Chapter 1 - Eleven Days Early
Emma grabbed the folded note and whispered:
“Please don’t read that one.”
Captain Daniel Mercer stepped into the kitchen and saw a coffee-stained envelope in her hand.
Across the front, someone had written one date.
The date was the day he had nearly died overseas.
Daniel stopped breathing.
He had imagined his homecoming a hundred times.
None of those versions included Emma Callahan.
He had expected silence.
An empty refrigerator.
A stack of mail.
Maybe a dead houseplant because his younger sister Rachel had insisted she could keep it alive and had almost certainly forgotten.
Instead, eleven days before his scheduled return, Daniel Mercer walked through his front door with an olive duffel hanging from one shoulder and found evidence that someone had been living an entire invisible life inside his house.
The first note was attached to his coffee maker.
Welcome back whenever you finally get here. Coffee filters are in the drawer because you apparently believe cabinets are a scavenger hunt.
He stared at it.
The handwriting was unmistakably Emma’s.
He had seen it on birthday cards, grocery lists at Rachel’s apartment, labels on Christmas gifts, and once on a furious sticky note she had slapped onto his truck windshield after he parked across her driveway.
He smiled before he could stop himself.
Then he noticed another note on the refrigerator.
Your milk expired in February. I saved humanity.
Another rested beside the fruit bowl.
Rachel said you hate bananas. I bought bananas out of spite.
Daniel let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
Then he saw three more.
One taped to the cabinet.
One tucked behind a cookbook.
One folded into a triangle beneath the salt shaker.
He slowly lowered his duffel onto the floor.
“What the hell?”
A floorboard creaked behind him.
Daniel turned.
Emma stood beside the staircase.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
She was wearing an oversized gray T-shirt that reached almost to mid-thigh, her dark brown hair loose and messy around her shoulders. She was barefoot. One hand rested against the wooden railing.
Her eyes were wide.
Daniel had known Emma for nearly twelve years.
She had been Rachel’s best friend since college.
She had been at nearly every birthday dinner, every Fourth of July cookout, every Christmas party where Rachel inevitably drank too much wine and started giving everyone relationship advice.
Emma and Daniel had never been close.
Not exactly.
They had teased each other.
Argued about music.
Competed viciously over board games.
Once, three years earlier, they had danced at Rachel’s wedding rehearsal after everyone else left the floor.
Neither had ever mentioned it afterward.
Now she looked at him as though he had just walked through a wall.
“You’re home,” she said.
“I live here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Daniel glanced at the notes.
Emma followed his eyes.
Something changed in her face.
Embarrassment.
Then alarm.
“You weren’t supposed to be back until the twenty-third.”
“Flight changed.”
“You didn’t tell Rachel?”
“I wanted to surprise her.”
Emma closed her eyes briefly.
“Well,” she said, “you surprised somebody.”
Daniel lifted one of the notes.
“Apparently.”
Color rose in her cheeks.
She crossed her arms.
“I can explain.”
“I hope so.”
“Rachel asked me to house-sit.”
“For eight months?”
“Mostly check on things.”
Daniel looked toward the kitchen.
There were fresh flowers in a vase.
A pair of running shoes sat beside the back door.
A paperback lay open on the couch.
“You moved in.”
“My apartment flooded in January.”
“You moved into my house?”
“For six weeks.”
“You’re barefoot.”
“That happens inside buildings.”
Daniel almost smiled again.
Emma clearly noticed.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“Don’t what?”
“Look amused.”
“I’m trying to figure out why my house looks more lived-in than when I lived here.”
She tucked hair behind one ear.
“Because you own exactly one decorative pillow.”
“I own two.”
“One is technically a folded blanket.”
Daniel looked back at the coffee maker.
“How many notes are there?”
Emma froze.
That was when he knew the answer mattered.
“Emma.”
“I don’t know.”
“You absolutely know.”
She sighed.
“Forty.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You left me forty notes?”
“I didn’t leave them for you.”
“They have my name on them.”
“Some of them.”
“Twenty-seven say ‘Daniel.’”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You counted?”
“I’ve been home three minutes.”
“You’re disturbingly efficient.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Emma stepped away from the stairs.
“I started doing it because the house felt strange.”
“Strange?”
“Empty.”
Something in her voice made his amusement disappear.
She walked toward the coffee maker and pulled down one of the notes.
“The first week I stayed here, I kept talking out loud.”
“To yourself?”
“To you.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
Emma laughed nervously.
“That sounds worse when I say it.”
“You were talking to me?”
“Not literally.”
She gestured toward the room.
“I’d make coffee and think, Daniel would hate how strong this is. I’d move something and think, Daniel will complain when he comes back. Then Rachel mailed me a care package she was sending you, and she said you were having a rough month.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened slightly.
He knew which month.
December.
The patrol outside Al-Qamar.
The roadside blast.
Sergeant Lewis in the seat beside him.
Three nights without sleep.
The letter he had written to Rachel but never sent.
Emma continued.
“So I wrote a note.”
“Which one?”
She pointed toward the refrigerator.
Daniel found it.
It was folded twice.
He opened it.
December 18.
