Chapter 35 The E-Mail
Jake was arguing with the espresso machine again.
I leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms folded, watching as he jabbed the button repeatedly. "You know yelling at it won’t make it go faster, right?"
Jake turned around with a dramatic sigh. "Why do we own a machine that hates me?"
"It doesn’t hate you," I said with a smirk. "You just have no patience."
"I have patience where it counts."
"Like when you’re gaming and respawning five times in a row without throwing the controller?"
Josh wandered in, still towel-drying his hair. "Or the time he tried to assemble a bookshelf without instructions and ended up with a triangle."
Jake shot him a look. "It was modern art."
I laughed, stealing his mug and taking a sip of his coffee. He made an outraged sound and tried to take it back.
"Mine now."
"You are lucky you're cute."
"I know."
Josh grinned and reached over to grab his own mug. The smell of coffee filled the space, warm and familiar. Outside the kitchen windows, the sky was clear, sunlight bouncing off patches of lingering snow.
Mike appeared a few minutes later, already dressed and carrying his laptop under one arm. He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "You’re up early."
"Blame Jake and the espresso machine."
"Hey," Jake protested. "It’s a temperamental beast, and I am taming it."
I rolled my eyes. "I was thinking... now that we’re back, I might want to look into going back to school."
Mike paused, set his laptop down, and focused on me. "Yeah? That’s a big step. What are you thinking of studying?"
"Psychology, maybe social work," I said, fingers wrapped around the warm mug. "Something where I can actually help people."
Mike studied me for a second longer, then nodded. "Because of everything you’ve been through?"
I nodded. "Kind of. But also because of how Drew’s helped me. I think… I want to be that person for someone else."
His expression softened. "You’d be amazing at that."
I smiled. "Thanks. I know it won’t happen overnight, but it’s something I want to start planning."
Josh leaned against the counter beside me. "We’ll help you figure it out. Whatever you need."
"Just don’t let Jake help you with homework," Mike muttered.
"Rude," Jake said. "I’ll have you know I graduated with honors."
"In gym, maybe."
Their bickering faded into the background as I opened my email on my phone, casually scrolling through until one subject line stopped me cold.
Parole Hearing Notification: Inmate Leonard Marshall
My breath hitched.
The room suddenly felt too warm, too small. I stared at the screen, rereading the line over and over. A fresh wave of nausea churned in my stomach.
Josh noticed first. "Emmy?"
I handed him the phone, unable to speak.
He read the screen and his expression hardened instantly. "What the hell is this doing in your inbox without a warning?"
"It’s just a notification," I said, my voice thin. "They said they’d notify me if anything changed with his status, but... I didn’t expect it so soon."
Mike crossed the kitchen in two strides and wrapped his arms around me from behind. "He’s not getting out. There’s no way. Not with everything he’s done."
"Does Patrick know?" Drew asked, walking in and taking the phone from Josh.
"Not yet."
Josh handed the phone back to me gently. "You want us to tell him?"
I shook my head. "No. I’ll do it. Later. I just… need a minute."
Drew placed a steady hand on my back, warm and grounding. "You’re safe. Here, with us. No matter what happens with him, that doesn’t change."
I nodded, swallowing hard.
Jake, who had been unusually quiet, stepped forward and handed me a slice of banana bread. "Here. Eat something. Low blood sugar makes panic worse."
I took it with a shaky smile. "Thanks."
We moved into the living room after that, the weight of the email still lingering in the air, but softened by their presence. Patrick texted from his meeting to check in, and I sent a short reply letting him know we’d talk when he got home. I didn’t want to drop the news through a screen.
By midafternoon, the house had settled again. Drew and Josh had gone out to grab groceries, and Jake had disappeared into the media room with Mike to set up a new VR headset. I curled up in one of the reading chairs with a blanket and tried to focus on a book, but my mind kept wandering.
It wasn’t fear exactly. Not anymore. But the idea that my father could get out, that he might try to hurt me again, wasn’t something I could ignore. Not when the memory of what he’d already done still lived in my bones.
Patrick came home just after five. He walked into the kitchen, loosened his tie, and kissed my forehead before asking, "Something’s wrong. What happened?"
So I told him.
And like I knew he would, he listened. His expression didn’t change much, but his jaw ticked once, his hand tightening on the back of the chair.
"He won’t get near you. I’ll make sure of that."
I believed him.
He pulled me in close, pressed a kiss to my temple, and whispered, "We’ve come too far to let him drag you back into that darkness. You’re ours now."
I leaned into him, letting that reassurance settle in my chest.
Because I was. Theirs. And I wasn’t facing anything alone ever again.