The next day came, and Dad was still gone.

  I found Elise in the kitchen, standing at the sink, rinsing a mug. Her movements were slower than usual, not as precise. The skin beneath her eyes looked smudged, like she had not slept, but her face was composed in that almost abnormal way that made me want to shake her.

  On the table sat a bowl full of cereal, already poured, a spoon resting in it like a utility pole. Hailey's favorite brand. Little frosted stars slowly turning soggy.

  "Eat," Elise said quietly when she noticed me lingering in the doorway.

  I ignored the bowl. "Is he back?"

  She closed her eyes for half a second, the smallest crack in the mask, then opened them again and reached for a towel.

  "We found a trail last night," she said. "Fresh. Then it cut."

  "Cut," I repeated. "What does that even mean?"

  Her jaw tightened. "It means he probably tried shifting back and the scent scattered. It happens when instinct and reason fight each other too long. It will make it harder to locate him."

  "Harder," I said. "But not impossible, right?"

  She hesitated just long enough to make my stomach twist. "Jack is still out there," she added. "He stayed to look. He won't come back without checking every single square foot of that forest."

  The idea of Jack, silent and relentless, disappearing in the bowels of the dark forest sent a thin shiver down my spine. Somehow it made it worse. If even he could not bring Dad home right away, what did that say about what they expected to find?

  My knees wobbling, I pulled out a chair and sat, pushing the bowl away.

  "Where is Hailey?" I asked.

  Elise tipped her chin toward the window. "Outside."

  I turned.

  Through the glass, I could see the tire swing hanging from the old oak, turning almost imperceptibly in the morning breeze. Hailey sat in it sideways, knees drawn up, feet skimming the grass. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain. She wasn't kicking or laughing, or even smiling. She just sat there, swinging a little, back and forth, eyes fixed somewhere on the ground.

  Something ugly and heavy coalesced in my chest.

  "I'll go talk to her," I said, standing.

  Elise said nothing. She just went back to wiping an already clean glass.

  ***

  The air outside had that wet chill that sneaks under clothes. The sky was a washed-out blue, thin clouds drifting lazily high above the treeline. The world looked calm. It felt like a lie.

  Hailey didn't look up when I crossed the yard. The rope creaked softly under her weight.

  I crouched beside the swing and nudged it gently with my hand.

  "Hey," I said. "You planning to sit here until you turn into a garden gnome?"

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  Her fingers tightened around the edge of the tire. It took a second before she spoke.

  "Kelsey," she said, her voice small. "I don't think Daddy will be coming home."

  My throat constricted.

  She swallowed. "I think this time it's forever. Like Mommy."

  For a moment, everything in me just stopped. Breath. Thought. Heartbeat.

  Then I moved, because if I stayed still, I'd break apart.

  I slipped my arms around her and pulled her off the swing, pressing her close. She was so small, so thin and fragile, like a doll made of twigs.

  "Hey," I said into her hair. It carried the smell of lavender shampoo from last night's bath. "No. Listen to me. No. He didn't just leave. Not like that."

  Her hands fisted in the back of my hoodie. She looked at me, eyes glistening with tears. "Then where is he?"

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I saw the way his pupils had swallowed his eyes in the woods. The way his voice had broken. That terrible sound he had made when I ran.

  "He is…" I swallowed. "He had to go to a hospital. Far away. His head is messy right now. He needs to… fix it. But he didn't choose to leave us, okay? Not like that. He loves you. He would never choose not to come back."

  Hailey leaned back enough to look at me. Her eyes were wet, lashes stuck together.

  "Why did Mom go then?" she asked. "Was I bad?"

  The question hit like someone had punched me in the sternum. My breath left in a rush.

  "No," I said, so fast I almost choked. "No. Never say that. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault."

  Her lower lip trembled. "Then why?"

  "Because," I said, and for a second my mind went completely blank except for one burning need, make it make sense, make it safe, "because sometimes bad things happen to good people and it has nothing to do with how much they love you. Mom was sick. Her body got tired. Dad…" I looked at the forest and forced my gaze away, back to her. "Dad is confused. Not because of you. Because something broke in him. He is trying to find his way back. That's all."

  It wasn't the whole truth. Maybe it wasn't even half of it, but it was all I could give.

  She searched my face for a lie.

  "You promise?" she whispered.

  I nodded, even though the motion felt like dragging my head through glue. "I promise. And you know what else? He would be so mad if he knew you were blaming yourself for anything. He would flip. So do me a favor, okay? Don't think anything like that again."

  A ghost of a smile unsuccessfully tried to tug at the corner of her mouth.

  Behind us, through the kitchen window, I could see Elise, towel in hand, watching us. Her face was neutral, but her eyes were not.

  I pulled Hailey closer one more time, then set her back into the swing.

  "How about this," I said, forcing brightness into my voice. "You go inside, grab Mr. Winkle and your Barbies, and I will make tea. We can have a proper tea party on the porch. You can be the princess. I will be your faithful servant who makes bad jokes and brings you snacks."

  Her gaze flickered toward the house. For a second, I thought she would say no.

  Then she nodded, slow. "Okay. But Mr. Winkle gets his own cup."

  "Obviously," I said. "He has standards."

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit. She slid off the tire, feet slapping softly on the grass, and ran toward the house with that clumsy, flapping run kids her age had.

  I stayed where I was for a moment, fingers still curled around the swing rope. The oak branches whispered above me. The forest stood at the edge of the property, tall and watchful.

  Weight settled in the pit of my stomach.

  What if he wasn't just lost?

  What if the growl that had broken into a whimper had been the last human thing he had in him?

  Somehow, the thought of him being gone while still alive hurt worse than death.

  "Kelsey," Elise called from the door. "You coming in?"

  "Yeah," I said, but my eyes stayed on the trees half a heartbeat longer before I made myself move.

  ***

  The tea party was theater.

  I brewed chamomile tea and poured two real cups and one imaginary one. Hailey lined up her dolls on the porch rail, Mr. Winkle presiding over them all with his one mangled eye. The sun pushed higher, washing color onto the yard. Winter was announcing its approach with air that never quite warmed.

  Hailey giggled a couple of times, mostly at her own jokes, but the sound had a forced quality, like she was trying it on to see if it still fit.

  I sat cross-legged beside her, nodding in all the right places, handing over cookies on plastic plates, but my attention kept sliding sideways, toward the woods. Every time a branch shifted, my chest tightened, then unclenched when nothing emerged.

  Elise moved through the house behind us, the clink of dishes, the soft whoosh of the fridge door.

  My phone buzzed against the porch railing where I had dropped it face down.

  Instinctively, I flinched. Nell, I thought. Or some unknown number from school, demanding to know why I was not there so they could log it and file it under problem.

  I reached for it anyway.

  The name that blinked on the screen made me freeze in place.

  It was Grandpa Gerard.