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“No, it’s okay. I need to say it out loud, I think.”
“Do you want to sit down?” Rogan asked.
“I’m fine standing.” I cleared my throat. “The shots came fromourhotel. Brady went to chase them. But he stopped responding to his radio. Cooper was asking for his status, and he wasn’t responding, and I just… I justpanicked. I thought something had happened to him. And I heard screaming somewhere upstairs, so I climbed the stairs a few floors and then… and then…”
The scene came back to me with nauseating clarity. The shooter appearing and aiming his gun at me. But now that I was remembering it, the layer of numbness was gone. And all the emotions Ishouldhave felt in the moment slammed into me like a hundred-pound gorilla.
I almost died. I had a gun pointed at my fucking face!
My stomach roiled like an angry sea. I pushed Asher out of the way and made it to the kitchen sink in time to empty my stomach all over the pristine stainless steel.
A hand rubbed my back. “It’s okay. This is all normal.”
“None of this is normal!” I managed to say before vomiting again.
Asher got me a glass of water while Rogan held my hair back. Finally my stomach settled down, but guilt quickly replaced it.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault,” Rogan said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His words didn’t comfort me. I knew the truth.
I had fucked everything up.
*
I don’t know how I managed to sleep, but I did. I guess adrenaline gives onehellof a crash.
“Miss Heather?” Dustin was asking me. “Are you okay?”
I opened my eyes and saw the boy standing next to his bed. His blanket was in one hand, and he was still wearing his Boston Red Sox jammies.
“I’m okay,” I said while getting up. “Just extra sleepy. Come on. Let’s wake your brother and sister up.”
I got the kids changed and made them breakfast—pancakes with fresh fruit. I thought again about last night, standing in the stairwell with the gun aimed at me, and another bout of nausea buffeted me. I just barely pushed it down without throwing up again.
To my surprise, the boys were behaving this morning. Micah even asked if he was being good enough to get a star for breakfast.
“You sure are,” I said.
He grinned widely at his siblings. “I’m going to get a treat from the big bucket tonight!”
“Nuh uh! I am!” Dustin shot back at him.
“All of you can get a treat from the big bucket,” I said. “If you’re good!”
Micah turned and whispered to Dustin, “I’m going to beso good.”
“I’m going to be thegoodest,” Dustin whispered back.
The dads were all gone. Taking care of the fallout from last night, probably. I watched TV with the kids, then joined them for arts and crafts. I taught them how to make pop-up cards for Father’s Day, which was coming up in a few weeks. Dustin and Micah focusedreallyhard on their cards, and the result turned out pretty good.
I made sure to give Cora plenty of attention and praise, too. I wasn’t going to take her behavior for granted anymore.
Brady came home just before lunch. The kids all jumped up and hugged him. I wanted my turn and then embraced him as tightly as I could.
“I’m really glad you’re okay,” I whispered into his shoulder. “Last night was so scary.”
