Page 31 of Penalty to the Heart

Erin’s eyes are red and swollen, the wet strands of her hair glued to her cheeks. She must have steeled herself to stop crying the minute she heard the sound of me inserting the key into her front door.

“E, you have to eat.”

She just turns her face away from me and hides it under the blanket.

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

I swiftly snap the blanket off her.

“Well, I am, and you know how much I hate eating alone. So, I’m making something for us to eat. Okay?”

“Fine,” she relents with another noncommittal shrug. “Just don’t burn down my kitchen.”

“No promises.” I offer her a smile.

But before I go into the kitchen, I check on the girls, happy to see them both tucked in their beds, sound asleep. Erin might have given up on taking care of herself, but she is still present enough to ensure her girls are well taken care of.

Like me, Erin has her own routines.

She wakes up bright and early every morning to tend to her daughters, making sure that everything is as normal as it can be. It’s only after they’ve gone to bed that Erin allows herself to feel.

To wallow in her misery.

When I finally enter the kitchen—a place that used to hold the heart of this house—I check the refrigerator and see that it’s full of the girls’ favorite foods. I don’t dare touch any of it since I know it must have taken all of Erin’s energy to cook it, so instead, I open a cupboard to pull out some mac and cheese.

There’s no way I can’t fuck that up.

Or at least I thought.

Somehow, I managed to clump the macaroni together and coat the cheese powder evenly to it. Since there isn’t another box of the stuff for me to make a second attempt, I transfer the mess into two bowls and return to the living room, where Erin remains enveloped in darkness.

“Here, E. Eat this,” I hand a bowl to her. “It’s not fine dining, but it will do in a pinch.”

She stares at the food and scrunches her nose at it before taking a bite.

“I really need to teach you how to cook. This is abhorrent,” she chastises, but the little smile that tugs at the corner of her lips eases the knot in my chest.

“Do you want me to order takeout instead?” I ask.

“No. This will do. But if I throw up later, you’re on cleanup duty.”

“Deal.” I chuckle before sitting down beside her and grabbing a good spoonful of the stuff. “Fuck. You weren’t kidding. This is bad,” I groan.

“So bad.” She laughs softly, the melodic sound unfamiliar to us both.

Like it shouldn’t exist… like her laughter shouldn’t exist in a world where Jack is unable to hear it.

“How is he?” Erin asks, placing the half-eaten bowl on the side table.

“Good. He looked better today,” I lie.

“Really?” she asks with optimism.

“A little,” I lie again, not having it in me to tell her that he looks exactly the same as the last time she saw him.

“Your mom offered to babysit the girls tomorrow afternoon so I can visit,” she says, wanting me to tell her if it’s a good idea.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask instead.

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