Jesse could see she’d been crying. Her puffy eyes told him that. He knew how fucking much it hurt to want desperately to save a life—only to find yourself helpless. And when that life was a child’s…
Don’t go there, buddy.
She seemed to relax as she ate, shaking her head at the mess the twins made of themselves, spaghetti sauce on their faces from ear to ear. “Sometimes I wonder if they’re getting any food into their tummies.”
Jesse glanced under the table. “I can see why you worry.”
Between the sauce on their faces and fingers—and the pasta on their bibs and the floor—it hardly seemed like they could have eaten enough to survive.
As they finished the meal, Jesse found himself wondering what it would be like to have a wife and kids, to sit down like this with them for dinner every night, to spend the evening with a family.
You’re out of your fucking mind.
He wasn’t a family man. The fact that he’d survived a handful of hours with two toddlers didn’t change that. Besides, no woman in her right mind would want to take him on. He was only here because he had wanted to do his part. In fact, it was probably time for him to pack up his stuff and go home.
But he didn’t. As the hours stretched on, he kept finding reasons to stay. Helping Ellie with the dishes. Playing dump truck with Daniel while Ellie gave Daisy her bath. Holding Daisy and reading her a story while her brother was in the tub, her blond head resting trustingly against his chest, one little hand wrapped around his finger, the sweet baby scent of her hair putting an ache in his chest.
He just couldn’t walk away from that.
When the kids were asleep, Ellie walked back out to the living room, somehow managing to look tired, sad, and beautiful at the same time.
He stood. “Do they sleep all night?”
“Usually.” She took his hand. “You did really well with them. I’m impressed.”
“They’re sweet kids.” He was a little surprised to realize he meant that.
She stepped into his arms. “You were my hero today.”
Part of him was pleased by this. At the same time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anyone’s hero. He’d tried being a hero before—and had failed.
She looked up at him. “Do you want to stay for a while?”
What he wanted was space, a little air, some time alone.
He drew away. “Not tonight. I’ve got to be up at four.”
“Oh. Right. I probably ought to go to bed soon anyway. Thanks to a certain someone—that would be you—I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
So he wasn’t the only one. He liked that.
*
Jesse tried to run, whitewater crashing against his thighs, dragging him down, making it almost impossible to move.
The child screamed, arms flailing, her terrified eyes looking into his for a moment before the creek rolled her over like a toy and swept her beyond his reach.
He ran as fast as he could, but it was so hard, water slowing his legs, making him fight for every inch. He reached for her again—and again the creek took her.
“She’s dead,” Megs said from the embankment behind him.
No. She couldn’t be. He wasn’t going to let her die.
Goddamn it!
He kicked against the water, fought his way through it, searching.
*
Ellie did some quick cleaning Thursday morning, then packed the kids in the car and drove down the canyon to Claire’s house. Flowers and stuffed animals sat at the intersection where the school bus had been hit, but Ellie tried not to look. The roadside memorials reminded her of people she’d known or cared for and lost.
She didn’t often take the kids to her sister’s condo. The place was modernist with floor-to-ceiling windows on the west side that offered a beautiful view of the Flatirons, but it was also completely un-childproofed.
Ellie shut the bathroom and bedroom doors to limit the amount of damage the kids could do to themselves or her sister and brother-in-law’s property, then settled the kids in the living room with the box of toys Claire kept for them.
She plopped down on the sofa across from Claire, who sat in the recliner where she could keep her injured leg elevated. “Dad said you’re scheduled for surgery at St. Luke’s Friday morning.”
“I’m dreading it. You know me. I hate needles. I asked if they could skip the IV, but the doctor said no.”
“I wish I could be with you.” Ellie worked on Fridays, and St. Luke’s was in Denver.
“Cedar is taking the day off, so he’ll be with me.”
Ellie realized Daniel was about to dig into the dirt of Claire’s potted ficus tree with a plastic toy screwdriver. “Daniel, no! Don’t dig in Auntie Claire’s plant.”
Claire told Ellie what the surgeon had said—how long she would have to be on crutches, how important physical therapy would be to her recovery. “Cedar and I are going to my office tonight to see whether we can adapt the treatment room so that I can give massages from a rolling saddle chair.”
That didn’t sound like it would be easy.
“Do you have a chair like that?”
Claire shook her head, pointed to Daniel. “We saw some online. They’re not too expensive.”