Page 78 of Gifts
Danielle tries to open her mouth again, but Levi takes his orders seriously, and pulls her from the room. “Better yet, let’s go outside. Come on, you can meet Keelie’s goats.”
The moment Danielle is dragged out of sight by her son with a very unhappy Emma trailing behind, Asa grabs my good arm and pulls my front to his side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Are you okay?”
I shrug, giving my head a little shake. “I mean … that was a surprise.”
“Yeah,” Stephie agrees. “That was all a big, fucking surprise.”
“Stephanie,” my mother reprimands. “It’s Sunday.”
I feel Asa take a deep breath as he looks at my family. “My kids have had some problems at school and I’m in the process of flushing that out. Friday, Keelie was giving Emma a ride home when someone targeted my house. Danielle was right—Keelie saved Emma’s life. As indebted as I am for what she did, I’m pissed it happened to both her and my daughter. I’m doing everything I can to make it right, but I can promise it won’t happen again. Extensive measures have been taken to make sure everyone will be safe from here on out. You have my word.”
I steel myself for the barrage of questions, but when I look to my five closest family members, they’re just standing there staring at us.
Finally, Aunt Lillian Rose breaks the silence. “Was it like CSI after the shooting or is that all just for the television? I miss CSI. Miami was my favorite. I never understood a thing that happened on CSI-Cyber, but I guess I’ll always have my reruns.”
I lean my forehead on Asa’s shoulder and his arm constricts around me. I’ve never been more ready for a Monday. This has been the longest weekend ever.
*****
I hand a baking dish to my sister. I’m washing while she’s drying and figuratively kicking my ass with questions about the last two days.
My parents and Aunt Lillian Rose just left. I had to calm everyone and do my best to make a drive-by seem like not a big deal. I doubt they bought it.
“Lemme see where you got shot.” Stephie tugs at my top, pulling it down my other shoulder. She raises a brow, unimpressed with my gunshot wound to the shoulder, and goes back to drying. “I thought it would be bigger.”
I flick my wet fingers in her face. “Fuck you. It was traumatic.”
This time she gives me a somewhat sad but genuine smile. Putting her arm around me, she pulls me into a sideways hug and her voice goes soft. “I was just shitting you. I can’t imagine you going through that after what you’ve already been through. When do you go back to your therapist?”
I hadn’t even thought about Dr. Graystone. I started going to him during my angry phase about six months after David died. I hated going at the time, but Stephie dragged me. I was wound tight, mad at the world, and she informed me my kids could see it. Hell, looking back, I’d be surprised if there was anyone within a one-hundred-mile radius who couldn’t see it.
Dr. Graystone helped—at least that’s what everyone around me said. I went regularly for a year and have had a standing monthly appointment now for about the past six months or so.
“Actually, I think I’m scheduled to go this week.”
She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “That’s probably a good thing. I’m sure it brought back all kinds of feelings. You had unrealistic fears about Knox and Saylor losing you right after David died.”
I glare at her out of the corner of my eye. I know this and don’t like to be reminded of it.
“Do not cancel that appointment. Who knows what’s going on in that head of yours after being shot,” she warns.
My eyes wander to the window over my kitchen sink that looks over my pasture and hills. Levi’s girlfriend is here and he’s showing her around. Saylor is talking their ears off and Knox is playing basketball with his cousins and Shawn. Emma is with her mom and Asa, looking more miserable than I’ve seen her in days.
My eyes lock onto the man who’s sleeping in my bed. He drags his hand through his hair as he looks down at Emma while Danielle talks nonstop. He’s wearing a casual button-down—dressy compared to what he usually wears—with another pair of jeans and his usual work boots.
“I fell apart Friday night.”
I look over at her and she states the obvious. “You were hit by a bullet, Keelie.”
I shrug. “I know, but I was okay and I was safe. I knew I was safe and I still fell apart. It was ugly.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve always been that way, but more so since you’ve been on your own. Give yourself a break.”
I shrug and look back out to Asa.
“I had sex last night,” I announce, not looking away from the dark-haired man who’s done nothing but take care of me since I was shot in his driveway. In fact, now that I think about it, he hasn’t done much besides take care of everyone around him from the moment I met him.
I feel a hard jab to my good shoulder. “You did not.”
