Page 90 of Last Light

I decide not to move. I like how it feels right here.

He just showered a couple of hours ago, but he’s already smelling faintly like Travis. I nestle in closer.

He uses his free hand to brush some loose strands of hair out of my face. The rest of it is still in damp, messy braids.

“That was a good nap,” I say.

“Yep.”

“Did you sleep?”

“’Bout an hour.”

“And you’ve been lying here awake since then?”

“Sure. Didn’t wanna wake you. And you’ve been bossin’ me all day about restin’ my ankle.”

I snicker and squeeze his side, searching for any soft flesh to get ahold of. There isn’t any. Every part of the man is firm. “You do need to rest your ankle.”

“That’s what I’ve been doin’.”

“When was the last time you took a nap?”

“No idea.” He looks up for a moment. Then adds, “Guess right after Grace was born. She’d cry half the night, poor thing. I’d take naps on Sunday afternoons. We were exhausted.”

“I bet you were.” I’m surprised that he’s sharing, but I don’t want to sound shocked. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, or he might shut down again.

“Cheryl had trouble breastfeeding, so we used a bottle half the time. I’d try to do my part—gettin’ up in the night to feed Grace. Then I’d go into the garage and work all day and come home to do it again. I was dead on my feet for months.”

“I believe it. My grandma used to say that God did it on purpose—made new parents so exhausted that they wouldn’t have the energy to really process what it meant that they now have a child.”

Travis huffs. Seems to think about it for a minute. Then snorts in amusement. “Yeah. Sounds ’bout right.”

I really want to ask a question, but I don’t know if I dare.

I stay cuddled against his side, stroking his belly lightly. Finally I ask in a mild, casual voice, “What happened with you and Cheryl?”

He gives a half shrug. His expression is resigned. “We got divorced. Right before impact. We got married when we were eighteen—right after high school. We were happy for a while. She’s a good woman. We just didn’t really... match, and we didn’t know it till it was too late. Got married too young. Then we both grew up and realized we didn’t... fit. Anyway, we were fightin’ all the time. Ready to call it quits. Then Cheryl got pregnant. Surprised us both. So we decided to stick it out.”

My heart is beating quickly, and I’m not really sure why. In excitement, I guess. At Travis opening up to me like this when he never has before. “But it still didn’t work?”

“Nah. Babies can’t fix what’s already broken. So we called it quits after all. Divorce came through just before the asteroid hit. But then...” He shrugs again, one of his hands idly holding my braid. “Everythin’ was different. She and Grace moved back in with me when things started to go bad. Not that we were married anymore—but Grace needed both of us to take care of her. Then Grace got sick and kept getting sicker.”

When Travis doesn’t continue, I ask softly, “What happened to Cheryl?”

“She left. With the rest of the town.”

That astonishes me so much I can’t guard my reaction. I sit up straight in bed and stare with wide eyes. “Sheleft? She left you and Grace?”

“Don’t make it sound like that.” Travis’s voice is low and rough. “Wasn’t like that. I’m not her husband anymore. Just Grace’s father. And Grace was...” He clears his throat and turns his face away from me. “Grace was as good as dead.”

“But she left.”

“I don’t think she woulda left Grace if she didn’t already know I was stayin’. We knew Grace only had a few more weeks, and leavin’ Meadows was Cheryl’s only chance to survive. She knew I’d take care of Grace till the end. It hurt her real bad to leave. She didn’t have a real choice. I don’t blame her. Don’t want you to blame her either.”

I swallow hard and nod. I’m still sitting up, and I reach over to stroke Travis’s face until he turns to look up at me again. “Okay. I get it. It’s not fair to judge people. I know that. Desperation like this makes us do things we never would have done otherwise. Sometimes we end up doing things that feel... unnatural.”

“Yeah.” Travis’s voice is still hoarse, and his eyes are aching and vulnerable. “She was always a good woman. I still love her. Not right that she had to leave her daughter just so she could survive. I was the one who had a chance to make it on my own. I was the one who needed to stay.”

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