Chapter 2

At two in the morning, I woke up and found another woman sitting beside my husband.

Lightning flashed outside the windows.

Chloe sat on Daniel’s side of the bed, wrapped in his old navy sweater. The sleeves covered half her hands.

I knew that sweater well.

Daniel had worn it during the first winter of our marriage. The fabric still carried the faint smell of his cedar detergent.

When Daniel traveled for work, I sometimes wore it around the house.

I kept it folded at the bottom of my dresser, beneath my own clothes.

Chloe could not have found it by accident.

She had searched through my drawers.

Now she hugged a worn stuffed rabbit against the sweater and rested her head on my husband’s shoulder.

Daniel rubbed one hand across her back.

Neither of them had noticed that I was awake.

Thunder shook the windows.

Chloe flinched and pressed closer to him.

I slowly sat up.

"What is she doing in our bedroom?"

Daniel turned toward me.

"She had a panic attack."

Chloe lifted her head. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wet.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you."

She pulled the collar closer to her throat.

"I was freezing," Chloe explained. "I didn’t pack anything warm, so I found this in the dresser. I hope that’s okay."

She knew it was not okay.

She had opened my dresser, moved my clothes, and taken something private.

But Daniel only looked at her shaking hands.

He did not ask why she had searched through my drawers.

Another crash of thunder filled the room.

Chloe covered her ears.

The stuffed rabbit slipped from her lap. Daniel caught it before it reached the floor.

I had seen that rabbit before.

It was the only thing Chloe still owned from the night her biological mother abandoned her. Daniel once told me that thunderstorms brought the memory back.

I did not doubt that her trauma was real.

I doubted why it always required my husband’s body to comfort her.

"Daniel can sit with you in the guest room," I said.

Chloe immediately shook her head.

"No. I don’t want to take him away from you."

Her words sounded respectful.

But she stayed on our bed.

Her fingers remained wrapped around Daniel’s arm.

"I should leave," she whispered.

Daniel caught her.

"You’re staying," Daniel said.

That was what she wanted.

She never asked him to choose her.

She only offered to disappear and waited for him to pull her back.

Daniel helped her sit on the edge of the bed.

At first, Chloe kept her feet on the floor.

Then thunder rolled over the house again.

She leaned against his shoulder.

A moment later, she lifted her legs beneath the blanket.

I watched her move slowly across the mattress.

Finally, she lowered her head onto my pillow.

Daniel’s sweater covered her body.

My husband’s hand rested against her back.

It looked less like he was comforting his sister and more like she had stepped into my place.

"Get off my pillow, Chloe."

She froze. Then she quickly sat up.

"I’ll leave. I don’t want to cause problems between you."

Daniel stood beside her.

When he looked at me, the concern in his eyes had become anger.

"You know what storms do to her. She was abandoned during a storm, Emma."

I looked at my husband. He was holding another woman's arm in our bedroom.

I picked up my blanket and walked to the guest room without giving Daniel another argument to use against me.

I just picked up my blanket, walked out of the room, and went to the guest room.

The guest room smelled of her perfume.

Her suitcases lay open on the floor.

Inside the largest one, three thick sweaters had been neatly folded beside a winter coat.

She had not forgotten warm clothes.

She had searched my bedroom because she wanted Daniel’s sweater.

More than that, she wanted to wear something that belonged to the private life he shared with me.

Several minutes later, I realized my phone was still beside our bed.

When I returned, the bedroom door was partly open.

Daniel sat against the headboard with his eyes closed.

Chloe lay beneath my blanket.

Her head rested on my pillow.

One sweater-covered hand lay near Daniel’s waist.

There were no tears on her face.

I stepped inside and picked up my phone.

Chloe opened her eyes.

For a second, she did not pretend to be frightened.

She looked at me calmly.

Then she pulled my blanket higher and closed her eyes again.

I returned to the guest room and locked the door.

Daniel believed Chloe had crossed a boundary because trauma had made her forget where it was.

I knew better now.

She had seen the boundary.

She had stepped over it slowly, making sure I watched every step.

But what I still did not know was whether she treated every married brother this way—or only my husband.