“And the water will make them feel better.”
“It’s okay, Harley.” Portia strokes her sister’s knee. “It’ll make it better.”
Harley gives her sister a long, assessing look before glancing at her mother. And then those soft, brown eyes look up to me.
I smile down at her. “Portia’s right. It’ll make it better.”
With a hesitant sigh, she pokes one hand out from the blanket, dipping the tips of her fingers into the water before realizing that it’s not so bad and sitting away from me so she can soak her other hand as well.
“Once their fingers are warm, we may as well do their toes and feet too,” Grady tells us.
“Here’s the cocoa.” Satch moves around the island, handing a plastic mug to Nylah, who checks the temperature before nodding and encouraging Harley to take a sip.
And that’s how the next twenty minutes go as we slowly warm the girls up.
Kendall gets chattier by the second, but Harley remains quiet on my lap. She stops drinking the cocoa and curls into a little ball again, resting her head on my chest.
Portia stands there watching her for a long time, her blue eyes working through a plethora of emotions. She’s sad, maybe a little scared… and now that her sister is okay, she wants in on this daddy hug.
She’s always been my little girl.
I don’t know why or how it happened, but Portia seemed to like me best and Harley always went to Nylah for everything. But now Harley’s on my knee, and for once, she’s not reaching for Mommy.
I kind of want to cherish this moment for a second.
She’s safe.
She’s okay.
And she wants me.
“Let’s take a look at that bruise again.” Grady walks up with his first aid kit, and Harley tenses on my knee.
“It’s okay.” I kiss the top of her head.
Grady squats down in front of her and gently peels back the blanket.
“You must have done this when you fell into the hole.” Grady’s voice is sweet and gentle. He should have become a paramedic or something. As he dabs at Harley’s wounded skin, he chatters away, telling a funny story from when he was a kid and making Portia laugh. I think Harley must be smiling.
The look on Nylah’s face tells me that she is.
I catch my wife’s eye, and we share a meaningful smile. She looks nearly sick with relief, and I get it. I’ve been sitting here with a quaking belly, trying not to think about just how bad it could have gone today.
Once the nasty graze on Harley’s thigh is cleaned up and cream applied to the bruise that has taken over half her leg, Grady bundles Harley back up and assures us that both girls are gonna be just fine.
Blake’s holding Kendall close, quietly talking to her as they walk out of the room, and soon it’s just the four McAvoys left by the kitchen table.
“I want to sit on Daddy’s knee.” Portia’s voice is uncharacteristically small and vulnerable.
I glance at her and shake my head. “Harley’s on my knee right now, blueberry.”
“But she’s warm now. Uncle Grady just said so.”
“Portia.” Nylah sighs her name more than says it. “You will get your turn, okay?” Pulling out a chair, she takes a seat and pats her knee. “You can sit with me while you wait.”
Portia gives her ayou’re not as good as Daddylook, and I have to bite back my grin.
That girl knows how to make you feel as small as an ant. Her facial expressions are priceless.
