Page 23 of Faultlines

“Thanks for being a good sport. I wouldn’t have wanted to act out that scene with anyone else.”

Her praise catches me off guard, warm in a way I wasn’t prepared for. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt wanted like this.

“You can thank Ellie. I’m pretty sure I was volunteered before I could object.”

A few minutes later, we all head to the bus. As I follow Ellie toward the exit, I glance over my shoulder. Brooke lingers at the back of the line listening to a student. I understand why Ellie is drawn to her, having spent time with her today.

When the bus pulls back into the middle school parking lot, the sun is beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. Students spill out in noisy clusters while parents wait along the curb. Ellie bounds down the bus steps, still talking about the day.

“I can’t believe you got up on stage, Dad.”

“I can’t believe my daughter volunteered me.”

“You were good.”

“I was traumatized.”

Her laugh is loud and unguarded, and I’m not ready for the day to end. I turn to her. “How do you feel about grabbing dinner before we head home?”

Her eyes light up. “Can we get burgers?”

“Why I bother pretending there are other food groups, I can’t say.” I snort.

We find a booth at The Hitching Post, each ordering a cheeseburger and sharing a basket of fries smothered in ketchup.

She tells me what I missed-that Mona was crying before the balcony scene even started, that the actor who knocked over the prop sword missed his cue, that she heard two of the chorus girls fighting backstage about someone named Derek.

She watches my face as she talks, checking that I’m following. I was there, I saw the play, but I didn’t see any of this. I love watching her as she animatedly relives the day.

Halfway through dinner, an idea occurs to me. “What if we bring your mom something?”

Ellie pauses with a French fry halfway to her mouth. “Do you think she’d like that?”

I know what she’s actually asking. You think she’d be happy to see us? “I think she’d love it. I’m sure she wants to hear all about the field trip. And she’s still at the office.” Before we’re done eating, we order Claire’s favorite chicken salad, an extra coffee, and a slice of lemon cake.

“Don’t text her,” she says as we exit the diner. “It has to be a surprise.”

As we pull into the parking lot at Juniper House, Ellie is vibrating with excitement.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SEISMIC SILENCE

Claire

We’re deep into rewriting resident safety protocols when a muffled voice drifts from the hallway. I glance up, my focus fracturing. Is that Ellie? The door eases open, and there she is with Ethan, her face glowing in the dim light.

“We brought you dinner,” she says, holding up a brown takeout bag, its paper crinkling. The scent of roasted chicken wafts into the air.

My expression softens, and I walk over and give her a hug. “Oh, my favorite.”

Then my gaze shifts behind me to the people waiting patiently around the conference room table. “I’m so sorry. We’re in the middle of something.”

Ellie goes still before speaking. “O—Kay.”

“No, it’s just⁠—”

Ethan glances down at the table before meeting my eyes. “We can wait,” he offers, his voice a low rumble.