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I breathe a deep sigh of relief, inhaling the scent of home as the front door closes with a soft click behind me. I'm so happy to be home.
The rich scent of pot roast and the hum of familiar voices wrap around me like a blanket, a stark contrast to the cold outside.
“Emma left.” My mom's words slice through the warmth, leaving cold in their wake. I see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, ringing a dish towel between her hands.
With quick steps, I make my way to her and pull her into a hug. “I just saw her at the flower shop. She was talking to May.” She can't possibly be gone.
“She packed a bag.” Alex says from behind me, and I turn to see him standing behind us, his knuckles white on the handholds of his crutches. “And she left.” He sounds lost.
“She’s been... off lately,” Mom says, echoing my thoughts.
I remembered how she’d walked right past me and out the door without responding, even though I'd said her name. Avoidance seems to have become her new normal lately. But I never in a million years would have expected her to up and leave.
“Did you say anything to her when she left?” I ask Alex, who shakes his head with an ashamed expression.
“I didn't want to pry.”
Emma has always been a very private person, but she has never up and left without telling anyone where she was going or when she'd be back. I cross my arms and lean against the fridge, trying to puzzle through what's going on. A sharp, insistent worry gnaws at me as my thoughts become increasingly more frantic with no answers in sight.
“Has anyone tried to text or call her?” My question seems to have an impact as Alex pulls his phone out of his pocket and mom walks over to the counter to pick hers up. “I’ll reach out to May and see if Emma told her anything.” Of course, I know that May will not answer the phone. So, with a deep breath, I prepare myself to go for another walk in the chilly, cold outside.
When I had taken over the flower shop, it hadn't even crossed my mind to kick May out of the upstairs apartment attached to it. Of course, I generally didn't invade her privacy either, but this feels important.
Without a backward glance, I make my way out into the cold. With quick steps bordering on the edge of panic, I make my way to the flower shop in record time. Unlocking the door, I freeze in place as I catch May and Fredrik talking.
Both go silent, studying me, clearly noticing my panic. “What’s wrong?” Fredrick asks, his velvety tone more comforting than I’d like to admit.
“Emma left.” I glance at May. “Did she tell you anything when she was here earlier?”
May seems stunned as she shakes her head. “No. She just stopped in to give me a hug and see how I’m doing.” As she says the words, I see realization dawn in her expression. “She was saying goodbye without saying goodbye.”
Fear fills me, threatening to spill over like a dam after heavy rains and floods. I pull out my phone and send Emma a text. Where are you? Please be okay.
I can't just stand around waiting, but I'm not sure what else I can do.
“Have you tried talking to the police?” Fredrick asks.
I shake my head. “She's eighteen, she packed a bag, and left of her own accord.”
I’m not sure there’s any use in reporting her missing with what I know. Maybe she decided she was done, that she needed to get out and escape while she still could. Maybe she didn’t want to be like me, an adult living at home struggling to keep the family afloat. I couldn’t blame her if that was her thinking.
Fredrick steps toward me with a glance at May. “I could take you out looking for her.” My heart thumps behind my ribs at the painful thought of spending more time with him. Forgetting him would be so much easier if he wasn’t making sweet - though confusing - gestures.
But Emma is more important than my history with Fredrick. “Yes, please,” I say softly, meeting his gaze, grateful for his help when I need him most.
Chapter Seven
Fredrick
Even the calming hum of my car's engine doesn't ease the tension between us.
“Want to turn on music?” I ask, hoping to diffuse her discomfort. I glance in her direction and notice that her knees are drawn to her chest, with her arms wrapped around them, like she's trying to hold herself together.
Streetlights fly past, casting moving shadows over her face and deepening the worry etched into her features. She gives her head a slight, subtle shake. I can't help but be worried about Emma, who's out there somewhere, lost or hiding. This isn't like her. Not at all. It's possible that she's changed from the little girl I used to know since I’ve been gone, but nobody changes that much, do they?
“Everything will be fine,” I say, the words sounding untrue, even to my own ears.
Lila’s head turns slowly, her blue eyes seeking out certainty in mine, even though I have none to give. “You don’t know that,” she says, her voice low and scared.
