Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
And the woman I almost let get away waiting for me at home, asking for a fresh start to a life we can finally build, without this horrible black hole of grief in the way.
She’s made me more than a one-trick pony, obsessed with procedure and haunted by clawing after answers I finally have.
How could I not want to return the favor?
We’ve always been in this together.
28
ONE WAY HOME (OPHELIA)
It’s not like Grant to be this late.
Call me paranoid, but after everything that’s happened, I don’t think anyone could blame me.
It’s almost time for dinner, and Nell’s looking a little worried, too, though she won’t say it out loud.
She’s been quieter than usual since everything that happened on the yacht.
The child counselor she’s seeing twice a week says that’s normal. She needs time to process the horror in terms she can understand at her age.
What she needs most from us is to be there for her, without any pressure to act a certain way or get better faster. My own experiences certainly taught me pain moves at its own pace.
Love and reassurance are the medicine she needs most, knowing her world won’t fall apart tomorrow.
That she’s not going to lose anyone else the same awful way she lost her parents. Or how she almost lost us.
I can do that.
Loving Nell is easy.
And being there for her... if I’m honest, I don’t ever want to be anywhere else.
I want to be here for Nell, for Grant, for me.
But that requires Grant to be here, too.
I squeeze Nell’s shoulder as I stand up from the sofa.
“Give me a sec, I’m going to call him. He probably just got buried in work and lost track of time. You know what he’s like.”
She looks up from doing her homework at the coffee table.
For a moment, there’s a flicker of fear in her eyes before she smiles sweetly and bravely. “He’s a big dumb dorkface like that. Worky-holic.”
“He is. But we’ll take care of him, won’t we?” I return her sunny smile and squeeze her shoulder again. “I’m not going anywhere, little lady. Just getting my phone off the charger.”
Her fear eases, her smile growing brighter, stronger.
She hasn’t let me or Grant out of her sight since that nightmare happened.
For a couple days after, we kept her home from school, spending whole days snuggled in bed, Nell tucked between us while we let her watch anything she wanted on TV in Grant’s bedroom. We also let her talk to us and ask us questions about what happened, about what scared her most.
I see so much of myself in her at that age. A little bit of Ros, too.
Whip-smart, strong, but she still needs those little moments to be a kid.
I get it.
I see how she struggles, the pain making her grow up faster until she’s under pressure to be the big girl, to show she’s too smart and mature for this, too brave.
But big feelings aren’t that easy.
Neither is trauma.
Mrs. Graves—Delilah—at school has been a big help with that. She says Lucas used to call her a human cactus because she was so prickly and dead set on her independence. She gets a little girl like Nell, and Nell idolizes her to kingdom come, so Delilah’s been a help to us teaching Nell that she doesn’t need to be the strongest kid in the room all the time.
It’s okay to cry.
And it’s okay to reach for a helping hand when you’re scared, instead of doing what Ros did and falling down a deep, dark hole.
Not that I’m blaming my sister.
We all do awful things when we’re afraid. Some of us turn to bad habits.
Some of us run.
For me, those days are over.
Not unless it’s running right down to the station to drag Grant out by his scruff, but we’ll try the easy way first. I give Nell another smile and grab my phone off its charger.
Just as I pull up Grant’s contact, though, the latch on the front door turns.
He’s pushing his way inside when I look up, bundled up in his wool-lined coat—and he’s brought company, too.
His parents come bustling inside behind him while Grant grins.
“Look who’s here to fetch their favorite granddaughter for cake and hot chocolate!” Jensen Faircross announces.
“Grandpa! Gammy!” Nell shrieks as she flings herself around the coffee table and into her grandmother’s arms.
Margaret Faircross laughs, lifting her up and swirling her around.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
“Tired! Too much homework,” Nell pouts, latching her arms around her gram’s neck with a sly look. “I get to stay with you tonight? Does that mean no more homework?”
“It means you get to finish your homework at our house, sweet girl. But you also get to have Gammy’s special hot chocolate with cinnamon and those extra-big marshmallows while you do it. Trust me, it’ll be over in no time.” Mrs. Faircross winks while her hubby chuckles indulgently and pats Nell’s head before Margaret sets Nell down. “Grant already said it’s okay. Go run, pack your overnight bag, sweetie.”