Page 67 of Deacon

“As opposed to an on-duty crime?” Evan asked. “Do cops commit those?”

That cracked me too. A laugh slipped out, sharp and unwilling but real. “I said what I said.”

Evan grinned like he had accomplished something important, while Jade scrubbed at her wet cheeks with the heel of one hand. I brushed her hair away from her forehead, the rage inside me settling into something steadier now that I could touch her and know she was here.

“I wish you’d told me earlier how bad it was.”

“Mom, it really isn’t that bad.” Jade gave me a tired shrug. “I keep to myself. Mostly they leave me alone because they’re afraid of Uncle Matty. Only once in a while do they say stuff. Honestly, it could be worse.”

The casual way she said it tightened my chest more than tears could have. Jade had learned to live around cruelty until endurance felt ordinary.

Evan stepped back and pulled himself upright with offended grandeur. “I absolutely abhor this town. Wicker Falls wraps itself in church clothes and homemade pie, then spends the rest of the week acting like gossip is a sacrament and cruelty is a community sport.”

Jade gave another watery laugh.

He straightened his cardigan like he was preparing to address Congress. “Frankly, I would like to be interviewed for a documentary when this place eventually implodes under the weight of its own hypocrisy.”

That one got me too. Jade smiled through the last traces of tears, and seeing it hurt because I suddenly pictured all the other times she had wiped her face alone before walking back into the house and pretending everything was fine.

Evan clapped his hands once. “Okay. Now that the heavy emotional devastation is over, I say we proceed with emergency treatment.” He pointed toward the living room like a general directing troops. “Kissing Booth movie marathon. Snacks. Popcorn. Sugary drinks. To the television, ladies. Healing awaits.”

Jade looked at me, and I looked back at her. We both laughed before she headed toward the couch, moving a little easier than she had when she walked into the kitchen. Evan immediately began rifling through my cabinets like he contributed to the rent.

I stayed beside the table for another moment, watching my daughter disappear into the living room while the morning rearranged itself inside me. Her quieter answers about school suddenly carried weight. So did the independence that had arrived too quickly and the easy way Chloe’s name had become an answer whenever I asked where Jade was going. I had missed the shape when the pieces came one at a time.

Now I saw it.

I cleared away the breakfast cooling untouched on the table before joining them in the living room. Evan was already demanding popcorn before he perished, and Jade rolled her eyes at him in a way so much like mine that another laugh tugged at me.

The harder conversations would come.

For today, Jade had trusted me with the truth, and I intended to show her she never had to carry it alone again.

18

Jade

Jade’s face already hurt from laughing. Evan had spent most of the movie insulting every male character with the confidence of someone personally betrayed by fictional men, and Lila had finally stopped watching Jade with that careful edge she had carried since breakfast. Somewhere between Evan’s running commentary and the junk food already scattered across the coffee table, the apartment had started feeling almost normal again.

“That man,” Evan announced, pausing the movie and pointing at the television with deep offense, “has the emotional range of a damp paper towel, and I refuse to let any of you pretend otherwise.”

Lila laughed beside Jade, tired but genuine, while Jade pressed the sleeve of her sweatshirt to her mouth. A knock interrupted whatever Evan planned to say next, and he whipped toward the door. “If that is a delivery person with mozzarella sticks, I’ll convert.”

“It’s probably Blue,” Lila said as she pushed herself off the couch.

A few seconds later, Blue followed her back into the living room carrying a paper bag in one hand and a grocery sack in the other. She had changed out of her scrubs, trading them for jeans and a sweater, and her blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders. “I heard there was a crisis,” she said, lifting the bag. “So I brought fries and sugar.”

Evan pressed a hand to his chest. “You angelic blonde menace. Marry me.”

Blue handed him the bag without breaking stride. “Not if you keep picking movies like these.”

Jade laughed again, and Evan’s head snapped toward her with ridiculous triumph. “There she is. That’s the sound I wanted. Again. Give it to me again.”

“You’re so weird.”

“And yet,” Evan said, reclaiming the recliner like a throne, “here I am, saving this family one terrible movie at a time.”

He hit play, and the room settled around them. Popcorn crowded the coffee table beside candy wrappers and half-empty glasses, while Jade sat curled into the corner of the couch beneath a blanket. Her sketchbook rested untouched beside her hip. She had cried enough that morning to leave her eyes swollen and her head aching, but nobody in the room looked at her like she had become fragile because of it.