I can’t think! My heart is racing.
Sweets squeezes my hand three times just as Wyatt and Saltzy head for the door. I look down at her, mentally pleading with her to help me. What do I do? How do I be there for her? She pushes me away in these situations. She pusheseveryoneaway. Penny used to do this. She was a professional at this.
Penny swallows, tears brimming in her eyes. “She’s going to fight you. Let her. She’s eventually going to need someone to fall apart with. She won’t do it with them. She needs you. Just be there until she admits that.”
Her sisters.
I dip my chin, my eyes shutting as I digest the gravity of this. He died. She’s an orphan. Those three girls are fucking alone, just like that. “Fuck.”
Penny nods sadly. “I’msosorry, Carter.”
Don’t be sorry for me. Be sorry for her. She keeps losing everything. She keeps having to deal with this same fucking pain in different ways. How many times, in how many different ways, can you lose the same person? I am so angry for her. She deserves so much more, and I can’t fix it.
“Fork, let’s go,” Saltzy says from the door. “We have to make it quick.”
I nod, turning to look at my boys, but their heads are down and they’re at work. Declan is getting us tickets to get the hell to Maine, and Boston is sorting out my days off with Coach. They’re helping me in their own way. I have to do the only thing I need to do.
I need to be there for Arden.
When we pull up to her apartment, her front door is cracked open, like she planned on walking straight in and out with nothing but her purse. I slowly enter and find the living room and kitchen empty. When I make my way into her bedroom, she’s sitting on the floor, trying to zip her overflowing suitcase closed.
“Arden.”
She jumps, glaring up at me. I swear I see relief in her face for a moment before she’s tearing at the seams of her suitcase again. I eye the bit of fabric hanging out, but she’s too overwhelmed to slow down and fix it.
I drop down next to her, placing my hand over hers. “Here. Let me.”
She looks like she’s going to argue with me, but instead leans back on her knees and lets out a sharp breath.
I unzip her suitcase and find the culprit.
Stinky.
I glance at her, taking him out. Her eyes stay locked on mine, still no tears. Her throat bobs.
“He has to come.”
I nod, but he won’t fit. “I’ll put him in my bag.”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Our flight leaves in an hour,” I say, handing her the stuffed animal. She takes it slowly. I zip up her suitcase and it closes easily. “Do you have your ID to get on the plane?”
She nods, face still full of confusion. She’s numb. Her thoughts aren’t processing.
“Any records you’ll need for the funeral home, doctors, or anything like that?”
She shuts her eyes, like she forgot. “They’re in a shoebox in my closet.”
I nod, standing. I retrieve the box and let her go through it with shaking hands. When she finally pulls out all she needs, I kneel down beside her again and run my hand over her head until I’m cupping the nape of her neck.
She won’t look at me.
“Do you have something in there that you can wear to the funeral?”
Her hands stop playing with the papers and her shoulderssink. She shakes her head, still not looking at me, still not able to think straight.
“Okay,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over the back of her head. I lean forward to press a kiss to her hair. “Let’s pick something out and then get in the car, alright? I have room in my bag.”
