Feels Like Summertime (Lake Fisher 1)

When I go back out to the living room, Gabby has pulled out the sofa bed and she’s already in it. That takes up all the space in the room. I look around, and finally go into the kitchen and fall into a chair. I drum my fingertips on the table, looking at my watch.

I left a note for Katie telling her to sleep as long as she wanted, that I would take care of the kids. Does that mean she’s going to stay until morning?

Gabby pads into the room on socked, whispering feet. “Are you spending the night?” she asks.

I shrug. “Just until your mom gets back, I guess.”

“You can go. I can watch the kids.”

I shake my head. Not after that note I saw on Katie’s computer–the one she never did explain to me. “I’m going to stay.”

“You should go sleep in her room, then. No one is using it.” She gets a drink of water and goes back into the other room.

She’s right. There’s no reason not to go lie down. “Are the little kids going to be okay if I go to sleep?”

She laughs. “You don’t think Mom stays awake twenty-four/seven to watch them sleep, do you?”

I scratch my head. “I guess not.”

“I’ll hear them if they wake up,” Gabby says. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll listen out for them,” I say.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. But she’s already lying back down.

I turn to walk toward Katie’s room and Gabby calls out, “Hey Jake.”

I spin back around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for staying,” she says. Then she closes her eyes.

I lie down on Katie’s bed and close my eyes.

It seems like only moments later when the bed dips under the weight of another person. “Jake,” someone whispers.

“Hm?” I ask, but my eyes don’t want to open.

“Jake,” someone says again. Finally, I force my eyes open. I find Katie looking down at me. “I’m home.”

“Good,” I say, and I close my eyes again. “I missed you.”

She laughs, and I feel the covers rustle. “Why are you on top of the covers?”

“It’s not my bed,” I reply.

She touches my arm. “You’re cold.”

“A little.” I rub my face, trying to wake up. “Are the kids okay?”

“I just checked on them. They’re fine.”

“I should go,” I say.

There’s a beat of silence. “Or you could stay,” she says.

My heart stutters. “I could stay,” I whisper.

“It’s late,” she whispers back, and she rolls me over so she can tug the covers from beneath me. Then she covers me with them. The warmth of her next to me seeps into me all over. “You’re so cold,” she says. She rolls over and tugs my arm around her. “Is this okay?”