The room feels still.
No pen scratching, no clock ticking loud enough to hide behind.
The silence stretches, heavy but patient.
Finally, I look up. My voice comes out low, steady, but trembling underneath. “I think I’m ready.”
A small nod from Dr. Pembrooke, nothing more.
“I’m ready tojump into the middle of the lake.”
“Ok, Nathan, I’m listening…Take your time.”
And before I can stop it, I’m there again.
Every moment, every time stamp is burnt into my memory forever.
The music. The carousel. The final mistake.
7:06 a.m. — Bedroom
Tiny footsteps slapped the hardwood like raindrops. The door was flung wide.
Ivy launched, all freckles and flying curls, and landed square on my chest.
“G’morning, Daddy!”
Her hair tickled my face; sugar-sweet breath warmed my cheek. She planted a kiss on my forehead, then scrambled across the mattress to press another to Maddison’s. Maddi cracked one eye open and winced.
“Head’s still pounding,” she whispered, fingertips kneading her temple. “Might sit today out.”
Ivy’s shoulders sagged, but only for a beat. She swung her gaze back to me, hope blazing. “Fair day, right?”
“Fair day,” I promised, though I was tired too, tugging her under the covers for one last snuggle. Her giggle felt like a sunrise.
7:42 a.m. — Bathroom
We stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the step stool, two idiots in toothpaste mustaches. Ivy spat, missed, andcackled. God, I loved it. I rinsed and winked.
“Chuck Taylors or cowboy boots?” I asked.
“Chucks!” She pumped a tiny fist. “Gotta run fast to the cotton candy.”
We high-fived on it.
10:11 a.m. — Front Door
Maddi sat on the couch, blanket over her eyes, migraine meds unopened beside her tea.
“Call if you need me,” she murmured.
I leaned in to kiss her hairline. “We’ll bring you something ridiculous and pink.”
Ivy blew a kiss. Maddi caught it and pressed it to her heart. “Don’t forget to grab the backpack leash.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s too old for that.”
“Yeah, I’m a big girl…I’m four.” Ivy said with four fingers raised.
