When Family Became a Place I Couldn’t Return To novel Chapter 175

Marian hesitated for a second, realizing Brody was asking about Nelly. She replied quickly, “She isn’t upset, but… she wouldn’t let Ms. Olson in.”

Brody hung up and headed straight home. Just as Marian said, Sheila was standing in a lonely patch of grass, hugging herself in a thin dress, clutching a thermos to her chest. She looked so fragile and lost.

Alan opened the car door. Brody stepped out, his stride purposeful as he walked over to Sheila.

Nelly had just lulled Carrie to sleep when the noise outside caught her attention. She pulled her robe around her and moved slowly to the window by the balcony, just in time to see Brody walking toward Sheila.

Sheila spotted Brody and nearly burst into tears. “Brody!” she called, running to him. Her foot slipped and she almost fell, but Brody caught her. Alan hurried over, reaching out to steady her. “Ms. Olson, are you alright?”

Sheila shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. She wrapped her arms tightly around Brody’s waist, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Were you really never going to see me again?” Her words trembled. She was shivering, looking like she might faint at any second.

Brody held her at arm's length, then glanced at Alan. “Your jacket.”

Alan instantly took off his coat and draped it over Sheila’s shoulders. “Ms. Olson, it’s cold out. What are you doing, waiting here all this time?”

Sheila frowned, as if she wanted to shrug off the jacket, but Brody pressed his hand on her shoulder. “Keep it on.”

Sheila bit her lip and stopped resisting, tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting the corner of her mouth. “If I hadn’t come, you’d just keep hiding from me. So don’t worry about me anymore. Just let me be… If I die, it’s because I deserved it.”

“Don’t say things like that. Alan will take you home,” Brody said, his eyes darting away from hers.

“I’m not going back!” Sheila pushed Brody away and sank to a squat, sobbing harder. She threw down the thermos and the lid popped off, sending homemade pastries spilling out across the grass. Alan rushed to pick them up. There were at least seven kinds, all different shapes and colors. She must have spent hours on them. But now, they were ruined. Alan gathered what he could, but stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do.

Brody stepped closer. “Get up.”

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