Page 30 of Almost Always

“Yes and no. A lot of things have happened in your life, right? After Nonna and Poppy died, you were sad a lot and then you were having trouble at school. That’s a certain kind of trauma and it was changing your life in ways that you couldn’t control. Right?” Cal nodded, eyes watery. “But is therapy helping?”

“I like Miss Rhiannon. She’s funny. She also said that it’s not my fault that everyone is laughing at me. It’stheirproblem. But I’m not allowed to say that to them.”

He smiled and kissed the top of his son’s head. “It is their problem and I’m glad you like her.”

“The others at school don’t bother me anymore anyway. They’re afraid of Indigo.”

“Does Indigo scare you?”

Cal shook his head, tears forgotten as he smiled wide. “Indigo is my best friend. They make me feel safe and happy.”

He couldn’t even hide the reaction or ignore the way his heart clenched. He blamed exhaustion and lack of sleep on the tears that filled his eyes.

“Like Miss Daisy did for you.”

He tilted his head. “Who told you that?”

“Nonna. She said that everywhere Miss Daisy went, you also did. And visa visa.”

“Vice versa,” he corrected his son who shrugged and reached for another slice of pizza.

At that point, he was sure Cal had eaten the entire pie and he couldn’t even be upset about it. He sent him to wash up and relaxed into the couch, his mind wandering to Daisy. His son was right, shehadmade him feel safe and happy even when she hadn’t felt those things herself. He could see the different versions of her—the shy little girl, the teenager he fell in love with and the woman she was now—and was so grateful that hehad stuck to all the promises he made about always finding his way back to her.

“I’m glad you came home, Dad.”

“I said I would be home.”

Cal wiped his hands on his shorts. “But you said we’re never meant topromisethat.”

This kid was too smart for his own good. “I know. I don’t make promises out loud, but I do to myself.”

“Did you make Miss Daisy any promises?”

“What is going on with you and all these questions?”

“You said I should be curious!” Cal stomped one foot, startling Boots.

Chuckling, he tucked him into his side and kissed the top of his head, “I did make promises to her too. Because she was also scared and I didn’t want her to worry.”

They sat in silence for a while before Cal spoke up again. “What is your favorite thing about fires, Dad?”

The question caught him off guard, he stared blankly at the television for a moment. He’d never thought about hisfavoritething about fires, because the first glance always scared him before he was in firefighter mode. He’d never even been asked such a question before, even when he’d done all his research, learning about fires and the science behind it.

“I don’t know. Maybe how powerful it is and we don’t fully understand it even after all these years.”

“My favorite thing is how beautiful it looks,” Cal said very simply.

“Itisvery beautiful.”

His son nodded and they settled back into silence again. When he felt Cal’s body go limp beside him, Rafferty turned off the television and carried his son upstairs. He tucked him into bed and kissed the top of Boots’s head before heading backdownstairs. He grabbed his phone and contemplated texting her, but then changed his mind and called her instead.

He startled awake to the sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway. He rubbed his face and checked the time—it had been an hour since he called her—before stepping out onto the porch as a goddess stepped out of the car. She was bathed in gold, the streetlights making her sparkle. She said something to the driver and with a large duffel bag in one hand, started towards him. He didn’t know what she was wearing, but it was wrapped around her body, framing her hips and waist, a portion of it draped over her shoulder. He rubbed his eyes again, like that would convince him this was real.

Nothing could explain why or how Daisy Heroux looked like something out of a dream.

He opened his mouth to ask what she was wearing, to say something romantic about how beautiful she looked, but she was rushing up the stairs. The bag dropped as she practically launched herself at him and he stumbled back a few steps before sliding his arms around her waist. Her hands were on the back of his head, fingers pressing through his long hair to hold him as he willed himself not to lose control of his bodily reactions to her.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, warm breath brushing against his skin and after a gentle squeeze of his neck, she pulled away.

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