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“No, I’ll just clean up in here.”
I don’t push him on it, knowing the reason behind his reluctance. Dad and Quaid used to mess about outside in our backyard all the time. They were either throwing a ball to one another, or playing cards and telling jokes. I even heard them talking about the birds and the bees once. At the time, I was fifteen and mortified my dad was actually explaining sex to my boyfriend. At least, that’s how I saw him. That’s how I saw all of them. Then as time passed, I saw how sweet their bond was. Now, however, I know that this yard will only hold memories that will never be relived again by either of them. A pang makes its way into my heart, as if it’s being strangled by an almighty fist.
I miss him so much.
“Val? Are you okay?” Logan whispers next to me as he pushes a lawn chair for me to sit in.
I wipe the errant stray tear that falls down my cheek and offer a meek nod.
Am I okay? No.
I’ll never be okay again. But I know my father. He’d be livid with me if I didn’t get up and fight my way through this sadness. It hurts to restart my life without him, but I pray that as each day passes, I’ll learn to cope with it. Wherever he is, I hope I can continue to make him proud of me. I lean back in my chair and just let the sun kiss my face. I haven’t been outside in weeks, and feeling the warm rays on my face feels almost like it’s my dad urging me to go on. It’s a stupid childish notion, but in this very minute, I’d give anything for us to go back to when I was twelve. When we first moved to San Antonio, thinking our lives were about to take a turn for the better, never expecting that this was what destiny held for us.
We sit there in silence for hours on end, Logan going back to the kitchen every so often to get me more tea and probably to check on Quaid too, while Carter never leaves my side. Once the noon heat begins to blaze, I tell them I’ve had enough sun for one day and return back inside.
The first thing I notice is that Quaid is no longer in the kitchen. My brows furrow, and I walk throughout the house, looking for him. I don’t check the living room, since he wouldn’t be there either. Sweat trickles down the nape of my neck when I hear ruffling papers coming from down the hall. I swallow dryly and take a tentative step towards the sound. When I get to my father’s office door, I stop at its threshold, watching Quaid gently go through my dad’s designs. He has tears in his eyes as he looks at a certain drawing.
“Quaid?” I utter, making him lift his head in my direction.
He wipes his tears with the back of his hand. He tries to stand up straight, but does a poor job of it—the weight of his sorrow slumping his shoulders.
I walk over to him, to see what got him so riled up, and my breath catches in my throat. It’s a sketch of a house I once told Dad I wanted to live in one day. A house where Quaid, Logan, Carter, and I could grow old together, while my father played around with his grandchildren in our front yard and told them all about how we all came to be. It was a stupid dream told by a stargazed teenager, but my father had loved the dream house enough that, unbeknownst to me, he drew it. I had no idea Quaid knew of its existence, but then again, their bond was as strong as mine.
“I always dreamed that it would be close to water,” I mumble.
“I know,” Quaid replies. “He added some here. See?”
I look at the speck of river coming down from the back of the house and smile, an honest to God genuine smile.
“So this field right here was your doing, huh?”
“Kids need space to play around,” Quaid utters softly, tracing his digit over the vast yard in the front, filled with a swing set and large trees to be climbed upon.
“I love it. It’s perfect,” I whisper softly, leaning my head onto his shoulder.
Logan and Carter walk closer to us, their own curiosity blooming. Logan chuckles when he sees a gaming room.
“He knew you’d need a man cave to retreat to from time to time,” I answer his silent question, and then point out another division of the house. “And he knew you would need a large enough dark room and studio to work,” I explain, pointing to the division that my dad drew up with Carter in mind.
My heart hurts looking at the grand design of a house I will never have, at least, not one exactly like it. In each division, I can see my father’s imprint on it, and no other house could ever have that, save for this one. He was supposed to share my life with me and the boys, and now… Now that will never happen.
Oxygen begins to leave my lungs, and I struggle for breath.
“I-I can’t—” I begin to stutter. “I just can’t.”
I run out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom and my sanctuary. Logan, Carter, and Quaid enter my room worried, pain marring their beautiful features.
“Valentina, what’s wrong?” Carter rushes, cupping my face in his strong hands.
“I can’t breathe. I just can’t!” I say in panic, feeling the whole world collapse around me.
I’m hysterical and in pain, and I can’t see the end of the dark tunnel, no matter how hard I try. My chest starts to tighten, and my lungs refuse to work.
“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”
My panic attack is almost full blown when Carter presses his lips against mine, stunning me quiet.
“Breathe me,” he whispers into my mouth.
