Page 80 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“If you don’t have any other questions, I will get started on all her discharge paperwork and care instructions for when you go home, things to keep an eye on.” She nods and heads out the door.

I go to my girls and wrap them both in a hug. “I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.”

“Eli!” Kendra scolds me. “Little ears.”

“After the past few days, a real four-letter word was warranted, sweetheart. I just want to be home with my girls.” Kendra melts into me at that admission and I kiss the top of her head.

Home.

Walking in the door to this house has never been such a relief. It’s almost Wren’s nap time, but her schedule is all messed up from being in the hospital and she is wide awake. She seems to be just as happy to be back in her own space as we are.

“Do you want me to make us some lunch?” Kendra asks as I set down all our bags and she gets Wren out of her car seat.

“That would be great. I’m tired of hospital food and takeout,” I admit.

“I was thinking cranberry chicken salads and my nana’s homemade dressing that you like? I went to the grocery store last night after I left the hospital to restock the fridge.” Kendra bounces Wren in her arms, making her giggle with a sound that has been missing the past couple of days.

“You’re amazing. That sounds perfect. I’m going to take Wren up and give her a quick bath while you do that, get the hospital off her. Then maybe she can play in the living room while we eat and be ready for a nap after.” I take Wren and Kendra heads off to start making us food.

Twenty minutes later we are enjoying a delicious meal on the couch watching Wren happily kick her feet on the farm-themed play mat spread out on the carpeted living room floor, sunshine warming the room and contentedness pooling in my veins.

“That was terrible,” I say, relating a long groan.

“Sorry?” Kendra looks down at the salad bowl in her lap. “Did I mix the dressing wrong?”

“F—rick.” I glance at Wren. “No, sweetheart. Sorry, that’s not what I meant.” I set my own bowl down on the end table. “I was talking about the hospital. It was terrible.”

Kendra puts her food down and scoots closer to me, I wrap my arm around her, and she lays her head on my chest. “She’s so much better today.”

“That’s never happening again,” I rumble.

“Hulk.” Kendra sighs. “I don’t think you can stop every germ from jumping onto her, or even from her getting hurt in the future, God forbid.”

“I know that,” I say, running my fingers through her long, silken locks. “You leaving us if anything happens, I meant. I won’t let that happen again,” I promise.

“Pretty sure it will,” she protests, but I stop her.

“I changed Wren’s paperwork while I was there. You are listed as an emergency contact along with my mom, so at least there’s that.”

“What!” Kendra pops up. “Why?”

“You not being there the whole time was hell. Wren needed you, shit, I needed you there. At least we won’t have to deal with the guardian BS with our own kids,” I toss out not thinking, “and I am going to talk to my lawyer about it so you can be in the room with Wren next time if something happens, see what our options are.”

When I look at Kendra, she is stiff as a granite statue but breathing rapidly. I can see the pulse pounding in her neck and tears are welling in her eyes.

I fucked up.

“That’s too much isn’t it? Is it too soon? Goddammit. I’m an idiot. I just . . .” I stand up and rub my stubble-covered jaw.

Kendra’s still sitting there, staring at Wren who’s now starting to fuss. I go pick her up, rock her in my arms, kiss her soft forehead. Kendra’s teary eyes track every move.

She jumps up suddenly and says, “I have to go, I can’t, can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”

“Kendra! Where are you going?” I demand, feeling panic replace all the calm that was just there moments ago. Following her up the stairs and into her bedroom, my heart rate increases watching as she wildly starts tossing things from the dresser into a large laundry basket.

“This isn’t going to work, I should not have stayed here for so long, I knew better.” Kendra wipes tears, now freely falling, as she empties the last drawer and heads to the nightstand.

“Knew better?” I growl in frustration. “What does that even mean?”