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Charles
Sarah ran, and I followed her outside, past our pool. I watched her climb up the tree house that Brad and Mason had bought the girls.
“Sarah!” I called out, but she’d already shut the door.
I gritted my teeth and kicked the ground, lifting a piece of grass from the roots.
That had been reckless; I should have known better.
Fuck.
“Sarah,” I called out again.
“I wanna be alone right now.” Her voice was soft, shaky, and I wondered if she was crying.
Fuck, fuck. Me and my stupidity.
I one hundred percent blamed myself. There was excitement in stealing kisses from Becky when the girls weren’t looking, skirting the edge, watching the flush in her cheeks, but I hadn’t thought I’d get caught before telling them.
I should’ve told them sooner. Fear had been pushing this conversation off.Stupid.I shouldn’t have put it off. Well, cat was out of the bag now.
“Sarah, honey … we need to talk.”
Silence.
I knew my daughters individually, their strengths, what motivated them, what they were into, what they wanted for their birthdays, and also what made them angry. Sarah … she’d need time to process, simmer. Time alone.
I touched the base of the tree house, placing my hand on the bark of the maple tree, and released a silent breath, peering up at the house that held part of my world.
Sarah was old enough to remember Natalie. They’d been two peas in their mismatched pods in looks, but in personality, they were similar. Sarah had a bond with Natalie that I could never touch, and when Nat passed away, I spent thousands of dollars on counseling as a family and her individually to make sure she was processing Nat’s death in a healthy manner.
It had been years since her last crying-fest, her blowups, her shutting down.
And in one instant … my one moment of carelessness, I’d taken her back years.
Brad jogged toward me from a distance, and I met him halfway.
“Becky told me what happened.” There was no humor on his features and no witty comment, which I was glad for because I couldn’t take it right now. “Is she okay?” he asked, peering behind me, his gaze traveling toward the tree house.
“No.” I rubbed at my forehead. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
“It happens,” Brad said, sighing and shrugging, knowing I was going to be in the doghouse with Sarah but also knowing we couldn’t rewind.
I dropped my head and ran one heavy hand through my hair.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “But mistakes don’t normally happen with you though.”
I groaned. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.”
Brad lifted a shoulder. “That’s your job, too, so I’m out of my element here.”
I threw him a look, and he offered me a small smile.
“Listen, big bro, we all know how Natalie’s death affected Sarah hugely. But she’s strong, resilient. She’s older now. She can handle it. You just need to talk to her … when she’s ready.”
I nodded and swallowed. I knew that too. She needed time. I just didn’t want to give it to her. The father in me wanted to fix itnow.
