. CHAPTER 3 — The Door Broke Open
The ambulance siren was still far away when the front door slammed so hard against the wall that a picture frame fell. Dr. Noah Reed stood in the entryway wearing blue scrubs, his hair messy, his face drained of color. Ava had forgotten she was still listed as his emergency contact from the years before their divorce became more silence than paperwork.
He crossed the room in three strides. “Where is she?”
Diane lifted her chin. “Noah, there is no need for drama.”
He did not even look at her. He went straight to Lily’s bed, placed two fingers beneath her jaw, checked her pupils with the small light clipped to his pocket, and cursed under his breath.
Ava felt the floor tilt. Noah was calm in disasters. When calm left his face, the world became dangerous.
“What did she take?” he asked.
Diane gave a delicate laugh. “Listen to you both. A child cries, falls asleep, and suddenly I’m on trial.”
Noah stood. “What did she take?”
The room froze. Diane’s confidence thinned. Bea made a soft choking sound from the hallway.
Ava saw something then: a dark green bottle half-hidden behind Lily’s nightstand, its label turned toward the wall. Noah saw it too. He moved fast, but Diane reached for it first. Ava caught her wrist.
For one second, mother and daughter stared at each other with all the old years between them: Diane’s criticism, Ava’s guilt, the unpaid bills, the way Diane had called motherhood a burden every time Ava worked overtime.
Then the paramedics arrived.
Noah pointed at the bottle. “Bring that.”
Diane yanked free. “You have no right.”
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Noah turned on her with a fury Ava had never seen. “That is my daughter.”
Lily was lifted onto the stretcher. Ava walked beside her, holding a limp little hand, while Diane stood in the blue bedroom with her robe perfectly tied and her smile finally gone. The broken front door creaked in the wind behind them, and for Ava it sounded like the house itself had finally screamed.
