Page 146 of Faultlines

“No.”

His expression falls. Before he can speak, I continue, “But I understand more than I did this morning.”

“That’s good. Thank you for coming tonight—and for agreeing to come back next week.”

“Don’t mistake my actions for forgiveness, Ethan. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Ellie. I want us to be as amicable as possible for her sake.” My voice is steady, even if my hands betray me.

He doesn’t say anything else, as I climb into my SUV and pull out. In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of him standing beside his truck, watching me leave. But I force myself to look away.

I leave the radio off during my drive, allowing my thoughts to wander. I guess I knew that Ethan blamed my work for the distance that grew between us. Sometimes I wonder if, had I not gone back to work, none of this would have happened.

Lucy is in the kitchen when I arrive, the scent of fresh lemonade in the air.

“That bad?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” The words are a whisper.

Her eyebrows rise with a silent question.

Before either of us can continue, Sloane wanders in, carrying a basket of freshly laundered clothes that smell of fabric softener. She takes one look at me, sets the basket down on the nearest surface, and abandons whatever chore she was pretending to do.

“Well?” she prods.

“Do you ever ease into conversations?” I ask.

“No.” Her reply is blunt.

I can’t argue with that.

“I assumed that in all of this, he was going to blame me.”

Lucy sets down her glass with a soft clink. “What do you mean?”

“I think part of me has been waiting for it.” The admission feels ugly.

Lucy reaches across the counter and places her hand over mine.

Sloane pulls out a chair and sits beside me. “You were never the problem.” Her voice is firm.

“I know that logically.”

With that confession, I notice the two of them exchange a look—one of those silent conversations only they have. Lucy bites her lip. Sloane exhales through her nose and gives the smallest nod, as if conceding they’ve put something off long enough.

My pulse quickens. “What?” I ask, looking between them.

Lucy opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“It’s nothing,” Sloane says.

I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve both officially forgotten how to lie. Did something happen?”

Lucy searches through the oversized tote bag resting on the table. “I wasn’t sure if you should see this.”

Sloane groans under her breath. “I told you we should’ve just thrown it away.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Lucy says gently.

She sighs. “I know.”