After he left, the apartment felt like the aftermath of a storm.
Not calm. Just temporarily quiet.
Maya locked the door, checked it twice, then came back and uncovered the casserole. The smell of baked pasta, tomato sauce, garlic, and melted cheese filled the room so completely I nearly cried.
“Eat before you pass out,” she said.
“I’m not going to pass out.”
“You say that like fainting asks permission.”
She cut me a square and set it in front of me. I took two bites before I realized how hungry I was. My whole body felt shaky and hollow, like it had been running on panic instead of food for days.
Leo slept in the bassinet again, one hand stretched above his head.
Maya sat across from me and watched me chew.
“He’s going to come back with lawyers,” she said.
“I know.”
“His mother’s worse.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me the second he showed up.”
“I didn’t know he would.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
I had been hiding from the Collins family so hard that I had half convinced myself hiding was a strategy instead of just fear in nicer clothes.
Maya leaned back and crossed her arms. “We do this smart.”
We.
The word steadied me more than the food had.