard. “Because it does cost something. Space. Time. You. And I’m already… too much.”

The words scrape raw on their way out, but I can’t stop them.

“I hate feeling like a problem people have to solve. Like someone you make room for out of obligation,” I whisper. “And I knew you’d answer—I knew you’d show up. That’s why I called you. Because in that moment… I needed you.”

My voice trembles. “But even needing you feels selfish. Like I’ve dragged you into something heavy and broken when you didn’t ask for any of it.”

Kieran’s grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it steadies me.

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” he says, low and sure. “I want to be the person you call. I want to be here—exactly where I am. With you.”

He reaches out then, covering my hand with his. His thumb strokes across my knuckles in slow, grounding circles.

“You’re not a guest in my life, Ellie,” he says. “You never were.”

The words undo something in me. They pull loose the threads I’ve worked so hard to keep knotted. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t even know how to believe him. So, I just let the moment stretch out.

Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, sharp and jarring.

I don’t need to look to know who it is.

But I do anyway.

And the pit opens in my stomach all over again.

David [19:03]

Ellie enough of this. Stop acting childish and come home. We need to talk. Now.

It’s all there. The tone. The control. The veiled threat hidden beneath the illusion of reason.

I lock the screen, slipping the phone back into my pocket like it burns. The quiet between us thickens again. But this time it feels different. Heavier.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

Kieran just shakes his head. “Don’t be.”

When I look at him again, his eyes haven’t changed. No judgement. No pity. Just quiet understanding.

He sees me.

All of me.

And somehow, he’s still here. Still choosing to be here.

And God, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.