Chapter 1

The first time my daughter said she didn't want her dad anymore was the day he gave her storm blanket to another girl.

When Emma came home, the blanket wasn't in her arms.

I was in the kitchen cutting fruit. The blade stopped against the apple.

"Sweetheart, where's your blanket?"

Emma looked up at me. Her eyes were red.

Ryan had made that blanket for her himself five years ago. Emma was scared of thunder, and on every stormy night, she wouldn't sleep unless she had it wrapped around her.

In one corner, stitched in small blue letters, were the words:

Emma Hale, Dad's Brave Girl

Ryan used to tell her that brave girls were allowed to be scared, as long as they remembered Daddy would be there.

But today, she'd come home without it.

Emma gripped the strap of her backpack and asked softly, "Mom, can I sleep with the lights on tonight?"

I set down the knife and crossed the kitchen, crouching in front of her.

"What happened?"

She shook her head.

I held her cold little hand and softened my voice. "Did Lily take your blanket?"

Emma's lips trembled.

A long while passed before she whispered, "Lily cried. Dad said brave girls share."

Something twisted hard in my chest.

That afternoon, Ryan had said something had come up at work, so he'd take Emma to Mara's house first and let her wait there for a little while.

Mara was his assistant, and the woman he always described as "a single mother who's had a hard enough time already." Her daughter, Lily, was about Emma's age.

I hadn't expected this to be what Emma was waiting for.

I pulled her into my arms and felt her shoulders still shaking.

"You didn't want to give it to her, did you?"

She buried her face against me and nodded.

"I said I'd be scared tonight," she mumbled. "Dad said Lily was more scared today."

I held her tighter.

When Ryan came home, rain still clung to him. He unfastened his cuff links as he looked at Emma sitting on the couch.

"Why are you still up?"

I stood and stepped in front of her.

"Where's her blanket?"

Ryan paused for a second, then his face went calm again.

"At Lily's. She was in a terrible state tonight. It's just a blanket."

"That's Emma's blanket."

"I know." He rubbed at his brow. "I'll have Mara wash it and send it back tomorrow."

"Go get it now."

Ryan looked at me as if I'd said something ridiculous.

"Danielle, it's still raining outside. Mara finally got Lily to sleep. You want me to knock on her door and wake up a child?"

"You already made one child unable to sleep."

His expression darkened.

"Emma has us. Lily only has Mara. Can you teach her to be generous for once?"

Emma slowly let go of my hand.

I turned and saw her staring down, her fingers twisting wrinkles into the edge of her pajama pants.

I didn't keep arguing with Ryan.

I took Emma upstairs and found her a regular blanket from the closet.

She lay in bed, but her eyes stayed open.

"Mom," she whispered, "if Lily gets scared again, do I have to be brave again?"

I sat beside her for a long time without answering.

After she finally fell asleep, I went downstairs and opened my laptop.

Ryan's phone was lying beside it.

He was across the living room with his back to me, pouring himself a drink.

I sent an email to my divorce lawyer.

Then the screen of the phone beside me lit up.

Mara had sent a photo.

Lily was asleep in bed, holding Emma's storm blanket, her cheek pressed against the corner with Emma's name stitched on it.

Under the photo was one line:

Lily says it smells like home. Could she keep it a little longer?