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His eyebrows lift.

“You ran it?”

“Yes.”

“How many people?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“That’s a lot.”

“It felt like a hundred most days.”

He smiles.

A real smile this time.

It changes him.

For one painful second, I see the nineteen-year-old boy who waited beneath the oak tree for me.

Then the smile disappears.

Not because he’s angry.

Because we both remember.

Eighteen years stand between us.

I add cream to my coffee and sit at the island.

Sean takes the stool across from me instead of the one beside me.

I’m grateful.

I’m disappointed.

Both feelings make me angry with myself.

“How long did Sage stay awake?” he asks.

“About ten minutes after you took her upstairs.”

“She said she wasn’t tired.”

“She nearly fell asleep walking.”

“She argued with me about that.”

Sean looks toward the hallway.

“She locked the door.”

My hand tightens around the mug.

“Did something happen?”

“No. She asked whether the lock worked.”