You don’t know this, but your sister cried tonight because she misses you. She tried pretending she was cutting onions. There were no onions. Come home safe, Mercer. She needs you.
Daniel read it twice.
The room became very quiet.
Emma looked away.
“I almost threw that one out.”
“Why?”
“It felt too personal.”
Daniel folded it carefully.
“You kept all forty.”
“I forgot some of them were still here.”
“That’s a lie.”
Emma looked back at him.
“Fine.”
“Why leave them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emma.”
She exhaled.
“Because it felt like talking to someone who couldn’t interrupt me.”
“That sounds peaceful.”
“You have no idea.”
Daniel smiled.
Then he noticed an envelope half-hidden beneath the coffee machine.
Emma saw his gaze move.
Her expression changed instantly.
Daniel reached toward it.
Emma moved faster.
She grabbed the envelope.
“Not that one.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That seems suspicious.”
“It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, hand it over.”
“No.”
“You’ve covered my house in messages addressed to me, but one of them is suddenly classified?”
“It isn’t for you.”
His eyes dropped to the front.
Daniel.
Emma immediately turned it over.
Too late.
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“Convincing.”
She pressed the envelope against her chest.
“Forget you saw it.”
He leaned against the counter.
“Not likely.”
Emma’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel.”
He had heard her say his name thousands of times.
Usually with annoyance.
Sometimes with laughter.
Once, during Rachel’s wedding rehearsal, softly enough that he had remembered it for years.
This time there was fear in it.
Real fear.
He straightened.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t nothing.”
Emma looked toward the front door.
For one strange second Daniel thought she might run.
Instead, she lowered her eyes toward the envelope.
He noticed the date.
March 4.
His stomach tightened.
March 4 had been the day his convoy was ambushed.
The day his family received notification that his unit had suffered casualties.
The day Daniel spent six hours pinned down behind a concrete wall while rounds struck inches over his head.
He had never told Emma the exact date.
Maybe Rachel had.
“Why is March fourth written on that?”
Emma’s fingers tightened around the paper.
“Rachel called me.”
Daniel went still.
“When?”
“That night.”
“She told you?”
“She told me there had been an attack.”
Daniel looked at the envelope.
“What did you write?”
Emma swallowed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Apparently it mattered enough to keep.”
“I was upset.”
“So was everyone.”
“Daniel.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
She stepped backward.
Daniel saw tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
That stopped him.
He had seen Emma angry.
He had seen her exhausted.
He had seen her laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
He had never seen her afraid of him knowing something.
His voice softened.
“What is in that note?”
Emma stared at him.
“It was written during the worst night of my life.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Your life?”
She realized what she had said.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Daniel looked from her face to the envelope.
“Why would my convoy getting attacked be the worst night of your life?”
Emma’s eyes filled.
She turned away.
“Because Rachel called me at two in the morning.”
Daniel waited.
“She was crying so hard I could barely understand her. She said there were casualties. She said nobody knew whether you were okay.”
Emma pressed her lips together.
“I sat right there.”
She pointed toward his kitchen floor.
“I sat there for five hours waiting for Rachel to call again.”
Daniel said nothing.
“I kept telling myself it was because she needed me.”
Emma laughed once, bitterly.
“That was the lie.”
Daniel’s heartbeat slowed.
Or maybe everything around him did.
“What was the truth?”
Emma looked down at the envelope.
Then she held it toward him.
Her fingers shook.
Daniel reached for it.
Their hands touched.
Neither moved.
“Once you read this,” she whispered, “you can’t unread it.”
Daniel took the envelope.
Emma stepped away.
He broke the seal.
Inside was one page.
The handwriting started neatly.
Halfway down, the letters became uneven.
At the bottom, there were faint watermarks where tears had dried.
Daniel began reading.
March 4.
Daniel,
Rachel thinks I’m here because she shouldn’t be alone tonight.
She’s wrong.
I’m here because I shouldn’t be alone either.
I’ve spent years telling myself you’re my best friend’s annoying older brother.
I told myself that dance at Rachel’s rehearsal meant nothing.
I told myself I didn’t care when you started dating Lauren.
I told myself I was relieved when you deployed because maybe eight months without seeing you would finally make this go away.
Then Rachel called and said nobody knew if you were alive.
And suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
Daniel stopped reading.
His hand tightened around the paper.
Emma stood near the stairs, motionless.
“Keep going,” she said.
He looked down.
There were three more lines.
He read the first.
If you come home, I swear I’ll finally tell you.
Then the second.
I’m in love with you.
Daniel stared at the words.
The third line was smaller.
And I think I have been for years.
The kitchen seemed to tilt beneath him.
Daniel slowly raised his eyes.
Emma was crying now.
Quietly.
She wiped one cheek with the back of her hand.
“Well,” she whispered, “surprise.”
Daniel opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, his phone rang.
Rachel.
Emma looked at the screen.
Then at him.
“Don’t answer.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
Emma’s face drained of color.
The phone stopped.
A message arrived instead.
Daniel opened it.
Six words appeared beneath Rachel’s name.
DON’T LET EMMA LEAVE THE HOUSE.
May you like
Daniel looked up.
Emma was already backing toward the door.
