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“Lo?”
She holds up something in her hand. “I tried knocking,” she says quietly, removing Boris’s lead when he tugs, and he and Steve meet and greet each other halfway up the stairs, while I stand like a statue taking her in. She looks like she’s been crying for a year, her face red and blotchy. “I still had your key.”
“Jesus,” Todd breathes, relaxing his hold of me. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two to it.” He massages my shoulder in a move that I suppose should rub some reassurance into me. It won’t work. “I’ll be in my room.” He leaves me standing at the top of the stairs staring down at Lo, who’s staring up at me. My head’s in chaos. What is she doing here? I can’t say she’s brought back all my memories of her to the surface by being here because the memories didn’t even begin to recede. But what she has done is intensify each and every one of them, as well as my feelings. It took everything out of me to let her walk out of my life. She knows that. Making me go through that again isn’t fair. Am I being selfish?
I hear her gulp, her lips straightening through her trembles, her head shaking so very faintly. “It’s too late,” she whispers. “It’s too late to save him.” She slowly folds to her knees at the foot of the stairs, her whole body starting to rack and convulse.
It’s too late? The consistently aching muscle in my chest fractures. “Oh, God, Lo.” I race down the stairs like a speed demon and pick her up from the floor. The strength of her arms clinging to me is indicative of her desperation. Her relentless tears are evidence of her pain. My squeezing heart is a sign of my sorrow. Sorrow for her. Sorrow for Billy. I sit on the third step and cradle her in my arms, holding her to me and comforting her as best I know how while she sobs her heart out. It’s too late. It can’t be too late. There must be a way. I want to ask her questions, find out what’s happened to change things, but for now I concentrate on soothing her, keeping her tear-stained face tucked under my chin. I won’t allow myself to enjoy the feel of her in my arms. I won’t relish in her warmth. Not when she’s so distraught. She can’t seem to control her juddering movements, so I know talking through her emotion isn’t going to happen for a while.
“Dad?”
I look up the stairs to find Tia sanding in a T-shirt, her face a map of questions. “I’m fine. Go back to bed, darling.”
“You sure?” She looks to her left when Todd comes out of his room, gently coaxing her away as she looks down at me.
I offer a smile that takes too much effort and goes nowhere near my eyes. But it’s as much as I can muster to reassure her. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
She nods and lets Todd escort her back to her room, and I breathe in deeply, waiting patiently for Lo to get a handle on her sobs. I’ve never heard so much pain before. “I’m sorry,” she finally sniffs, pushing herself from my chest. “I wouldn’t have come had I known you had company.”
“Don’t be silly.” I slowly pick away the strands of hair that are sticking to her wet cheeks. “What’s happened, Lo?”
She looks me directly in the eye, her grays dull and blanketed by grief. “It’s spread into his bones, his blood, everywhere. It’s over.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I pull her into me and squeeze her. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s refused to attend his appointments at the hospital, and now he’s riddled. Now there really is nothing that can save him.”
I close my eyes and sink my face into her hair.
“I shouldn’t have come. I know that. But . . . I didn’t know where else to go.”
Fuck that. “You come to me. You always come to me.” I grind the order out, hating myself for cutting the contact, for making her believe she’s an unwelcome burden. Like she couldn’t depend on me when she needed me most. What was I thinking? “Do you understand me?”
She nods into my chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”
My fractured heart cracks. “I’ve missed you too,” I admit. “More than you could ever know.” I reluctantly let her free herself from my viselike grip, and she takes a few long inhales, wiping at her face. She looks so tired, so completely empty. I just want to put her in my bed and let her sleep for as long as she needs to. And she looks like she needs to sleep forever.
Standing with her in my arms, I carry her up the stairs to my room. She doesn’t object, doesn’t breathe a word. I lay her on my bed and remove her boots, letting them hit the carpet with two thuds. Then I quietly help her out of her coat and unfasten the fly of her jeans. There’s nothing sexual about my moves. I’m taking care of her.
