Love, After Dark

Chapter 9

Goodbyes always arrive too early. The movers had already come and gone that morning, hauling away the heavier pieces of our lives- couches, beds, boxes labeled in thick black marker. What was left behind felt strange and hollow, like our house had already started forgetting us. A bright FOR SALE sign stood planted in the front yard, swaying slightly in the breeze, a quiet announcement to the whole neighborhood that we were already on our way out.

Kayla’s parents insisted on breakfast, knowing our kitchen was barely functional now. Their house smelled like pancakes and coffee, warm and familiar, and for a little while it felt like we were pretending this was just another weekend morning. Brenda showed up last minute, helmet tucked under her arm, leather jacket draped over the back of a chair. “Couldn’t miss this,” she said, pulling me into a hug that lingered just long enough to make my chest ache.

We crowded around the big table, plates clinking, voices overlapping. Kayla’s dad teased me about not forgetting how to parallel park, and Brenda promised she’d personally revoke my license if I embarrassed her. Even Sia laughed, leaning against me like she wasn’t ready to let go either. But eventually the plates emptied. The laughter softened. The moment we’d all been avoiding settled in.

Outside, Kayla shifted from foot to foot, hands tucked behind her back. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “I have something for you.” She pulled out a small box and opened it, revealing a bracelet strung with tiny charms of suns, moons, and stars. “I ordered it online,” she said quickly. “They’re supposed to glow when the other person is feeling strong emotions. Like a mood ring. But cooler.” I laughed through the lump in my throat as she fastened it around my wrist. I helped her put hers on too. Almost immediately, the moon charms glowed a soft blue. “Oh my god,” Kayla laughed, tears spilling over. “That’s rude.” “Extremely,” I said, wiping my eyes.

Behind us, her parents and Brenda stood back, watching quietly, pretending not to notice how much this mattered. I turned to the car and reached inside, pulling out Lambie.

Kayla froze. “Siri… no.” “I want you to have her,” I said softly. “I’ve had her since I was five. I know you’ll take good care of her.” She hugged Lambie to her chest, shaking her head. “That’s not fair.” “It’s shared custody,” I said. “I’ll get her back when I visit this summer.” She nodded, clutching her tighter.

As we climbed into the car, my dad leaned down to the driver’s window and kissed my mom goodbye. “Two weeks,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right behind you. Just tying up loose ends.” Then we pulled away. I looked out the window as Kayla waved, her bracelet still glowing faintly blue, and I waved back until she blurred into the distance—until Millburn, the house, the sign in the yard, and the only home I’d ever known disappeared behind us.