Chapter 10
On my next birthday, Caleb handed me a key.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
Then he showed me the little blue tag attached to it.
“It’s for my apartment,” he said. “I moved in yesterday. I wanted you to have a spare.”
I let out a breath. Caleb grinned and pulled me into a hug.
A year had passed since Evan’s family stood in the driveway filming me. The birthday still lived in my body. Certain sounds brought it back: a car door creaking, a soft electronic chime, a stranger saying the word retrieval.
I was learning what to do when that happened. I called someone. I took a breath. I looked at what was actually in front of me.
That morning, Caleb stood there healthy, impatient, and proud of his new apartment. The key belonged to a door he had chosen for himself.
“I’ll guard it with my life,” I said.
“Please don’t. I made three copies.”
Nia had invited us over for dinner. My father arrived early with a cake. He was a quiet man who had held himself together for Caleb and me during the search, then cried in my kitchen the day Caleb came home.
He hugged me first. Then he held Caleb at arm’s length and asked about his new job.
Caleb had been there six months. He still checked the office door twice some days before settling at his desk. He told us when work felt hard, and we believed him. He also told us when it felt good.
“It’s good today,” he said.
Dad smiled.
Brooke joined us later. She had moved into a small place across town and started her new job. She and Caleb had become friends slowly, through short conversations that neither forced.
She brought flowers and set them on the table.
“I checked,” she told me. “No cars.”
I laughed.
The divorce had been finalized in the spring. Evan had sent one letter through our lawyers afterward. He apologized without asking me to return. I read it and kept no copy.
I was not waiting for him to become someone I could trust again.
At dinner, we spoke about Caleb’s apartment, Nia’s garden, and the community center’s new reading room. My father asked whether I still planned to take the children there for their summer program.
“I’m leading the first one,” I said. “You should come see it.”
“I will.”
Brooke helped Nia clear the table. Caleb followed them with the plates, protesting when Nia said he was stacking them badly.
Their voices filled the kitchen.
I stepped onto the porch for a moment. The evening air was warm. Dad came out beside me with two cups of tea.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am.”
He waited.
“I used to think being safe meant knowing nobody could hurt us,” I said. “Now I know I can ask for help when I need it. Caleb can too.”
Dad looked through the window at my brother. Caleb was laughing at something Nia had said.
“I wish I could have kept all of this from happening,” Dad said.
“I know.”
He put his arm around me. I leaned into him.
Inside, someone called my name. The cake was ready.
Caleb had put too many candles on it. Nia turned off the lights. Brooke stood beside my father, and all four of them sang loudly and badly.
I looked at my brother while they sang. He met my eyes and smiled.
I blew out the candles.
Caleb asked what I had wished for.
I thought of the spare key in my pocket, of my father’s arm around my shoulders, of friends who knew when to stay and when to give us room.
May you like
“I already have it,” I said.
Caleb reached across the table for my hand. I held on, and we cut the cake together.
