Mom couldn’t hide her flinch. “Oh, okay. Fair enough.”
Hope once again smashed through the tension by looping her arm through my mother’s lax one. “Great. Girls’ night. I really fancied watching a chick flick, but Jacob wouldn’t let me. I’d be happy to watch them all with you, Della.” She smiled, her acting much better. In fact, a little too good as a glisten of tears shone before she blinked them away. “It would mean a lot to me.”
Mom’s heart didn’t stand a chance against a broken girl asking to spend time with her. A girl who didn’t have a mother and was effectively reaching out to mine in a way she hadn’t done before.
I didn’t know if it was part of the pantomime, or if Hope truly did enjoy hanging out with her. Either way, it worked because Mom patted Hope’s hand and gave me a weary look. “Okay, Jacob. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Definitely.” I tapped my temple, moving from the couch to be a gentleman and walk them out but unable to hide the hiss of pain as another prickle of pins and needles shot up my spine, over my shoulder, and down my arm.
Mom froze.
Hope gasped.
I stayed exactly where I was, drowning in pain.
Once again, Hope came to my rescue. “Congratulations, Jacob. You finally get your house back.”
I gritted my teeth, doing my best to sound normal. “Nothing has sounded so good.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know it was a chore for you to spend the day with me, but thank you just the same.”
I should thank her too. I owed her huge for this—for protecting my mother with her lies. For walking me back here. For making me lunch.
But being grateful and showing it were two very different things.
I merely nodded and let my silence fill in the blanks.
With our eyes locked—mine full of threats not to tell Mom and hers full of concern for leaving me alone—she led my mother out of my house and left.
* * * * *
“What do you do when you fall?”
“You get back up.” I chuckled. “Duh.”
“And what do you do if you get hurt?”
“You ask for help and get better.”
“And what do you do if you’re in danger?”
“Be brave and face it head-on.” I grinned, feeling pretty good about myself for having such a great answer.
“Wrong, smartass.” Dad laughed, his dark eyes full of mirth. “You don’t put yourself in danger to begin with.”
“That’s no fun.” I pouted, my eight-year-old hands busy building Legos even while talking to my idol.
“You can have fun if it’s safe.”
“But what if I want to jump Binky, and Mom doesn’t want me to?”
“Then you listen to her.” Dad coughed, his hand covering his mouth, his body wracking.
My ears rang.
My eyes watered.
I couldn’t be there while he had an attack.
Bolting from my bedroom, scattering Legos in my rush, I bowled into Mom carrying freshly folded laundry down the hall. Socks and T-shirts went flying as she grabbed me, yanking me into her arms and holding me as Dad finished coughing in my room. “It’s okay. He’s okay. Everything is okay.”
Her lies were getting less and less believable.
I trembled, peeking out from her embrace as Dad came toward me and leaned down until he was eye level. “Please, Wild One. Don’t be afraid of me.” His calloused fingers tucked my blond mess behind my ear. “It’s just a cough. It can’t hurt you.”
Tears trickled down my cheeks. “But it hurts you.”
Mom flinched, her own trembles matching mine as I hugged her back, desperate for someone to convince me that we would all stick together, no matter what.
Dad ducked to his haunches, opening his arms wide. “Come here. Both of you.”
Mom fell to her knees with me in her hold, dragging me down with her. In a huddle in the hallway, Dad crushed us to him, kissing the tops of our heads, trembling with us. A trio of shaking while we were all punished by love. Dad might’ve been scolding me for back-flipping into the pond and hurting my wrist again, but really, he should scold me for loving him.
Because love…that was the most dangerous thing a person could do.
I didn’t need to be eight or eighty to understand that.
It was engrained on my psyche, forever imprinted on my soul.
“Okay, then.” Dad pulled away, his eyes strained with pain I recognised. “How about we go for a walk, huh? Get some fresh—”
I shot upright as a lacerating knife sliced into my lower back.
My dream—more like a nightmare—shattered, leaving me alone, broken-hearted, and in emotional as well as physical agony.
“Goddammit, ow.” I twisted on my bed, doing my best to seek a position that would stop the unbearable shooting pains. Sweat dampened my sheets, and my breathing sounded raspy and loud in the silence.
Unable to find a better spot, I fell still, staring through one of the four glass walls surrounding my bed. There didn’t seem to be a moon tonight, and the stars were gloomy too. Only the ghostly silhouettes of grey trees against midnight sky could be seen.