“I’d prefer to be safe. You can hurt your insides and not realize it until later. It’s obviously bad enough to make you cry. I know it’s not the same, but I have a degree in veterinary medicine, and with some things human and animal bodies work the same.”
I stand in the bathroom doorway with my wet clothes hanging from one hand and my bag clutched to my chest with the other, unsure of what to do. The concern in his eyes is apparent, but I wonder why he’s so concerned. More than likely after tomorrow we won’t be his burden anymore. I’ve learned over the last few days that Alexander can be a very compassionate man; the expression on his face when he looks at Kelsey sometimes proves it. I’m sure it’s just that soft side he rarely lets show that’s allowing him to worry, and I’m sure it’s nothing personal.
The slight frown on his face is what makes my decision. Taking a step back, I drop the wet clothes on the tiled bathroom floor and set the bag down beside them, then make my way over to him.
We both stand there awkwardly for a moment before he says, “You want to… ah….” He gestures down to my waistband.
“Oh.” I laugh awkwardly, feeling my cheeks heat. I grab the rolled-up waistband and bring the material down to just below my hip, making sure to keep my pubic area covered. The shirt falls in its place, so I grab that as well and lift it, exposing a small portion of my lower stomach. Stretch marks from having two kids come into view, and I force myself to not cover myself again.
Unexpectedly, Alexander drops to his knees in front of me and my eyes follow him down. He looks up and our gazes lock. For some reason, looking down at him as he gazes up at me from his knees seems strangely erotic. The hand holding my shirt up starts trembling, and I tighten my fingers around the material.
He finally breaks our stare and looks to the purple skin on my hip. I suck in a sharp breath when his fingers graze the skin. I tell myself it’s because the touch hurts, and not because it sends butterflies to my stomach. His eyes briefly flicker back to mine before he gently starts prodding the sensitive area. I close my eyes when the area he touches turns warm. I haven’t felt desire since Will died, and I wonder if what I’m feeling now is the same. It scares me, but his hand on me feels too good to care right now. Goose bumps appear on my skin, and I know Alexander has to see them, but he doesn’t react. For that, I’m grateful. I try to push the feeling away, but it stays and grows.
At my grunt of pain, he pulls his hand away, and I miss the warmth it caused. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”
He keeps his hands to himself as he examines it for a few more moments.
“It seems to have the typical bruising, showing no signs of internal damage that I can tell.” He stands. “You’ll be sore as shit tomorrow. After you leave here, keep an eye on it, and if a large part of the injured area turns purple, swells, or if you become dizzy, call the doctor.”
I nod and release the waistband and shirt, letting them fall back into place. Stepping back, I tell him, “Thank you.” His chin comes up in acknowledgement, and I clarify, “For the concern. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he grunts.
I turn and grab the clothes and bag from the bathroom door. When I turn back around, he’s already gone, leaving me with an odd feeling in my stomach.
Later that night, I lie in bed and listen to the soft words coming from Kelsey, my heart splintering into two, then three, then into a thousand pieces.
“Please, God, let my daddy come back home. I miss him so much. I just want him to come home. That’s all I’ll ever ask you, if you just let him come back to us. And please tell him I’m sorry.” She sniffles, then finishes, “In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The last part I can barely hear. I know why she’s apologizing. She feels like it’s her fault that her father is gone. He was in her room getting her bear for her when he collapsed. Both her psychiatrist and I have told her multiple times that it wasn’t her fault, that his heart wasn’t working properly, but I know she didn’t believe us. I don’t know what else to do to make her believe it. She’s only eight years old, but she carries around the guilt that weighs a ton. A week after the funeral, I found the bear ripped to shreds in her closet.
I want to reach out to her. I want to pull her into my arms and soothe her cries away. To tell her nothing is her fault and that I love her. That her daddy loves her even if he’s not here anymore to show it. But I worry if I do that, she’ll pull further away from me. She only whispers her prayers because she thinks no one else can hear them. This is her private time, her safe time to talk to the only person she feels like she can right now. I don’t want to take that away from her, and I’m scared if she knows I hear her every night, that I relish hearing her voice, even if her words tear me apart, she’ll stop. She needs this. I want her to come to me with her voice when she’s ready for me to hear it.
So instead of comforting my daughter like I’m dying to, I silently cry into my pillow and wait for her to drift off to sleep. It’s only then I turn around and wrap my arms around her, giving her in sleep what she won’t allow me to give to her when she’s awake.
Chapter 8
Alexander
Just like last night, I walk silently down the hallway until I make out the murmured whispers from a girl begging God to bring her father back. I gently lay my hand on the door and listen as she slowly melts my heart until it’s a puddle at my feet. My chest aches with the need to walk in there and take away her pain. I’ve never heard such tortured words before. The pain that comes from them is overwhelming and unbearable. Even my own immense pain
from losing the ones I loved can’t compare to this. This girl’s pain is so much more.
My head falls forward, and I pull in a deep breath to steady my heartbeat. It’s been quiet for several moments, and I know she’s finished. I let my hand fall from the door, and I walk down the hallway back to the living room. I drop to the cushion and let my head fall in my hands.
They’re leaving tomorrow. The sun is coming out and the temperatures are supposed to be in the lower fifties, much higher than it’s been in days. The snow won’t melt in one day, but it’ll be enough to let the road crew get to the fallen tree and her truck. My call earlier tonight to Travis confirmed they’ll be working on the roads tomorrow.
I’m not ready. It’s unreasonable and irrational, but I don’t want them to leave yet. I’m not ready to give up Daniel’s buoyant behavior or Kelsey’s quiet and depressed mannerisms. I’m not ready to give up Gwen’s giving and resilient personality. I want to keep them here. With me. They’ve brought so much light into my life since they’ve been here, and I want to keep it for a while longer. Which means they need to leave as soon as possible, before my dark world rubs off on them. I want to be selfish and harbor that light, but I won’t.
What hurts the most was the dejected look on Daniel’s face when Gwen informed him and Kelsey they’ll be leaving tomorrow. What surprised me was the morose look on Kelsey’s. That girl and her sad eyes have me wrapped around her little finger. And the boy…. Everyone should have a Daniel in their lives. Gwen tried cheering the two up with promised visits to all their friends once the roads were clear enough for it, but I could tell it didn’t work. I could also tell it wasn’t working for Gwen herself. She tried to hide it, I’m not sure if it was just from the kids or from me too, but I know she doesn’t want to leave either. The four of us, in a matter of days, have become close, formed a bond of a sort. And that right there is another reason they need to leave. I can’t let that continue. It’s not something I deserve. It’s something they need to form with a man who’s worthy. A man who will be there for them always. A whole man, not one who’s only half of himself.
I give my hair one good pull, letting the pain push away the unwanted feelings, before releasing it with a muted growl. I’m pissed at myself for wanting something I shouldn’t. This family is too good for me. I couldn’t even protect my own when they needed me. How could this family be any different? I refuse to take that chance.
I lie back against the cushion and force thoughts of Gwen and her two kids away, and instead let my own demons take over. Closing my eyes, I let the screams of pain and fear flood my mind, reminding me why Gwen, Kelsey, and Daniel are better off without me in their lives.
The creaking of the floor is what wakes me. My eyes flash open, and I swing my legs over to sit up on the couch. My eyesight quickly adjusts to the darkness of the room as I look around for the source of the noise. There’s a dark figure standing in the mouth of the hallway. A short figure. Much shorter than Gwen, but taller than Daniel.
“Kelsey?” I ask softly.