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She closed her eyes. “Penelope.”
Our daughter was a fighter. Toughest I’d ever seen. She overcame every setback, and she’d get through this one too.
I was grateful to be in this small facility where the staff was personally invested in Penelope’s care.
I couldn’t handle that hollow hurting feeling I’d had when I thought she was dead. I’d never lost anyone I cared about. Then again, I hadn’t had anyone I was that close to until JoJo and Penelope showed up.
Maybe my lack of connections in life had been self-preservation. Because I never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. I wouldn’t survive.
Nurse Ana returned with a tray of water, apple juice, and an assortment of fruits, cheeses, and crackers.
“Barn, you have to eat something. Penelope needs you when she’s back.” It might have been low to use our daughter as motivation, but it was the only thing that seemed to get through to her.
I certainly wasn’t enough.
She accepted the water I held to her lips, then chewed the grape I practically stuffed into her mouth. She chewed as if the experience was new, and she wasn’t sure how to do it.
I fed her until she refused to take any more, which wasn’t much, then I picked her up and laid her in the bed. Why I hadn’t taken her there in the first place, I didn’t know.
I kissed her forehead. “Rest. Penelope will be back soon.”
Again, that was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep . . . at least the soon part.
Nurse Ana waited for me just inside the room. “You should eat too.”
“Thank you.” I dismissed her suggestion, knowing she was right, but too stubborn to comply.
I offered her the best smile I could muster . . . which wasn’t much.
“I’ll be by in a bit to check on her.” She inclined her head toward our open bedroom door.
Once she was gone, I sank into the closest chair.
I tried to shut my thoughts down and let my mind go blank. As if that were possible.
“Where is everyone?” Whitley flopped down across from me on the sofa.
“Please tell me you have whiskey in that briefcase.” I slumped farther into my seat. I needed something to take the edge off. Unfortunately, that required an entire bottle.
Whitley’s gaze flicked to the space where Penelope should have been. “Rough day?”
“We thought she died.” I dropped my chin to my chest. “She did die. But she’s back.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.” I pointed at him. “If you’re here with bad news, I don’t want to know.”
“Most of it can wait.” He propped his feet on the coffee table. “Where’s JoJo?”
“Resting. She didn’t take the shock well.”
“What about you?”
I let the question sink in. “I don’t know.”
“You look terrible.”
I scowled. “Forgive me for not being more concerned with my appearance.”
