Page 10 of That Rush

“You can always hug me if you want to.”

She presses her cheek against mine. “I want to.”

I hold her tighter and carry her into the guest room. My duffel still sits open on the floor, a jumble of clean clothes and the ones I wore yesterday. Josie’s new pajamas are folded on the dresser beside a toothbrush still in its package. Nothing in this room looks permanent. Three days ago, none of this was our life.

I sit on the edge of the bed with her in my lap.

“Are we sleeping here again tonight?” she asks.

“If that’s what you want.”

“What if I wake up and you’re outside?”

“I’ll tell you before I go anywhere.”

“What if I wake up first?”

Her voice is so quiet I almost miss it.

“I don’t like waking up first now,” she says.

I set her on the bed and pull my duffel toward me. Instead of leaving everything in a pile, I carry my clothes to the dresser. I place them in the empty drawer beneath hers and then set my boots beside the bed. My phone charger goes into the outlet closest to her pillow.

She watches every move.

“This is where my things are,” I tell her. “Tonight, I’m sleeping right beside you. Tomorrow morning, when you open your eyes, I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”

I climb onto the bed and hold out my hand. She slips hers into mine.

“I promise.”

Josie lies down beside me and pulls my arm across her middle. I stay while her body softens against mine, my phone unanswered on the nightstand and the rest of the day waiting outside the room.

Tomorrow morning, she won’t have to look for me.

Chapter 1

Aiden

Nine months into this, my mornings are a juggle of packing lunches, taking ranch calls, and braiding Josie’s hair. This morning, the hair is winning.

“Ow.” Josie jerks her head away, taking half the braid with her.

“Hold still.”

“You’re pulling.”

“I’m aware.”

“Mommy never pulled.”

The words land quietly, without warning or accusation. Josie keeps swinging her legs beneath the kitchen chair while I study the uneven braid in my hand.

There are still mornings when Krista slips into the room like this. Through a song Josie remembers or a breakfast I make wrong. Through one of the hundred ordinary things Krista did so well that I never thought to ask how until she was gone.

I loosen my grip on Josie’s hair. “Your mom had a lot more practice.”