Suddenly needing the quiet, she excused herself and snuck to the upstairs bathroom and threw open the window. Inhaling the wintry breeze, she stared out into the trees that surrounded the yard. The scent of impending snow drifted in.
Soon, within hours, maybe, and her mom’s beloved garden would be blanketed with snow. Any brown, unpruned blooms from the end of the season would be disguised. No one had quite the green thumb that her mother had been gifted with, but Zoe tried to maintain it when she had time, when Pops didn’t get to it in time. One day, she’d bring starts over to her place, as Haley and Finn had done with theirs, and Evan would do one day with his.
As she was about to close the window and rejoin the commotion downstairs, the slider off the kitchen opened and Ryder and Pops’ voices carried up with the breeze.
“Everything okay with Zoe? She seems off tonight,” Pops said, his voice low, but she could hear every word bouncing off the concrete patio.
Ryder’s voice was soft as he answered, “I don’t know. I think it’s all just closing in as we get closer.”
“She’s excited though, right? She’s going to be such a good mom. Brenda would be so proud of how strong she’s been through this. Hell, I think Brenda sobbed nonstop for the first six months she was pregnant with Finn, then every other day for the last three.”
“I’m struggling to stay on top of everything. I don’t know how Zoe does it, juggling everything so effortlessly.”
Pops cleared his throat and lowered his voice, but he still echoed right into the open window upstairs, straight to Zoe. “The house, the baby. You two seem to be doing pretty well. But, not to be the hard-ass here, but, is your work going to let up at all?”
Jaw clenching so tight she could hear the squeal of her molars grinding together, Zoe wanted to storm out and smack her dad for going right for the jugular.
But it was the question she wouldn’t let herself ask, because she knew the answer, and she didn’t want to force him to change, anymore than she wanted to change for him.
Lowering to the floor, she buried her head in her hands and let the waterworks flood her cheeks.
Ryder’s voice floated up and in through the window, “I’m trying to be whatever she needs.”
“I’m not sure even she knows what she needs. When Brenda was sick, then when we lost her, Zoe was my rock. All of ours. Getting us through the day to day. But she’s always kept the tough stuff close to her chest.” Pops’ voice was steady, but she could hear the pride in his tone.
“I can see that about her,” Ryder’s smile carried along the wind.
“She’s going easy on you.”
“Too easy,” he mumbled.
More voices joined them on the patio, joking around and getting the fire going.
Moods were bright, but however hard she tried to lift hers, it sank back down and cemented her in place. She wiped at her cheeks, but couldn’t seem to get up yet.
Caressing over her like a cool drink with his smooth voice, Ryder asked, “Is Zoe still in the bathroom?”
Silence. Probably everyone looking blankly at each other. Or worried. Shit.
“Her stomach was off. I’ll go check and see if she’s okay,” Ryder said quickly.
Within seconds, she heard his feet pounding up the stairs and a gentle knock on the door. “Zoe? Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, the useless lock failed with an easy twist and Ryder popped his head in. His gaze melted as he saw her sitting on the floor, her eyes red and moisture streaking down her cheeks. “Hey,” he murmured, dropping to the ground and enfolding her into his arms. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head and held stiff. “Take me home?”
Cool from being outside, his hands took hers, and he gently pulled her to her feet. “Of course.” Keeping one hand of her hands wrapped in his, he didn’t let go of her until they reached the entry at the foot of the stairs. “Want me to let them know you’re not feeling well and needed to head home?”
“I should stay until we at least open presents,” she whispered.
“They’ll understand,” he said softly, cradling her cheek and the tears only flowed faster down her cheeks.
He didn’t pry the car ride home, but kept his hand linked with hers.
They’d left the porch light on, a wreath on the front door, but Christmas lights on the rental hadn’t been as fun this year, with Evan packing up to move back with Pops in a few weeks, and Ryder hadn’t had time to hang them. Standing on a ladder, however short for the single-story roof, had felt like a dumb idea, so she’d skipped it.
The house echoed, even though it was more full now than it had ever been, full of baby stuff, Evan’s stuff in boxes, more and more of Ryder’s stuff filling in. She kicked off her shoes in the entry and trudged straight back to her bedroom. Crashing on the foot of the bed, she felt another wave of the wet stuff coating her cheeks.
