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Someone jostles my shoulder, and I frown. “Sky? What’s—”
But it’s empty in my arms. I look around and he’s not there.
The beach is empty.
I’m alone…
All alone.
What—
I sit up with a gasp.
Chest heaving, I blink a couple times, bringing Mel’s living room into focus.
Last thing I remember, I sat down after putting Abby to sleep, and threw on a true crime documentary.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Shaking away the last remnants of sleep, I comb back my hair and glance up to where Mel stands there in her black cocktail dress, heels dangling from her fingers.
“I fell asleep,” I say, my voice thick and guttural. My heart starts to race, and I jump to a stand, ready to bolt down the hall, when Mel grabs my arm.
“She’s fine. I just checked on her,” she says gently. “She’s fast asleep.” Then nodding to the end table next to the sofa, she says, “And the monitor’s right there. The doors are all locked.” Her knowing gaze meets mine, pinched, but also understanding. “It’s okay. It’s late. I told you you could—”
Shaking my head, I gently pry her hand off my arm and make my way down the hallway toward my daughter’s room.
I crack the door open, peek my head in, and find her exactly as Mel described. Curled up on her side, her stuffed black bear clutched to her chest, eyes closed, and back rising and falling steadily. From her nightstand, a projector hums white noise, rotating, casting an array of stars across the room. It’s currently set to blue, making it feel like we’re right up there in space.
Next to it, is the baby monitor I just can’t seem to part with, even though she’s five now. She doesn’t seem to care. If anything, when she sees me set it down next to her head on nights I watch her, she just crosses her arms and rolls her eyes in that overly dramatic way she does. Not budging until I tickle her, pretend to bite at her hands and feet, and she forgets.
Unable to help myself, I pad over to her princess bed, crouch down, and bring my fingers to her curly brown locks. Her mouth is parted adorably, lip sticking out, chunky cheeks slack. She doesn’t stir, but she’s breathing, and I feel the tension finally seep from my limbs. My heart rate and breathing slowing right along with it.
I lift the blanket up to her shoulders from where it started to slip, stand up, and start quietly backing away.
Just as I reach the door, closing it behind me, the colors shift over to violet.
Back down the hall, I find the living room empty, so I head for the kitchen where Mel’s currently brewing a pot of coffee.
“It’s late,” I murmur, smiling knowingly. Mel’s a coffee fiend if there ever was one. She could drink down the whole pot, and still crash as soon as her head hits the pillow.
She cuts me a look, ensuring I see her eyeroll. It’s a running joke we have that Abby got her attitude from her.
“You gonna stay?” she asks casually, grabbing the creamer from the fridge.
I pull two mugs down from the rack, setting them down next to the pot. It spits and steams as it percolates. “No, I’ll head out after this.”
“You know the couch is—”
“I know,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
Our eyes connect, and she gives me a small grin.
She offers every time, and every time I decline.
After I returned from Black Diamond, we immediately put our old house on the market. I didn’t even know she wasn’t staying there—she and Abby were living with her parents the entire time I was in rehab. And when I got out, they were kind enough to give me the guest house until I got back on my feet.
Now, more than three and half years after that near-tragic day, Mel’s got herself a really nice, modernized farmhouse in a good gated development with a bunch of other families with kids for Abby to play with as she gets older. No pool. No body of water anywhere in the vicinity.
