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Conlin wipes at his mouth. “The neighbor? The one you already pissed off?”
“I didn’t piss her off. I played music.”
“Too loud?” Lachlin asks.
“That’s subjective.”
All three of them answer at once. “No, it isn’t.”
I look toward Mom. “Are you going to defend me?”
She gives it a moment. “How loud?”
“Not important.”
Conlin leans back in his chair, still grinning. “So, the angry neighbor woman you’ve been annoying is about to repeatedly stab you with needles.”
“When you say it that way, it sounds like a bad idea.”
“That’s because it is.”
Briar shifts on the couch, and Lachlin’s attention immediately snaps toward her.
She catches him looking. “I’m moving, not going into labor.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You stopped breathing.”
Conlin laughs and lifts his beer toward Lachlin. “You know hovering doesn’t make the baby come faster, right?”
Lachlin tells him exactly where he can stick his comments.
The conversation moves on to Jack, hospital bags, whether Mom has bought too many newborn clothes, and Conlin’s insistence that no baby needs that many blankets.
Ruby keeps sliding back into my thoughts, but not because of the argument at the front door or even the way she looked today, all professional and intense. It’s the questions that keep circling.
What mattered? What changed? What did I miss?
They sounded simple when she asked them. I’m starting to realize they weren’t.
It’s after nine when I get back to the duplex. Ruby’s side is lit up, warm yellow light spilling through the front window as I let myself into my place and drop my keys on the counter.
The living room still looks half finished, with guitar cases stacked near the wall, boxes I haven’t opened, and the amp sitting where I left it. I should unpack, but instead I stand there listening. A cabinet closes next door. Footsteps cross the floor, faint through the wall, followed by the sound of water running for a few seconds before everything goes quiet again.
Normal neighbor sounds.
My gaze drifts toward the guitar leaning beside the speaker. Usually, I’d pick it up without thinking, but tonight I leave it where it is and drop onto the couch instead.
Ruby’s questions keep circling through my head.
What do you actually remember?
I thought I knew when I booked the appointment. Six months in Europe. The biggest tour of my life. Something worth marking permanently.
Now I’m not sure the cities are the part I want on my skin at all.
And I can’t stop wondering what Ruby is going to do with everything I told her. What she’ll pull from the stories, the places, and the moments I didn’t realize mattered until she asked.
