Instead, I just shrug one shoulder. “Life doesn’t stop for anybody. Not even for people who should’ve had more time.”
Faith looks at me, seeing a whole other version of me layered over the one sitting here. One she didn’t know existed. One she never got to help.
“And after she passed,” I continue, “everything became about Lila. Keeping her safe, keeping her still. Building something strong enough that neither of us would fall through the cracks.”
Faith nods, tears slipping down her cheeks before she can wipe them away.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For telling me. You’re a really good dad.”
The compliment goes straight to a place I keep tightly locked.
“Trying,” I say quietly.
She studies me, her gaze warm in a way that makes me want to look away. Instead, I force myself to stay still.
“You look older,” she says finally. “Not in a bad way. Just… like life’s been heavy on you.”
“Hasn’t it been on everyone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not like this.
“Your mom was so kind this morning,” she says. “And your brothers… loud, but sweet. And then Lila…” Her face warms at the name. “She’s perfect.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Faith inhales, gathering herself. “I didn’t realize how much I missed real people. Real warmth. My mom. My sister. Myself.”
I lean forward slightly. “You can go see them.”
She shakes her head. “I will. Once the snow subsides a little.”
“I’ll help you with your car when I can.”
She gives me a grateful smile.
Silence stretches. Comfortable on my end, tense on hers. She pulls the sweater tighter around herself, as if bracing.
“What happens next?” she asks.
“For you?” I shrug. “Whatever you want.”
She laughs softly. “I have no idea what I want.”
I stand before the urge to sit beside her gets too strong. “I’ll get more firewood in the morning. Blanket’s in the closet if you get cold.”
She rises too, her hand grazing the back of the couch for balance.
“Dallas?”
I look at her.
“It really is good to see you.”
I nod. “You too.”
I turn before the moment can stretch into dangerous territory, then head down the hall toward my room. My stepsare steady, but my breathing is not. The door clicks softly behind me.
I scrub both hands over my face, exhaling hard.
