“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Good.” She snuggles into my chest, and I imagine that our heartbeats have lined up, just like our breaths and our bodies. I’m not sure that our worlds can line up as cleanly.
***
It’s probably a few hours later when I hear her door open. I jerk awake and look up to find her dad standing beside the bed, staring down at me. Then he turns and leaves the room. He leaves the door open, so I roll out from under her and follow him into the kitchen, where he’s getting a bottle of water from the fridge. “Mr. Michaels,” I say.
“Nick.” He doesn’t look at me. He just looks into the fridge.
“Um…” I jerk a thumb toward the bedroom. “I was just keeping Carrie company. I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“Um-hmm,” he hums.
“Really, sir,” I say. “I didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Shit. I swipe a hand down my face.
He glares at me. “You couldn’t keep her company and not be in her bed?”
“Well, she kind of needed me, sir.”
“Needed you in her bed?” His brows form a vee.
“She needed someone to hold her. She was having a pretty hard time.”
“Dad?” Carrie says from the hallway.
“Care,” he says softly.
She falls into him and he holds her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He glares at me over the top of her head. Then he sets her back from him. “No boys in your bedroom, Care,” he says.
“Oh, yeah.” She looks at me sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We weren’t doing anything. It was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing,” he says. He tips her face up. “It looked like something. Dads don’t like somethings when it comes to their daughters.”
She laughs. “I get it, Dad.” She reaches out for my hand. “Can Nick stay?”
He snorts. “Not in your bed.”
She nods, and he kisses her forehead.
“I’m going to lie down. I want to go see your mom early tomorrow.”
He goes into the master bedroom and closes the door behind him.
Carrie grunts. “That’s Mom’s bedroom,” she says.
I brush her hair back from her face. “I think he knows that.”
“Thanks for staying.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Will you stay some more?” She looks up at me, blinking those wide eyes. “Come sit on the couch with me.”
I nod. “Will he be mad at me for that?”
She laughs. “If he was truly mad, he wouldn’t have gone to bed.”
She leads me to the couch, and I sit down. She crawls into my lap and tucks her head under my chin. Then she starts to talk.
She tells me all about what happened with her mom, her mom and dad, and her mom’s boyfriend. Then she settles against me, once the story is out there and off her chest. I hold her until her breaths are steady and she’s asleep. Then I close my eyes too.
Carrie
I wake up alone on the couch. When I went to sleep, Nick was wrapped around me, but now he’s gone. I roll over and smell the heavenly scent of coffee. Dad is sitting at the table, talking with someone. At first glance I think it’s Nick, but it’s not. It’s the man from last night, and his wife, the one who talked to the 9-1-1 operator for me.
I get up and go put on something besides my jammies, and then I go out to join them. I touch Dad lightly on the shoulder and squeeze. His hand comes up to cover mine. I bend and kiss his cheek. “Have you talked to Mom today?”
He nods. “She’s awake and ready to come home.” He swipes a hand down his face. “I just have to disassemble the bed and move some stuff around, and then I’ll go pick her up.”
“Why do you have to disassemble the bed?”
“Honey, hospice is sending over a hospital bed and supplies.” He stops and watches me.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Matt breaks the stalemate. “Why don’t you let my brothers and me move the furniture around for you? We can get it done a lot faster. And we’ve done it before.”
“Oh, no,” Dad says. “We couldn’t let you do that.”
Matt waves a hand in the air. “It’s nothing. And my brothers won’t be happy unless you let us help. They’ve been dying to come over since yesterday, but I told them they couldn’t.” He laughs. “They’re nosy.”
“Why do you care?” I blurt out.
“Carrie.” Dad scolds me with just that one word, and heat creeps up my face.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. I busy myself pouring a cup of coffee.
Matt pulls back his sleeve and shows me the cancer ribbon tattoo on his bicep. “I’m a survivor.”
I drop into a chair beside Dad. “Of cancer?”
He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. “Yes.” His wife’s hand slips under his on the table and he looks up at her with a smile.
“That’s how we met,” she says. She waves at me. “I’m Sky, by the way.”
“You met over cancer?” Dad asks.
She shakes her head. “We met because of our kids, actually. Matt met my half-sister when they were both in treatment. She had three kids, and I took them when she died. And I met Matt through the process. They stuck. The kids and the man.”