“Are you ok?” Her soft question ignites the wildfire in my throat and lungs all over again.
I shake my head. “Krissy—”
“Is she ok?” She steps closer, suddenly alert.
I nod. “She’s ok. I just . . . She found out Macavoy is our father.”
Sarah’s shoulders fall, and I hear her exhale. “Did you tell her?’
I nod again. “She’s. . .really angry. I’ve always done everything I could to protect her, but I kept this from her.” The painful truth ricochets through me.
Her gaze drops from mine, taking it in. “She’s hurting, and you’re an easy target. She may not see it now, but you are protecting her. You’re giving her the truth.”
I drop my head, wondering if there’s any possible way Sarah will eventually see that I was only trying to help her. “But I didn’t tell her until I was forced to. It’s not the same.”
She moves into me, sliding her arms around my waist and pulling me close.
I’m so shocked it takes me a second to wrap mine around her, warming to the security I’m beginning to realize I only feel when I’m with her. Almost as if it’s ok not to have to be strong every moment.
We stand in her dark kitchen for a long time, her holding me tightly. Eventually, her arms slip away, and I’m not ready to let her go. But instead of pulling completely away, her hand slips into mine. She turns, tugging me toward the living room.
‘Sarah—”
She twists, pressing her finger to her lips. “It’s late, and you need to sleep,” she whispers.
I follow, not having the energy to argue, as she bypasses the couch and guides me down the hallway into her bedroom. Grover’s nails click on the floor behind me.
I stop in the doorway. “Sarah.”
She ignores me, lying down on the side of the bed closest to the door.
I stand there, knowing this is never how I wanted it.
“Slade, get in bed so Grover will settle down and not wake Ollie.” It’s a bit of an order, and at a different time, I’d smile.
I could go home, but I don’t want to. All I want is to be near her.
“Slade.” She says my name with more force.
I tug off my sweatshirt and lie down beside her, placing my hand behind my head. I stare at her ceiling with Sarah’s scent wafting around me, and it’s calming.
I search for the words I’ve longed to say.
“I’m. . .so sorry,” I whisper, and it sounds ridiculously simple. It doesn’t even begin to describe my remorse for making her feel like I didn’t respect her.
Her hand finds mine, and her other wraps around my forearm.
I inhale, wanting to explain but not really knowing where to begin. “I’m not good at just sitting still when someone I care about needs help.”
She inches a little closer, and her body presses against my side. I try to figure out how to give her a part of myself, wanting her to know me.
I don’t know what to say, so I just start. “I wanted to be an engineer. I got accepted into an elite program, so Mom didn’t tell me she was sick until it was too late.”
I can still hear her voice on the other end of the phone. “I dropped out of school when she called and told me her time was limited. We brought her home from the hospital, and all I could do was watch her suffer and wither away. I couldn’t do anything to make it better.”
Sarah’s fingers slip between mine, and she tucks our hands to her chest.
“Melissa was her nurse and was good with Krissy. Did her hair and made her laugh when she wouldn’t even talk to me. She was. . .a distraction and a bright spot when everything else was dark and hard and scary. I felt less alone, facing everything that was coming.”
