Page 61 of Silent Damage

“Yes, of course.”

I settle down in a chair and dig in. The beef stew hits my tongue, and I release a very satisfied groan in response.

“That was one of your favorites,” Linda remarks.

My body freezes. I’m transported back in time to when I came here for dinner much more often, when it was just her, Gabe, and me.

I never said that any one of her dishes was my favorite. I was just so happy to be away from home and eating with people who didn’t seem to hate my guts. But I always liked her stew a lot. Like…a lot, a lot.

“H-how did you know—“

“That the stew was your favorite?” she finishes. “You always made that sound when I fed you stew. It’s so satisfying when you cook a meal and hear someone appreciate it the way you do.”

I never knew she noticed. I never knew anyone paid attention to things like that.

A wave of guilt washes over me.

Am I being too harsh?

Is my anger justified?

“I hope I didn’t make you self-conscious.”

I look up and see her visibly concerned. Worried that—I don’t know—she’s ruining dinner or something?

“No,” I reply. “It’s not that.”

A moment of silence stretches for way too long. Everything feels awkward and uncomfortable.

“Is it hard being back?” Linda finally asks.

Her question throws me for a loop. It’s not hard. It’s fucking unbearable. “Yes.”

Linda inches closer and rests her hand on mine. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she assures me in a tone that I want to believe with my whole heart.

“Is he?” The question comes out before I can stop it.

“Gabe?” she asks.

“Doug,” I correct.

Linda stares at me for way too long. “I didn’t think so,” I say.

“No, I don’t want you to think that. It’s…he’s just…“

Here it comes. “What? Tell me.”

Linda looks out the window, the sunlight catching her brown eyes and turning them gold.

Just like Gabe’s.

“He’s afraid,” she finally says.

“Of me?”

She shakes her head. “Of himself.”

My eyes narrow. I grip the table to steady myself because my heart is pounding, and I don’t know why. “What do you mean?”