Page 66 of When We Are Complete

She shrugs, her hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets. “It’s just school stuff. Nothing major.”

But I know that look. It’s the same one I used to give when I was her age—trying to act as though everything was fine, especially in front of my mom. The urge to reassure her, to tell her it’s okay not to be okay, rises in me, and the irony almost makes me laugh.

Before I can say anything, Jake walks into the room. The second Adele sees him, her face closes off, a switch has been flipped. Her poker face is on, and she’s unreadable.

“All right, I ordered from that Thai place you like, Adele,” Jake says, glancing between us. He doesn’t seem to notice the tension lingering in the air, or maybe he’s just used to it by now.

“Thanks. Let me know when it’s here.” She puts her head down and retreats to her room.

I wish I could help her more, but I remember being a teenager, that pull to independence while simultaneously wanting to hold on to parts of your childhood. It was hard being a teenage girl even on good days. She probably doesn’t need her dad’s new girlfriend trying to push her to open up.

Jake lets out a quiet sigh. “The birthday high didn’t last long. Things aren’t great at school again. I wish I knew what to say to her.”

“Maybe she just needs to feel as though she’s enough,” I say, surprised by the weight of my own words. “Whatever is happening at school is making her doubt herself.” I glance down, a knot tangling in my chest as I think about what it would have meant to hear that as a teenager.That I was enough.

The thought stirs and pokes at the hollowness in my chest.

I understand what it’s like to pressure myself to be flawless, to try to control every outcome by sticking to rules and routines. Maybe a part of me needs to hear this just as much as she does. But I push the thought away quickly. This is different, I tell myself firmly. I’m different.

“But how do I do that?” Jake glances in the direction of Adele’s room.

“Maybe,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “she just needs you to be there with her, without pushing too hard. If she wants to sit in silence and be sad, maybe that’s what she needs. Just feeling seen, you know?”

He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am there with her, every day. I’ve always been there since she was a little kid.”

I understand his resistance. “Sure. But maybe just meeting her where she is, in those quiet moments, might help her open up. Sometimes that’s all a kid needs—letting her come to you on her terms without judgment. Without trying to change or fix anything.”

He lets out a long breath, rubbing his face with his hands. “I hear you, Kel, but I don’t know if I can just sit back and watch her struggle. She needs to know I’ve got her back. I’ll always fix things for her, and for you, too. You’re my girls.”

“And she’s lucky to have a dad who cares so much. I’m lucky to have you, too.”

“Jenny’s better at all this stuff than me. I think what Adele really needs is a sense of security. Me here, every day, doing what I do.”

I get the sense he’s not really hearing me, or maybe doesn’t want to, so I shrug and lean in, giving him a soft kiss. He pulls back, and the way he’s looking at me makes my heart stumble in my chest. Which makes it easier to stop thinking about all the other stuff.

The food arrives, and he calls Adele for dinner, and I distract myself by working out which dishes meet my food rules, and how much of each I can eat. Because right now, that’s pretty much all I can control.

Chapter 37

Kelly

The next day starts early,with me making calls to vendors, asking them to push deliveries back, secure equipment, and delay anything that might arrive too soon, lest it get damaged by the storm. Most are understanding, but a few grumble, reluctant to reschedule on such short notice.

Then there’s Jake. He’s busy with the Valiant Hearts, but he has his crew on-site anchoring the installations in place. He promises me they’ll do everything they can.

I send updates to the mayor, detailing every measure we’re taking, but she’s distracted with other things. And I try to stay optimistic, but it’s becoming harder to keep my own fear in check.

Truthfully, I spend a lot of time counting, ordering things neatly, but I’m already mentally cataloging everything we stand to lose. And I’m consumed by that nagging thought: I should have planned for this. If I’d only thought ahead. We knew thestorms were a possibility. I could have budgeted for better, sturdier materials, or designed with more flexibility.

And I can’t escape the thought that if I’d planned everything differently from the start, we wouldn’t be this vulnerable.I did this.

Soon the day is over, and I’m lying in bed awake, thoughts of Jake swelling, rolling through me. It’s nicer to think about him than the storm that’s coming. But I can’t shake the edge of my anxiety, and the night presses close, inky and deep, sleep refusing to come. Grabbing my phone off the bedside table, I check the time: I should definitely be asleep.

Is Jake awake? Is he thinking about me, too? Picturing him lying in bed alone sends heat coursing through me. Screw it—messaging him is better than drowning in my own pity spiral.

I type out a message, thumb hovering, before tapping send. “Can’t sleep. Thinking of you.”

Minutes drag. Then the screen lights up with his name. “Me too. It’s too quiet without you. My bed’s too cold.”

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