Chapter 22: The Station

Noelle's POV

I got out of my father's truck at the corner of Superior Street, and I heard Dalton before I saw him.

He was on the bench in the glass shelter with Arlen against his chest, talking low.

"...and I wasn't there for your dad at the end," he said. "I'm sorry for that. I'd like to be there for you, if your mom lets me."

"You have a lot of family you haven't met yet. One of them's pretty stubborn."

Colette stood a few feet off, with her arms around herself and her face wet.

She saw me first.

"Of course," she said. "Of course you came."

"Dalton texted me where he was."

"He tells you everything now."

"He does," I said. "That's the term."

I walked into the shelter.

Trudy was in her sling against my chest, awake, working one fist in her mouth.

Dalton looked up. I shook my head slightly. He stayed where he was.

I sat down on the bench beside Colette, and she flinched.

"I'm not going to yell at you," I said.

"I'd rather you did."

"I know. I'm not going to."

The wind came through the shelter and moved the hair on Trudy's head.

"I'm still angry," I said. "I want you to know that. I'm angry about the forged page, and I'm angry about the photograph you posted."

"I'm angry about every night you made my husband choose."

"I don't forgive you. Not today."

Colette's chin trembled.

"Then why are you here?"

"Because he's Jack's son," I said. "And I wasn't at Jack's bedside when I should have been."

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