“Wait,” I call, and she turns back. “I’m sorry for your loss. And Kelsey....” I pause and she waits. “She’ll be okay.”
I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell her that, but I do. It’s clear Gwen still suffers from the loss of her husband, but the pain of losing part of a child is so much more.
“I know,” she says quietly before turning and leaving.
I stand at the kitchen sink for several more minutes, looking out into the darkness, pushing back my own painful memories. I release a breath, push away from the sink, and walk back out into the living room. Daniel, who’s still on the floor, has his head down beside one of the puppies, his eyes barely staying open. Kelsey still has her head stuck in the puzzle book. She must have carried it with her from their truck. It looks well-worn, with the pages curled, indicating she uses it a lot.
I look over at Gwen sitting beside her. “You three can have my bed.”
My suggestion surprises her and she gets up from the couch.
“Alexander, we can’t take your bed.”
Hearing her say my name does something to me. That’s the third time she’s said it. It still sounds foreign coming from someone other than my family, but it’s nice.
“Yes, you can. There’s three of you. You can’t all fit on the couch.”
“The kids can have the couch. If you have extra blankets, I can sleep on the floor.”
I give her a look that says she’s stupid if she thinks I’m going to let her sleep on the hard floor. I may be out of practice dealing with people, but I’m not so far gone that I’ll allow something like that.
“That’s not happening, Gwen.”
It’s not until she looks at me strangely that I realize that’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud. I wonder if she got the same weird feeling I get when she says my name.
She looks down at the couch, then back at me. “But you won’t fit on the couch. Your feet will hang off the edge.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve slept on worse, and it’s only for a few days.”
She bites her lip as she thinks it over. I let her believe she has a choice when she really doesn’t. Luckily, she relents and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
I give a short nod, then walk around the couch and bend down to a now sleeping
Daniel.
“I can—”
My stern look has her shutting her mouth. I scoop the little boy in my arms and carry him into my bedroom. Gwen follows me and pulls back the cover, and I set him down. He curls on his side. I grab some clothes for tomorrow as she pulls the covers over him. Stopping in the hallway, I pull out a pillow and a couple blankets from the small linen closet and go back out to the living room. Gwen is already rounding up Kelsey.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “You have no idea how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us today. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Don’t mention it,” I tell her, and throw the pillow and blankets on the couch.
I turn back and she’s just standing there. She shuffles on her feet for a minute before saying, “I keep an emergency bag of stuff in the back of my truck. I should have grabbed it before we left, but didn’t think about it. Could we grab it tomorrow if we’re still not able to leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. “Good night.”
That same feeling from earlier hits me. “Good night, Gwen.” I look to the girl. “Good night, Kelsey,” I say softly to the retreating girl’s back. She’s doesn’t turn, but she does stop walking and her spine stiffens.
We both watch as Kelsey stands there for a moment, then moves forward again. Gwen shoots me a sad smile before following her daughter. I watch until the light in the bedroom goes off.
I round up the pups and load them back into the utility room, Gigi following behind me. After, I release a tired sigh and settle down on the couch with my feet hanging off the end. I’m not sure why, but I feel a connection with Kelsey. I know how deep her pain runs. I know exactly what she’s going through. I know the feeling of wanting to block people out, to push people away. The pain that grips you so tight it feels like you’re suffocating. That no matter what you do, things will never be good again. And you’ll do almost anything to bring back the person you lost.
I close my eyes and an image of blond hair flashes in my mind. Laughter sounds in my ears, so loud I almost open my eyes to look for the source because it sounds so real. I shove the image and sound away, not wanting it to pull me under.
Chapter 5