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I head up the stairs and follow the soft light coming from the bottom of Isabella’s doorway. I knock as I enter the room.
As soon as she sees me, she sits up. I fall to the mattress and hug my little girl.
“Hunter’s in his bed. Sleeping. He has a cast on his wrist. Other than that, he’s fine.”
Izzy nods, and her hands release the comforter she was holding. Dad was right. She tore this thing to shreds.
“It was so scary, Mom. Hunter wasn’t supposed to be in the street, but he didn’t listen. I yelled at him, but he just kept on driving.”
“Keeping your brother safe is your responsibility, but it’s not your job. That’s what Dad was supposed to do.” I run a hand over her strawberry-blonde hair and relax the muscles tightening on her head. “Dad told me you were very brave.”
“He did?” She seems surprised.
“Yes. Will agreed how smart you were to tend to Hunter the way you did.”
Her knotted fingers relax as she takes in that information. She’s only eleven, and yet her manners make her seem so much older, like she has the world on her shoulders. I want to lift that weight for her so badly. If she’d just allow it.
“He was on his way to his mother’s house for Sunday dinner when she called and asked him to pick up a gallon of milk.”
I pull the comforter up to her chin. “Who was, honey?”
“Will. The day he was shot.”
I still. Will hasn’t told me the story yet, and last time we broached the subject, Izzy didn’t think it was her story to tell. Something clearly changed her mind tonight, so I listen.
“There were people in the store when he walked in. A couple standing near the register. Another two in the back. He said he knew immediately that something was off. The cashier had his hands on the counter, planted firmly and unmoving. That’s when he saw the gun. It was being pointed at the couple and the cashier.”
I take a deep, shaking breath. I have so many questions, but I don’t ask.
“He said he didn’t think; he just helped. He didn’t have a gun on him, but he reacted because if he didn’t, these innocent people could die. That’s what I did tonight with Hunter. I just reacted. When Will told me his story, I thought,Wow, this guy is a hero. He put others before himself. Now, after tonight, I’m wondering if, well, maybe I’m a hero too.”
“You are, my beautiful girl. You are very much a hero. Without you, who knows what could have happened to Hunter.”
“Maybe I can be more. A doctor or a police officer. Someone who is there when people are hurt.” Her voice is soft and pensive.
I rub my thumb along her cheek. “You’d make an amazing hero. Whatever you choose, Isabella Landish, you are destined for great things. I hope you know that.”
She shrugs, and I see the side of Izzy she’s been showing us for over a year now. The one who doesn’t quite believe in herself. The one who doesn’t believe in anyone around her.
She yawns as I kiss her head and turn off her light, then rub her back as she falls asleep. My girl is out in minutes.
I plan on sleeping in Hunter’s room tonight, nervous he might be in pain in the middle of the night and to make sure he’s alive since the doctors said there is a possible concussion. As I enter his room, I’m surprised to see someone else had the same plan.
Tyler is curled up in Hunter’s bed. He’s holding his son, his head pressed against Hunter’s. The two of them are facing one another with Hunter’s wrist carefully lying across his chest.
Tyler is in his clothes with his shoes kicked off on the floor. I take a throw blanket from the closet and lay it gently over the father and son. Tyler is many things I can’t stand, but he’s always been a good father.
sixteen
MY CUSTODY AGREEMENT HASbeen hard on my heart yet makes it easy for me to work weekends, knowing the kids are with their father. I try not to think about how Maisie is playing mommy to my kids while using my waffle iron.
The robe has since been burned on a drunken Saturday night when Tara and I decided we were the sisters fromPractical Magicand did a ceremony of witchcraft in the backyard firepit, cursing Tyler’s manhood. It ended with my father breaking the extinguisher out at one o’clock in the morning to put out the fire … and then dousing us into sobriety.
When I woke the next morning, the house smelled like wet wood, I had a printout of my mug shot we got off the Valor County Police Department website taped to the refrigerator, and I vaguely remembered Tara convincing me to respond to an email promotion about ordering new checkbooks and sending a box to Tyler’s house. I’m pretty sure I ordered personalized checks for my ex featuring my face as the background.
Reminder: I need to stop spending my wallowing weekends with Tara.
I get home after a particularly long day of work, and the smell of brownies wafts through the kitchen. There’s Lizzo playing from the device in the kitchen and a cake on the counter that’s as lopsided as the bun on the baker’s head.
