EMBER’S POV
I do not know what to do with that.
I’ve spent my whole life being the woman people look through. Being looked at like this, like I am something, makes my skin feel two sizes too small.
I am busy, not knowing what to do with my own face when one of them just—leaves.
She breaks right out of the line, a little older woman, small and fast, and she is already crying before she gets to us, which, I want to be clear, no one had warned me was on the agenda.
“You brought someone home.” She says it to Knox, and then she says it again, quieter, like she doesn’t believe her own mouth. “Oh, dear. Ten years. Ten years and you finally brought someone home.”
Beside me, something in him goes soft. First soft thing I’ve felt off him in hours.
“It’s late,” he says. “You should be asleep,
