Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 382

The Pearsons had grown used to Theodore dropping by, so when he stepped through the door, they welcomed him in as if he were family. The faint aroma of dinner drifted through the house—tonight’s meal was nearly ready.

He’d stopped at the corner grocery on his way and arrived with arms full of groceries and fruit, his hands juggling bags both large and small. Mr. and Mrs. Pearson shook their heads at the sight, smiling fondly. “You’re too thoughtful, dear. Really, you must treat this place as your own home.”

Theodore nearly teared up at that. From today on, he truly had no home left, nowhere else to go.

He’d given away his house, left himself no backup plan, and never even considered where he’d stay next.

The Pearsons insisted he stay for dinner.

He didn’t stand on ceremony. Not only did he share their meal, but afterward, he helped wash the dishes and spent the evening chatting with the couple. As the sky darkened outside, he found himself still sitting with them, a vague confusion settling across his face.

My parents noticed something was off and asked if he was alright.

His eyes filled with tears as he told them the truth—he had nowhere to go.

The Pearsons sighed in sympathy, asked no questions, and simply offered him a place to stay.

Theodore knew he was imposing, that it would be impossible to live with the Pearsons forever. But tonight—just for tonight—he couldn’t bear to be alone.

He felt a pang of guilt. He’d come to check in on Bart’s parents, maybe offer them comfort, but now, he found himself clinging to their company instead.

The Pearsons made up the guest room for him, right next to the study. “If you feel like reading,” Mrs. Pearson offered, “there are plenty of books in there—many of them belonged to Bart.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. His heart ached all day.

They urged him to rest, but Theodore found himself sitting in the study, wide awake.

It was a small, cozy room lined with two bookshelves—one side filled with Mr. and Mrs. Pearson’s books, and the other with Bart’s.

Bart’s interests had sprawled in every direction: astronomy, geology, history, philosophy, even an entire shelf dedicated to cookbooks.

Old school textbooks were neatly arranged in order, starting from elementary school. Theodore’s gaze drifted to the high school books.

Those belonged to a time he’d shared with Bart and a few childhood friends. A simpler, golden time.

As his eyes wandered from book to book, something caught his attention—a craft book.

Bart, into crafts? He pulled it out. The cover showed instructions for origami.

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